Two weeks ago now, I was at a loss. I needed a destination, but couldn't think of one. Then I remembered a couple of things.
One is that I had wanted to take a picture of a good, quality log jam for a while now, but have previously been foiled. The second is that I saw some pictures posted by a group who hiked up to Lake Serene on Mount Index last Spring. I recall emailing the person who had posted the pictures of the log jam they had found asking how far it was up the trail, and I was met with internet silence.
This time, it's for real.
So I decided that I was going to get that picture of a log jam, regardless. If there had been a wind, I would have thrown caution at it; my mind was made.
I overslept.
I probably didn't leave my place until after noon, and that's no time of day to start a hike. Trying to console myself with thoughts that I would be coming back down the mountain when the lighting was better for picture-taking seemed helpful, but turned out to be mostly untrue. As you will see, literally.
So, I arrive at the parking lot sometime further after noon. Nothing really major happened on the drive up. There was a bit of a dirt road before the parking lot that I may have driven (a tad) too fast on, but nothing much more than that.
In the parking lot there were a few cars and a man cleaning the out-house. The smell was delightful (not that I have any right to complain--that's his job, after all).
Checking the board at the trailhead for any additional unknown details, I noticed a pair of reading glasses. It made me simultaneously happy and sad; sad for the person that was missing them, but happy that someone had found them along the trail and brought them back to a central point for the loser to claim them.
That detail is unfortunately significant.
I began making my way up the trail. The sign had said that the first mile and a half was an old logging road that covered private land and to "be kind," or something like that.
After that, there was to be a fork in the trail. Head upward for a shorter distance and see Bridal Veil Falls, or take the immediately lower, but ultimately longer, higher, and steeper climb up to Lake Serene. Since I had never gotten a response from the recipient of my query, I thought I'd start with the easier one.
This might have been a mistake, because by the time I came down from the lake, I was incredibly exhausted. My legs actually shook as I demanded their movement. At the end of the day, and a couple of weeks later, I'm glad of the choices I made because having done things the other way may have resulted in my missing Bridal Veil Falls--which wouldn't do at all.
That was a nice recap, but I've gotten a little ahead of myself.
Where was I? Oh, right. Just setting out from the parking lot, heading toward the mountain on the old logging road.
There were definitely parts that seemed like it could have served at some point as a logging road since the invention of the truck, but there were other parts that seemed certainly to deviate from the road--if for no other reason than the fact that I couldn't imagine a truck EVER having been able to get through portions of the path in the last hundred years.
This is where it looks like a truck might have been able to pass through. I don't have any pictures of the more treacherous parts of that first mile and a half, you'll just have to trust me. Or hike it yourself. The power is yours!
I continued onward and vaguely upward, fearing that as the path became narrower that I had somehow missed my turn and was venturing forth toward an unknown destination. The falls? The lake? The summer home of the hill people? I couldn't tell.
Footfall after footfall, step after step, my jangling keys would echo back to me in the quiet forest. During the entirety of my outing, I believe I saw maybe two animals, not counting birds. The first was a stealthy bugger, that I couldn't get a quality picture of. Here is a bad picture of it, anyway.
Soon after the encounter with the slither-critter with its forked tongue, I found my forked road. As I mentioned earlier, I took the high road and headed upward toward the falls. Along the way I climbed across dried creek-beds, mysterious boardwalks, and apparently magical staircases. It was awesome.
It made me a little sad how often I was wondering how much farther I had to go, but I really had nothing to gauge time or distance by. I hadn't brought my watch, and I didn't think I had phone service up there so I was trying to conserve battery power on that.
Without much further strain or peril, I reached the falls. They were a sight to behold (obviously).
I liked the above image for the detailed spray, but the below is more apparently from where the site's name is derived (I would guess).
Having taken a sufficient number of pictures, and felt like I had seen the site, I decided to head back down and try my hand at the next leg of the hike. Although, I did stop to take a few pictures of the aforementioned potentially magical staircase. In this one instance, I was really glad to be there at that particular time of day... if only for the lens flare.
It was fairly quick thereafter that I once more reached the fork in the trail. And where I had my clever idea about figuring times. And when I remembered just how far I still had to go.
