Pasayten 2000

Sheelite Pass to Upper Cathedral Lake

Tuesday, September 5 By 11:30 pm, and our first pee break, it had already cleared off to the point where you could easily see the Milky Way. The temperature was in free fall. By the time we pulled ourselves out of the sack around 6:30 am, I noticed that our tent fly was frozen solid, as was the shirt I had left outside "to dry." However, it was a glorious morning, and not a cloud in the sky. Although it would have helped our circulation, we decided against making a fire ring, as that would have encouraged more use of this pristine camp. While our camping area was surrounded by small trees, it was less than 50 meters to a spot where the sun was already hitting the ground, so many of us moved all kinds of frozen gear - gear which had been wet last night - to first thaw and then dry. It is always nice to carry a dry tent.

Although we did not leave camp till nearly 10 am, we made great time, as the trail is among the best I have hiked. Within an hour and 15 minutes, we had made it to within 400 meters of the tungsten mine. Unfortunately, I mis-read the GPS, and thought we had about 1400 meters to go, so we took a longer break than we might have otherwise. The tungsten mine seems to be quite a gathering place, as there were several parties there. There is a restored cabin, that is used by hikers (although the thought of Hanta Virus keeps running through my mind). The mine itself is an interesting spot, and it is worth considering all the effort it took to establish it in the past. Susie and I looked around a bit, going down to the actual rail tracks, while the rest of our crew got ready to move. Looking overhead, you could tell that the weather was starting to deteriorate. Blue skies until 9 am. Puffy clouds until 10 am, dark clouds by 11:30, and all hell breaking loose by 1. It seemed the way things worked in this big weather system. Since we knew that it was over 8 miles from Scheelite Pass to Upper Cathedral Lake, and with this weather pattern, the prudent thing seemed to be to move on and enjoy the scenery while we could. The neat thing about the Boundary trail from Iron Gate to Cathedral Basin is the amount of time you spend with outstanding views. They seem to go on forever. The trail hardly takes a direct route, unless you consider direct being a constant elevation approach to the extent the terrain will allow.

Less than a mile from the mine, you cross the headwaters of Tungsten Creek, and begin the mile long climb to Apex Pass, about 500 feet elevation above the mine. There are great views down the Creek valley. We noticed that the wind was picking up significantly, and so, while our friends had decided to stop for lunch in the lee of some trees right in the broad area that is Apex Pass, I thought it made more sense to drop below the pass on the west side and get out of the wind. Boy, was that a dumb idea. There is just not enough elevation loss to reduce the wind when it is coming from the northwest. In addition, the view toward Cathedral Pass, as we cleared the remaining trees, raised the hair on the backs of our necks. We could see the final switchbacks leading up to the Pass, about two miles straight line distance, and the sight was not pretty. The cloud deck obscured the top of Cathedral Peak and it looked like we would be headed into the maw of the storm. Susie and I dropped down to a point on the two switchbacks where we could get out of the wind using some trees, and had a hurried lunch. As I started to pack up, I saw that it was starting to precipitate (rain mixed with snow) and mentioned to Susie that it might be worth considering putting on our rain gear. Whew, she let out a string of expletives that would make a sailor blush. I think the frustration of this seeming constant cycle of great weather when we are asleep and bad weather in the afternoons was getting to her. While clearly I had nothing to do with the weather, I was the only dog around to kick. It seemed to be only prudent to let her stew in her own juices, and she encouraged such with a comment about my less than adequate hiking speed that necessitated a head start on my part. So I took off while she adjusted her gear. The trail around the head of Cathedral Creek is extremely gentle. Of course, this meant no extra heat was being generated to counter the wind and what had now turned completely to snow. I hiked about an hour, and came to a small clump of trees that provided a tad of protection from the wind. I turned around, and could see Susie stopping about 150 meters behind. I went back to see how she was doing and encourage her to take advantage of the wind break, but she seemed to have to work out whatever she had going on inside her head. (She reported later that the wind had nearly torn off her pack cover, and that she was having a problem keeping the pack cinched up with all the gear on.) She passed me, seeming resolved to the plight of having to stagger through the wind and snow pellets, to the final few hundred feet of elevation to the pass. I hoisted, and, because she stopped, got to within 30 meters or so. We reached Cathedral Pass, and could see nothing but fog, and snow coming in horizontally.

As we dropped below the pass, the wind died a bit, but the fog thickened. Visibility dropped to about 35 meters. It would be tough finding a camp in this kind of soup. It reminded me of our last day in the Weminuche last year, when the fog was so thick that we could not tell we were hiking past a huge lake. We dropped through what seemed to be open country, although we were not sure. We had gone perhaps a half a mile, and I became concerned we would hike right past our "camp" without seeing it. I figured that the remainder of the crew was looking for a spot to establish camp, but was concerned that they could not find much either. I looked at the map to verify the surrounding terrain, and told Susie that I thought it would be worthwhile to pull out the GPS to get a sense of exactly where we were. Before I could do that, I heard what I thought was Sue calling out to me. Before too long, here was Ray walking along the trail, looking for us. It turns out that we were within maybe 50 meters of where the crew was setting up camp, on a little knoll west of the lake. However, 50 meters was outside the range of visibility, so we could have easily gone by them. Susie and I set up our tent quickly, as it was misting pretty hard. We quickly threw in our packs and followed. It was a little after 3:30 pm. We rested inside for a bit, but the mist stopped, and I felt compelled to run down to the lakeshore to clean up. It was one of the more cursory "baths" I have taken, more like a rinse. I loaded up our water bag, and headed back in the general direction of camp. Pretty quickly, I realized that I had become disoriented ( I hate to use the word "lost" - too much negative connotation), and things seemed very unfamiliar. I dropped my water bag near a huge boulder, thinking I could surely find my way back to that. I headed back up the trail, and in a minute or so, came to something that looked familiar, and pretty soon, I was back in camp. I guess I should have carried some more bread crumbs with me. Of course, it would have been my luck that the squirrels would have eaten them all. I went back for the water bag, carefully making mental notes as to trees, rocks, etc.

Sue had asked if we wanted to share the fir trees that seemed to be overhanging part of their site, as a way of getting some protection from the seemingly inevitable rain and/or snow, so Susie and I joined her and Andy. It was a tad tight, but it seemed cozy and offered a bit more protection than these tarps we seemed to want to carry but not erect. Tonight was beef stroganoff, Hamburger Helper version, made with freeze dried beef and home dried mushrooms. It made a lot, which seemed a nice, but fleeting compensation for the miseries - no, challenges - that we had endured today. The mist held off, so we built a tiny fire, more for the sociability than the warmth. Everyone was in their respective tents by 8:15 pm or so. It had been another full day, and no matter what the weather, we were going to partake of a day of well-earned rest tomorrow. I remained optimistic as my head hit the pillow.

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