[Day 78] Knapsack Col

After the delayed exit from Pinedale and late camp last night, I let down my bear hang as the mosquitos swarmed. I wouldn’t get hiking until 9am, which had me second thinking my plans for the day. I intended to head for the 12,000-foot mountain pass known as Knapsack Col. A col is a saddle or passage between two high peaks. The route would be slow due to snow, but I decided to attempt it. As far as anyone in Pinedale was aware, Knapsack had not been hiked this season yet.

I first hit Island Lake, a long slender glacial lake. I continued up into Titcomb Basin, walking alongside the lower and upper Titcomb Lakes. Needless to say, this was a gorgeous approach into the high country.

At the end of Upper Titcomb Lake, trail disappeared under snow, and the granite floor of the basin didn’t make for east path recognition. But, I was fine walking the granite and snow along my own path, like I did for some 300 miles in Colorado. As I got deeper into the end of the basin, Knapsack Col revealed itself, I was to decide my route. There’s an approach following Twin Glacier or a route continuing up the basin and cutting east through another basin to the base of the col. Presumably, snow coverage were similar, but I assumed walking on top of a glacier would likely provide firmer snow. The Twin Glacier approach was about two miles of snow walking on slippery, sun-cupped fields. But, the snow was hard with only an inch or two of sink with each step.

After an hour, I made it to the final steep ascent to the col. It was some 300 feet of vertical over two tenths of a mile. I kicked steps straight up the ascent. The snow was rather unsupportive, and slid out from me with every step. After enough kicking, I made it to the boulder field that was the later half of the approach. The field was an easy scramble to the final cornice. A four foot snow climb to the top was easy enough with a couple kicked in footholds. As one might expect, the col offered exciting views.

The descending east side of the pass was slippery, and I was making mini rock slides when I wasn’t boulder hopping. Pretty quickly, I reached a long snowfield, got on my butt, and took a ride down. After flattening out, I cut deeper into the basin, and took another slide. Now, that’s a quick way down a snowy mountain.

Checking my map, I realized this drainage was the start of the Green River — the largest tributary of the Colorado River. I followed down the basin atop snowfields alongside the mingling and merging creeks. After Peak Lake, I hit a large boulder field for few miles, and trail was decimated in a few areas by some recent rock slides. I found my way through.

I merged back with the CDT and followed along the Green River, dropping down to 8,000 feet. After a crossing of the Green River. I heard a crackle on the hillside below me. I looked down to see a small cub bear fiddling in the bushes. He didn’t notice me. Not seeing the mother, I withdrew my bear spray and stomped my way out of there. About a mile down trail, I noticed a dark blob in a tree. I passed it off as some tangling of twigs, but a bear was in the back of mind. Thirty feet to the blob, I heard grunting and huffing and puffing; the blob scrambled up the tree. It appeared to be a frightened juvenile black bear. I cut the switchback and went my separate way.

The landscape quickly became forested and green with meadows. It was reminiscent of walking through valleys of Yosemite. I walked my way alongside the Green River for the remainder of the day, with gorgeous high rise monolithic ridges around me. I pitched camp along the river, ate my dinner in the dark with hoards of mosquitos, tied my bear bag up, and hit the hay.

Signing off,

Zeppelin / fReaK (ON a leash)