Rough Concept Blog

Tacks In My Feet

Jack Everett — Tue, 07 Sep 2010 22:08:00 +0000

As a child I had a philosophy of living on the edge, of doing things that no one else dared. When I jaywalked the street, I didn’t even look both ways to see if traffic was coming. I just stepped out onto the road and hoped I didn’t get run over. I learned that philosophy from a friend of mine named Ryan. He always claimed to live on the edge, and demonstrated this fact to me one time when he said, I’m livin' on the edge, and then stepped out into the street. I saw he wasn’t afraid, and I didn’t think I needed to be either.

A playground with a wooden beam fit for walking across. (This isn’t the actual playground where I walked across the beam, but the idea is there.)

Jaywalking wasn’t the only place where Ryan lived on the edge. There was this park near our neighborhood, and on the playground was a wooden castle. I say “castle” because that is the best way to describe it, it was basically a fortress with towers that you could climb up. Like any playground some of the towers had slides coming out of them, and there were nets to climb on as well. The whole “fortress” was basically divided into two towers, and between them was a beam on which a tire swing hung. The beam was maybe one foot wide, and probably eight to ten feet across. Well, being that you could climb up the towers, it was only a matter of climbing over a three foot wall to get on top of the beam.

That beam is another place where Ryan, and later I, would live on the edge. One time at the park, Ryan climbed onto the beam and walked across it to the other side. When I first saw him do this I was awed by how dangerous it seemed. One slip and he would have been dead. (Well, not dead, but at that age it sure seemed like it would be a fatal flaw.) I was especially amazed at Ryan’s bravery because I had personally witnessed ambulances coming to the playground at my elementary school and picking up kids that had had major falls on the playground there, some of which were rumored to have been paralyzed.

My amazement didn’t deter me from crossing. I remember my first time going across the beam. I didn’t walk like Ryan. I made my way across on my hands and knees. It only took me one or two times going across the “wussy” way, as Ryan called it, before I gathered up my courage and walked the beam. After my first time walking it, it didn’t seem so dangerous, and I’d walk it repeatedly whenever I visited the park. I’d even tell random kids how brave I was, then I’d climb up the tower and walk across the beam to show off. I also admit that I was just as guilty as Ryan, and I’d try to influence other kids to do the same. Eventually the Parks Department put up a small section of chain-link fence to prevent children from climbing onto the beam. That was a sad day.

In all this living on the edge, no harm was done. I never got hurt, and I didn’t know anyone that got hurt. I think kids are a lot tougher than some adults give credit. Kids do dangerous things by nature, I don’t think they are held back by the fears that adults have. I’ve seen adults get hurt doing dumber things than I ever did as a kid.

Speaking of kids doing danger things, I want to reminisce some more about my childhood. One of my favorite activities as a child was playing on the staircase in our house. It was a standard set of stairs, thirteen steps, and carpeted. Some of my favorite activities included sliding down the stairs on pieces of cardboard. Plastic sleds were better, but usually my sleds didn’t last very long for that very reason.

Yes, there is a great excitement in going down stairs. I loved the rush of going down them, and I wanted others to experience the same. One time I basically threw my sister down the stairs. Okay, I didn’t just pick her up and throw her down, but it almost amounted to doing just that. I was about six years old. I told my sister I wanted to make a roller coaster ride for her, so I told her to get into her stroller at the top of the stairs, buckle in, and I was going to lower her down the stairs in her stroller.

Well, even at a young age I understood something about physics, and I knew a stroller would have trouble rolling down steps. I had a way to overcome that fact, however. I was going to hold the stroller, and let it fall gently down each step. In fact, I had already tried this very action by putting a teddy bear into my sister’s stroller, and doing exactly that. It had worked perfectly with the teddy bear, and I figured I was all set to try it out on a person. Naturally I would have wanted to go down the stairs in the stroller myself, but I was too big to fit into it, so I decided to play out my fantasy vicariously using my sister. She had no objections whatsoever, and there we were at the top of the staircase.

As I began to push her stroller forward, it took me all of three seconds to realize that the forty-or-so pounds that my sister weighed was too big a burden for my young self to carry. Though I tried to hold onto that stroller with all my might, my sister inevitably tumbled forward. I was a bit worried when I saw her head plummet into the steps, yet I found relief when I discovered she was unharmed. Indeed, kids are resilient. Like I said, a lot tougher than some adults may think. True, this activity could have ended in disaster, but when I look back on it, it is one of the funniest things I can think of.

