As I had mentioned on day four, day five would begin as the worst day on my journey. Sleeping is difficult in the wild, sleeping with sunburns is especially bad. As I mentioned, I had sunburns on the backs of my arms and legs. This made laying down particularly painful, and sleep was difficult.

I tend to turn from side to side as I sleep, but that night I found that I couldn’t turn to my left side at all. It hurt too much to have the sunburn on my arm touch anything. I was having a lot of difficultly sleeping in general, and it wasn’t just because of the burns, but also because of the blisters on my feet, they were throbbing. Around 1:00 AM the pain was enough that I decided to treat my blisters and get them cleaned up. As much as I didn’t want to get out of my sleeping bag I managed. Like the day before, it was going to be another late night of surgery.

To my surprise, as I turned my flashlight on, I found that my feet weren’t the worst problem I had, because on my left arm was the biggest blister I’d every seen on my body. It had spawned purely from sunburn. I realized why I was having so much pain whenever I rolled onto my left side. It was a second degree burn and I knew it. Alongside with the huge blister, were much smaller blisters all around. Once again I turned to my first-aid guide. Keep in mind, my first-aid guide was not some comprehensive manual, it was a few sheets of paper with common outdoor injury remedies. Luckily burns were included.

The treatment of a second degree burn was simple. The guide said that any blisters larger than two centimeters should be punctured and drained. Smaller ones didn’t need to be drained. Well, my blister was easily over two centimeters. I’d say it was about an inch and a half. Following the drainage, the guide said that antibacterial should be applied, and the wound should be bandaged. I had to use my knife to puncture the blister, but this proved much easier than the blister on my foot from the day before (you may recall the sawing). As soon as the tip of my knife touched the blister on my arm it was punctured, and draining it was easy. I only had one small packet of anti-bacterial ointment, so I figured I’d use half of it then, and half the next time I dressed it. My feet would have to fend for themselves, as this wound seemed more serious.

As for bandaging the wound, I was in luck. At first I thought I’d have to tape gauze pads over it, and that bothered me because the burn was all the way around my arm, and I didn’t want to have tape over the burns, but I had an elastic bandage in my first-aid kit, and I was able to wrap my whole upper arm. With the wound treated, I moved onto my feet.

Treating my wounds made sleeping easier, since they didn’t hurt so much. I was worried, though. My first-aid guide didn’t say that second degree burns needed immediate medical attention, but I didn’t know for sure. I wanted out, I wanted to go see a doctor. I figured if I started early, and hiked all day I could get out without spending another night in the mountain range. I set my alarm for 4:30 AM.

4:30 AM came, and the last thing I wanted to do was get up. I went back to bed until 6:30 AM. From there it was a struggle in my tent to clean up a bit and change into some fresh clothes. I only had one pair of dry socks left. Around 7:30 AM I got out of my tent, and began to purify water and make breakfast. For breakfast I had a freeze dried meal, scrambled eggs and bacon. It wasn’t very good. No, not good at all. Almost as bad as the usual Pop Tarts and cereal bars I’d been having. Still I managed to make it through the morning. I threw out more food too, I knew at most I’d have only one night left. I threw out all my noodles and most of my Pop Tarts. I departed my camping spot around 8:00 AM, and tried to move as fast as possible. I was hoping to get to Rocky Sea Pass, the final pass I had to go over, by noon. I knew that a painkiller would help me make it.

That morning was difficult, it was all through forest, and the bugs were bad. The bugs were so bad that I couldn’t stop cussing at them. Then I’d laugh at myself, because I knew the bugs couldn’t care less if I cussed. Then I’d cuss some more because laughing had caused bugs to get sucked up my nose.

The trail from Ledge Lake to Rocky Sea Pass goes through the Rock Creek drainage. The Highline Trail veers a little to the south, but there are some other trails that pass by the various lakes in the northern parts of the drainage. I wanted to follow the Highline Trail the whole way, so I stuck with it, even though it looked much less used than the northern trails. I followed it south.

This led to a big decrease in elevation, and in fact, lead to the lowest elevation that I would reach on the entire trip, about 9,000 ft. Maybe that’s why the bugs were so bad. What’s worse, is that I had to cross Rock Creek, and there was absolutely no way to cross without getting my feet wet. That bothered me a lot, because I had put a fresh dressing on my blisters, and I didn’t have any dry socks left. I had no choice, so I crossed.

It was all uphill from there. Uphill and bugs. I couldn’t stop moving to catch my breath, because I’d be eating bugs if I did so. So I pushed on. Eventually I made it to the junction where the northern trails meet back up with the Highline Trail. I had predetermined that I would take a thirty minute break there, have some Clif Bars and then approach Rocky Sea Pass. Really, the only good thing about that morning was that the sky was overcast, so at least the sun wasn’t burning me further.

My break was less than twenty minutes, the bugs were too bad to stop for long. I was still cussing like a madman. I made my approach to Rocky Sea Pass. I feared this pass. This was one of those passes that my map indicated as “hazardous to horses and pack stock”. The lone backpacker I’d talked to the day before had said it would be steep going up, but then it wouldn’t be bad. I just didn’t know. I hoped it wasn’t anything like Porcupine Pass. The last thing I wanted to do was get injured when I was so close to my destination.

As I approached the pass, I grew even more fearful. The sky was gray, and I didn’t want to be on a dangerous pass with slick wet rocks and the threat of a lighting strike. I figured the best thing to do would be to wait out the storm. The bugs were bad and I wanted to stay dry, so I set up my tent just below the pass. It was around 1:00 PM. I figured if the sky hadn’t cleared up by 6:00 PM, I’d spend the night there.

