Rampart Ridge, Rachel Lake

I arrived to a nearly empty parking lot at 9:00 am Friday – only 3 other vehicles present. I immediately hit the trail, but was slowed by scenes like this.

Beautiful colors started almost immediately in the vine maple dotting the hillside. Soon I was climbing the staircase of tree roots and rocks to the shores of Rachel Lake, which was completely vacant of visitors. I took a short break before attacking the last ½ mile of trail up to the ridge.

Colors on the ridge were quite nice, and continued all the way to the lakes. I found a nice campsite well off the main trail and settled in.

I was pleasantly surprised by the lack people. I witnessed a single day hiker pass by on his way up the ridge, and two other hikers picking berries. I had the lakes all to myself Friday night.

The weather hadn’t materialized as forecast, remaining mostly cloudy all day. The sun appeared to be winning the battle against them in late morning, but by early afternoon the clouds grew thicker and settled in for the rest of the afternoon.

As sunset neared, the clouds began to drop and obscure some of the taller peaks in the distance. And as I gave up on sunset, magic happened. The sun dipped below the cloud level to the west and transformed Alta and Hi Box into blazing red spectacles of grandeur. It was one of the best sunrises I have witnessed in several years.

Funny how things work out sometimes.

I nestled into my bivy sack with cloud cover over head. An hour later, the sky was filled with stars and the moon. A short time later, the clouds had reclaimed the sky.

I was awakened at 4:30 am by a critter resting on top of me; something much larger than a mouse. I was so bundled in that it took me forever to pop my head out to see what it was. By then it was gone. I can tell you that it didn’t startle easy.

I awoke for a sunrise that never materialized and waited until nearly 10:00 in hopes that the morning sky would clear. But it was not to be. Instead snow flakes began to fall, turning the frozen tarns around me white. I hiked out amid gray skies and light snow flurries.

At Rachel Lake I noted a single party that had stayed the night. Such solitude would not be afforded to those staying the next night. I passed a ranger with overnight pack just below the lake, and assumed it was a sign of the throngs of people expected for the weekend. Based on the number of people I saw coming up the trail, expectations may have been exceeded. I was glad to have missed the crowds by a day.