Quite frankly I’m amazed that kids survive into adulthood. The title of this post refers to another activity that I enjoyed doing on that staircase. When there was no cardboard to slide on, I was satisfied with just jumping down the stairs. I made a game of it with my brother other friends. The goal was to see how high up the staircase you dared to jump. I think the highest I ever did was five steps up. My brother got six. I can do one now, any more than that and I’d hit my head on the frame.

One time a bunch of thumbtacks had been spilled at the base of the staircase. Despite the fact that there were these tacks in the carpet, it in no way deterred me from playing the jump-down-the-stairs game. I jumped down those stairs right into the tacks. My brother did too. This turned into a whole new game. The rules were simple, jump down the stairs, then see how many thumbtacks got stuck in your feet. Surprisingly the thumbtacks didn’t really go in that far, maybe a quarter of the way, and there really wasn’t that much blood. Still, talk about some of the weird things that kids do.

I may never jaywalk or walk across a beam ever again, but I know I’d never jump into a pile of tacks ever again. No way. I don’t want pins stuck in the bottom of my feet. As an adult I have played a game called tack-throw, where you go shirtless and have your friends throw tacks at you. You can play this either facing towards the thrower, or away. Towards means you’re tougher. That game isn’t even comparable to what I did as a child. Blood, to my knowledge, has never been drawn in tack-throw.

I suppose kids will keep on doing dangerous things, and, based off my experience, I’m not sure that that’s a bad thing. I think a little living on the edge is a good thing. It certainly amounted to an interesting childhood for me, and, in some ways, I wish I could be that fearless boy that I was so many years ago.

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

To The Girl Who Shouted At Me As I Was Cycling

Jack Everett — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 05:36:34 +0000

About a week ago I was riding my bicycle through the cool night air. I was enjoying myself, listening to some music. This was nothing unusual, it’s a frequent activity for me. I cycle quite a bit. Not as much as some, but more than most. As I was riding, I heard someone shout at me, and naturally, out of surprise, I jumped just a little. A flinch is what someone would call my reaction.

Before I get to my main point, I want to talk briefly about flinching. I remember as a kid, it was a common prank to pretend to slap one’s hand towards someone’s face, without actually hitting them, and then say, “Made you flinch.” I never did this myself, as I wasn’t enough of a douche to do something like that, but I had it done to me.

Flinching is a good thing. Why would you not flinch? Your body needs to protect itself. Imagine walking around in the wind and having something get blown at your face. You decide that you’re tough, so you don’t flinch. Then you get your eye poked. That’s why flinching is a good thing, it’s an automatic response to prevent injury. Still, some people think they are so cool for making other people flinch.

Now, let me get back to my original point. The shout I heard was from a girl driving past me. I want to address at least part of this post to that girl. Sure, she’ll probably never read it, and even if she does, she won’t know this is specifically about her, but I still want to respond to her.

Dear Girl,

You shouted at me while I was riding my bike. Being that you were riding in a car going at least twenty five miles per hour, and I was riding a bicycle going at most fifteen miles per hour, I was not able to give a proper response to your communication with/at me. First, I would like to ask you, what exactly did you want to accomplish by shouting out at me? My knee-jerk response was to flip you off, and though I began to lift my hand from he handlebar, I restrained myself, because I realized that you may not have intended to offend me, and if that was the case, a vulgar response on my part was not warranted.

Where you failed in your communication with me, is that you put me in a position where my only choices were to do nothing, flip you off, or wave at you. Obviously I chose to do nothing, and I hated doing that. It made me feel weak to not respond. As a male, I feel the need to respond when provoked, but in this case, with the alternatives, I didn’t have much choice. I already explained why I didn’t flip you off, and similarly, if I had waved and your intent had been to offend me, you would have been undeserving of such a courteous response on my part.

I really don’t know what else to say to you, because I didn’t understand your intent at shouting at me. I guess that’s your style, hiding behind the dashboard and shouting out at random people. I suppose you may have been drunk, in which case you probably don’t even remember the occasion.

Our communication was brief, but I suppose I wish you the best of luck in whatever your plans are.

Regards,

Jack

To everyone else, I’ll say this. Cycling is rough. You get people shouting at you all the time. I guess because they think they are so cool. They aren’t cool. You also get people that accelerate as they drive past you. Yeah, that’s right, they speed up as they pass cyclists. I have no idea why they do this. To prove they’re going faster, I guess. They were going faster when they were going the speed limit, they don’t need to prove anything. Maybe they do it because they want to make a lot of noise so that they’ll look like an ass to the cyclist. It works, they do look like asses. I’m sorry, but we cyclists just don’t know how to respond to them, except to think that they’re idiots.

