Houston, we have a problem

When missions aren't successful

We sat glumly on rocks in the middle of an alder field. Behind us, a hard-won scramble up over 2700 feet in 1.3 miles. Ahead, an inconvenient meadow with brush covering slippery, ankle-busting rocks, a sketchy boulder field, and an unknown climb past that.

We had been walking for three hours. I had led us astray once, resulting in a cliffed out situation and an uncontrolled slide down slippery rocks, triggering a meltdown (mine). It was close to our turnaround time and we had only come halfway. An “alpine divorce” seemed uncomfortably close.

We had to call it. We knew it. The reality was that this might have been my last shot at this, the last lake of 75. I had embarked on this quest years ago, after reading an article about a man who had made it to all 75 in this wilderness, including several off-trail, remote ones. At the time, I was stuck in a remote, but deeply sedentary job. I needed a challenge. On the map, the lakes glimmered with promise. I felt old. I needed this goal.

This trailhead took hours to get to on washboarded, single digit mile per hour roads. The ascent was so steep and demanding that it took me an hour and a half to descend 1.3 miles. And I knew of nobody who had actually been there, excluding one unreliable narrator.

We stomped back to camp in somber moods. It never feels good to quit. I tried to temper this with thinking that we got to see some incredible country that very few (any?) people have seen. That nobody died. That we weren't sitting at desks. Still, it stung a little.

By evening, settled in our quirky campground, my sentiments had shifted from “I'm never doing that again” to “well, maybe there's another way.” Maybe if we left earlier, with headlamps. Maybe if we found a bivy spot near the approach. Carried more water. Waited for cooler weather. I can't quite give up.

I probably should. After all, the person who achieved notoriety for first visiting all 75 lakes didn't even get to this one, deeming it too dangerous. It might be. How is 75 better than 74? It's been a great try. This goal propelled me through years of grief, ten hour days of bureaucracy, and tempered the nomad in me that honestly always wants to move on. That's the thing with goals. You can dismiss them as silly, as privileged, as something you don't need anymore. Goals can be all those things! But my lake quest has been frustrating, terrifying, empowering, and worth it to me.

I will return to town and report back to my intrepid adventure crew. I detail the scrambling. The routefinding. The inching up and down the hillside, throat parched, looking upward. They still want to try. Of course they do.

I do too. Here's to “failures”. They make us stronger, more determined. We can't let them break us.

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