The Journey
This is the Beartooth Mountain range, named for the shape of the mountains. Just like mollars, the mountains go almost straight up, and then level off at the top, forming a plataeu. This plataeu is as mountianous as any mollar.
On the left is Long mountain, big surprise huh? Behind and above Long Mountain is Lake Plateau, the most beautiful place I have ever been.
I was working for an outfitter. A group of backpackers had hired us to pick them up from Lake Plateau at eight am. In order to get there on time we left at 2 am. The drive was about fifteen miles, but it took us three hours. The road was filled with two foot pot holes, and eighteen inch boulders sticking out of the ground.
We went through two tires on our way up. About six am, we were on the trail. I sat on my horse, blinded by the darkness. All I could see was a few stars above, and sparks in front. Every time a horse's shoe hits a rock there is a spark, I had never thought of it before, but in the darkness I saw them easily.
As sunrise approached I could barely make out the outlines of mountains all around. I was amazed, we were already at 11,000 elevation, and the mountains still towered over us. As dawn arrived I began to see once again.
I cursed myself, kicked myself, at that moment I hated myself; I had forgot my camera. The trail we were on wound; through highland pastures, under pine trees, across glacial creeks, and beside sapphire and jade lakes. No matter how deep the water, I could see the bottom, and sometimes the trout swimming underwater.
There are plants at that elevation that few lowlanders have ever seen. I have been told that at higher latitudes the plant-life is the same. At eight, we picked up the backpackers and started out.
As we left I was reminded of the danger this beauty hid. Chasing at our heels was a winter storm system, in August. It could snow a foot or two in five minutes or even dump ten feet without notice. In the mountains an eighty degree day could in five minutes be thirty below.
Some day I want to go back, try my luck, test my strength against those mountains. With a fifty pound pack, snowshoes in August, and a camera.
On the left is Long mountain, big surprise huh? Behind and above Long Mountain is Lake Plateau, the most beautiful place I have ever been.
I was working for an outfitter. A group of backpackers had hired us to pick them up from Lake Plateau at eight am. In order to get there on time we left at 2 am. The drive was about fifteen miles, but it took us three hours. The road was filled with two foot pot holes, and eighteen inch boulders sticking out of the ground.
We went through two tires on our way up. About six am, we were on the trail. I sat on my horse, blinded by the darkness. All I could see was a few stars above, and sparks in front. Every time a horse's shoe hits a rock there is a spark, I had never thought of it before, but in the darkness I saw them easily.
As sunrise approached I could barely make out the outlines of mountains all around. I was amazed, we were already at 11,000 elevation, and the mountains still towered over us. As dawn arrived I began to see once again.
I cursed myself, kicked myself, at that moment I hated myself; I had forgot my camera. The trail we were on wound; through highland pastures, under pine trees, across glacial creeks, and beside sapphire and jade lakes. No matter how deep the water, I could see the bottom, and sometimes the trout swimming underwater.
There are plants at that elevation that few lowlanders have ever seen. I have been told that at higher latitudes the plant-life is the same. At eight, we picked up the backpackers and started out.
As we left I was reminded of the danger this beauty hid. Chasing at our heels was a winter storm system, in August. It could snow a foot or two in five minutes or even dump ten feet without notice. In the mountains an eighty degree day could in five minutes be thirty below.
Some day I want to go back, try my luck, test my strength against those mountains. With a fifty pound pack, snowshoes in August, and a camera.