With the way motorists treat cyclists, I can understand why naked protest rides are held in cities such as Seattle. Cyclists need to make motorists aware. I admit, hundreds of motorists that pass me by are perfectly normal, and some of them are even courteous, but still there are those few that are really bad. Things are getting better for cyclists, though. More and more I see bike lanes getting put in. I love those a lot. They’re still pretty rare, but it at least lets me know that cities are thinking about their bike riding citizens.

I love riding. There is something very satisfying about knowing that I can travel by manpower rather than by gasoline. In a way it’s a macho thing for me. It makes me feel tough, it makes me feel healthy. Hell, maybe it makes me feel the way that those guys that accelerate past me feel.

I admit, I drive. I drive all the time during the winter. It isn’t easy to cycle in snow or on ice. I’ve tried. It just doesn’t work well, so I drive. I drive when I go grocery shopping, it wouldn’t be practical to do that by bike. I hate using a vehicle though. It feels like a cage, like being boxed in, but sometimes you need something more than a bicycle for transportation, I understand that. Still, whenever I can, I ride.

Interestingly enough, two days after that first girl shouted out at me, another one did the same. It was on a different street, but still it was about the same time. Maybe there is something about seeing a blinking light on the back of a man’s bicycle that drives a girl crazy, and makes the cyclist seem a little sexier even though it’s really too dark to tell. Yeah, I think that’s it.

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

Game Review: StarCraft II: Wings of Liberty

Jack Everett — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 20:55:33 +0000

I mentioned in a previous post that I was looking forward to StarCraft II, and that wasn’t a lie. It is a rare occastion that I buy a game when it first comes out. I figure wait a few months, or even a year, and save quite a bit. Well, I waited over a decade for this game, and in my experience Blizzard games don’t diminish in value very rapidly (the original StarCraft is still $20.00). Everyone waited a long time. I figured why wait any longer, and I bought it. This review will mostly be focused on the single player campaign, but I will provide some comments on the multi-player as well. In short, I will say that the game did not disappoint, but it was not without flaw. It would be a disservice to say that just because Blizzard (as reputable as they are) made this game, it’s automatically good.

Night Killers 2

When I first finished the original StarCraft I made a stick figure animation. In the short film two guys stand on a planet, a moon shines in the background. One of the stick figures holds a huge machine-gun, the signature of the Terran marines. He fires at the other stick figure, who responds by shouting, “I’ll see you in... Ahhhh....” When the victim is hit a huge explosion ensues. Following that, a title screen appears, as if it were the opening video of a game. Originally the title screen read, StarCraft 2. Then the face of a Protoss appears. I later modified the animation, and the title screen now reads, Night Killers 2, because I didn’t want to infringe on Blizzard’s trademark, but it goes to show how excited I was for another StarCraft game.

Two guys on a planet.

A huge, death dealing explosion.

Originally it read, “StarCraft 2”, and this was supposed to be a Protoss.

To get one disappointment out of the way I want to comment on the opening movie. About two years ago a short trailer was released, in which a marine is suited up in power armor, and, appearing that he’s about to go out into battle, says, “Hell, it’s about time.” Clearly his remark was a joke on how long fans have waited for this game. This turned out to be the opening video to the actual game. I’m saying this in shock, not in glee. This video seemed more or less like a joke, a piece of humor to get a laugh out of the fans, and they used it for the game. When I first fired up the game, I was wondering why they were reshowing me the trailer I’d already seen. I wanted to see some kind of intense battle being carried out on a foreign world. No such luck. This was nothing like the salvage vessel being destroyed in the original game. It was cool, sure, but it wasn’t that exciting, and it certainly wasn’t the Apocalypse Now-like trench warfare seen in the opening movie of Brood War. Throughout the game, we do learn who the man in the opening video is, and the movie does apply to the story, but I expected more.

The game manages the single player campaign much differently than Blizzard has done before. Rather than going through menus to get to mission briefings, or having the story play out in RTS mode, you play out the role of the main character, Jim Raynor. The game begins with Raynor hanging out in a bar on the planet Mar Sara. The story is played out in animated sequences rather than the traditional pre-rendered video of past Blizzard games. This was a good choice on Blizzard’s part. If you watch the old StarCraft videos, as cool as they still are, they are low resolution. For StarCraft II, the story videos are going to scale to whatever resolution you play the game at, so the game’s animated sequences are likely to hold up in the future. There are a few pre-rendered videos, which may not hold up so well in the future, but they do look really cool right now.

As I was saying, the game begins with Jim Raynor on the planet Mar Sara, where you have the option to click on various objects to get Raynor’s thoughts on them. After the first mission, you’ll get your first chance to talk to another character, Tychus Findlay. Throughout the game while you are in between missions, you’ll have the opportunity to talk to various other characters. When you click on them, they’ll give you their thoughts on upcoming and previous missions. You can do other things as well, such as watch news reports, play an arcade game, and other more important things, such as upgrading your equipment and hiring mercenaries.

