Shelter on Summit Lake. This small plateau 15m above lake level south of the orange emergency shelter, had obviously been used by other groups. Summer stone walls and winter snow walls still remained. I pilfered stones from the rock walls to hold down our tent. Yesterday we climbed the long moraine pictured above for views of the Caribou glacier. Tomorrow we will day trip to the end of Summit Lake, leaving tents and gear setup here, windy or not.
A cold morning! Last night the wind rattled and shook the tent despite protection from the slopes. Snug in my sleeping bag, I listened to the winds rage: a deathly quiet calm just before a hammering blow pounded the nylon walls. Happily the tent stood the test. Its over cast and still blowing thus I opt to dole out coffee and oatmeal from inside the tent.
Looking south on Summit Lake. Yesterdays wind hadn’t let up and it feels even colder. Walking unburdened by the weight of the sleds, our bodies generate no extra heat from the pulling. It’s about 8 km from our camp to the north narrows where Summit Lake empties into Glacier Lake and 8km back again. How exhilarating as the wild winds snatching the breath from our lungs. It’s 19,089 square km of frozen glory all to ourselves!
Standing on a snow ridge in front of the Turner Glacier, with Glacier Lake in the background. It was a fast 90 minute walk to the end of Summit lake but a slow painful 90 minutes of post holing to get to this spot. Oddly enough, the winds were noticeably calmer at this elevation, a modest gain above the lake level. Hot tea, beef jerky, power bars, gorp, all the basics of a good winter camp lunch, completed the savory scene. This was the further point north we walked. Tomorrow we start southward..
Day tripping from Summit lake cabin to Turner Glacier
Post holing around the Turner Glacier base. It was actually better walking along these ridges than in the flats below. The flats weren’t really flat but covered with snow drift just enough to cover rocks of various shapes and sizes. Breaking through the snow crust, you never knew at what angle or distance down your foot could land. After struggling through 200m and a few hip deep holes, I turned back and followed Patrick up the ridge.