Through the powder to Revett Lake
<p>Corrie Bouchard and her dog Oliver lead David Cole, staff writer for the Press, as they cross a scree field hidden by several feet of snow.</p>
<p>The approach to Revett Lake, which is nestled in a bowl below the 6,814-foot Granite Peak, took 4 1/2 hours through nearly three feet of powdery snow to reach.</p>
<p>A view from the two-mile trail along looking over the Bitterroot Mountains.</p>
<p>Shawn Gust and Gabe Green, staff photographers for the Press, negotiate a steep slope Saturday during the approach to Revett Lake.</p>
<p>Low-hanging clouds fill a valley seen from a clearing along the route to Revett Lake.</p>
<p>Gabe Green, staff photographer for the Press, humps along a trail Saturday during a 7-hour round-trip snowshoe trek into Idaho’s Revett Lake.</p>
<p>Press writer David Cole straps on his snowshoes which were rented from Outdoor Pursuits at North Idaho College.</p>
<p>After gearing up and leaving the car behind, Shawn Gust, left and David Cole start the hike up Thompson Pass to the Revett Lake trail.</p>
<p>The group crosses an open hillside along the trail to Revett Lake.</p>
<p>David Cole frees the group vehicle from a patch of ice along Thompson Pass Saturday with assistance from Oliver the dog. The group then decided to snowshoe up the Pass the rest of the way to the Revette Lake trail.</p>
I couldn't bring myself to call them snowshoes, not after plowing through two-and-a-half feet or more of untouched powder for 7 hours.
Instead, I just wanted the "sticks" off my feet.
Saturday, the Winter Solstice 2013, started for me and three Press employees at 7:30 a.m. when we piled into a 2013 Toyota Highlander and left Coeur d'Alene for Thompson Pass.
Our goal was to reach the high-elevation and scenic Revett Lake on the Idaho side of the Idaho-Montana border. It was my first snowshoeing trip since I was in Boy Scouts.
Two hours after leaving Coeur d'Alene, the SUV had gone as far up Forest Highway 9 as possible, as the snow became too deep to continue climbing, and instead the wheels started slipping.
We got the SUV turned around and parked about a half mile from the parking lot at the pass.
We strapped on our snowshoes and began chugging uphill to the pass, staying on a snowmobile path in the roadway that had been laid down moments earlier by a couple cruising downhill on their machines.
The weather was comfortable in the low 20s with no breeze in the morning.
The sunlight broke through the clouds in the distance, splashing on mountainsides of the Bitterroot Divide. The sun itself looked like a full moon low on the horizon to the southeast, filtered through the clouds and fog.
"The light was amazing," said Press photographer Gabe Green, one of the members of the snowshoeing party. "It stayed that orangish-pinkish color."
From the parking lot to the actual trailhead we lumbered through two-and-a-half feet of powder. By the time we labored to the trailhead, the snow was deeper: about 3 feet deep.
Soon we reached a steep, rocky and treeless slope where it was no longer clear where the trail had gone, buried under the snow. We knew we just needed to get to the other side of the rocky slope, and didn't want to move higher or lower to do so.
We just went for it, nearly straight across. At one point I was scrambling on my hands and knees because a layer about 2 feet below the top layer of powder was so slippery.
Press photographer Shawn Gust was ahead of me on the trail at one point when he dropped suddenly, falling waist deep into a void between boulders hidden under the snow.
"I was just glad not to have twisted an ankle or gone farther down than my waist," Gust said.
After exerting so much effort and spending so much time getting across the rocky slope, we knew we were going to have our work cut out for us to make it to the lake and back before dark.
Still, we stopped for lunch near where the trail crosses Cascade Creek. To fuel up, I brought sliced roast beef, water, apple juice, aplets and cotlets, tropical trail mix and gummy bears.
In addition to food, I packed additional base layers of clothing, an extra stocking hat, ski gloves, fleece jacket and sunglasses. I also had matches, blister bandages and maps.
After lunch and on our way again, we knew it was the shortest day of the year and that we were not making good time.
The fresh, deep powder mows you down over time, and the hills strain your leg muscles to the limits. The trailhead elevation is 5,170 feet and the top elevation along the route is 5,700 feet.
It took four and a half hours to reach the lake, which sits at an elevation of 5,660 feet. At the shoreline we were pelted by ice particles blowing around the bowl that holds the lake below the 6,814-foot Granite Peak.
"I was glad when we got into the trees and it wasn't doing that," Gust said.
I had to pull my hood up to protect my face until we could retreat to the trees.
"It burned your skin," Green said.
A dusting of snow also swirled along the surface of the lake in constantly shifting patterns.
After quick photographs along the lake shore and high-fives, we headed back.
"That was the hardest snowshoe I've been on in my life," said Corrie Bouchard, the fourth member of the snowshoeing party. She spent two years working at Yellowstone National Park, and was a ski bum in the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. Her experience was valuable.
This trek was more difficult because we had to break all the trail, she said.
"Normally there is something already carved out," she said. "It's a lot of extra work. And mentally, it's like every step is a decision that wasn't made for you."
Wise expenditure of energy was key.
Throughout the return leg, I was anticipating the dark closing in early.
We knew we could end up hiking in the dark, but we had headlamps. We also knew we'd benefit from the glow coming off the snow and a well-worn path.
It turned out that in the tree-less clearings the wind had buried our trail, so we had to re-break it.
Still, we sped back in two and a half hours, benefiting from our worn path and more downhills than uphills.
I felt invigorated when I reached the trailhead signs, knowing it was only a mile, downhill, back to the Thompson Pass parking lot, and from there a half mile back to the rig.
I got out ahead of the group heading back and covered the final mile-and-a-half stretch out of sight of the group. The light was getting weaker by then and the forest was silent, and the only sound was the heavy footfalls of my snowshoes along the packed trail.
I stopped occasionally to absorb the silence and scan the snow-burdened trees and their patterns and the lingering fog.
By the time I wandered down the highway back to the rig, the temperature reading was 25 degrees. And it hadn't snowed. Mother nature provided perfect conditions for our trip.
I couldn't wait to undo the straps on my snowshoes and finish off my gummy bears and wait for the others. We had benefited from some good luck, with nobody getting hurt.
It was a lot of work, but making it to the lake and back on the shortest day of the year was something we'll all remember for a long time.
It will always be something we can say we accomplished. We have a bunch of photographs to prove it.
• Tools for the job
My snowshoes for the trek were rented from North Idaho College's Outdoor Pursuits program. Contact rental assistant coordinator Jacob Rothrock for any type of outdoor equipment needed for adventures at (208) 769-7809. Their prices are low and their equipment is well maintained.
• If you go
Directions from Coeur d'Alene (weather dependent): Drive east on Interstate 90, taking the Kingston Exit No. 43. After exiting, travel north on Forest Highway 9 for 23 miles to the junction with Forest Road No. 208. Turn right on FH9 and travel 15.8 miles to the top of Thompson Pass (the pass is officially closed right now). Turn right onto Forest Road 266, which begins from the back of the scenic view parking lot. Follow 266 to the end where the trailhead and parking area are located.