It rained off and on for hours. It the first time on the trip that I had a chance to read. It was actually quite relaxing, just waiting there. The storm caused the air to grow cold, but I managed to keep warm. I had grabbed my sleeping back, but found that there was no reason to roll it out. I waited and read. I was content there. I figured it would be fine to stay there. I’d even set up my tent on a very flat and comfortable spot. Still, in my mind, I had wanted to cross the pass that day. So I wasn’t fully satified, but 6:00 PM was getting closer and closer.

Around 5:30 PM I heard what sounded like a Boyscout troop coming down the pass. I couldn’t help but think that if they were going over the pass on the edge of a storm, that maybe I could cross as well. I did hear one guy joking about how he didn’t want his brother to get struck by lighting, but at that time the storm was gone, and the rain was almost nonexistent. I knew I’d be able to cross the pass as I heard the troop’s voices fade into the distance. Still, I wasn’t sure I wanted to break camp, but it was before 6:00 PM and the rain was gone. I figured I’d go for it, and I packed up my gear.

Rocky Sea Pass turned out to be the easiest to cross. Maybe it’s because I had four hours of rest prior to crossing, maybe it’s because I knew it was the last pass I’d have to cross, either way, it was easy, and I realized that I could have easily crossed it in a storm, with little or no danger to me. There were trees on the pass, and going down was like any other downhill trail I’d been along. It didn’t even look like a pass on the other side.

Despite the fact that I had hoped to get out of there that day, and get my sunburn treated, I knew it would get too dark to make it much further. I settled on getting to Carolyn Lake, which wasn’t much beyond Rocky Sea Pass. Well, I made it there, and upon arriving I pulled out my guide book, and it said that there were designated camping spots on the west side. So I went searching.

Let me tell you, I found the best camping spot that night. Designated indeed. This was the type of camping spot I’d stayed at as a boyscout. It was a flat, huge, open area. It had a fire pit for the taking. It was right near the lake. I was even wondering if I was supposed to register for such a nice spot.

I began to set up camp. The bugs weren’t so bad later in the evening. I did water purification that night. That way I wouldn’t have warm water the next day. I set up my tent. I had a freeze dried dinner, lasagna with meat sauce. It was the best dinner I had on my whole trip. I even wanted to try having some hot cocoa again, but I’d thrown it all out. I checked my sunburn, it looked bad, but not the worst I’d seen. One more night would be just fine. I even set up everything for the next day, in a nice row, so I’d be ready to eat breakfast, pack up, and go.

As I went to bed, I couldn’t help but think that, this is the life. After all the pain and suffering I’d been through, I was finally enjoying myself. I thought maybe I’d go fishing in the morning. I’d seen the fish jumping around in the lake when I was gathering water. I slept pretty well. I could hear other campers nearby, so even though I hadn’t actually seen anyone else that day, it was comforting to know there were people nearby. I was also happy to know, that the next day I’d be out. I’d have a shower. I’d see about my burns and blisters. I’d be out of the wild. Despite the fact that it had started out as one of the worst days of the journey, it ended well, very well.

Day four started out with surgery. Well, that’s what I called it. It was really attending to my blisters. I mentioned that at the close of day three I was too tired to treat my blisters. Well, around 1:00 AM I woke up, and the pain in my feet was unbearable enough that I needed to treat them.

The blister on my left foot had ruptured two days prior, and the skin was peeling off of it. I read in my first-aid guide what to do. It said cut away the dead skin with scissors, clean the wound with antiseptic, apply anti-bacterial, and dress the wound with gauze. I didn’t have scissors. I had a pocket knife and some tweezers, and that proved to make the situation all the more difficult. It isn’t easy to treat an open blister wound with those tools, but I managed. I was also not pleased to see that my first-aid kit only included two small packets of anti-bacterial ointment. I knew that I’d have to use it conservatively.

The second blister, not yet punctured, proved to be much more difficult to treat. The first-aid manual said to puncture it with a needle and massage it to drain it. Once again, I didn’t have the required tool, a needle. I figured my pocket knife would do. Let me tell you, though, my feet were already very calloused, and puncturing that blister with a pocket knife was not very easy. This may be disturbing to some readers, but I literally had to saw through the calloused skin in order to puncture the blister. The whole process took a good ten or twenty minutes. Once done, though, I got the puss out, cleaned the wound, and applied a bandage.

I had a little anti-bacterial ointment left over from that first packet, and I used it on my lips, which had become quite chapped. I’d failed to bring any sort of lip balm, even though I’d been told to bring some. The ointment worked, but I knew I couldn’t rely on it for my lips, because I only had one small packet left and I’d need that for further treatment of blisters. Having treated the wounds I was able to sleep through the rest of the night.

When morning came I had a quick breakfast. The usual Pop Tarts, cereal bars, and jerky. I even tried making some powdered milk, which wasn’t very tasty. Also, the painkiller I’d taken the day before had been so effective at helping me along, that I took another pill. And I’d take a pill every morning for the rest of my journey. I like to joke about how I was living off of painkillers and energy bars.

My task for the day was simple. First I needed to make it to Red Knob Pass, then onto Dead Horse Pass. I planned on staying at a place called Ledge Lake. I was worried though. I’d looked in my guide book, and it said that snow could be blocking the way as late as July, so I wasn’t sure I’d actually be able to make it over the passes. I figured if I couldn’t I’d have to veer south. I was also worried because my map indicated that Dead Horse Pass was “hazardous to horses and pack stock”. In my mind, Porcupine Pass, from the day before, was about as hazardous as I could imagine, and I was expecting even worse from Dead Horse Pass.

I set out. My first major marker was to be Lambert Lake. I had hoped to make it that far the day before, but hadn’t been able to. I figured once I got near Lambert Lake, I’d check my progress.