Interestingly enough, when a friend of mine first described WarCraft II to me, I was imagining something akin to the in-between-mission mode of StarCraft II. My friend told me that in WarCraft II you could click on characters, and they’d say funny things. Never having played an RTS, I imagined an adventure game type scene, with a fixed set, and characters to talk to by clicking on.

Hanging out in the cantina gives you the opportunity to chat, play an arcade game, listen to music, or just sit and drink.

This mission briefing system is very interesting. You’ll spend most of your time aboard Raynor’s command ship, the Hyperion. On the bridge, you can access the star map, which usually has two or three missions for you to choose from. You can also visit the engineering bay for upgrades, the cantina for relaxation, and the science lab for various research upgrades and missions.

Upgrades are bought by earning cash or research points during missions. There are three main flavors of upgrades, the unit and building upgrades, research upgrades, and mercenaries.

Unit and building upgrades are just that, upgrades for your units and buildings. By spending some money you can have marines start with more health, make it so bunkers can hold more units, cause various units to deal more damage, and so forth.

Research upgrades are often more helpful. You’ll be developing research in both Protoss and Zerg technology. For every five research points that you earn in these categories, you get to choose between one of two different research options, each has its benefits, but you only get one of them for the duration of your campaign. One such option allows you to build vespene gas refineries that do not require SCVs to gather the gas. There are other helpful (and sometimes not very helpful) research options as well.

Mercenaries are a little different. When you buy a mercenary contract, they will be available for hire at the mercenary compounds during the missions. Each mercenary squad is based on one of the standard units, but they are a little tougher, and when you hire them from the mercenary compound you get them instantly, no build time. You do have to wait for a recharge period before you can hire them, and there are other limitations associated with them, but they will prove very useful if you need troops right away.

One cool thing about the upgrades, is that you can replay old missions with all your new technology. Also, as you complete more missions, you get access to more and more units. When you replay missions, you will have access to all the units you’ve earned at that point. This is very helpful for earning the achievements on missions that you may have missed previously.

I want to comment on the graphics as well. The in-between-mission graphics are excellent. They look as good as any shooter, with shadows and everything. Quite impressive. The male characters look a little funny, most are short and stocky, but that isn’t really anything different from the original game. StarCraft is meant to have a cartoonish feel to it.

The graphics can feel a somewhat colorless at times.

On the other hand, the RTS mode graphics are a complaint I have. I played the game with the settings on high, and they looked okay, but I they they could look better. Dawn of War II looks better, in my opinion. There’s something about the graphics that feel stale. The buildings have the same basic look to them, there’s variation with race, but each race’s buildings look very similar. This isn’t horrible, but it would have been nice to see a little more color. I do acknowledge that the special effects are excellent, lights flaring, explosions, and shadows, all with audio to match, make the game feel like a battlefield. It is just that the buildings and some of the units feel a little drab.

Now I want to discuss the meat of the game, the missions. Blizzard has done an excellent job of creating unique missions. Unlike the original game, where, with few exceptions, each mission basically involved attacking and destroying an enemy base, each mission in StarCraft II has some kind of gimmick that makes it stand out from the others. For example early in the campaign there is a mission where every few minutes lava rises, so you have to get all your troops, and buildings to high ground (most Terran buildings are mobile). Another mission has a night and day cycle, where you need to retreat to your base and setup defenses at night, but during the day you can go out and cause mayhem. These two, are probably the most notable missions as far as uniqueness goes, but all the missions give you the sense that you are doing something different.

Unfortunately this model of single player game-play does have a flaw. There are no straight-forward destroy the enemy base missions. It would have been nice to see at least one mission like that, but there aren’t any. Some come close, but as I said, there is always some kind of gimmick. Usually the gimmick makes you feel rushed as well, and it would have been nice to see some missions where you could just go at whatever pace you want to.

Still, players are going to get what they expect. Essentially you’ll be using your mouse and keyboard to send troops into battle. Blizzard has reworked the keyboard controls from the original game (though you have the option for the traditional controls, if you so choose) where most commands can be issued without moving the left hand from the standard typing position. For example, in the original game a probe would be built by pressing “P”, the command is now “E”, which is not a letter that is in the word “Probe," but is a key that doesn’t require you to move your hand across the keyboard. This will take some adjusting for players that expect the command to build various units to be the first letter (or even a letter at all) in the unit’s name, but overall this will lead to more efficient multi-player gaming.

