Wonderland Trail Day 1 – Sunrise to Mystic Lake

Starting at Sunrise

As I got out of my car in the parking lot of the Sunrise Visitor Center I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was doing something wrong. The paranoia in my head was expecting a park ranger to walk up to me and ask what the hell I was doing coming all the way out here so unprepared. Still shaken by the uncertainty of what was to come, I made my way to the restrooms adjacent to the visitor center building across from the gift shop. I started training my mind on my muscles making deliberate steps and feeling the momentum of my weight shifting through my arms as they swayed forward. By the time I made it back to my car, my nerves had calmed. My energy turned into excitement as I started to focus on the otherwise ordinary steps of what I needed to do next. I had gone on plenty of day hikes before and as it stood, this was shaping up like any other. I took one last final sweep of my car for any gear making sure everything was packed in or strapped on. With my trekking poles now in hand and straps on my pack adjusted I set off towards the trailhead and thought to myself “Huh, I’m about to walk in a giant circle. It’s crazy to think that I’m going to be right back here in 9 days. This is going to be fun! Maybe… we’ll see… whelp too late now, let’s go!”.  

I had never traveled on the trail from this direction but I knew the area well. I started out heading directly West on Sunrise Park road where I began reminiscing of previous trips. From the first time I set out with one of my old Bible study groups, to the time I proposed to my wife by Shadow Lake, and just the year prior that we took her parents on the same hike around the short loop. The adventure! The fun! It was all driving me now with each step and drop of sweat as I made my way to the top towards Frozen Lake. Along the way, I encountered a group of volunteer teens taking a break in the morning sun as they were building steps with squares of timber up a rather steep portion of the trail. The look of tiredness on their faces made me aware of my own situation as I tried to pass by quickly. I was already feeling the weight of my pack begin to take its toll on me as my legs were still warming up to the climb. After a short while, the terrain began to level out and I was guided by the trail to the rocky boulders that frame the first sight of Frozen Lake. A deep blue lake with a brim of snow and ice that shrinks into a hairline thin trace during the summer months. At the top of the ridgeline now, the open landscape of the alpines gave me peace and continued to inspire awe with every crest and bend in the trail. The thought of calling this place home for the next 9 days became more and more attractive. I began to fantasize about taking a walk here each day before work just to absorb the relaxing confidence that this place brings. 

Alone time at Pebble Creek

I had finally gone far enough now that people were becoming sparse and the sense of my time with God in this place was settling in even deeper as I began to pray as I went. I was overwhelmed by all of the words that someone might think to describe this place and gave my thanks and praise. Every 30 minutes to an hour I would come across another hiker and identified the day hikers from backpackers by the size and amount gear on their packs. Each person or group was more than happy to take a quick break to chat and catch their breath. I picked up quickly on the norms for these conversations, always starting with where you are heading and where you are coming from. From there the conversations go into additional fact-finding interrogations to get info on the route you just came from or the conversations just end after some small talk. It was sad that the pace of life seemed almost unchanged in this setting. Bound by the dates of the permit, everyone had to be moving to make sure they would make it to the next camp before night. There wasn’t really an option to stop wherever convenient without risk of some type of fine or warning. With so many people wanting to complete the journey each year a tight schedule had to be maintained in order to ensure enough space at each campsite. Thankfully, I was feeling comfortable with my pace at this point and decided to take a short break after reaching the first water re-supply at Pebble Creek. I took some time to take in the sound of the gushing waters and admire the features of the riverbed highlighted by the scattered sunbeams through the treetops. Uncomfortable with my filtering process and trying to avoid digging around in my pack, I figured I had enough water to last me until my campsite and decided to just rest and take in the scene instead. The longer I stayed the more envious I grew that this wasn’t going to be my campsite for the night. The thick green canopy above the campsite was trimmed by the river bed nearby exposing the deep blue sky and glimmering light reflecting from the river through the trees creating a white rippling wave of light that bobbed against the river bank like a shadow puppet show. I struggled to pull my pack over my shoulders and shivered at the cool sweat pressing against my back and continued on. The downhill trot took me by somewhat of a surprise in the amount of effort needed to brace myself for each step. Up to this point, my travel had been all uphill or flat. It was only now that I really started to understand the weight of my poor decisions bearing down on my knees and ankles. 

