Photo: Waiting for the 2017 Total Eclipse of the sun with high tech glasses.
The sun is obscured by thick clouds; the air heavy with the smell of wet rock and tundra. Winding through shards of granite and alpine wildflowers, the trail snakes upward toward the 11,000 foot pass. Approaching the pass the clouds thin, allowing glimpses of blue sky and grey rock walls. By the time I reach the pass, the sky clears, revealing peaks etched in sun and shadow. Below, smoke-like wisps of clouds are creeping up the valley. The warm sun banishes the chill.
I am alone… deep in the Wind River Mountain wilderness; far from the trappings of civilization and directly in the path of the total solar eclipse. It is August 21, 2017. Less than 60 miles as the crow flies is the town of Jackson, Wyoming where the airport tarmac is crowded with private jets and hotel rooms are $1000 per night. I pause to check the time: 10:15 am; an hour and 15 minutes to the eclipse.
Photo: The Adventure begins: Green River Lakes, Wind River range, WY
My adventure began five days ago at the Northern end of the Wind River Range. My plan is to solo hike the Wind River High Route: 86 miles mostly off-trail, above timberline hiking along the spine of the range, north to south. Having already hiked 40 miles and climbed over three 11,000 foot passes, it has been far tougher than I expected. My pack is heavy. My feet suffering blisters on both heels and big toes. I am a day behind schedule and fatigued, but there is no going back. My car is parked 45 hard miles to the south.
There has been beauty— a long flat trail with picture postcard views, alpine lakes nestled beneath rugged mountains, snow covered passes, and glaciers of blue ice. There has been struggle— a risky crossing of an ice-bridge on a semi-frozen alpine lake, tedious hiking over car size boulders and a desperate rock climb exiting a dead-end ledge via a 20 foot vertical cliff with a full pack.
Photo: The challenging off-trail terrain of Alpine Lakes
A U-shaped glacial valley drops between rock walls in gentle pitch to a glacial basin with three shining blue lakes surrounded by dark groves of Spruce, Lodge Pole and Ponderosa pine. A small stream dances downhill through grey boulders and massive patches of red Indian Paintbrush, yellow Buttercup, white and blue Columbine, Mountain Bluebells and purple Lupine. Not a soul in sight.
This is the perfect place: high above timberline, breathtaking scenery; a flat rock on which to sit, another rock to support the back. It is 11:15 am and the moon will completely cover the sun in seventeen minutes. The total eclipse will last three minutes. I make myself comfortable drinking ice-cold mountain water, eating a granola bar, and pulling out my precious $2.00 plastic and paper glasses from my pack. The time has arrived dividing day from night.
Photo: wind river wildflowers
A trip like this requires dedicated training and detailed planning. I trained all summer hiking with a pack, cycling and weightlifting. But, I overlooked my weak link: my feet. I researched the route, marked topo maps with the route. I entered the route and waypoints in my GPS which connects by Bluetooth to the maps on my IPhone. But maps don’t tell the full story. It has been over forty years since I last did an off-trail route in the Winds. I forgot how rough the terrain is off-trail. At times, hiking a mile can take two hours. This was my first through hike and introduction to ultralight hiking. I learned a few things.
Gazing directly at the sun through smoky dark lenses, electricity courses through my body setting nerves firing. Watching with religious awe, the moon’s dark orb takes a small bite…then slowly consumes the sun. Suddenly, as with the flick of a switch, the sky turns dark. Removing my glasses, I see a landscape illuminated as if from the light of a full moon. In my mind, a door to the past swings open.
Connecting with my ancestors, awestruck and terrified by the vanquished sun, I am viewing the eclipse though the eyes of an American Indian astride his horse on the Great Plains; a Buddhist monk alone in the mountains of Korea; a Celtic warrior in the Scottish Highlands. The sky brightens, the vision evaporates. Overcome by an avalanche of emotion, my eyes fill with tears.
The moment passes. Putting on my glasses, I watch the moon exit the face of the sun. Although I spent months anticipating this journey, nothing prepared me for the emotional and spiritual experience of light divided from darkness. Stretching my arms to the sky, I lean back and open my eyes to heaven.
Decision time. Sitting in the late morning sun, I decide to take an extra day to finish the route. This means cutting my 1800 calorie per day rations by a third and stopping early tonight to recover from fatigue. My body can burn fat, but I need rest. Grabbing my pack and setting my feet on the path, I am at peace with past, present and future.
Photo: A tranquil morning at Middle Fork Lake
Four days later, a forced hike of 16 miles over two 11,000 foot passes brings me to the trailhead by early afternoon. The feeling of accomplishment and being safely at my car washes over me like a wave. After a quick dip in the river, I begin the long drive home. The trip only lasted nine days, but the memories of hardship, beauty, and a spiritual experience will last a lifetime. I live for adventure.
Please reach out to me if I can help you train for your adventure at mailto:steve.crookedthumb@gmail.com
Thank you for reading!
Photo: The memories are priceless.
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