Before heading up to the falls, I had taken a picture of the mile post. It read 1/2 mile to the falls, 2 miles to the lake. This meant two things to me, that my little sojourn on the high road was 1/4 the length of the low road, and that I had a time stamp on my camera from passing by the first time. I felt obliged to take another, if only to gauge my time. That round trip had been 55 minutes. So, the hike up, some relax and observe time for taking in the wondrous site, and the return time. Not too bad, right?
Then I took the other trail toward the lake, have still yet to encounter my desired log jam. Where could it be, I wondered? Only time would tell.
It was about this time that I started really trying to console myself with that whole theory about the better lighting. Except for one major flaw, it would have been a sound idea. The flaw being that the sun, regardless of how well positioned in the sky it would have been, it was behind a mountain. That being said, there were still a few images I could salvage.. like this one of a rock with trees on top of it. To me, it looked like a bear with antlers.
Most of my effort, however, was being devoted to maintaining my sanity and intentions as the trail switched back time after time, growing ever more treacherous and unforgiving. At least to me, an unseasoned newbie. I'll admit it. I don't go hiking very often. This was the first time I'd gone by myself, ever. I didn't know what I was getting into.
The picture-taking tapered off.
There were a few parts where those nice boardwalks had been built, and a few more not-quite-as-magical staircases, but for the most part the trail grew narrower and rockier. At points it made encountering other hikers a difficulty, indeed.
Effort expended was not without reward, however. Every time I rounded a corner and saw things start to open up a little, I was convinced that the open space just had to be the lack of trees signifying the presence of a lake. All save once, this was not the case at all. And even that one time when there was a lake, it didn't come as a surprise because of the signage pointing it out.
This is when my own personal tragedy struck. I write that with as much sarcasm as I can muster. My left shoulder had grown weary of my camera bag, so I decided to sling it around and let the strap of the bag rest on my right shoulder. Maybe a half mile later, as I came upon this bright, open spot pictured above, I went for the sunglasses that had been hung on my shirt, the sunglasses that I had to that point thought were brought needlessly as the canopy above had done their work for them. I reached for the sunglasses that were gone.
The horror was twofold. I have traditionally been a bit of a spendthrift, and they were the best sunglasses I've ever owned. Nice, big aviators that I bought on Amazon in 2005 for $15. They were so good. I also felt bad for littering.
I knew I wasn't going to immediately run back down the trail hunting for them, but I figured if I didn't spend too much time up top (wherever that might have been), I could head back down and catch a glint off the frame or lenses as the sun sank with finality behind the mountain.
That being said, I soon rounded the corner and discovered, true to its name, Lake Serene.
There was also a toilet, if such it can be called.
Seriously, though. Here's the lake.
There was also a neat rock outcropping sitting at the crown of the mountain-castle.
But what of the goal, you ask? Well, I'm coming 'round to that. For you see, at the end of it all, the log jam i sought served as the dam and the lake's spillway. Observe:
About a hundred feet past the end of the logs in the picture, there's a sheer drop.
This was almost exactly the image I had wanted. And then I turned it black and white. Because I felt like it.
Then I turned and headed back down the mountain.
Here's a little insight into how I was feeling from that point on: Up to that point I had taken... 280 pictures. From the point of actually reaching the trail again until the parking lot, I only took 5 more. I felt miserable and just wanted to be done. My legs shook with the effort. I didn't want to stop for fear I wouldn't be able to get going again. I was tripping over rocks, I didn't find my sunglasses... I was glad that I'd been there, but I was ready to be home.
One of the five pictures however, I had the presence of mind to make sure, was of that sign post. If you'll recall, the 1 mile round trip to the falls had taken a little less than an hour. I rounded the corner and passed it on my way up to the lake at 3:13 pm. Any guess what time I passed it on the way back to the parking lot? And bear in mind that was going way too fast on that return trip. The time was 5:50 pm. Nearly 3 hours.
Now that I think about it, that doesn't seem that bad. Huh.
The only thing that still stings is the fact that I kept my eyes peeled for my glinting sunglasses, but alas! They didn't reveal themselves to me. My only hope (aside from Obi-Wan Kenobi) was in some halfway decent samaritan finding them and returning them to the sign in the parking lot. Such was not the case.
Anyway, I had a fantastic time. I'd like to return some day. With more time, and in better shape.
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