Battles can be absolutely epic in size.

The most important thing about the game, is that it is fun. Missions are fast paced, action packed, and bring a satisfying sense of epic warfare. You can command a lot more units at a time than you ever could before. The game does away with the limitation of selecting only twelve or so units at a time. Now you can select (as far as I could tell) as many units at a time as you want. Then you can send them all to victory (or death if you didn’t select enough units). The single player campaign offers twenty five missions. You’ll spend maybe fifteen hours on your first play-through. You might even want to play again, to get some of those achievements you missed, or you may just want to move onto multi-player, which is a whole other ballpark.

I do want to complain about one thing in the single player campaign, and that is the secret mission. There is one secret mission, and if you miss it, you miss it. That means if you didn’t get access to it before you finish the game, the only way to get access to it, is by replaying the entire game. Unless you happen to have a save-game from early on. I didn’t have such a save-game, so I have to replay the game to get access to this mission. I was upset by this, and other gamers on some of the forums that I read were upset as well. It just isn’t that satisfying to see that you completed 25/26 missions. This feels like an oversight on Blizzard’s part, you should be able to play this mission after completing the campaign. You can’t.

As for the story, the game stands alone as a complete story. It has a beginning, middle, and end. It ends on a cliffhanger, but it’s not a bad cliffhanger. The ending is positive. Sure, there is more story to the series, but Wing’s of Liberty doesn’t have many unanswered questions. I don’t know how long the wait will be for the next two games in the series, but I am certainly left with a better feeling in my gut than the end of Brood War, where the Terrans were losing. Wings of Liberty is very much a new chapter of StarCraft. It opens various potential conflicts for the future of the series. It makes it clear that the bad guys may not be who you think the bad guys are. Future games in this series can, and will, go in whatever direction Blizzard wants them to go, and it will be interesting to see what direction they choose. I’ll definitely be looking forward to the next two games.

Let me now move onto multi-player. Going in, I expected it to be difficult. I figured I’d play a few matches to get a feel for it. I played 1v1, my very first game. I wanted to play as Protoss, because I think they’re cool. I played as such, and was brutally murdered. I expected to be. I couldn’t say I was upset, because it was my first time playing.

When you connect to play a multi-player game, the games asks if you’d like to start in the training league. In this league you aren’t ranked, so it doesn’t affect your standing or stats. The game wants you to play fifty matches in this league. Quite frankly, that is more matches than I ever plan on playing, I don’t have that kind of time to spend on one game. When you find a match, the game indicates that it is “Searching For Other Players”. Later it says, “Expanding Search," clearly indicating that it can’t find any other players as bad as you, which means you’re going to be matched up with better players, and probably get killed.

For that reason, on my second game I chose to play 2v2, that way, hopefully, my teammate would be better than me, and I’d at least have a chance of winning. Well I won that game pretty quickly because the players on the other team had a bad connection to the internet, or something, so they dropped, and I won the game by default, before I even started.

There was something very satisfying about my first victory.

On my third game, it was the real deal. I don’t know if my teammate, Psycostele, knew what he was doing or not. I was talking to him over voice chat. He had to type back to me. He didn’t even know the game had voice chat. That made me worried, I thought we might lose. Still, in case he was experienced, I figured I wouldn’t tell him it was my second time playing, that way he wouldn’t bail out on me in frustration. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I heard Void Rays were tough, so I built them. My teammate seemed to like that, so he sent me some of his gas and minerals. I built more Void Rays. I lead the attack on the enemy base, and we dominated. My teammate never even built that many troops. I guess he figured the Void Rays would be enough. I also had quite a few units called Stalkers, which I remembered using during the Protoss portions of the campaign. The match was about fifteen minutes long.

I will tell you this, there was something very satisfying about winning. Sure we were all in the training league, so we were all new, but it still felt good to destroy the enemy bases, especially after my first game where I was brutalized. It was a rush, definitely.

In addition to the base game, players can expect a lot of user maps for the game, with totally different play styles. This is where persistent multi-player gamers will get their value from the game. Blizzard is saying that maps and mods for this game will be better than those developed for WarCraft III. Whether or not that is true is yet to be seen, but the potential is certainly there.

Multi-player is going to require a lot of hours of game-time for players dedicated to the game, but will bring satisfaction to serious players. Single player is a fun experience for those that like the occasional RTS, but don’t really want any kind of hardcore competitive experience. It was a long wait, and the while the game has a few flaws, it will not disappoint. It’s a little pricey for those only wishing to play the single player campaign, but, “Hell, it’s about time.”

