We woke up this morning in Sheepeater Lookout for the first time. The mountaintop was swirled in cloud, the wind still blowing (had been all night), and we were very very glad to have a roof over our heads, and a wood stove to feed. It would have been miserable weather down in the valley in our makeshift tent fly propped up with sticks.
The fire lookout for the season (Jim) just left, and although we wanted to make it to the mountaintop before he left to talk with him and visit, we were unable to convince our legs to carry us all that way. By the time we were walking through Red Top Meadows it was already heading into late afternoon. Knowing we wouldn't make it to the lookout by nightfall, we slowed and took our time up the valley, stopping to film some scenics as the sun sank low over the ridges, turning the desolate and burned valley gilded and mystical. We followed wolf, coyote, and bear tracks up the dusty trail to the Fish Lake cut-off, where we decided to camp for the night, saving the heavy climbing for a fresh day. We had a lovely night under a black velvet blanket heavy with diamonds. The skies are slowly changing to their fall cloaks: the Big Dipper laying low over the ridges, and Orion stalking the heavens as the night turns to early morning.
Now awaiting our resupply by pack string. After the resupply up at the lookout, we will head off the mountaintop to go on a long walk-about, making a giant circle to try to run into and talk to some hunters and outfitters in the area and see what experiences they are having. So far, this year's hunting season has been characterized by unseasonably hot temperatures, and very little elk activity. I have been enjoying the persistent Indian Summer, but I can understand the frustration of hunters, sweating all over mountains looking for elk that remain hidden.
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