By 7:50 we were on the trail heading up to Lillian. As usual, no specific details other than to say it is still brutally steep and a lot wetter than just a few weeks ago. We made it to the lake in 45 minutes.

Directly across from where the trail meets the lake is a clearly defined trail heading up the ridge. I've been around to the west side as far as the outlet, but never headed east even though there's a trail there. East seemed the logical choice (shorter, more direct, all that) so we started that way only to find the "trail" crossed a big rock face with few options. Tokul and I started across on the high route while Daryl tried the low. Tokul lost her footing and started freaking out a little bit as she slid down. Before I had to make the decision about holding or dropping the leash she managed to get a grip and made it to the other side. (A fall would mean a slide into the lake from about 15 or 20 feet.)

We took the low trail and got about half way to the far shore when I saw a speck of blue on the ground. Blueberries this late in the season? They were pretty much done last time I was here. I looked up and saw the hillside was covered with bushes hanging low with fruit. We chowed down for a few minutes until we realized we could do this all day and never make it over the ridge. Reluctantly we left the berries for someone (or something) else and started to climb.

As we got to the first switchback Daryl said, "Don't stop! Don't turn around until you get here!" I figured there was a bee hive or a bear about to pounce so I hopped up the last few steps and turned around. Rainier was seemingly hovering over the deeply shadowed lake. The morning sun reflected off the bright white on the east side and it felt like we were being illuminated as if by the moon. No matter how many times I see the mountain it's always different. Sometimes far away, sometimes so in-your-face it seems you can reach out and touch it.

Reluctantly, again, we turned our backs and headed up the hill. The trail switchbacks a few times, but then starts a ladder-like climb up a gully to a gap in the ridge. Peeking over the gap to the east we were blinded by the rising sun. Wisps of clouds floated above some of the peaks to the east and north and a fog lay in the valley. One last push and we were over the small peak and on a long traverse across a gently rolling slope.

Looking down we saw there were blueberries everywhere under foot. They grew in clumps by themselves and poked out of the heather. Some had bright red leaves, others were just blue spheres on bare sticks. As we walked we bent down and grabbed handfuls. My fingers were soon stained purple and had I been wearing a white shirt I'm sure it would have been, too.

We came across a small tarn and took a wrong turn up to another before retracing our steps to the correct trail. In no time we crested a ridge to look down on Rachel Lake. It's dark blue water was offset by an orange tent on the shore. To the north was a dark lake that looked like a sort of cave so well did it reflect the shore. That was where we were heading so off we went.

The trail continued to the north switchbacking down the steep hill. We contemplated climbing over a little ridge maybe 50 feet high to get to the other side and the Rampart Lakes figuring the trail we were on went to Rachel Lake, but found the trail actually went around the ridge. (None of the trails we used were on any of our maps, but were all very well defined or at least marked by cairns.)

After crossing a swampy meadow with a crystal clear stream we were at the uppermost Rampart Lake. Three deer grazed on the eastern shore and bolted for higher ground as we passed below them. I joked that we needed them to stop at the ridge for a picture (and I had my camera out just in case), but was nevertheless surprised that they did stop and pose.

We barely made it to the midle lake of the chain when we hit our turnaround time. We would be pushing it to get back before noon as it was so there was no opportunity to dawdle or lounge in the sun.

As we headed back up the hill with a slight sense of urgency I noticed what appeared to be hoof prints in the trail. Did we miss them on the way down in our anticipation of getting to the lake? No, they hadn't been there. The three deer were following the same trail out of the lake basin. At least we weren't totally surprised by them on the switchback above us, though we did have to think about how to get around them. (Tokul was on leash, being in the pristine Wilderness and all). I pounded a bag of M&Ms while we waited for them to move on and Daryl fingered a self-defense rock. They casually walked over the ridge and out of site so we continued.

Hey, look! Deer. Again. Blocking the trail. Argh. This time they must have actually seen terrible, ferocious Tokul and they bounded straight up the hill away from the trail. Clear at last.

Looking at my watch I set a quick pace. We passed a couple of pairs of people, but saw fewer than 10 all day. At the tarns we again got moderately turned around and burned a few minutes backtracking, but the only real problems we had were on the steep slopes into and out of the Lake Lillian basin. Recent rains have made the trail a bit sloppy so we both spent some time falling backward and sliding a little. Tokul had no such trouble (once we were beyond the rock on Lillian's shore), but we didn't have a chance to look for her collar she lost last time we were up.

We got back to the car 15 minutes behind schedule and home about 20 minutes late. Next time I think I need to go back without a timeline and maybe even with a tent. It seems so different just over the ridge and with so many opportunities to explore it seems a waste to turn around just as I get there. What I really can't wait for, though, is dragging Clara or Lilly up there for an overnighter. Too bad that's probably a year or two away. (Yeah, I know, probably more like six years away, but I can dream.)