The morning’s travels were difficult. It was a combination of thick forest, and rocky areas above the treeline. I lost the trail, briefly, after it crossed over a stream. At that point, it felt natural to head south, back below the treeline, but my map indicated that the trail followed the base of the nearby peaks, so I searched for the trail in the rocky areas. Eventually I found some rock cairns that were, indeed, near the base of the mountain and I continued my journey. From there the trail wasn’t too bad, and I couldn’t help but think that if I had wandered south, I’d have been lost for quite some time.

After what seemed like hours, I finally came across a small pond. I checked my map to see where that pond might be. I’m pretty sure it was a little to the north of Lambert Lake, so I had a pretty good idea of where I was. I continued following the trail, and eventually I got to a sign that said, “Lambert Meadow”. This made me wonder if I hadn’t made it as far as I thought I had, when I found that pond. However, my map indicated that Lambert Meadow was to the west of Lambert Lake, and I was making progress after all.

A river runs through Lambert Meadow, and the trail crosses over it. When I got there, it didn’t look good. If I was to cross right at the trail I’d get my feet wet, and I didn’t want the dressing on my blisters to come apart, so I wandered a ways upstream, hoping to find a better crossing. I sort of did, I found a part of the stream with more boulders in it, and I made my crossing there. This was almost a fateful moment, because my backpack got snagged on a tree branch as I crossed, almost tipping me into the water, almost. By luck I made it safely across, and I thought to myself, never again, I’ll just submerge my feet next time.

For the most part, progress through Lambert Meadow was fast. It ends with some switchbacks that lead back down into the forest. I couldn’t say I was excited about the decline in elevation. Red Knob pass was my next major marker, and I wanted as little uphill as possible. I was actually feeling pretty miserable that morning. I thought that maybe I’d only cross Red Knob Pass, and leave Dead Horse Pass for the next day. Maybe I felt so miserable because my water was dirty. I pressed on. The trail veers sharply to the north as it approaches Red Knob Pass, and it’s a steady incline all the way there. It’s maybe five or six miles uphill. Eventually I got out of the treeline, this was deep in the Lake Fork Drainage and I could hear the Lake Fork River running violently to my left. Above the treeline there was also a lot of grazing sheep, and as I would approach a group of them, they’d run away.

After getting past the grazing sheep, the trail was much more vague. I suppose because horsemen don’t go up any further than the grazing grounds. I found myself losing the trail more and more, so I figured it was a good time to stop for lunch. I had run out of water at that time as well, and needed to purify more. There was spring water there, and it was much cleaner than what I had gathered the previous day. I was excited to have clean water.

My lunch was not the usual either. Yes, indeed, I had something different. I had tuna fish packets, and I ate one. I put some spices on it too, made it taste really good. I did have the usual Clif and cereal bars as well, but the additional tuna made the meal a little more interesting. Once I had enough water purified, I continued on. As I said, I’d lost the trail. All I really knew, was to head in a generally north direction. I did so. Leading up to Red Knob Pass, the trail was off and on, but it would be pretty hard to get lost anyway, since you can pretty much see all the major landmarks.

As I approached the base of Red Knob Pass, I didn’t know if I wanted to go on. It didn’t really look that steep, but I was tired. I was thinking that maybe I should have taken that day of rest, that I’d thought about taking the day before. I was already there, however, so I continued. Red Knob Pass was the second most difficult pass for me to go over, almost as difficult as North Pole Pass. Technically it shouldn’t have been so difficult, but there was something about it that made it extra hard.

I found myself counting steps as I went up it. I’d try to get to at least twenty five steps before stopping for a few seconds to catch my breath. I think part of what made it so hard was the high altitude, my breathing was heavy, but I pressed on. I made it to the top, and I was somewhat pleased with myself. The trail branches there. One trail goes to East Fork - Black Fork (where I thought the two guys I’d met the day before were going), and the other trail lead to my next destination, Dead Horse Pass. I didn’t stop for very long atop Red Knob Pass, and I didn’t need to.

Going down was so much easier. I was literally zipping along. When I made it down a little ways, the valley below came into view and I saw one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen. The picture I’m providing will only begin to give you a glimpse of what I saw. I was amazed. Somehow, in that moment, all my pain and suffering was worth it. I couldn’t help but think that there were few people that would ever see what I was seeing right then. I could see Dead Horse Lake, which lays below Dead Horse Pass, and it didn’t look that far.

I continued making my way down. To my satisfaction, I bumped into some people going up. A youth group. The first adult I met in the party stopped to chat for a moment, he seemed pretty miserable. He said they were headed to Lambert Meadow, I told him he was in luck, once they got to the top of Red Knob Pass, it would be almost all down hill from there. We departed.

At the base of the pass, I met a man who I think was the guide of the youth group. We chatted for quite a bit longer. I told him where I’d come from, and he was quite impressed. He said he had tried to make the same journey some years ago, but he’d gone too early in the year and there had been too much snow on Anderson Pass, and he had to turn back.

He talked about where the youth group had come from, where they were going. They’d started on Saturday, like me, and had been out for four days as well. They hadn’t made as much progress, but then, they weren’t trying to go as fast as me. He told me how is wife and son were with him, and how he was carrying most of their gear, and that they were down to twenty pounds apiece, while he was at fifty. I couldn’t help but comment on how easy it would be if I was only carrying twenty pounds. I could have run the whole way.

It was nice having a somewhat lengthy conversation with someone. He asked where I was spending the night. I said if I was too tired to go on, I’d stay at Dead Horse Lake. He said they had stayed at Ledge Lake the night before, and I told him I’d been hoping to make it that far.

We said our farewells, and I was off. It was so easy, traveling through that valley, and my body was feeling really good. The trail was very well defined, and progress was fast. I saw Dead Horse Lake right next to me, and it wasn’t even 4:00 PM. I’d decided that morning that if I was at Dead Horse Pass before 4:00 PM I’d go over it, and that was the case, so I began to make my ascent.

