July 15th, 2018. From stealth camp on Lion Creek to Mankato Mountain.
It was warm to start. Normally, camping by a creek can lead to waking up with a damp temp as cold wet air sinks. Not this morning. It was going to be warm.
I cruised past all the RVs and boats and jet skis and ATVs at the campground. When I get home, u want to add up how much America spends on all of these and I will bet it probably ranks in the GDP equivalent of some European countries.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not trying to be self righteous and insist my way of enjoying the outdoors is best or right. Instead, I am concerned that people take so many mechanical distractions with them to the wilderness.
Off of my soap box, I traveled past Upper Priest Lake and some great campsites. Then, without warning, I entered an area that was epic. Recently society has screwed up the word epic by applying it to common things. Thus we lose the true impact of epic when used appropriately.
I entered a land of giants. Cedars. Trunks 12 or 20 feet in circumference. Crowns reaching hundreds of feet high. Walking on a forest floor of decades of fallen needles and cones. A smooth green shag carpet of ferns wherever a ray of sunlight would penetrate. No wind. Once in awhile a whitetail. This went on for several miles. I’ve been to the Sequoias and redwoods, but this was so unexpected and vast that I have to call it epic.
But then hot road walking kicked in. Eventually it switched to trail. Finally, it switched to uphill forested trail.
I climbed up along Jackson Creek. I was very thankful for the tree cover because it was hot. The guidebook suggested collecting a lot of water at the bottom. I did and was lugging five liters which is 10 lbs.
Surprisingly, the mosquitoes were horrendous. At least 20 or 30 around me at all times. I used DEET 100. Some people hate it and I may end with numerous tumors and lesions, but by God did I get relief from the little bastards. Except, of course, when it dropped in my eye along with sweat which is a feeling comparable to someone grinding lemon juice with tobasco into you cornea.
Except for the mosquitoes and passing dozens of streams with plentiful water, I felt good and trudged my way up. I entered a burn area with fantastic views. I had my eye on a saddle between peaks that was level and I could have sunset and sunrise views.
Finally, as I approached, I saw tents. There were three ladies camping there, enjoying their dinner and my view. We chatted a bit, but I pushed off, hoping that the saddle in a half mile would offer similar views.
Upon arrival, I found the Washington Trail Association trail crew. This was great because these were the heroes cutting up blowdowns and making the trail clear. Selfishly, it sucked because the next flat area on my map was a half hour away and it was getting dark.
Out of the blue, I spied a little flat area about 50 feet downhill from the trail. I was able to scratch out an area big enough for my tent. As is my custom, I sent out a satellite note to my family identifying my stopping point. I was surprised to see I was on the slopes of Mount Mankato. In Minnesota, Mankato is a sleepy college town on flat land, so I have no idea how this mountain got named.
Just glad to be laying down, I watched as darkness enveloped the valleys below while the relentless mosquitoes still tried to get in my tent.
backpacking over the hill 