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

The Highline Chronicle: Conclusion

Jack Everett — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 17:06:39 +0000

In closing my writing about his journey, I want to reflect on the experience I had in the Uinta Mountains, discuss some of the mistakes I made, and gloat on my accomplishments.

While I didn’t really make any serious mistakes, I did make a few, and they made the vacation a little less enjoyable than it could have been. The main mistake I made, was that I didn’t plan anything. In the introduction to this series I mentioned that my only plan was to have a vehicle waiting for me at one end, and get dropped off at the other. I had no specific plans as to where I was going to be spending nights or how far I’d travel each day. This really took away from the enjoyment of my trip, because it didn’t give me any free time. I was basically going as far as I could each day, and by the end of each day I was too tired to do anything (including make a decent dinner most of the days).

In some ways, however, this was unavoidable. I was going by myself, and I really had no concept of how hard it would be to travel the terrain, or how far the journey would actually be. A map can only tell you so much, just glancing at a map tells you even less. Going in, all I knew was where the trail was.

What’s funny, is that at some points while I was out there, I was thinking to myself, Never, never again. Though, as soon as the day I finished my journey, I laughed at that idea. I’d do it again. Now that I’ve been through the region, I have the knowledge to make specific plans, and I would. I could plan much slower days, with more free time to do other outdoors activities. I think if I did it again, I’d avoid the east end of the range, though. I’d start a little further west, where the terrain proved much more interesting.

The other mistake I made was in regards to personal care. I didn’t apply sunscreen, and the sunburns I acquired held me back from as much enjoyment as I could have had. They made sleeping difficult, which made me tired, which made the days in general difficult. What I would do differently there, is apply sunscreen every day.

Part of the reason I didn’t apply sunscreen, was because I was too concerned with bugs. I was using a lotion for bugs, and I didn’t know how effective the lotion would have been, had it been mixed with sunscreen. On future trips, I will use a spray for bugs, instead of lotion. I’ve had success with bug sprays in the past, and I think they work better with sunscreen lotions. I avoided a spray because aerosol cans take up more room than a lotion, but in retrospect, it would be worth the extra space.

Also, with regards to personal care, I would definitely pack a better first aid kit, and have better tools for treating blisters. My first-aid kit was very incomplete in that regard, and I could have been better equipped. I would bring along more pairs of dry socks as well. One thing I didn’t mention in the previous posts, was that I used the same bag for dirty and clean laundry, so my wet socks from previous days would make my dry socks damp.

Those were really my only mistakes, planning and personal care. Now I want to gloat about my accomplishments. I felt like I had achieved a lot as I walked into the parking lot. Few people will understand the difficultly of such a trek. I know this, because when I tell people about my trip, they don’t think it’s a big deal. They have no comprehension of the physical conditioning, stamina, and endurance required to complete such a journey. Only one person that I have talked to, agreed with me that there is a real sense of accomplishment when you complete such a task, and that person has made similar excursions.

Most people have been hiking at some point in their life. They may have made an easy journey out to see a lake, or maybe a tougher journey up to the top of a peak, but that isn’t comparable to the accomplishment of hiking seventy miles in back-country wilderness with sixty pounds strapped to your back while crossing seven mountain passes.

Despite what you may think, I accomplished a lot. Even the other backpackers I met on the trail weren’t going as far as me. Though, I will admit that plenty of others have made the same, or comparable, journeys. Those that have, will understand what I mean when I say that as far as I’m concerned, I’m the king of that mountain range. Those that haven’t, will think that I’m egotistical.

In conclusion I’m providing a few satellite pictures of the area. I’m overlaying my journey along the trail, to give you at least a little sense of what I’ve accomplished.

The Highline Chronicle

This is my journey overlaid on the satellite imagery of the region. The color codes follow as in the previous days. Click on the image to see it bigger.

This highlights the region of the previous satellite image in relation to the state of Utah.

And here it is in relation to the United States.

For comparison with the satellite image.
Coded as follows:
Green: Day 6
Pink: Day 5
Orange: Day 4
Purple: Day 3
Blue: Day 2
Red: Day 1

EMBED WARNING(highline-toc post was not found.)

Original post blogged on b2evolution.

The Highline Chronicle: Day 6

Jack Everett — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 05:00:00 +0000

My very best camping spot, notice how flat the ground is.

My last night in the mountain range was a peaceful one. The night air was cool. It rained a little, too. Not heavy, but enough for me to hear that gentle patter of water drops on the roof of my tent. Sleeping was the usual in-and-out, but it was a good night. I was hoping to wake early for two reasons. First I wanted to get a picture of the sunrise over Carolyn Lake, and second, I was hoping to do some fishing. I had set my alarm for 6:30 AM, but as I looked outside my tent the sun wasn’t rising, so I lay in bed, waiting for it to come up. It never did, the sky would be overcast all day.

