Descriptive Essay On Sauk Mountain

Navigating the truck up the Sauk Mountain road, we were nearly at the five and half mile mark when the first true glimpse of Sauk Mountain’s west face came into view. Dead ahead, the four of us stared through the windshield fixated on the numerous switchbacks carved into the green vegetated hillside that emerged through the damp vaporous atmosphere. The summit above, hidden by a sea of clouds, the spectacle caught Holly by surprise generating a wake-up call. From her backseat position, “We’re climbing that?” she inquired with a tentative tone. In a matter of fact tone and without breaking his stare, “ya”, answered her Uncle Jack. Arriving at the trailhead at 4,300 feet above sea level, a quick glance at my watch indicated it was 9:30, and to no surprise there were no cars in the parking area. In truth, I even felt a little disappointed. With the weather forecast and the morning’s early indications appearing not promising, lead me to believe that we would be the only suckers out there. Strange as it may sound, I prefer early morning starts to beat the crowds, however, at the same time, not being the first to arrive leaves me somewhat at ease knowing that somewhere out there, there are fellow hikers close by. Judging by
the day’s weather outlook, and the remoteness of the hike, I would not be surprised if we made it up and down the mountain and my truck stood as the only vehicle in the parking lot. I should admit, for a brief moment I felt that if Jack, Elaine or Holly showed hesitation or doubt about continuing, I would have backed them with full support. Of course, with that lack of motivation, I was the last to gear up and be ready. The group hadn’t even made it to the trail’s entrance when Jack stopped to take Elaine’s picture, making me realize there’s no turning back. Elaine stood posing alongside a sign that listed a series of instructions that read; Leave no trace. Pack it in; pack it out, a caution for hikers entering an unmaintained trail, and an informative paragraph warning trekkers of bear sightings. As Jack snapped pictures of Elaine I could sense the eagerness and anticipation in both as they’re body language spoke of excitement of what lay ahead. The hike was shaping up to be a cold, wet journey and fortunately I came prepared for anything Mother Nature could dish out on this mid-September day. I could sense Holly feeling the cold as she tensed her hands under the cuffs of her newly acquired soft shell jacket. At 47 degrees and no sign of sunshine, there would be no guarantee that it would be warmer 1,200 feet higher on the summit. Comfortably wearing my pair of Windstopper gloves, I offered them to Holly. Jack and Elaine were also gloveless, so I figured if they’re to bare the elements, I would too. Finally, at 10:56, the four of us entered the trail that ran southeast into a patch of trees fortifying us from the mountain’s west face. Having no qualms, Elaine led the expedition from the set out as she took early point and set a moderate pace. Next, Holly claimed a position behind her, and I followed Holly. Bringing up the rear was Jack and it appeared quite clear the three of us were not matching Elaine’s stride. A few hundred yards in I asked Holly to step aside, allowing Jack to pass so he could experience the journey with his spouse and he quickly closed the gap to the front. Holly and I fell back a bit before exiting the woods for the wide open west face featuring 29 illustrious switchbacks. Recollecting the beginning of last week’s Wallace Falls hike, I had no concern of falling behind. Similar to last week, the early signs indicate Holly seems to be a slow starter. However, she will eventually find that extra gear as she nears her target goal, and will continue in that gear out for the rest of the day. Being the opposite, I reminded myself to find a balance that would work for both of us. However; today she and I will share the pace of the Barnes duo, and we’re not careful, we may be left behind. Half way out across the open face, I paused for a glance behind us towards the trailhead’s parking lot. My f150, perfectly framed by a gap in tips of high, distant evergreens, protruded through the misty air that consumed the parking lot. The air began to thicken, weakening overall visibility and I reckoned another five minutes traveling in the opposite direction would completely fade out the truck. At the arrival of the first switchback, the thick misty air completely consumed the truck. Elaine and Jack had paused at the first switchback allowing Holly and I to join they’re presence. I sarcastically omitted a verbal reminder that this would be number one of 27 and Jack quickly corrected that fact that there were truly 29 switchbacks, with the final one circling around the south edge near the top of the mountain. The trail turned, heading north, and Jack took over point and continued with the brisk pace eventually widening a reasonable gap between me and the girls. Confident in my step placement, I took another glance down towards the parking lot thinking not only that the truck might be in sight, but also to assess and gauge changes in a measure of current visibility. Nothing in the white milky air could be seen compelling me to enhance my imagination as to where my f150 could be. In addition, I also imagined whether there were any cars. A few of the switchbacks seemed to stretch from one side of the hillside to the other while others were considerably shorter. Nonetheless, I still held an accurate count and remained confident that I could acquire a true result to answer the dubious question of 27 or 29. The perfect strategy was to remind myself that the count should be an even number when turning south and uneven number when heading north again. By the time I counted into the teens, a mild rain began falling and all indications were that we were in for a wet summit hike. The 28th switchback resulted in a long stretch across the face with sections of the trail cutting under a wall of rocks embedded in the mountain’s side.
Completely engulfed in a cloud system, my view of the three hikers offered an intriguing perspective of the high elevation visibility. Standing ten feet in front of me, Holly appeared in sharp focus against the rocky backdrop and misty air. The appearance of Jack Standing twelve feet beyond her was slightly faded. Even less visible engulfed in the grayish air a few feet in front of Jack stood Elaine. Any farther beyond Elaine, they would have been unrecognizable, just a silhouette in midair. Below, the sound of voices generated an eerie sensation as the thick mass completely concealed the
source. Before rounding the mountain’s south side, we stopped for a breather prior to the last switchback, and a chance to snack and take in some water. With the wind blowing from the southeast, stopping and using the landscape for protection from the breeze would be an advantage. A light rain began falling and soon my water repellent soft shell jacket became completely free of a single dry spot. Holly and I stood nestled close to a lone tree for shelter and shared a cookie from her snack bag. Interestingly, she rationed out trivial pieces to ensure that I didn’t receive more than I wanted. With this being the first true break after 45 minutes of hiking, Holly appeared as if she was ready for a rest. Consequently, I held up my camera in preparation for another memory shot and noticed that Holly still had a smile. Usually, rounding Sauk’s south ridge would open up vast views of scenery to the south and east of mountain peaks, hillsides, rivers and a grand spectacle of Sauk Lake a thousand feet below. Even our goal, the true summit would have been a distant tease. Not today. Jack wittingly offered that maybe the mountain acquired its name from typical northwest weather fronts resembling today’s and having trail hikers constantly “socked” in and unable to view the region’s beauty from 5,500 feet.