Quartet of Lakes | InterVANtion #3

For being a fallback location - and but for some flies the previous afternoon - our night at Long Branch Lake was hard to beat. Overnight, temperatures dropped down into a pleasant range for sleeping, and our sheltered location along the edge of the glassy lake meant that we didn't descend our ladders until nearly an hour after sunrise.

Good morning, mountains.

In fact, a few of us had awoken earlier - when it sounded like one of the dogs was out playing in the lake - but only Ben's van was positioned to witness a cow Moose slosh across the shallow body of water. Still in bed like the rest of us, it was too late by the time he grabbed the camera and made his way to the water's edge, the moose was missing!

This is a Padfoot. Padfoots are much cuter - and faster - than moose.

I'm not sure I've seen a lake so large and yet so shallow. Not more than 18" deep in the center, but full of (small) fish.

As the sun rose, the brilliant green of the grass really began to pop.

Our plan? Explore some of those mountains!

Despite our trail setbacks of the day before, spirits were high. Today was a new day - one where we weren't headed far, as the crow flies - but where we hoped to finally reach the end of a trail we started!

Little did we know that it would be so much more. But of course, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Like clockwork, we were all packed up and out of camp a little after 10:00am. With Monte leading the way, Zane and Mike followed, with Ben and I bringing up the rear. I assumed that - as with the previous days - I'd be tail gunning it, so I made no effort to leave camp quickly, hoping that Ben would make it a good way down the trail, allowing the dust to settle before I raced along the forested road.

Climbing out of camp.

Unbeknownst to me, Ben was a new man after his InterVANtion. Realizing that I'd prefer a quicker pace, he'd waited at the main road for me to come up from camp, and it was only as I was climbing back into the Tacoma, that I heard him ask if everything was OK over the radio.

Waving as I accelerated past him, I sheepishly admitted to my dallying on my way up from the lake, and thanked him for letting me by. And then, more than 7 minutes behind the lead group, I set about catching them.

Just as I caught Mike, I couldn't resist stopping for a photo when I spotted the mountains in my mirrors.

It turns out that Monte had stopped another mile or so down the road. Being a poster child for tardiness, he'd started a stopwatch to check the spacing between vehicles. "You guys need to work on your spacing," he announced, as Mike and I rolled in. "What's the rush?" said Zane, "Ben is still miles up the road."

Let the waiting begin.

Mike playing games.

Might as well partake in a healthy mid-morning snack.

An obviously heated debate about how long it will be before Ben showed up.

In the end, Zane wasn't wrong. Zane arrived a minute and change after Monte; Mike arrived seven minutes after Zane, and I followed exactly a minute later. Ben showed up 22 minutes after Monte parked his truck. We were all ready for him to have his Tacoma back!

Our five-vehicle convention didn't last long. Ready to get underway, engines, turbos, and superchargers reved as the dusty ones pulled away. Where they were going in such a hurry was beyond me, but I hung back to let the worst of the dust die down before stopping only a quarter mile further up the road to grab a photo of the two best looking vehicles under the watchful eye of Torrey Mountain.

Zoom-zoom.

Put-put.

Just as I was climbing back into the cab, I noticed this killer on the hood. Damn you, Pine Beetles!

From our rally point at the beginning of Birch Creek Road, it was only a few miles before Monte announced over the radio that he was pulling into Dinner Station Campground for a quick stop at the restrooms. This turned out to be a popular attraction, and one that I'm sure was more pleasant for the first visitor than the last.

Luckily - having taken care of business earlier in the morning as I gazed out over the glassy surface of the lake - I never found out if the notoriously flimsy, half-ply toilet paper was running low. Instead, I perused a sign that seemed strikingly appropriate, given the arthropod I'd recently dispatched on my hood.

Whoever wrote this seemed to be way more forgiving of the Pine Beetles than I am.

Hurry up guys, it's hot in here.

Back on the trail, the road got rougher immediately past the campground. Still, save for a couple points along the way, Ben - who'd remained at the back, bless his soul - did a good job of keeping up with the much more agile 80% of our trucks, and we only had to stop a few times to wait for him to catch up.

Not that we minded at all. The scenery was great, and the temps were cooler than they'd been the previous day.

Missing a green truck in the middle.

Here comes the driver of that missing green truck now!

When I started going on trips with these guys, I might have walked a section of trail like this. Now, I barely give it a second look as I stuff trail mix into a hole in my head.

These bits still require a bit of attention in a bigger beast.

As the road wound its way through the trees, I was reminded of tails I'd run as part of the Siskiyou Crest Adventure Trail. This terrain is some of my favorite - the relatively sparse undergrowth reminiscent of the summers I spent in the Plumas National Forest - and I couldn't help but stop for a quick photo of a Birch Creek waterfall, figuring that I had a few minutes before I'd hold up the truck following behind.

Playing with time. 1/2 sec exposure (left) and 1/200 sec exposure (right).

After a short pause, I was back underway.