Dead Horse Pass was surprisingly easy to go up. I think it’s steeper than Red Knob Pass, but it sure didn’t feel like it. Maybe it’s because I had more energy at that time of day. I don’t know, but I was speeding on up.

A little ways up the pass I bumped into another lone backpacker that was coming down. We had a brief conversation about being in the wilderness alone. He told me that on that very pass, on a previous trip, he had lost the trail and ended up on a game trail. He made it so far down on the game trail that he couldn’t climb back up. He said he thought he was in some real trouble then, but made it down safely. This conversation would prove useful to me later on. To end the conversation he asked if I was good on supplies, I said that I was, but afterward I wondered if I should have asked him the same, because maybe he needed something.

As I said, it was easy going up, and I reached the top, but then I couldn’t find the trail. Indeed, right on the top of the pass I had no idea where the trail was. I saw a what looked like a trail to my right, and I followed it a ways, making progress slowly, then I realized that I must have been on a game trail, just like the lone backpacker I’d encountered had been on. I may have been able to climb my way down from there, but I thought that I should try to make my way back to the top of the pass and find the real trail. I did so, and at the top of the pass, wandering around a bit, revealed the true trail.

About that time the sky was growing gray. It looked like rain, and not just rain, a thunderstorm. I moved fast as I made my way down Dead Horse Pass, and to my satisfaction, this pass felt much more safe than Porcupine Pass. I was down quick. I wanted to get to the treeline before it started raining, so I moved as quickly as I could. It took maybe half an hour to get to the treeline, and and right after I did, the rain started picking up. I got my rain gear out and equipped it. I was getting close to Ledge Lake, where I intended to stay. So I kept an eye out for it. There was a trail junction right next to the lake, and I figured that would be my next milestone, and when I found it, I’d search for the lake.

I didn’t have to search for the lake, I could see it before I ever got to the junction, and when I did, I started wandering around it, looking for a decent camping spot. I don’t think I found a super great camping spot, but it was close enough to the lake that I wouldn’t have to look around for water. I was so tired that it was a struggle to set up camp. I had originally intended to have one of my freeze dried dinners that night (I had two), but I was too tired to make it. Once again, I didn’t purify water. Dinner was trail-mix, jerky, and Clif Bars. The ground was hard beneath me, but I made the best of the situation, and tried to sleep. It would prove to be the worst night of my vacation, as you’ll see on Day 5.

If you’ve read about my second day on the Highline Trail, you may have begun to understand how miserable I was. I had gone to sleep that night, the bugs loud outside my tent, wanting nothing more than to get off the mountain. Well, to my luck, I got some sleep that second night. So things were already better than they had been the first night. I didn’t sleep much, but “not much sleep” is better than “no sleep”. I’m also glad to say that in the morning I was feeling a lot better, and a lot more confident.

As that second night passed, I did wake up around midnight to treat a blister that had formed on my left foot, just behind the big toe. It had already been punctured and drained, so I basically wiped it down with alcohol and put a band-aid on it.

In the morning I had two tasks, purify water, and eat breakfast. Once again, breakfast was Pop Tarts and cereal bars. Which was fine. All my Pop Tarts were crumbed by that point, but that didn’t bother me, so much as the fact that I wanted to eat something that wasn’t so dry. The previous night I had thrown my beef jerky some distance from my tent so that no wild animals would want to get into my tent, and it was there waiting for me, so I had some of that too.

Purifying water was another matter. I really didn’t want warm water again, so my plan was to use iodine tablets. I’ve heard that iodine isn’t the best method for purification, really only for emergencies, but I figured it’s be alright. My water source was a running spring, and it is my understanding that spring water is usually fairly safe to begin with. Additionally, I wasn’t in a popular area for grazing, so I wasn’t worried about germs from livestock.

I also had some pretty bad sunburns on the backs of my arms and legs, from the previous day. My first-aid kit guide said that painkillers would help, and I had some Ibuprofen in the kit, so I popped a pill. That would prove to help quite a bit. I also applied a little bit of sunblock, so that my burns, at least, wouldn’t get any worse.

With breakfast eaten, my water ready, and my bag packed I was ready to start the day. My first destination was Anderson Pass. This would also be, at 12,600 feet, the highest point of my journey. I’d been up Anderson Pass before, on a visit to King’s Peak (the highest point in Utah), but when I’d gone before I’d left my gear at the base, because I was going back the same way. This time I wouldn’t be coming back the same way, so I was carrying all my gear up the pass. That made it a lot more difficult. My progress was slow, and I was expecting to see someone else on the pass, probably passing me by because I was going so slow. I didn’t see anyone going up. I thought I heard some shouting in Painter Basin, behind me, but whenever I looked I didn’t see anyone.

In about two hours from when I started hiking for the day, I made it to the top of the pass. This was around 10:00 AM. I was ready for a break. So I took one. This was also, and you’ll have to forgive my details here, the first time I took a dump on the trip. Yes, indeed, those first two days I didn’t do a number two at all. But there, on top of Anderson Pass, I made a bowel movement, and let me tell you, it was definitely two day’s worth. Don’t worry, I did it out of sight, and while technically it wasn’t buried, as there is really nothing but rocks up there, I mad sure it was covered up.

It got cool, taking a break on the pass. I put my jacket on. My plan was to rest for a whole hour, but after twenty minutes I realized I didn’t need a full hour. Half an hour would be enough. It’s traditional for travelers atop Anderson Pass to make a scramble up to King’s Peak. I’d already decided before I’d even started my trip that I wasn’t going to visit it. I knew how much energy it would take, and I’d seen it before. Sure, it may have been cool, but I passed the opportunity. Quite frankly, if I wanted to see King’s Peak I could have made a single night vacation. No, I was there to complete the Highline Trail, and I didn’t want to waste any energy.

