We arrived back at the Tacoma completely thrashed after hiking the Conrad Kain Hut in the Bugaboo Mountains. Still, we'd made it down the mountain in good time, giving ourselves a few hours to dash - madly - to the spot we hoped to camp for the night.
Farnham.
The last time we'd visited Farnham had been full of emotion. We'd made it over the sketchy bridge - adrenaline pumping - and up the narrow shelf road. We'd driven nearly to the edge of the glacier, and - gleefully - tasted a bit of the ancient ice. And - in a terrifying turn of events - we'd been caught completely off-guard by one of the most extreme wind-rain-and-thunderstorms that we've ever experienced.
We knew that this time would be different. We hoped it would be better.
As usual, the approach to the glacier is mesmerizing. (East Guardsman)
The views only get better the deeper into the nowhere one goes. (Commander Mountain)
We really were racing the sunset as we ticked off the final 25 kilometers after leaving Horsethief Creek. Still, we knew we had to stop when we reached the bridge - not to carefully pick our way across as we had the last time - but to witness the aftermath of the stupid internet feud that ultimately resulted in the bridge being removed.
Bridge out.
The impetus behind the effort to remove the bridge had been one of preventing access - to a favorite camp site - for a particular group of Canadians. Of course, this effort was akin to cutting off one's nose to spite their face, since many more people have enjoyed this spot than that small group.
Ironically, the outcome was the exact opposite. With the sketchy bridge gone, a road was quickly developed through the small creek, and now access to this amazing place is easier than ever.
I'm not sure a Prius could make it, but it'd be easy to get across in a Rav4 now.
We arrived at the top - the site of a lonely cabin - just as the sun dropped below the horizon. Getting the tent deployed as quickly as I possible, I sent our little buddy into the sky, hoping to capture the contrast between the brilliant white of the snow and the lavender hues all around us.
Camp on the edge. Will he never learn?
Wider.
Sending our little buddy as high as it could go, we caught a glimpse of a glacial lake at the bottom of the upper bowl.
Last light down canyon.
With darkness setting in, we quickly consumed the sampling of salads that @mrs.turbodb had pre-prepared and soon we were climbing up into the tent with our fingers crossed that the pleasant weather would hold through the night. The last thing we wanted was a repeat of our last visit.
The following morning...
The weather overnight couldn't have been better. No wind and pleasant temperatures persisted until sunrise, the way it should have been the last time we visited. Hoping to catch the morning light before the sun's rays began to cast long, Purcell Mountains' shadows across the terrain, I was up a few minutes before the fiery ball rose into the sky, temperatures still so pleasant that - even at 7,300 feet - I didn't even need a sweatshirt.
A magical morning.
Personal Paradise.
The little guy got a few nice shots as well.
First light on the glacier.
Wandering around the maze of moraines while @mrs.turbodb tidied up the interior of the tent and got herself ready to go for the day, I noticed a bit of movement out of the corner of my eye. Amazingly well camouflaged, a glacier chicken - also known as a ptarmigan - was only a few feet away. Feasting on the new growth of a nearby shrub, it seemed rather unimpressed by my presence, a sure indicator that Canadians must be nicer than us southerners.
White-tailed Ptarmigan
Also found around camp. The black pinecones of the Nordmann fir (Abies nordmanniana). (left) | A yellow aster. (right)
The growing season up here is short, and every fir was sporting bright green tips.
Eventually - not really all that long, really - I wandered back to the Tacoma where a bowl of cereal was waiting for me to smoother it in milk and @mrs.turbodb was already spooning the crunchy delight into her mouth. Then - knowing that we had a long day ahead that would benefit from the cooler morning temperatures - we packed everything up and headed down the mountain.
The upper crossing of the glacial melt. Always a smaller flow in the morning.
Sunlight creeping down the mountains.
Soon, we were back at the infamous bridge.
Infinitely easier.
Our second "oh-so-treacherous" crossing of the creek complete, we picked up our speed as we cruised down the valley. It was only 6:48am, but our plan for the morning - and afternoon if we're being honest - was to tackle a hike that was both longer and had more elevation gain than the doozy we'd endured the day before. At 10 miles roundtrip - and 3,000 feet higher than the trailhead - The Lake of the Hanging Glacier was sure to test our aging bodies even on the best of days. That it was projected to be 98°F was simply icing on the cake. Warm icing, perhaps.
Still, I couldn't help but to stop one final time to send our little buddy off to inspect a mine adit we'd spotted the previous evening on our way in. In a rush, we'd opted not to stop at the time, but I was really curious to check it out, since I'd never noticed it on previous visits.
Well then, I suppose that's why I'd never seen this "adit entrance" in the past.
Mystery complete, our little buddy raced back toward the Tacoma as we checked our watches and wondered if we were making a big mistake. I'd already downed a few anticipatory Advil, and @mrs.turbodb was laying the groundwork for a mid-hike turnaround.
Little buddy returning home.
One thing was for sure. We definitely weren't getting any younger.
The Whole Story
