With a long days hike ahead of us as we were wanting to reach Dorothy Lake by evening, we started out at 8:15, reaching the small pond at the crux of the pass just before 9:00. This scenic little spot made for a good excuse to rest, shed some clothing and stretch tight muscles.

As we dropped back into the bushy valley, we re-connected with the trail and around noon came to a major creek crossing. We assumed it to be the outflow of Dorothy Lake and settled in to a lengthy lunch next to the creek.

Upon leaving, however, the trail led us downstream - the opposite way we thought it should go. After lengthy discussion and consulting with maps and compass, we determined that in fact we were still quite some distance away and

We broke for camp at the first suitable spot, a large, flat area cleared out by a fire within the past 15 - 20 years. The camp itself looked a little, well, scarred, but the view of the lake was beautiful. Directly above us loomed Mt. Goddard, like a sentinel keeping watch.

The lake water was too much too resist and we all went in for quick swims at various times. Andre and John gathered a feast of Shaggy Mane mushrooms which we sauteed and quickly devoured.

We rose to a pleasantly cool morning - what a difference elevation makes! Until the sun rose and promptly began baking us. It truly did feel as though we were in an oven. We quickly packed and as the group left Andre and I let the others go ahead while we went in for a quick dip in the lake. Leaving our hair dripping, we pulled on our clothes over our wet skin to keep us cooler just a little longer.

The day kept getting hotter and hotter and the trail was a gradual uphill ascent the entire way. Overall, we found this trail's scenery to pale in comparison with the Tchaikazan. Though passing through numerous small meadows (which are very picturesque as you can tell by the photos), the majority of the trail leads through a scruffy dense forest. Of course, if you hike up to the hills the views will be lovely, but we stayed with the path. One section played a bit of a mind game with us, ascending (gradually) for almost two hours through a dull brown forest with no defining features.

The small black flies and mosquitoes were something to contend with in the Yohetta. There had been virtually none in the Tchaikazan, but here they swarmed us relentlessly. Even I succumbed to lathering my skin in two varieties of lotion (one works better for flies, the other is better against mosquitoes. Combine the two and you're good to go!)

Shortly before arriving at the cabin we were overwhelmed with a strong animal stench, but assumed it was just horse and cow manure. The cabin was empty, so spread out our tents - Andre and I chose a spot directly next to the lake - very nice indeed. We all went for a long swim in the lake, and busied ourselves with general camp duties.

John and Alf returned from a "water run" with the news that the stench we'd smelled earlier was from a dead horse lying just off the trail. If we'd been hiking in the other direction we would have seen it right away. There was concern that the carcass would attract wolves and bears and decided it would be a good idea to depart promptly the next morning.

As I sat down I became aware of a scuffling sound coming from the floor in the corner. Having noticed rat droppings upon entering, I tapped my foot on the floor to scare it off. Instead, two looong pink arms with equally long pink perfect fingers shot out from between two 2 x 4's. Within a blink of an eye they retracted, shot out again, retracted and shot out a third time - each time the arms shot out it was as though they were lunging towards me.

All sanity left me and all I could think of was that some gruesome fairy-tale goblin had sprung to life. I suddenly became aware of a series of hideous, long, screeching screams of terror and fright - then realized they were coming from me!!

Andre pounded on the outhouse door as I fumbled with the latch, opened the door and collapsed into his arms. He was shaking with fright thinking there was a murderer lurking in there and it was a full minute before I was able to utter the word "rat". He carried me back to the fire, told the others, upon which Alf promptly disappeared. He reappeared in the shadows with a huge stick, then we heard a racket so lout it almost woke the dead horse as he pounded the outhouse structure inside and out to scare off the offending beast. John on the other hand seemed quite impressed by the rat's hands, saying, "Yes, those pack rats do indeed have very fine long fingers" - that's the surgeon for you!! Needless to say no one used that biffy the rest of our stay!

It was a slow, lazy morning as we slept in and went about breakfasting and packing quite leisurly. I went for a little swim just before we departed at 11:15. From this point, the valley opened up quite flat and side and the trail soon turned into a sketchy jeep road.