The view from Anderson Pass is astounding, as it is. I remembered it well from the first time I’d been there. I could see Painter Basin, where I’d come from, to the east, and the Yellowstone Drainage, where I was going, to the south. Well, once I felt refreshed, I put my pack back on, and headed down.

It was much steeper going down. I’m glad that I was going down that way, and not up. It was slow going, too. The ground was rocky, and I wanted to make sure that I didn’t slip and sprain my ankle. My plan that day was to make it through three passes, and I was already done with one of them. I knew three passes would be tough for one day, but they were bunched so close together, that if I wanted to make some serious progress, I’d have to do all three.

The next pass was Tungsten Pass, and based off the topography of my map, it didn’t look hard at all, and I didn’t expect much of a challenge there. After that, however, was Porcupine Pass, and I anticipated that that would be quite a bit more challenging.

As I was saying, it was slow going down Anderson Pass, but once I reach the base, I was moving fast. Faster than I’d been going at any other time of the journey. The ground was flat, and the region was grassy. The trail was well defined too. It would be well defined for the rest of the day. I didn’t use my GPS at all that day. I knew I was moving fast, and it felt good. Hell, I was moving so fast, that I kept thinking to myself, I’m going to take a day of rest tomorrow. Just camp out by a lake, and not do anything at all.

I eventually made it to a crossroads. There is a trail that runs through Yellowstone Drainage, along Yellowstone Creek. As I came upon the junction, two horsemen, with a couple of dogs were riding north along that trail. It was my first sighting of human life, and boy was I relieved. It brought great pleasure to me, to know that I wasn’t alone out there. I slowed down my pace so that I could say hello to them as we crossed paths. All I said was, “Hi guys, how’s it going?” They said they were doing just fine, and that was my brief meeting with some other souls.

Admittedly, I would have liked to have had an entire conversation, but these guys were off doing there own thing. Still, just seeing them made me feel much better. Surprisingly, a few minutes later, as I continued along the Highline Trail, I bumped into a couple that was going the other way. My conversation with them wasn’t much more satisfying than the one I’d had with the horsemen, but still, knowing that someone else was out there on foot, made me feel even better. Honestly, I wanted to tell them how miserable I’d been the day before, but that day was going so much better, that all I could them, was that I was doing great. They said they were “enjoying [their] vacation” as well.

Tungsten Pass came shortly after that, and, as my map had indicated, it wasn’t very difficult going over. I stopped at the top of it anyway. If you can even call it a top. It’s more like a hill than a pass. Well, as I said, I stopped at the top, to take a breather, and eat some lunch. Lunch was, of course, Clif Bars and cereal bars. I had wanted to take a break for a full hour, it was only about 1:00 or 2:00 PM, and Porcupine Pass wasn’t much further. But the bugs were annoying me so much, that I figured half an hour was enough. So I moved on.

I could see Garfield Basin below me. At that altitude the trees were spread far and wide between, so I could see all the major landmarks, including the lakes and rivers on my map, and Porcupine Pass in the distance, beckoning me to continue. Once again I bumped into some more backpackers. Down in the basin. Two old guys, both with gray hair. Upon meeting them I finally had a conversation with someone. Let me tell you, I let lose, too. I told them how bad the day before had been, how rocky the ground had been, how I couldn’t find the trail, and how today had been so much easier. They asked where I’d come from, and, like many, they didn’t know where Chepeta Lake was, I settled on explaining, “The far east side of the range”.

They’d come from East Fork - Black Forks, a name I recognized as being to the north, and when I checked my map that night, it was pretty much where I thought it was. They’d been out for three days like me. They’d gone over Anderson Pass the day before, and their progress was much slower than mine. I told them I was going about twelve to fifteen miles a day, they laughed about how I was zipping along. They asked if I was going over Porcupine Pass that afternoon, I said that I was. I asked if they were doing the same, they said they planned on staying in the basin, and maybe going over it the next day.

Based on what they told me, their total journey was about half as long as mine. They’d be going over three passes, whereas I was going over seven. Well, after five minutes of talking to them, I was ready to go on. I’d just had a half hour break and I wanted to keep moving, so we said our farewells. Progress was fast through Garfield Basin as it was through Yellowstone, and every minute Porcupine Pass was getting closer and closer. It didn’t look that daunting either. I knew I’d make it over, easy. It wasn’t even comparable to Anderson Pass, and I had previously thought to myself that if I had had to do another “Anderson” Pass that day, I’d have been able to make it.

As I made my approach to the pass, I kept looking back, to see how the two old guys were doing, and honestly, I don’t think they were doing that well. They looked almost like they were on the edge of misery when I had talked to them, and I was really wondering how they were holding up. As I looked back, it appeared that one of them was laying on the ground, almost as if he’d fainted. I wasn’t sure, though, so I kept moving. I figured if they needed help I’d hear shouting, or an emergency whistle, or something. I did keep looking back, to see what they were doing, and to be perfectly honest, I might not have even been looking at them, I may have just been looking at a rock that looked like one guy standing, and one guy laying down.

Porcupine Pass was not difficult going up, but I was moving slow, waddling, you could say. I stopped every few seconds, just to take a few breaths, and a sip of water. Then I’d go a little more. When I made it to the top, the weather was starting to look like rain, so I wanted to get down before any lightning started striking. It was rough going down, not because the ground was rocky, but because the trail was so thin. I mean really thin, it would have been so easy to slip on some loose rocks, and tumble down the slope. I realized, then, that wild animals were not my worst fear out there, but that slipping on some rocks and getting a serious injury was. One slip could have easily led to a bad head injury, or a sprain, either of which could strand someone under the burning sun.