The first river crossing

After another 30 minutes or so I arrived at my first major river crossing. All the fear that I felt that morning suddenly returned in anxiety manifest. The deep waters were high against the rocks and pressing up against the bottom of the single log bridge with a narrow handrail on the right side. As the river pulsed in intensity, the splashing of the water against the bridge recoiled back into the air drenching a three-foot section of the log on the far side. At that moment I was reminded of a man that lost his life on the northern loop the previous year when he fell into a river crossing. I sat down on a rock nearby in paralysis of fear and to rest my legs. As I sat I took some pictures and checked my location to help distract my concerns. A young woman came from behind in the same direction and without any hesitation smiled and quickly made her way across the bridge in a matter of seconds. She passed onto the next bend in the trail heading through the tall grass and bushes on the other side. I lacked any confidence to prance across the bridge at the pace I just witnessed and waited to make sure there was no one around to witness how painfully slow I was about to take on this task. I tucked away one of my poles in the holster on my left strap and took the other pole firmly in my left hand. Stepping slowly up onto the rocks that lead up to the log I reached out to the handrail to find my balance. As I stutter-stepped my way up onto the log I could feel my heart pounding, the terror of falling in consumed me. Now as I stood on the log with exposed water to either side of me, my balance began to suffer at the optical illusion of the water passing beneath like a sprinting treadmill that you are preparing to walk across. Your mind blends the narrow log into the background of the water to make you steps appear to be anything but straight. I focused my attention narrowly at the far side of the log to lose sight of the water from my periphery. I shuffled one foot at a time until my hands were too far back and had to be adjusted forward. I stabbed forcefully with the pole in my left hand and walked my right hand down the rail picking up all of the sap and moisture that was resting there from the shade. Halfway out now it’s been at least a minute and my fears turn to panic as the log begins to bounce from my weight centered on the log and the pressing winds and water against the human windsail I’ve become. I keep the same technique moving only one appendage at a time but double my efforts to move more quickly. Finally, I reach near to the other side breaking cadence of my shuffle and lurch forward with my momentum aiming towards the ground. I’ve lost all sense of time at this point and realize that I didn’t pay any attention to the placement of cairns from the far side of the bridge and am now safe on solid ground with no idea of where to go. I see a clear footpath heading to the right which quickly leads to a drop off and several giant boulders with no clear direction back into the tree line. Checking my GPS and location I realize that the path has clearly changed from what was mapped out. I return back to the log bridge and begin wading through the tall grass where I finally see a cairn stacked on a massive boulder that was roughly four feet tall. I muscle my way over the boulder and carefully leap from one rock to the next until I see a break in the tree line just above a small scramble of loose dirt and rocks. Above the scramble, I take off almost running up the smooth groomed trail and come to a large downed tree that I can see the log crossing I just came from. It occurs to me that I couldn’t see this clear path from the crossing, but would have been a natural resting place for the woman that went before me to stop and witness me in what must have been the most cringe ridden log crossing that she has ever seen. I counted my blessings to be alive and shrugged it off. 

