We didn't know it when we awoke to the beauty of Bluff Lake, but we'd end up at an even more beautiful location - Tamarack Lake - by the time the sun was setting again. First though, we had to get there. And that meant getting going toward our summit of the highest peak around, Mt. Eddy.
With an eight-mile hike ahead of us, @mrs.turbodb got breakfast prepped - cereal and the last of our home-grown blueberries - while I put away the tent. Then, we retraced our path along the rocky road - surely part of the reason we'd had this place to ourselves on a Saturday night - and soon we were pulling into the trailhead parking at Deadfall Meadows. There, we donned our hiking attire, grabbed our poles, and set off to the top of the Klamath Mountains, where, We Could See Everything.
It was 2:00pm when we strolled back into the same staging area, our bodies in better shape than might be expected after eight miles and 2,700 feet of elevation gain. Back in the Tacoma, we soon found ourselves on dirt, and thoroughly enjoying the views of this part of the Trinity Divide.
This was one of the route's most scenic stretches, rolling through high mountain terrain below Mt. Eddy. Here, the reddish ultramafic rocks - primarily peridotite - which make up a good chunk of the Klamath and Siskiyou Mountains gave the surrounding terrain a color and texture unlike anything we'd seen in the neighboring ranges.
Rounding a bend at Picayune Summit, we found ourselves overlooking another valley, the mountains on the far side rising above the trees.
There was a camp site - or campground, I don't recall exactly - down by Gumboot Lake, but it had only been about an hour that we'd been back in the Tacoma. While a nap would have been enjoyable, it was not in the cards. The hand we'd been dealt - by me - consisted of another hike.
I'd found the second hike at the same time I'd found the first, and I'd apparently been so intent on finding ways to get out of the Tacoma that I completely glossed over the fact that the two were within sight of each other.
Still, it was - as I'd mapped it - a reasonably short hike, so we pointed the Tacoma up a steep, rocky, narrow, road that I could see on satellite but was nowhere to be found on any map. Following it for a little less than a mile, we found ourselves bumper-to-limb with a fallen, 24-inch diameter tree, and just like that, the hike got a little bit longer.
Given the views though, that seemed pretty OK.
Our now-twice-as-long-as-I'd-planned trek would ultimately entail 700 feet of elevation gain and deliver us to the top of Boulder Peak. Not all that bad, as long as the bushwacking - through a thick groundcover of manzanita - was tolerable.
With a bit of scrambling - the terrain of Boulder Peak definitely living up to its name - we eventually found ourselves on a sharp, undulating ridge overlooking much of what we'd seen of the Trinity Divide earlier in the day, but from an entirely different angle.
After savoring our surroundings for the better part of half an hour, it was time to head back to the Tacoma and find camp for the night. We still had no idea where exactly we'd call home, but as usual, I hoped we'd find something on the edge of a cliff with views that stretched for miles. Something like the spot we were leaving, if only we could have accessed the ridge, instead of running into a tree across the road.
Instead, we pushed further along the trail, the road dropping in elevation by more than 1,600 feet over the course of the next several miles. My top-of-the-world hopes were slowly being squashed.
As we drove, my copilot read the description of an upcoming out-and-back leg of the route - to Tamarack Lake - that had us questioning whether it was work our time as we searched for somewhere to sleep. The description sounded wonderful, but we were worried that - if it were so nice - it would be crawling with campers.
Tamarack Lake lies tucked within the rugged heights of the southern Trinity Divide at an elevation of 5,900 feet, offering a starkly beautiful and isolated alpine landscape.
The water is large and remarkably clear, bordered by an expansive, lush green meadow on one side and a dramatic wall of sheer, pale cliffs that tower nearly 1,000 feet directly above the shoreline on the other. This massive rock backdrop contrasts sharply with the deep green of the surrounding lodgepole pines and the dark, imposing spires of the nearby Grey Rocks that dominate the horizon.
A short distance away, its smaller counterpart, Little Tamarack Lake, sits quiet and shallow amid the timber, adding to the basin's serene and multi-layered mountain character. The stillness of the glassy water, reflecting the massive, sun-bleached rock walls, gives this high-altitude basin a raw and secluded beauty that remains sheltered by the difficult, rocky approaches to the valley rim.
OTG waypoint
It turns out we needn't have worried. Buried in the route description, two lines turned out to be diamonds in the rough, though we wouldn't discover their true value for another several miles.
"...this is one section of the route that earns a moderate technical rating..."
"...if Tamarack didn't work out for camping, Gumboot Lake is a popular option nearby..."
At first, the road to Tamarack was just like all the others. A well-graded logging road, plenty wide for two-way traffic and then some. But then, at a fork deep in the forest, things started to change. The graded gravel turned to river rock, and roots began to reach across the surface of the road. A few hundred yards further, there were puddles in places, then basket-ball-sized boulders. And eventually - there blocking most of the road - a one-ton bohemouth.
Were many might have decided to turn around - something I could tell was on my companion's mind as we approached obstacle in the road - the boulder brought a smile to my face. Not only were we going to have fun getting over it twice - once now, and once on the way back out - but its existence cut the chances of us running into anyone else at the lake to almost nill!
From the boulder it was less than a mile to the lake, and as we pulled up, my suspicions were confirmed - not a single Sprinter had ventured up this way for the night!
Making our way from one camp site to the next, we settled on the best of the bunch, right along the water's edge, a cool breeze blowing into camp. We were home. And we were hungry.
We set about our usual tasks, @mrs.turbodb prepping the kitchen, while I readied the bedding for our impending collapse. Our little buddy sped into the sky, keen to get a view of the surroundings before the sun dropped below the horizon for the evening.
Dinner was a staple - taco-rritoes - and boy were they tasty as we looked out over the water. Unlike the lakes we'd visited over the preceding 24 hours, there didn't seem to be a million frogs lining the shores, but we were pleasantly surprised by the lack of mosquitoes. Only a few yellow jackets vied for our dinner, and once we were done, it was peaceful again.
While we'd only covered some 26 miles of trail, the 10 additional miles on foot meant that we were both ready to get horizontal reasonably quickly once we'd downed the last of the guacamole. So, after brushing our teeth and inflating the mattress, we worked our way up the ladder and spent a few quality seconds with our Kindles before nodding off to sleep.
We were, we supposed, headed into our final day. A day that would take us to perhaps the best view of the entire trip, and to an unfortunate discovery along the way.
The Whole Story
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