I had my own fire pit for the taking. Sadly, with the rain, the wood was wet.

I suppose around 7:30 AM I figured I’d just get up, get dressed, and have breakfast. As I mentioned, I didn’t have any dry socks at that point, and I did my best to dry out a pair using my stove. That helped a little, but they were still wet. I also didn’t have a change of underwear, I usually like to change my underwear every day when backpacking, but I didn’t have a choice, I’d have to stick with a day old pair. Also, I wanted to wear long sleeves so that my sunburns wouldn’t get any worse, and the only long sleeved clothing I had was a pair of long-johns. I figured it would do.

I had another freeze dried breakfast that morning, granola with blueberries and milk. Like the scrambled eggs with bacon I’d had the previous morning, it wasn’t very good. Still, it was nice to have a warm breakfast. I also finished up my Pop Tarts, and had a few cereal bars.

Carolyn Lake. I’d hoped to get a picture of the sunrise over it, but the sky was overcast.

With breakfast out of the way I started packing up. I decided I wouldn’t bother with fishing because I thought it might rain on me, and I just wanted to be ready to go. Packing up was easy. By this time most of my supplies were exhausted or thrown out, so my pack was only 3/4 full. I don’t think it weighed nearly as much as when I had started either. I was sad to leave that camping spot, it had been my best one. It would have been so easy to stay there another day, and I could have too, I had enough supplies, but I wanted to get out of there. I departed Carolyn Lake around 8:30 AM. I figured I’d be to the parking lot by 1:00 PM. I saw another tent set up by Carolyn Lake on my way out, more campers that probably had a good night as well. They hadn’t gotten up yet.

With another painkiller down, the trail was easy to follow. There was a little uphill and a little downhill. My feet were actually hurting pretty bad, but knowing it was my last day, helped me to go on. The Highline Trail ends at a place called Hayden’s Pass, and this kind of bothered me. I thought I’d been over all the passes I’d needed to cross, and yet there was one more marked on my map. I didn’t think it could possibly be that bad, but it was still a “pass”.

A man-made bridge, so much easier than fording.

I knew I was getting close to the end of the trail when I crossed a man-made bridge. Yes, man-made, constructed, solid. It was so much better than when I had forded Rock Creek. I was happy that my feet weren’t going to get any more wet than the socks had already made them. My blisters would fare alright. What’s more is the overcast sky kept the air cool.

As with the previous day, I used trail junctions as my milestones. There were four leading up to the trail head, the East Fork Pinto Lake Trail, the Naturalist Basin Trail, a trail leading to Packard Lake, and a trail leading to Mirror Lake. It wasn’t long before I came across the Pinto Lake Trail. I didn’t expect it to take long, it was only a mile or so beyond Carolyn Lake. But it seemed to take for ever to get to the Naturalist Basin Trail, and I was beginning to wonder if I had gone in the wrong direction, but I was on a trail, and there were no other trails in the area, so I pressed on. I did pass by some horsemen going the other way. That made me feel good. I joked about how much easier it must have been to travel by horseback. One of the guys laughed.

Eventually I came across another trail junction, and as I looked at the sign, it said Packard Lake was to the south. I had gone further than I thought I had. That was approximately half way between Carolyn Lake and the trail head, and I had to take a piss, so I took a break. I figured half an hour would be good. I had a Clif Bar, drank some water, and relaxed. The bugs were out, but they were tolerable. When I was done with my break I put my backpack on, and as I was doing so, two young men coming from the other direction passed me by. They didn’t say much other than, “Hello”. And I realize now that as they saw me, I must have looked like the creepy-old-man-of-the-forest. I was basically out there in nothing but underwear. I probably smelled too.

Well, I headed out, and just up the trail I bumped into what must have been the Boyscout troop that the other young men I’d see were with. It was a whole gamut of young men. They were all taking a break. I felt weird as I passed through them. Knowing that I must have looked like crap. They said their hellos, asked how I was doing, I wanted to say, “I’m doing about as good as I look," but no one there seemed particularly conversational, so I said I was fine and moved on. One kid was going crazy with bug spray, and I couldn’t help but think that that day was not nearly as bad as the day before, and that that kid was really going to enjoy himself later on.

That was the last I saw of human life on the trail. From there it was almost all uphill, and I always kept my eye out for the landmarks. I passed by Scudder Lake, which was another indication that I was close. And eventually I got to the Mirror Lake junction, and that let me know that I had less than one mile to go, but then, that one mile was Hayden Pass.

