Accompanied by none other than my own adventurous mother, who was embarking on her first backcountry backpacking trip, we set down the path, immediately immersed in the sweet scent of the Douglas Fir trees and the breathtaking beauty of the forest.

The trail seems like a gateway into an enchanted forest that immediately calls to memory fairytales of your childhood. With each step further into the wilderness, our journey brought us new pristine vistas and new challenges. We crossed a total of seven streams and rivers on foot, and 13 bridges while the crystal-clear water rushed beneath us. While some might consider some of these bridges to be impassible because of their damage, mom and I journeyed onward with Greenwater Lakes set in mind. Some of the bridges that once spanned these waterways had fallen into disrepair, their wooden boards worn and and their railings broken and dangling in the water below.

One particular bridge, crushed by a fallen Douglas fir tree, served as a stark reminder of the ever-changing landscape and the raw forces that shape it. We had to hug it in order to get across to our destination. A forceful way to be thrown into the connection with nature we were seeking. After that bridge, the path became less defined and harder to navigate. I wouldn’t recommend doing it without ample time for daylight.

After we found the most pristine little corner of the larger of the two Greenwater Lakes, we set up our tents and realized that we still had a little adventure left in us. We decided to continue exploring the trail system as it continues on beyond Greenwater Lakes to Lost Lake. However, soon enough, we came to a screeching halt, both in conversation and in movement, when we heard a distinctive snort echoing from the canopy. Our hearts both stopped in the sudden realization that we were in the company of a bear… that we couldn’t see. Respecting the boundaries of wildlife, and the sanctity of our own lives, we continued our conversation a little louder as we wide-eyed continued down the trail, back to back with bear spray drawn, ready for anything. We cautiously continued like this for about half a mile before we felt safe enough to retreat to the safety of our camp with a sense of exhilaration and adventure coursing in our veins. Luckily, I had my bear vault with me as well in an abundance of what turned out to be necessary caution.

With our tents set up and hunger calling, we gathered around our makeshift wilderness kitchen to prepare a well-deserved meal, and watched a newly-mothered duck escort her ducklings on a parade of pride for us. I swear I had never seen a duck smile until that night.The crackling sound of the campfire and the aroma of food filled the air, creating an ambiance that felt both soothing and invigorating.

As the night deepened and the world around us grew hushed and dark, we let the fire die out and retreated to our tents. I ventured out of my tent a few hours later, stirred by a call of nature. The biting cold of the nighttime mountain air sent shivered down my spine and immediately set deep into my bones, but it was the starlit sky that stole my breath away and kept me frozen in my place.

Read my full report in more detail on my website, linked.