August 5, 2018. Sky Pilot Pass to Ross Lake.
Everything was damp when I woke up: inside and outside of the tent, my sleeping bag, the ground and plants. Fortunately, I did not die in a landslide, although I did hear a smaller one during the night.
I got ready for the day. I put on my wind pants and jacket. Then, with much hesitation, and a hint of irony, dry socks inside wet shoes.
Sure enough, all foliage was wet and it hung over the trail. Thus, every step on the trail liberated the water onto me. My water resistant gear simply channeled all water to my shoes. The day was sunny and dry, so I knew this was temporary. I entertained myself by thinking of words to describe my situation: damp, dank, sodden, wet, moist, waterlogged, inundated….
By the time I reached the steep area where my paranoia focused last night, the amount of rainfall was obviously less and the trails in tact.
Around 10:30, I shed the wind pants and jacket. It was a great day, but unfortunately the wind was from the south and thus it blew in smoke from a fire. I loved the views, even when they weren’t clear. This area had magnificent views around Devils (sic) Dome and elsewhere.
I began the descent to Ross Lake, a reservoir built in the 1930s. I was assuming I would not like a long, flooded valley. Almost immediately, I began encountering hikers on the trail. I stopped counting switchbacks at 22 and uphill hikers at 16. One poor guy lagged his group and noted the gallon of water he was carrying seemed heavy. Yup.
The temperature steadily rose as I declined. By the time I reached the lake it must’ve been 90+. Thankfully, the westside trail gently ambled slightly up and down. The water was clear, cold, and beautiful. I couldn’t hate it.
The trail led past an amazing spring, it dropped water down from about 12 feet. Underneath, the rock had chipped away and the stems and fronds of ferns grew down, gently waving in the breeze. Did I stand underneath that spring and let cold water shower me? You better believe it! What an amazing scene.
I wanted to get close to the dam so I could cross it early the next day to get my resupply package and charge my depleted electronics. The printed directory and maps showed a campsite called Ruby Pasture, but when I got there at 7:30, it did not exist. Instead I pushed on and stealth camped on a man-made ridge down towards the lake.
It had been a long day (14 hours and 28 miles) and my knees ached from the downhill pounding. Even though it was hot and mosquitoes were in my tent, I conked out right away.
backpacking over the hill 