Spade’s been waiting for me for a long time, but presents three obstacles: the Salmon la Sac trailhead is 5-6 hours from home; the entry fee is the 9-10 mile hike to Waptus Lake; and the Spade Lake Trail, #1337, has an evil reputation. Nevertheless, forewarned is forearmed. With two available days of plausibly decent weather, I figured the time had come.

It took a 3 a.m. departure to get me to the trailhead by 9, and I’ve begun to wonder whether these early morning drives are going to make an impact on worldwide coffee prices. After duly filling out my self-issued hiking permit, I followed the combined Cooper River, Polallie Ridge, Waptus River/Lake Trail about 100 yards until the Waptus turn-off to the right. Having cleverly failed to peruse maps carefully, I was surprised that there was no evidence for the existence of the Waptus river for about 3-4 miles. Instead, the trail (#1310) heads up about 500 feet in elevation, crosses a small stream, and then winds back down 400 feet for its meeting with the river. The next 3-4 miles feature a pleasant stretch by the river, followed by a slight climb away from the water, a welcome return, another departure, and then another river rendezvous. At about 7.5 miles, just after the Trail Creek side trail (#1322), the tread pulls away from the river again with the intention of a reunion near the Waptus Lake outlet. At this point, the hiker’s bridge being out, I followed the well-marked detour on #1329 to the horse ford across the river. Donning my high tech river sneakers, I waded the 40-50 feet of calf- to knee-high weater, and then pattered on another mile on the trail hugging the Northeast side of the lake to the disparaged Spade Lake Trail, #1337.

I changed footwear, fortified myself against the blustery wind, and suspiciously eyed the trail during lunch at the junction. In accordance with plans, I commenced my climb at about 1 p.m. so as to allow plenty of time for the navigation to Spade. The first half mile on #1337 between the lake and the PCT offer an excellent preview of things to come--a thin path up through brush, as well as over and under every blow-down imaginable. Even beyond the PCT, the blow-downs persisted. Indeed, they seemed to provide pretty reliable markers of the route: when the path is obscure, just look for the next uphill blow-down. Happily, the majority of fallen trees are passed in the first mile or two. After that, the way is just thin, steep, and rough. Rumor has it that the trail is brutal in the heat of the summer, but since it was breezy and partly cloudy, with occasional sprinkles, I only had the trail or myself to blame for the slow going.

According to the Green Trails map, the Spade Lake Trail achieves almost all of its 2200-2400 foot gain in one straight shot Northeast, and then traverses Northwest with relatively little elevation change. My impression is that the trail saves at least 400-600 of elevation gain for the stretch a bit after the one noteworthy stream crossing at about 2.5 up from Waptus. In any case, while I had seen a few people milling about at a horse camp down by Waptus, I startled my first hikers of the day almost three hours up from the lake, near the trail’s high point. The two dayhikers soothingly informed me that Spade was near at hand, but less soothingly noted that the basin was cold, cloudy, gusty, and with snow flurries. Half an hour later, I verified all their observations.

Even with the groan of the wind, and the cavalcade of clouds, and the threat of snow, the Spade basin is awesome. The Hinman-Daniel Ridge looms in the distance, and the nearer rock peaks and outcrops act as sentry towers. Ravens keep watch. I had hoped to make camp and pick my way to Venus and back before nightfall, but the wind would have none of it. Instead, I set my tent in a somewhat sheltered site at the rim of the world, collected water, put on clothes over clothes, and prepared for a cold night. At sunset, the hurrying clouds in the basin tinged purple, while the skies over the mountains to the South turned orange to pink. The nearly full moon emerged from the edge of the ridge to the East, and four stars appeared.

Taking my cue, I repaired to the tent, fired up the trusty stove in a wind-protected station out the front door, and prepared the requisite number of hot rum drinks and dinner, followed by hot chocolate with dessert. I took measure of the clouds, the basin, the moon, and the four stars before giving my candle lantern the night off, tucking myself into the sleeping bag, and listening to the wind tell bed-time stories.

At about 7 a.m., I woke up cold and cooked breakfast and coffee still wrapped in my sleeping bag. Having successfully extracted myself from my cocoon, I was greeted by the edgy wind and infrequent puzzle pieces of blue in the sky. There was no snow accumulation. I spent the next hour watching the play in the skies while haphazardly packing up. I wished I had time to visit Venus further up, but it was not in the cards. With my belongings on my back and hiking pole in hand, I located the trail out and headed down. Needless to say, down was easier than up, but not necessarily quicker. About halfway down the Spade Lake Trail, I ran into two dayhiking fishermen who had words of praise for my ancient pack, and had recorded a temperature of 35 degrees the previous night at Waptus. We exchanged regards and went in our opposite directions. Although there were camps near the ford at the outlet of Waptus, I didn’t see another hiker for the remaining 12 miles/4-5 hours out. However, close to the trailhead, I heard volley upon volley of rifle-fire to the West. There were so many shots, I assumed someone had armed the deer for a gunfight at Polallie Ridge. I left the combatants to themselves, and arrived at my car unscathed. After that--the long drive home and the onset of Fall.