The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak… and flabby

My legs are now feeling worn given all of the extra strain and tense pressure that I placed on myself in the log crossing. I checked again on my map and saw I had another three miles to go still with 5 more hours of daylight left. The terrain from here takes on an eclectic up and down through gray dirt and exposed rock haystacks. It’s also at this time that I regret not filling my reservoir up at Pebble Creek as I begin to sip air from my water bladder. My lack of conditioning leading up to this trip matched with insufficient water resulted in my legs seizing up entirely unable to straighten them past a 45-degree angle in the worst cramp I’ve ever experienced. I see several groups coming towards me and make every effort to power through the pain to avoid gaining any sort of attention for my own stupidity. I fight through the next 200 ft. feeling my muscles bind and contort each step of the way until I reached an uncomfortable angled rock that I’m just able to rest against. I hop rocks 10 to 15 feet at a time collapsing in excruciating pain at each break. Thoughts of failure started to creep up in my mind. It was near 3 PM and I couldn’t help but think of what my team from work was doing at that moment, and what kind of jokes they would say to me if they knew the situation I put myself in. I began to become more frustrated and angry at myself as I weighed what options I had at this point. With three more miles to go to my campsite, returning across the log cross and the 8 miles back to my car simply wasn’t a choice. I pulled off my pack and grabbed the beef jerky from my food supply. I sat chewing on the salty meat hoping for the proteins and salt to be enough to bring me back in action. I rested for what felt like forever but picked back up and pushed through the pain at 3:45 PM. The meat did the trick, either as a placebo or as a source of energy to get my second wind. The last three miles before camp I have no memory of other than the steep climb at the very end and the relief that came as I entered back into the enveloping green canopy.

Mystic Lake Camp

Since I have never camped in the national park, I had no clue what I was even looking for to identify my campsite. I stumbled down the path past the sign reading “Individual Campsites” where I saw two women reading books near a tent surrounded by twelve-foot logs stacked two to three feet high around them and what looked like a giant staircase of sites extending down from theirs on either side of the path separated by bushes and trees. Exhausted, excited, thirsty, hungry, and all I could do is throw my pack off and clumsily assemble the light-weight chair from the bottom of my pack. I had made it just past 5:30 PM. I knew I needed to make my tent, cook my food, gather my water, and use the bathroom but my muscles wouldn’t let me. I sat for a while contemplating how ill-equipped I was for this. I could hear the footsteps of people approaching from a distance. The backdrop of silence against the babbling water was serene and made each person’s appearance from the woods seem disruptive as they walked by. After I saw two more groups go down with empty bottles and return full of water I decided I had enough and needed to make my next move. With much pain and great effort, I rolled from my chair forward to my knees and started to put together my campsite. I pulled out each element and laid it down on the dirt as the campsite slowly took form. Once enough items had been withdrawn from my bag to free my water bladder I made my way down to the brook. The sound of the water didn’t seem to change at all until I stepped through an opening on the river bank where the sound of the distant dribbles suddenly sang at full volume. I filled the water bladder with the crystal clear water and cleaned my hands for a moment, taking in the incredible coolness in contrast to the heat from the day still lingering on my forehead. Back in camp, I was brought back to life by the water and the new exciting prospect of sleeping under the stars as I had never done before. I sent a quick update to my wife using my GPS system, boiled the water for my meal in a pouch, and began reading Second Chronicles on my Kindle. My thoughts were free to embrace the words as I read them, without the distraction of my car, my apartment, my bills, what videos to watch, Facebook feeds to check up on… I felt relaxed and truly free in the moment. My instinct was still to check each of my usual apps to get my social media fix, but I couldn’t, and it was great. As the night grew darker I retired to the inside of my tent where it was still very warm from the day and my own body heat. I place my bear bells on top of my airtight food container just in case a rodent decided to try its chances. As I laid there I struggled to fall sleep with the feeling of being alone but surrounded like on public transportation when you begin to nod off. As fortune would have it, my exertion from the day won out and I was finally able to doze off. Unfortunately, my sleep was short lived as the bells were knocked over and I continually sensed the presence of a small creature just outside my tent but I drifted back off each time after smacking the tent wall and ground. At around 1 AM I awoke to the freezing cold of post-midnight air that I did not anticipate. I bundled up in my down jacket and sleeping bag and tightened myself down against my mat where I managed a bit more sleep between nightmares of my food being stolen by rogue hipsters and roaming gangs of mice.