The weather forecast was not great. Snow? Yikes. But our weatherman said it wouldn't be too bad. NOICE. Except the road was closed. Something about doing repairs after a fire. Stupid wildfires. (They're so stupid we had to drive right through an active wildfire. Ugh.)

I came up with another idea, but it was way, way up a logging road. So far up I was worried if it snowed we'd be trapped. But we'll talk to the rangers... except the stupid government was shut down so the ranger station was closed. UGH!

So we kept going east with the goal of outrunning the storm. By the time we got to the trailhead for our third choice it was three hours later than we planned to start. But the fall colors were looking great. And in the distance the larches were prime.

I, however, was not. We shouldered packs and started up the trail. Wow. I could hardly catch my breath. Lilly was having no problem, but I was on the strugglebus. I couldn't keep up with Lilly. I could barely put one foot in front of the other. Ugh. So much for training all summer.

Even though I couldn't breathe, it got a lot better when we entered the larches. I mean, I was still in pain, but at least the trees were gorgeous. We switched back and forth up the hill, wound around rocks, and took big steps. Just when I was legitimately thinking about giving up we crested the headwall and the lake was in front of us.

Libby Lake is gorgeous. The little lake sits in a cirque with towering cliffs all around. We dropped our packs and floated around the edge of the lake looking for a camp site. Lilly found a winner where we could set up the tent, be sheltered from the wind, and had a convenient spot to cook. As darkness fell it started snowing. We had a quick dinner and crawled into our sleeping bags. It was 730p.

All night long the wind whipped around the lake. Gusts would shake the tent causing the accumulated snow to slide down and pile up around the edges. I heard rockfall and I was sure we were going to wake up to a foot of snow in the morning.

It was only a few inches. It seemed much deeper because the piles along the perimeter of the tent were much higher. We had breakfast while the snow kept falling. We went for a walk around the lake and the snow kept falling. And falling. And falling.

Usually our backpacking adventures are three day trips. We hike in the first day. We do a day hike. We hike out the third day. But here our options were pretty limited. We might have been able to gain the ridge north of the lake, but the snow kept falling. And scrambling up rocks covered with a thin layer of snow ain't fun.

But the worst was the possibility the car would be snowed in. The trailhead, and the car, was at about 4400 feet. (Camp was at 7600 feet.) All I could think about was being trapped.

The combination of no realistic middle day adventure and worrying about the car led us to conclude we should head out after lunch. (We'd have left earlier, but we had "Pepperoni Pizza Bowl" on deck and we weren't going to miss that.)

By the time we were packed up there was close to the foot of snow I thought had fallen overnight. The trail that had been so easy to follow on the way in was gone. Surprisingly, we only made a few wrong turns. Once we had descended out of the larches the snow was only a couple of inches. I felt a lot better.

In fact, I felt a lot better in general. Food. Sleep. Adventure. It had brought me back to life. We cruised down the trail and arrived at the car in short order. The car had a couple of inches of snow on it, but the ground had less. Even better, someone else had driven up and broken trail. Getting out would be easy. And then there was a four hour drive to get home.

And the next day Lilly and I went for a morning hike. No snow and we had slept in our own beds. Quite nice.

📍 On the lands of the sp̓aƛ̓mul̓əxʷəxʷ (Methow) people.