I moved slow, using my hands whenever I was going over the more dangerous parts. It seemed so dangerous, going down that pass, that I wondered how the others would be. If they would be as steep, with such loose rocks. I made it safely to the base, however. No injuries sustained. My feet were hurting, however, and while I had one blister from the day before, I knew that I then had two, one on each foot.

On the west side of Porcupine Pass is the Lake Fork Drainage. It was fast moving once again. I found that marching along side the trail was much easier than walking along the trail itself, the grass was much softer on my blistered feet. The trail was easy to follow, and where there was no trail the rock cairns were visible for great distances. Like I said, though, a storm was coming on, and I was hoping to make it to the treeline before it came.

This was a popular area for livestock as well, and I bumped into quite a few sheep. I even saw some horses a ways off of the trail, which suggested that maybe some horsemen were relaxing nearby. My hope had been to make it to a place called Lambert Lake, but my goal had been to make it to the “other side” of my map. That is, the west side of the range is on one side of my map, and the east side of the range is on the other. I wanted to make it to the west side, and at that time, I had. Lambert Lake was quite a bit further, and as the day grew late, I knew I wouldn’t make it that far.

I literally walked until I couldn’t walk any further. It was around 7:00 PM when I realized I had to camp. The trail wasn’t very well defined either, so I just dropped my gear, found a shroud of trees with a fire pit already built, and looked to make sure water was nearby. It was , but it wasn’t spring water, it was basically muddy water. I figured it would have to do, though. So I set up camp, and started purifying water. I even made dinner, ramen noodles, with powdered eggs mixed in. It really wasn’t that bad. I actually dropped it on the ground, well not exactly on the ground. It fell on top of my cooking pot’s lid. I figured I was already cooking with dirty water anyway, so I ate it without too much complaint.

After that I lay in my tent. I thought I heard some voices go by that evening, which made me wonder if I had camped right on the trail itself. I didn’t really think I had, but I knew the trail was somewhere in the immediate vicinity. The night sky grew darker, and I wanted nothing more than to rest for the night. It was around 8:00 PM when I retired. Not nearly as late as the other days. Better for getting an early start. I took my water bladder into my tent with me. I thought the hot water inside it could help me to warm my cold feet. And it turned out, that the water bladder kept me quite warm throughout the night. Not that I didn’t have my sleeping bag, but it was nice have that bladder for a little extra warmth. My feet were really hurting though, I suppose because I’d covered so much ground. I figured I’d take a look at my blisters in the morning, I didn’t want to deal with them at that moment. All I wanted to do was sleep.

I did look at my map before going to bed, and marveled at how far I’d come. I check my GPS too. My departure vehicle was only sixteen miles away. I had more than sixteen miles to go, sure, but the last time I had checked to see how far the vehicle was, it was over thirty miles. I’d come so far, and really felt like I’d made some serious progress.

The first night was a rough one. I didn’t get any sleep, or at least I’m sure that I didn’t get any sleep. Maybe I dozed off for a few minutes, but it sure didn’t seem like it. It seemed like I just watched the roof of my tent the whole night, until morning light first started showing. Even then I closed my eyes trying to get at least a few minutes of shut eye. Eventually it was bright enough that I wanted to get started. This was around 8:00 AM. I had some Wet Ones in my tent with me, so I used them to clean my groin, butt, and chest. I figured those were the most important parts to keep sanitary.

My first task of the day was breakfast. That was easy, just some cereal bars and Pop Tarts. I wandered around a bit while eating. Not so much to see the area, but because I noticed that while I was moving the mosquitoes didn’t bother me so much. They were only really bad when I stood still. Well after downing my breakfast, I was ready to pack up. I knew that I’d need to purify water. I only had about one liter left. I didn’t want to stay around Taylor Lake, though. I wanted to start making progress. So I packed up, figuring that the water I had was enough to make it over North Pole Pass, and I’d fill up at Fox Lake, which was on the other side of the pass.

I figured then, that I had brought in too much food. The ramen I’d eaten the day before hadn’t been particularly satisfying and I was still feeling the burn on my tongue from the hot cocoa I’d had. I also had a lot of trail-mix, and being that I’d barely munched on it the first day, I decided I didn’t need as much as I had. I dumped about half of my ramen, one third of my trail-mix, and all but a few packets of hot cocoa. This served well in allowing me to fit all my supplies in my backpack. With my pack filled, I was ready to depart.

I still had the belt on that had bruised my hips the day before. My plan was to hike my shorts up, high enough that the waistband of my backpack would be below the belt. I realized after maybe a quarter mile, before I even got back to the trail, that this would not work out. So my backpack came off, and I removed the belt. I tried going a little further with no belt, but that wasn’t working either. My shorts were falling down. I knew I’d need some kind of makeshift belt, one that wouldn’t cause any more bruising, but would still keep my pants up. I had some nylon rope wrapped around on of my water bottles, and I used it as a belt. It proved effective, and I was making good time towards North Pole Pass.

Like I said, I only had one liter of water left, and I was wrong to think that that was enough to get over North Pole Pass. Well, I wasn’t completely wrong, because I did make it with the little I had, but I wasn’t exactly comfortable. I’d seen snow on the pass the day before, so I figured it was still cool, and thought I wouldn’t need to drink a lot. I ran out of water before I reached he top, well, more-or-less, right at the top. Still, I wasn’t that worried. If I absolutely needed water there were a lot of streams, or I could boil snow.

