Snow Lake, Gem Lake

On Tuesday we spent the morning putting together packs for a short trip into Gem Lake via Snow Lake (#1013 and #1012) although I wasn’t quite certain where we’d actually end up. We drove up to the pass, got Dad a parking pass from the automated kiosk, and then started scouting trail heads. The PCT-S (#2000-S) was nearly abandoned, PCT-N (#2000-N) looked like a weekend, and the trail head to Snow Lake (#1013) looked like a convention might be taking place somewhere on the side of the mountain. I’m not quite sure what got into me, but a strange compulsion took hold of me and I stopped my truck on the far side of the incredibly large and full parking lot for Snow Lake.
Packs loaded and dogs leashed we started our trek up the hill. Again I held back taking up the rear position of our line to ensure everyone was doing ok and so that I wouldn’t start running. Mom’s right foot had some blister action going so I got to play Doctor Matt and kept her company for quite a while. Justin was moving so fast with the trekking poles that someone might have imagined he likes to hike. The way up was jam packed with people traffic. You’d take a few steps and then have to park off to the side to let someone by. Over and over again.
After we crested the pass into Snow Lake a whistle was heard off down near the lake at the end of a boulder field. “Tweet, tweet, tweet” it was the same tone and the cadence was regular. At first I didn’t think much of it figuring it was a marmot or a kid playing with a rescue whistle. It did sound like a rescue whistle. It wasn’t stopping. There were people stopped all along the short descent into the lake’s depression listening and discussing what it might be. Maybe it *was* a rescue whistle? Maybe someone should go see to whoever was blowing it? I took off down the trail, dogs trailing behind me. As I got closer I started yelling “If you’re hurt keep whistling so I can find you!” The whistles didn’t stop. Finally I got to a point where I had to leave the trail to get any closer to the whistler. I unhooked the dogs and set out over the steep boulder field.
Then the whistle cadence changed and I saw my prankster. A big fat marmot who hadn’t gotten the memo stating that marmots are only supposed to sound like marmots and not rescue whistles was sitting atop a boulder laughing so hard he looked like he might burst at the seams. I dubbed him “Lunch” and worked my way back up to the trail. Little bastard!
The hike up to Gem Lake from the north side of the Snow Lake depression is much improved once the snow melts away. By evening we had browsed our way through blueberries and arrived at the edge of Gem Lake. Mom, who had been fighting valiantly against blisters the whole way, was about done for so we set up camp for the night. Large plates of spaghetti were prepared and eaten with determination. Vast hoards of mosquitos were fed quarts of well spaghettied blood. Chubby bats made sport of well-nourished blood suckers as the sun went down in the west.
The Perseids are still falling and the five sipped our beers (it’s amazing what you can smuggle in the empty spaces of an ultra-light pack) and hooted as they came zipping through the upper atmosphere.
The next morning I woke up early, dawned my shoes, grabbed a water bottle and two dogs and started running for the Wildcat Lakes. I more or less cleared Gem Lake, but there was a party of trail workers and USDA FS Rangers camped on either side of the trail as it snaked its way through the pass to Wildcat Lakes. Not feeling like leashing the mutts (who were of course on heal and under voice command) I turned back to the camp.
By the time I returned the mosquitoes were out and swarming. We struck camp deciding that breakfast could wait until we located a blood-sucker-free-zone. We ended up making coffee and eating down near the outflow for Snow Lake which was perfect. No mosquitoes whatsoever.
The rest of the trail down was uneventful. Mom’s foot was still bothering her, but she seemed to be doing ok and took off with Justin at the lead. Dad and I chatted a bit, Tess and I did the same. We descended.
After the switch backs the people headed into the area got thicker than the mosquitoes at Gem Lake. There was at least one party of 20 or more trooping up the trail oblivious to the 12 person rule in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. Many other smaller groups were headed up as well.