As I recall, there was only one point where Ben mentioned over the radio that he had to get out and clear a tree. A relatively small specimen, the rest of us had passed it - in our short, narrow Tacomas - without a second glance, but if Ben had learned thing from our route the previous day, it was that his profile was a smidge larger than ours!

There were a few points where we waited to ensure Ben could make it up without issue. None of them turned out to be an issue, with the van easily - albeit slowly - chewing through the terrain.

Looks like a boat, performs like a boat. Is it a boat?

We arrived at the first lake - Boot Lake - a few minutes before 1:00pm. Water levels were low, but there was a fantastic camp site with plenty of level ground for activities. Activities - I hoped - that would include lunch.

Water levels at Boot Lake were not impressive, but the views sure were!

The camp site we found even had a set of bleachers, on which we instinctively took up our positions.

Before we could get out the munchies, someone - I forget who, but I think it might have been Mike - suggested that, by pushing on another quarter mile, we could settle into a camp site at Pear Lake, and not have to worry about unpacking, repacking, and unpacking again. Plus, his plan - to make a pair of his tasty steak burritos as an early dinner - would mean getting out much of his kitchen, as compared to the sandwiches and snacks that usually constituted our midday meals.

This sounded find to everyone else - and I know I for one was hoping to compare the tastiness of Mike's burritos to that of Monte's carnitas - so we jumped back in the truck and were pulling into a not-so-level camp site at Pear Lake only a few minutes later.

Or, some of us were.

Monte - always keen to follow a road to its end - radioed that he was bypassing the camp area in search of the end of the road. A quick glance at my tablet, and I radioed ahead that the road appeared - to me - to climb to a couple higher lakes, and that I was following him up.

The trail above Pear Lake was the most fun we'd run so far!

On our way to the end of the road, I couldn't help but pose for a moment at May Lake.

As the road climbed to Tub Lake, it got narrower, rockier, and steeper. Definitely not something that we were going to be recommending to the whole group, the two green trucks ate up the trail, their drivers full of anticipation. And that anticipation was rewarded as we pulled into the wide area at the end of the road; as we gazed out across a beautiful alpine pool. It was a special place.

"A younger me would hike up here at midnight for a star photo." -Monte

Look at that water!

Our stomachs aching for sustenance, and assuming that the rest of the guys were already chowing down on Mike's burritos below, we broke out the camp chairs, dunked the dogs in the lake to clean them up a bit, and settled down to sandwiches and cereal. Gazing out over the water, time seemed to stand still, with nearly an hour passing before we finally packed up and headed back down the trail to find a spot to call home for the remainder of the day.

And - at 2:30pm - there was a lot of day remaining.

Back down we go, under some amazing light.

Much larger than Tub Lake, Pear Lake was no less dramatic.

Back at camp, we found everyone right where we'd left them. To our surprise, no one had unpacked, and linner - or dunch, depending on who you talked to - was yet to be consumed. Sheepishly, we apologized for the lack of communication, while relating the experience we'd enjoyed just over the ridge. As always, our blunder was quickly forgiven, and soon we were all arranged in a circle, enjoying an afternoon in the shade.

We all found nice places to setup, but I think I found the best!

It was 3:30pm when we got our first hint of weather. There was no liquid ice falling from the sky, and no electricity crackling into the air, but as the winds picked up, dark clouds streamed by to the west, a dramatic scene unfolding above the ridgeline behind the lake.

Light and dark.

Ben, having been made aware of a bald eagle on the far side of the lake, set off around the perimeter, lugging his (amazing) 600mm lens the entire way. I think it was worth it.

Shortly after his circumnavigation, the skies opened up. Our first indication was the lightning - far to the west - followed by the rumble of thunder across the valley. Excited, cameras and tripods were retrieved, long exposures begun. Alas, it was still too light, and even with the darkest of ND filters and the highest of apertures, the longest exposure we could muster was still under 1.5 seconds. It didn't much matter, because the wind that'd brought the clouds soon had us dodging some of the largest raindrops I've experienced in a long time!

With temps still in the mid-80s °F, I should have grabbed my shampoo for a late afternoon shower!

As happens with summer thunderstorms, this one passed quickly, and soon we reconvened around the fire ring, ready for our nightly dose of Mike's guacamole.

For the next few hours - and even into the night - the thunderstorms blew through. As they did, we'd move our chairs under Devin and Monte's easy-up, the conversation continuing to flow without missing a beat. It was one of the most pleasant afternoons and evenings of the entire trip, all of us content to enjoy our time together in a place we had all to ourselves.

Then, shortly before sunset, a break in the rain - but not in the storm - was the perfect time to send the flying camera up into the sky to see if I could capture some fireworks. Pointing the nose west, I realized that video would allow for a much longer exposure than anything that would work on the more expensive still video camera.

I pressed record and waited. Two minutes later, I was rewarded with a monstrous display!

Gotcha! Forty-four consecutive frames, slowed down to 1/6th real-time.

I forget what time it was when we all called it quits and headed to our respective beds, but whenever it was, we'd spent more time in camp than we had on the trail. To my surprise, I'd enjoyed it more than I would have imagined, and I found myself looking forward to more of the same.

 

 

 

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