It was difficult, ascending North Pole Pass. Really, it shouldn’t have been that difficult. I suppose what made it so hard, was that I was running on absolutely no sleep. Looking back, North Pole Pass seems the worst, even though it isn’t as steep as most of the other passes that I traversed. I guess I just didn’t have any energy, and it wasn’t just North Pole Pass where I didn’t have any energy, it was the whole day. The day started out miserable, and it would end that way.

By the time I reached the top of the pass, the sun was bright overhead. I could feel it heating up the backs of my arms and legs. I didn’t put on sunblock, I suppose because I was so bothered by the bugs that I was worrying more about applying bug spray than I was about sunburn. This would prove to be a fatal mistake later on. As I ascended I was a little more concerned about water. I was starting to get thirsty, but I could see Fox Lake off in the distance, so I knew my destination was close. I wondered if I would see anyone else at Fox Lake, an angler out fishing, perhaps.

It was almost as slow going down North Pole Pass as it was going up. It seemed to wrap around forever. I saw a tarp laying on the ground, and it made me wonder if anyone else was around. But I couldn’t see or hear any signs of human life, so I figured someone realized they were carrying too much gear, and had left it behind.

Eventually I hit the treeline, and the bugs were getting really bad again, so I started applying more bug spray. I was starting to realize that the bug spray I had was only effective for about an hour or so, which is the reason I spent so much time focusing on applying it. Well, with the treeline, came the utter lack of defined trails that I had experienced the day before. I couldn’t see my destination of Fox Lake, and I wasn’t on the trail. All I knew was to head west, and I kept doing so. The forest wasn’t really that bad, so even though I wasn’t on the trail it wasn’t hard to make progress. Eventually I made it to a stream, and I figured I ought to purify water there, despite the fact that I originally wanted to make it all the way to Fox Lake before doing so, but I figured spring water was better than lake water anyway.

I spent maybe an hour or so purifying water and eating lunch. Lunch consisted of a Clif Bar and some cereal bars. Maybe not so appetizing, but the Clif Bar did prove effective at giving me the energy to continue. I realized then, that Clif Bars were going to be my lunchtime energy staple for the rest of the trip. I also realized, that as I unpacked my backpack to get the water bladder out, that I had left one of my water bottles behind. The bottle that had the nylon rope wrapped around it. I was a little upset, because that bottle had a filter on it, and I wanted to use that filter as a secondary purification device. Oh well, I certainly wasn’t going back for it. Boiling alone, it would be.

The water I had purified was warm, so I submerged it in the stream for a bit, to try to cool it off. It didn’t really cool down that much, so my water would be warm for the rest of the day.

I also checked my GPS to find out exactly where I was. It didn’t seem like I was very close to Fox Lake, and despite the fact that I thought that the trail was to the south, the GPS indicated that it was to the north. I checked the map as well, and it revealed that the trail did pass by the north side of Fox Lake, so I headed north. The GPS proved correct, and I picked up the trail, and made my way through the forest. I suppose around noon, I arrived at Fox Lake.

I was sad to see that there were no fisherman. I was really hoping to see another human being at that point, but there was nothing. I made my way slowly past the lake, passing by a ramshackle cabin that had been built by the lake. As the lake passed me by I thought about taking a picture, but didn’t bother. After the lake was more forest, and let me tell you, that forest proved to be the worst part of my vacation. The trail was just so bad, I found myself lost constantly, and for that reason progress was slow.

I spent hours walking through the forest, constantly pulling out my map. My plan had been to make it to Milk Lake, but as I analyzed my journey, and how slowly I was making progress, and considered how much fuel and food I had. I thought that I should try to make it as far as Painter Basin, which was just a little past Milk Lake. I figured the little extra push, would put me right beneath Anderson Pass. Progress was utterly slow.

I had Milk Lake and Painter Basin programmed into my GPS, and the more I walked, the less close they seemed to be getting. I wasn’t going backwards, per se, but the GPS didn’t seem to indicate that it was getting any less than four miles. I pushed on, though, but it was hard because I was tired. I found myself walking for twenty minutes, then taking a five or ten minute break, then doing it all over again. I guess what made it really bad was the trees. I had no idea where I was, and my map didn’t seem to be very accurate. It is hard for me to emphasize in words, just how difficult it was to get from Fox Lake to Painter Basin, but I will say this, I wanted to give up at that point. I figured I could veer north, up the Henry’s Fork drainage, and hope that someone at the Henry’s Fork trail head would be willing to take me to a cell phone accessible area.

Around 6:30 PM I finally made it out of the treeline and could see Painter Basin before me. I’d been there before, when I went backpacking out to King’s Peak, and I was trying to remember the area. I thought I could see Anderson Pass in the distance, in what seemed like maybe five miles away, but in reality was less than two. It looked daunting, and I was glad that I didn’t have to go up it that day. I kept walking though, because I wanted to be as close to the pass as possible. Eventually my walking became a waddle. I was making progress more slowly than I had in the forest, and I realized I needed to set up camp.



There were still a few trees in the area, and I figured my best bet was to set up camp beneath them. I also wanted to be near water, and close to the trail, so I’d be ready to go in the morning. When I could walk no further, I dropped my gear by a rock cairn, and began searching for a place to camp. I found some broken beer bottles in a wooded area nearby, and figuring that someone had camped there, I thought I’d give the place a shot as well. I had to make sure there was some water nearby, and I did find a mountain spring some distance away. It was further away than I had hoped for, but at that point I would have died had I put my backpack back on, and it didn’t look like there was any trees near the spring anyway, so I started to set up camp.

