I had a plan to visit a mysterious lake in the mountains before it got too cold. A place not heard by many, unless you live close, or know where to look. In my opinion, half the adventure is how we must get there and back. The other half is determined by safe choices and patience. We have a way with these mountains, a special bond that has kept us safe from its unsafe terrain over the years. However not the same can be said about any human made machines we all possess and use during challenging conditions they encounter.
Having faith in my old 1982 Chevrolet K10 pickup truck to conquer my reachable goal, my dad and I almost made it! Climbing up the hill, we had sudden loss of power from the engine. Then after further investigation found we had lost all spark, damn! With no positive response of starting the truck, we engaged the transmission into neutral, and rolled down the hill backwards for awhile, until we met a flat fork in the road. Spared with some luck, our neighbor lended us some donor parts, and another good friend came to our aid to deliver the parts, if he can find us?
Only being a quarter mile from the mystery lake, we were both bummed out from our inability to move with sunlight getting darker quicker. The yearning for me to see that lake couldn't keep me at the truck for very long, and made the decision to hike the short distance solo so at least we can have a vision of what it looks like. Completely hidden from the road, a trail following water is the only sign of direction to the lake.
As I walk along the stream I spot something white dash through the woods. A large Mountain Hare whose fir has molted white runs through the trees effortlessly. Peeking through the trees I could see a blue sky and forest reflection welcome me to my goal to see. What at first glance seemed like wind blowing across the lake actually is the first thin formation of ice creeping along the lake. Smaller Cutthroat Trout gather along the inlet, foraging on whatever else the season will allow them before winter.
Knowing my limits with my damaged thumb(Mr. Blue Thumb that day!), I was able to catch some small trout with my mini tenkara, knowing they wouldn't thrash much to hurt me. With faint phone reception, my dad called me from the truck to tell me our good friend cant locate us, and must consolidate. After hiking back from the lake, we were granted one last chance. The pickup started one last time, enough to get us turned around and down the road for another quarter mile before she stopped again. Continuing to roll down the mountain without power to the engine, brakes and steering, our momentum is the only thing keeping this truck moving on this rocky, bumpy road.
A few times we lost momentum and had to push the truck to the next downhill stretch and jump back in! It turns out our good buddy with the parts was still a couple of miles down the road from where we were, and the last mile of it is a rocky, bumpy sucker. One last push, and we were off on our "crazy wagon train", holding on for dear life as not to lose our invisible horses and flopping canoe. After almost needing a hardhat for the ride down, hope was in sight as our friend was there waiting for us to magically appear from one of these roads.
In relief of some stresses, we popped the hood open and got to work. A component in the distributor had failed, causing loss of ignition. A tiny inch long module sustained electrical failure, keeping us stranded. Of course we would never have a problem until were far away in the mountains somewhere! After swapping the distributor, the truck purred like a kitten again. You just never know until you go, especially with older equipment. I am very grateful that I got to see the lake, and catch fish from it, just grieved that my pa wasn't up there with me, on the way down though! We got close, but not close enough!
