Photographs had become my favorite souvenir for their dimensional forms recalled statements attesting to one's destination… they were almost like eyes into the past.
Aug. 8, 1980… Sandbeach Lake (a 4 mile hike). It was gorgeous. Got sunburned. Felt great…not tired at all.
Our last hike was to Sandbeach Lake, which was nestled in the high country at the end of a rigorous trail. I label the trail in such terms because it did not simply travel upward; it repeatedly involved many declines as well, thereby creating a hike which was as difficult upon returning as it was at the outset. However, despite the evils of the trail, the lake was a reward more than adequate; it was a rippling sapphire wonder clenched in the palm of the mountains. Its white shore-line was hemmed by gnarled, yet dignified pines, while the cold and bloodless splendor of Long's Peak presided over all things, living and inanimate.
After reaching the lake, our day was spent lolling about its perimeter as a cool breeze modified the naked heat of the sun. The place seemed a virtually untouched remnant of land; we assumed the lake's crystal water was no less than pure and wholesome, and without hesitation, drank our fill. As the numbingly cold liquid ran into my cupped hands, it brought back memories of mountain streams and the unspoiled lakes of Minnesota. Such draughts were ambrosiac delights.
When the sun began its westward descent, we regretfully pulled ourselves from beside the lake and shouldered our packs. Both Norm and I had come to view my legs as unstoppable, but my energy level after such a trek was a surprise. As he prepared to rest his legs following supper, I suppressed a grin and asked if he would like to take another walk.
"Noooo. . . " Norm moaned in obvious protest "We've done enough, you dummy," he asserted, one eyebrow cocked above the other.
"OK," I smiled, having received the expected reaction. We often bounced our known foibles off each other for the purpose of mutual amusement. He was not mad at my suggestion, nor did he think me dumb; consequently I never expected an affirmative response and would not have pursued the issue because of its illogical quality. Besides. . . he was bigger than me.
Aug 8, 1980… Both of us are feeling sorta' sick. Probably from drinking lake water yesterday.
It was a bitter pill, but it had to be swallowed. The lake must have been the culprit. We knew that pools of water were more questionable drinking sources, but Sandbeach appeared pure beyond question. It would have been easy to say "Things just aren't what they used to be," but more likely than not, a passing animal had polluted the water previous to our consumption and we were victims of chance.
By evening we felt much better and prepared the car for our early morning departure. Before trying to indulge in some restless sleep, however, we drove to the park and made a final circuit of our favorite scenic views. I branded the magnificence into my mind so I could later return to the mountains in envisioned thoughts.