The bugs were awful. It felt as if I was breathing them straight into my lungs as I set up my tent. When my tent was finally up, I got as many of my supplies into it as I thought I’d need, including some beef jerky and trail-mix. That was going to be my dinner. I hated the idea of eating in my tent. Every bear attack story I’d heard of, including a neighbor of mine when I was a kid, was due to food inside of a tent. I was willing to take that chance though. The buzzing of the mosquitoes was loud outside my tent, and I wasn’t about to go outside to hang out with them while eating. So I munched down quite a bit of trail-mix and beef jerky. Then I threw the food, in it’s Ziploc bags, a ways outside my tent, so that if some wild animal did come along, the food would be away from my tent.

Once again, I knew that I should have purified water at that time, but the bugs were so bad, and I was tired. So I slept, I had a liter left, which was enough to at least get me through the night.

As I lay there, trying to fall asleep, I couldn’t help but think that I had made a serious mistake going out there. I didn’t think I was going to die, or anything like that, but I still had so far to go, and I didn’t know if I wanted to go on. My thoughts of bailing out through Henry’s Fork were rampant, but I figured I’d at least go up Anderson Pass, and if I thought I couldn’t make it, I’d turn back. If I had had a satellite phone, I know I would have called someone to come pick me up. I’m glad I didn’t have any such phone, it would have been an excuse to give up, and despite my desires that day, I didn’t give up.

By far, day two, was the worst day of my trip. It was so bad that I was literally counting the steps as I wandered through the forest. I’d never been so discouraged while backpacking in my entire life. It simply wasn’t fun, and there really weren’t any sights that I particularly enjoyed. Luckily, my journey would get a lot better.

This post marks the official beginning of my journey along the Highline Trail. I’d arrived in Salt Lake City, Utah the day before I was to depart. This was in hopes that I could get into the mountain as quickly as possible, and hopefully get an early start, or at least not too late a start. I got my gear and supplies ready that night. It’s been my philosophy to have everything ready when you get to the trail head. I don’t see any reason why a backpacker should be messing around with their gear just before departing, they should be ready to go.

I needed a driver to help me out. I would drop off one vehicle at the end point of the trail, and then get driven to my starting point. The plan was simple. Get a good night’s rest in Salt Lake. Wake up at 5:30 AM, depart by 6:30 AM, hopefully arriving at the Highline trail head by 8:00 AM. Drop my departure vehicle off there, then have my driver take me around to the other end of the mountain, to Chepeta Lake. This would be approximately five hours. So I was hoping to be at the Chepeta trail head by 1:00 PM. I figured 2:00 PM at the latest. Turns out I was wrong, very wrong. Everything went smoothly in dropping of the departure vehicle, but getting to the starting point was a disaster. To make a long story short, after a busted radiator cap and a flat tire, I arrived at the Chepeta trail head at 4:30 PM. More than three hours later than I had hoped for. I wasn’t too worried, though. I figured I’d just make it as far as I could, and camp for the night.

Therein was one of my major mistakes on the trip. I never had any set itinerary. I knew where I was starting, I knew where I was ending, but I had no specific plans as to where I’d be camping. I had a map, and I figured I’d just makes plans each day as to where might be a good camping spot. Lakes were my best bet, I knew that, and I had a guide book which had information about all the lakes, stating where to find camping spots around them and so forth.

With such a late departure, my intention was to get to a place called Reader Lake, it was about five miles in, I figured I could easily make it there and set up camp before nightfall. Unfortunately I lost the trail right away. The east end of the range isn’t as popular, and for that reason the trails are not well maintained. I wasn’t too concerned about that, I knew to head in a generally westward direction. Which I did, and I figured if I got too far off course, I’d use my GPS.

I’m glad I had a GPS unit, too. Let me tell you, that first day I was constantly pulling it out to check where I was, and where the trail should be, and how far away Reader Lake was. Eventually I found the trail again, and a sign that said, “Reader Lakes”, but on my map there were three lakes in the region, and my goal was to reach the northwestern-most one. So I started wandering in a northwestern direction. This proved to pit me in the middle of a large wooded area, where I really couldn’t see any landmarks, and the terrain was very difficult to navigate.

I basically found myself being eaten by bugs, and checking my GPS only to see that I wasn’t anywhere near where I thought I was. So I headed back south, hoping to pick up the trail again, which I did, and I figured I just follow it further to the west until I found a decent camping spot. After a few hours I found myself ascending North Pole Pass, where I finally got above the treeline, and could actually see some landmarks. Indeed, I could see Reader Lake then, but I was so far past it, that I didn’t want to go back. I thought maybe I could make it over North Pole Pass, and camp on the other side, so I continued going up. It was getting late, though, almost 8:00 PM, the air was getting cooler, and the sky was growing dim. I made it about half way up the pass, when I could see another major lake to the south, Taylor Lake. It didn’t look so far away, and I knew I needed to set up camp, so I hightailed it down the pass, and around to the lake.

I never really wanted to stay at Taylor Lake, mostly because it wasn’t mentioned in the guide book that I had, and I didn’t know if there were any good camping spots. I still don’t know if there are any good camping spots, because the one that I found wasn’t so great. I often try to find a camping spot that has been previously used, in hopes that the person that came before me knew what they were doing. I did manage to find what looked like a previous used spot, and it was getting much darker, so I set up camp.

I knew that I should have purified water for the next day, but I was so tired that I just wanted to get to bed. I did make some dinner, ramen noodles, and some hot cocoa. To my dissatisfaction, however, I didn’t have much of an appetite, and when I sipped the hot cocoa it burned my mouth. Not a very good dinner.

Feeling discouraged for the day, I climbed into the tent, and bundled up in my sleeping bag. I knew then that it wasn’t going to be a very comfortable night. The ground didn’t seem very flat, and I realized that I had been badly bruised. You see, I had been wearing a pair of shorts with a belt, and the waistband of my backpack had been rubbing against the belt, pressing it into my waist, and had caused some serious bruising on my hips. I saw these bruises when I climbed into bed. Nevertheless, I tried to sleep.