Goodbye for now, La Sals

One last backpacking trip to the La Sal Mountains before I leave Utah for my a new job in Georgia. I worry that it is perhaps too snowy, but I have to at least try to venture up inside my beloved mountains.

Grey and wintry from the start.

 At least I can get to the trailhead. But not a car in sight on the way up.  Perhaps there is a reason that everyone has flocked to the canyons around Moab, where spring is in full force and sun warms the redrock. Up here is a different world.
 

Above 9000 feet, the snow is thick. A road has been packed down which makes for easier travel. Still, several miles trudging uphill takes me longer than I expect. Blasted by icy wind, getting colder as I rise above 10,000 feet, I start to have doubts about heading up any higher.

Instead, I take a turn down a familiar canyon, one I know I will be able to navigate.
 

No human footprints up here. Just animal tracks. The air is sweet with pine. Snow crunches underfoot. Mostly, I can follow the place where the trail is hidden beneath the snow. Other times, I wander around calling "Trail, where are you?" into the wind.

Last fall, Jan and I climbed this peak. But I decide today is not a day for it given the wind and ominous skies.

The steep part where I clutch my poles tightly and don't look down.

Finally, the snow gives way to soft ground. I make my way down to the same spot where I spent my last night in the La Sals at the end of my last season here, back in May of 2017. I was only gone for the summer, then I found my way back again in the fall. If I camp here again, maybe I will make a tradition of returning too.

Not much sunset. But still, glad to be here.

 A ravine provides partial shelter from the battering winds. My hammock is a cocoon of warmth.



Morning brings clearing skies.
 


It's heartbreaking to leave this place that I've grown to love so much. My hope is that this is not goodbye forever, just so long for now.

A little teary-eyes.

I remind myself that I'm not going to an entirely new place this time. I lived in Georgia from 2008-2014. I hope to reconnect with old friends and explore some of the incredible places in the southern Appalachians. I'm just going to one of my other homes for a while.

Bluebells remind me to be hopeful.