Day Three: More Potholes And A Perfect Alpine Lake

" Let's go on a hike," said my fourth-born. "A proper hike in the Cascade Mountains."

Yes, What a grand and glorious summer bucket list idea. So we brought out the mountain hiking guide books, studied and strategized, and laid in a plan for a thoroughly challenging hike to a mountain lake.

Little did we know the complications that were about to unfold.

Read the full adventure here:

Day One: The Gulch And A Great Beach
Day Two: Potholes, Boardwalks And Another Beach
Day Three: More Potholes And A Perfect Alpine Lake

* * * * *

Day Three dawned cloudy and grey but surprisingly dry, so with an urgency driven by our two days of failed attempts, my two younger daughters and I set off for the mountains once again. 

We were armed with a new plan. This time, our sights were set on Heather Lake: a 4.6 mile round tripper with an elevation gain just over 1000 feet.

My daughters and I love to hike but we are not hardcore hikers. What I mean by that is we love to be out in the wilderness, conquering the land with our own two feet, pushing ourselves to do something hard...but not too hard. Rather than focus every effort on crossing unstable stands of scree, scrambling across slippery stone boulders, or summiting crazy elevation gains, we prefer to use most of our bandwidth on smelling the flowers and enjoying the scenery. We have no desire to suffer, to struggle, to sweat, for heaven's sake. Hiking, in our humble collective opinion, should be enjoyable and relaxing, not a gladiator's match. And with that lovely goal in mind, we choose our hikes carefully. 

Heather Lake seemed like a solid choice for us. Not too long, not too steep. Plus two of us had already made the hike and lived to survive, so we were pretty sure we had a winner.

Along we drove, retracing our steps from Day Two, and feeling a little proud of our sticktuitiveness. 

* * * * *

It wasn't until we pulled into the Ranger Station, gravel crunching under our tires, that we discovered our commitment would face one more test. 

"So you're thinking of going to Heather Lake?" the rangers asked. Well. I heard the reservation in her voice, clear as a bell. 

"That's what we were thinking. We tried Ashland Lakes yesterday but the access road was is rough shape so we gave up and turned back."

At the mention of this trip through potholedhell, my new friend visibly relaxed. "The road up to the Heather Lake trailhead is about the same," she gushed. "Have you considered Lake Twenty Two?"

Five minutes later, we were back in the car, crunching across that same gravel but this time with a new plan in mind. 

* * * * *

One mile down the highway, we pulled off the highway and directly into the trailhead parking for Lake Twenty Two. And thus, after three days of setbacks and recalculations, our proper mountain hike in the Cascade Mountains was finally underway.

We knew we were pushing ourselves to the edge of our hiking comfort bubble. The hike to Lake Twenty Two runs 5.4 miles round trip to the base of the lake, but the extra loop trail around the lake brought the total mileage to 6.5. Noting the elevation gain of 1350 feet, we gave thanks for the cool temperatures and set off.

* * * * *

Hiking uphill, for me, feels quite a bit like natural childbirth. 

There is discomfort. 

There is pain. 

Many small sips of water are needed. 

There may be some curse words thrown around.

There is also a quiet voice within that reminds me, "There's no way out of this except to go through it, so you may as well quit complaining and get on with the job."

And then, when the goal is finally achieved, glory hallelujah! The pain and agony disappear in an instant, and suddenly, I'm immersed in pure joy. 

And so it was when I arrived at Lake Twenty Two. 

^ With little ado, the trail comes to an end at a boardwalk junction. Three steps to the left led us out onto a footbridge across the northern end of the lake, wetlands behind us and the green glow of reflected forest ahead. 

^ A low-hanging curtain of fog obscured much of our view across the lake, but wildflowers in the meadow and a glacier on the distant shore put in lovely appearances. 

^ After a quick break for Gracie to cool off in the water, we set off on the loop trail toward the east side of the lake. 

^ Just as we did, the fog hovering over the lake did a belly flop and landed right on top of us. All the beauty we had come to see was lying just beyond that ridge of low trees, but you will have to take my word for it. 

^ Massive granite boulders lay strewn this way and that across the meadow, leaving me with the impression that giants had once been at play here. Or glaciers. Same difference.

^ Gracie's hiking style is to rush ahead and lead our little pack from the advantage of her (partially coiled) long leash, and then circle back to make sure she hasn't lost us. All in all, with this back and forth business, I expect she gets in about twice as many steps as we do. 

^ The lake, as seen from the southern vantage point. You may be asking, "What lake? I don't see any lake." I know, right?

^ Where the east side of the lake is open meadows of tumbled boulders, the west is a wooded paradise. 

^ And before we knew it, we were back where we started. After our battle up the side of the mountain, the 1.1 miles around the mostly level loop trail felt like a walk in the park. 

^All that was left for us to do now was to march back down the trail. My feet had wings and Gracie's paws collected mud. 

^Down through the scree fields, switchbacks, tangles of roots, steep staircases, slabs of rock, and waterfalls streaming across the trail we traipsed until we were back on the mostly level ground from whence we came. Gracie and my daughters rushed ahead to the car, leaving me a few moments alone in the forest to contemplate my hike to Lake Twenty Two. 

And just as my memories of childbirth flew away the moment I held my baby in my arms, I forgot every moment of the day's challenges. 

"Sure," I said to myself, "I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat."