An early start this morning; out of the tents by 6:00 and across the logjam to the other side by 8:00. The trail skirted roughly toward the outflow, past a large waterfall, immideately thereafter it angled to the left taking us up a near vertical climb of over 3,000 feet. The angle is so steep (no switchbacks either; the ridge is too narrow) that in most places when you stand straight up the slope is only a foot away from your nose.

Once most of the elevation had been gained, the route became more difficult to find as it began sidehilling along and below steep and treacherous cliffs. All we could do was locate one vague tree marker, then the next and son on, working our way along gradually, making sure we didn't sway from the route. This slowed our progress, making an easier pace and keeping the group tightly together.

The views were worth every ounce of struggle and sweat. Stein Lake lay directly below us, Mount Klackarpun rising steeply above with the basin of spectacular Elton Lake visible, its waterfall cascading hundreds of meters.

After what seemed like hours of climbing a torturous route, we found ourselves on a very distinct saddle. It was not clear where the route continued, so as Ken and I waited for the others, I quickly dropped my pack and scampered up a narrow, rocky spine to its peak above a terrifying precipice to see if the trail climbed this route. Fortunately it didn't.

As the others gathered, Andre managed to discover that the trail continued sidehilling, though just below us. Eventually the markers and route became more clear as it slowly led us to the open alpine ridge.

After a night of showers and strange creatures sounding on the ridge, we awoke to crystal clear skies and rose early at 6:00 AM once again.

Tundra Lake

After a couple hours we spotted a large lake in the distance, hemmed in by mounains of rock and snow. Suddenly we realized it was Tundra Lake ---yikes! There were supposedly two routes

From our current vantage point, neither looked possible, never mind even getting to the lake itself.

On hindsight, we should have left the ridge earlier and climbed down through easier meadows; the route we took was rather dangerous and we had to descend one by one, holding onto heather branches on the loose soil and rock. Once at the bottom, we had to clear away from the chute and the hazards of falling rock loosened by the next person comming down.

From the meadow, reaching the lake was quite easy. It was still a question in all our minds how we would get further past the lake.

This is where things got a little.....tense. Andre forgot his maps and compass at Tundra Lake. Upon leaving the lake the group became separated. John forged ahead his own way by himself. Dan and Sephan were up ahead, but at least scouting an easier route. Ken, Reimar and Heidi were a ways behind Dan and Stephan, but far ahead of Andre, San and myself. After I had a bit of a fit, the others, except John who was out of ear shot, waited and we re-grouped. By now John was completely out of sight.

We only realized the maps and compass were missing two hours past the lake when we stopped to consult them. Now the only remaining means of navigation were Andre's telescope and John's photocopied map and his GPS. But where was John??

We continued along and soon the rocky slope turned to a grassy, treed hillside where we could follow a clearly marked route. But not for long. At the edge of the trees we were faced with crossing a steep cauldron of rock, over a kilometer long. Steep cliffs hung above and below, while several snow chutes covered the rocky slope from top to bottom. Andre took out his telescope and scanned the area for any signs of rock cairns. Sure enough, on the distant saddle behind which we believed Figure 8 Lake to lie, he spotted a definite man-made sculpture.

With nowhere else to go, we met up with John, then began the arduous crossing.

We slowly and carefully made our way across the boulder field and four snow chutes, using a rope anchored on both ends as an anchor point of safety while crossing. The snow chutes drop down to the edge of a cliff, and then into sheer nothingness until the valley several thousand feet below. The guidebook warns to "exercise due caution when crossing the snow fields on account of fatal results below". No kidding.

It took him twenty minutes just to catch him!! The two men climbed to the top of the saddle together--there was no lake visible as the map showed it to be. Andre took one look at the map and deduced right away that we should be making for the lower saddle. With night comming and seven cold people left far below, he ran back down to us, leaving John who refused to descend, believing the high saddle to hold Figure 8 Lake.

Fear at Figure 8 Lake

We quickly set up our tents in a protected, windsheltered area while Andre went about making us a fire. Reimar and Ken shared Ken's tent, as John had the body to the tent the two men had been sharing. We were all quite shaken up and concerned about John. It was almost dark and virtually zero visibility.

As we huddled around the fire, we heard a distant whistle sound out of the fog. Andre jumped up and ran to the edge of the snow pack at the side of the lake and tried to communicate with whom we believed to be John. How did he get to the other side of the lake?? Andre made voice contact--it was John. But then he heard John shout something like, "I can't ----- any longer!!", then lost communication with him.

Unable to get another response from John, Andre yelled to us, "He's gone! I've lost him! I think he's drowned in the lake!" The steep snow pack lay directly over the water, which was frozen at that end. If someone were to slip, they would quickly slide into the lake unless they had an ice pick.

Like out of a move, we heard a woman's voice, distant but clear, shouting over and over from the opposite end of the lake, "He's okay! He's okay!" We tried to shout back to her, but the wind was howling too strong, it would carry her voice to us but not ours back to her. At least we knew John was safe.

About fifteen minutes later, the fog lifted just a little and we spotted three shapes making their way across the snowfield just above the lake. At the edge of the snow, one continued up to us while the other two went back.

John had descended from the high saddle and eventually come upon the well-travelled trail leading between Fig. 8 Lake and Caltha Lake. He went left, to Figure 8 and at the lake came across a party of six camped on that end of the lake. They told him to follow their footprints to the opposite end of the lake, he would likely find us camped there. He followed their tracks, but they led to a precipice. He couldn't go any further, so turned back to their camp. They realized he was following tracks to where they'd made photos earlier in the day, so two fellows led him across to us.

And so, a long and anxious day came to a safe end after all.