The parking lot. Civilization at last.

Hayden Pass has quite a few switch backs, but it’s really not that steep, and I made progress as usual, taking a short break every few steps. On the way up, I could see an RV parked in the trees, so I knew I must be near the freeway. I also knew that I must be very close to the parking lot, and sure enough, I was. I was hoping to bump into someone in the parking lot, someone that was just about ready to go out into the wild, someone who I could show my map to, and tell them my great accomplishment, and how far I’d come. No one was there.

I took a picture of myself, just to see how bad I looked. I wanted to use it in contrast with picture of me when I started. I look terrible in that picture, standing in my long-johns, my shoulders drooping. I won’t be posting it, it’s just too embarrassing. I’m embarrassed that that Boyscout troop saw me looking like that.

Well, I had a fresh pair of clothes, including dry socks and clean underwear, in my departure vehicle, and it was all there waiting for me. I also had some Wet Ones to clean up with. So I went to the latrine to change. As I was heading there, a man and his two young daughters came out from the trail. Somehow telling him how far I’d come didn’t seem like such a great idea, so I just said hello. I could tell, that he and his children, had basically gone for a walk in the park. My journey had been much more than that.

As I removed my clothes in the bathroom stall, I noticed that I had quite a few red marks on my shoulder. At first I was thinking it was bug bites, but then I didn’t think the bugs would have bitten through my shirt. Then it occurred to me that it might be acne. I was absolutely filthy at that point. I’d cleaned up a little while I was out camping, but really I’d only cleaned my lower regions. I hadn’t worried so much about my upper body. The Wet Ones really helped me to clean myself up, and the clean clothes felt good on my body. From there, all I had to do was drive out. It was that easy.

Ironically, the worst weather I experienced on my vacation was driving on I-80 back to Salt Lake. A really bad thunderstorm hit. I mean really bad. Visibility was maybe twenty feet. The traffic slowed to about fifteen miles per hour. I got out of that storm, though, and made it to Salt Lake.

Strangely, I had a craving for a Six Dollar Burger from Carl’s Junior. I don’t know why I had that particular craving, but I did. That wasn’t the first thing I did, though. I took a shower first. Got cleaned up for real. When I did so I saw more acne, all over my back. After that, I went to see a doctor. I wanted to have my burn looked at, maybe get a prescription. I also wanted a prescription to clear up the acne that was on my body. The doctor gave me both. A cream for the burn, and anti-bacterial pills for the acne. With the prescriptions picked up, I went to Carl’s Junior and had that Six Dollar Burger I was craving. Cost me seven dollars.

That pretty much sums up my journey. In the conclusion I will give some of my thoughts on the mountain range, and reflect on my experiences.

My progress for day six. Coded as follows:
Yellow: The Highline Trail.
Green: Day 6
Pink: Day 5
Orange: Day 4
Purple: Day 3
Blue: Day 2
Red: Day 1

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.

The Highline Chronicle: Day 5

Jack Everett — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 05:00:00 +0000

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.

Rocky Sea Pass. The final pass I’d cross.

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.

Atop Rocky Sea Pass, I looked down to see how far I’d come.

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.

The night was so peaceful that I took a picture of the forest. Nothing much show up, as you can see.

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.

My progress for day five. Coded as follows:
Yellow: The Highline Trail.
Pink: Day 5
Orange: Day 4
Purple: Day 3
Blue: Day 2
Red: Day 1

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.

The Highline Chronicle: Day 4

Jack Everett — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 05:00:00 +0000

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.

East Mount Lovenia. I knew that the trail followed the base of the peaks, so I used them for orientation.

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.

Red Knob Pass didn’t look that daunting, but it proved quite challenging.

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.

The Black Forks Drainage. This sight alone made the whole journey worth it.

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.

Dead Horse Pass (right side) beckoned me to cross, despite my feelings earlier in the day.

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.

I looked back to marvel at my progress.
(Red Knob can be seen to the center-right.)

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.

Dead Horse Lake.

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.

My progress for day four. Coded as follows:
Yellow: The Highline Trail.
Orange: Day 4
Purple: Day 3
Blue: Day 2
Red: Day 1

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.

The Highline Chronicle: Day 3

Jack Everett — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 05:00:00 +0000

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.

Yellowstone Drainage. My progress was fast and easy as I b-lined it through the region. Tungsten Pass is to the right (not visible).

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 looked back at Anderson Pass to marvel at how far I’d gone, and how fast I was moving.

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.

My progress for day three. Coded as follows:
Yellow: The Highline Trail.
Purple: Day 3
Blue: Day 2
Red: Day 1

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Original post blogged on b2evolution.