Gothic Basin 9-17-11

You can run to the mountains anytime.  Their great wooded arms are always open.  Their misty winds and rushing rivers will cascade through your heart and soul, washing away every hurt, every trivial human emotion until you are left with only awe.

Cedar and I almost gave up near the end of this hike.  Gothic Basin is about 9 miles roundtrip and most of it is hiking, but a good portion is clambering up and over boulders.  The first mile follows an old road along a fork of the Sauk River before beginning to climb up switchbacks through pretty forest.  You could see why they closed it to traffic.  One of the old bridges is now sitting in the middle of the river.

There was a really pretty icicle palace-looking fungi growing on a log.  At home I looked it up and found it is a hericium abietis. 

Farther up along the ridge, we had to cross through several gullies.  They would be extremely dangerous in the snow, but most had melted off by now.  The first one was the most dangerous, with a huge chunk of snow blocking the far side path on our way up.  We had to cut down the rocks along the stream and cross below it, then climb up the other side along the old chunk of snow to the path again.  All the gullies were beautiful, with waterfalls of varying sizes, rivulets that had cut deep crevices through rocks, and views across the valley of cascading waterfalls on the other ridges.

Wildflowers were still blooming, including Jeffrey’s shooting stars. 

Cedar and I stopped for lunch at this pretty pool.  It was a difficult climb and until I had a chance to rest I was thinking that would be our stopping point.  There couldn’t be much longer, so after the break on we went.  Adventure Dog was incredible, leaping up slabs of slippery rock and roots. 

There were pretty rocks up there too.  This one had a sheen of rain on it and looked like polished marble.

Finally, we crested the ridge… way up at the tippy top of the world it felt like.  A small field of snow seemed to block the way and we went around to avoid falling through any holes and the other side took my breath away.  The high bare rock was broken with only patches of purple and white heather and snow.  An icy still lake lay curled in the arms of all that rock, reflecting the sky and snow back.  And the most remarkable thing beside the stark beauty was the absolute silence.  While I was there, the wind held its breath, no rain fell, no bird sang, no breath of anything but Cedar and I could be heard.  Absolute, silent, heart-wrenching beauty.