Dave and I backpacked to Lost Lake
one rainy weekend just before he
moved to New York in September.
Frank joined us ofcourse. Lost Lake
is a common name in the mountains
of Colorado, but this Lost Lake was
more lost than most. It lies near
11,000 ft in the Rawah Wilderness
northeast of Blue Lake, 7 miles from
a dirt road that leads off of Highway
14 some 10 miles. As we got out of
the car at the trailhead, a very large
retriever came up to Frankie and
attempted to mount him. Frank
responded with a viscious snarl and
nip to the face of the offender. That's
the only time Frank has ever bitten
anybody. The dog backed off. The
sun was shining when we hiked in,
but as we neared the lake, the rain
began to fall, and we erected the tent
just before a downpour. Later in the
afternoon we emerged to find
everything soggy and wet. The
mosquitos came to feast on our flesh,
and did so despite our valiant efforts
to destroy as many as possible. We
walked around Lost Lake, which is a
very small pool of water collected in
a swampy depression. One finds it
difficult to approach the lake form two
sides because it is so boggy. We
camped about 100 feet from the lake's
shores. As dusk approached, we
gathered a large cache of firewood and
cooked dinner. We built the the fire in
a shallow pit between a large boulder
that also served as our kitchen, and a
lump of earth with a dead tree protruding
upwards. After dinner we sat by the warm
blazing fire and dried our boots and socks.
Frankie's sweater caught on fire while
drying, but was quickly extinguished,
though it bears a red scorch to this day.
Frank got wet and then got very cold, so I
held him close to the fire since he was
afraid to get near it on his own. He was
so tired that he twice crept into the tent
to
sleep before we did. We stayed up late
into the night by the fire, entranced by its
mesmerizing dance and flicker. The spot
we built it in served well, as the heat stayed
in the depression we were in and made it
very comfortable. The moon rose around
11 PM, and shortly after we let the fire die
down to glowing red embers, smoking in
the chill night air. The next morning it was
still grey and rainy, so the pictures I
managed to take of the lake are not good.
The trip back to the car went nicely, and
I was lucky to spot the forest rangers far
enough in advance so that I could leash
Frankie and avoid a fine.
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