Sunday, December 27, 2015

The Narcissistic Family

I'd like to share a brief section of the book The Narcissistic Family: Diagnosis and Treatment by Stephanie Donaldson-Pressman and Robert M. Pressman. The book's title refers to narcissism in the broad sense, and not specifically to Narcissistic Personality Disorder. The authors specify that they are writing about any family in which the children must meet the needs of the parents instead of the other way around. They divide such families into two groups: overt and covert. The overt families are the obvious ones, in which one or both parents are alcoholics or physically abusive. The covert ones look normal on the surface. My family was covert. The book reads like my biography.

Here's the relevant section of the book:

"As the child grows, the parents' own identity may become more and more involved with the child's development. Simultaneously, as the child's needs become more complicated and better articulated, he or she may start to infringe more obviously on the parent system. A cranky infant who demands parental attention at an inconvenient time can, after all, be placed in a crib with the door shut. An irate and tearful nine-year-old is an entirely different matter.

As the child's psychological needs become more of a factor in the life of the family, the narcissistic family truly develops. The parent system is unable to adapt to meet the child's needs, and the child, in order to survive, must be the one to adapt. The inversion process starts: the responsibility for meeting needs gradually shifts from the parent to the child. Whereas in infancy the parents may have met the needs of the child, now the child is more and more attempting to meet the needs of the parent, for only in this way can the former gain attention, acceptance, and approval.

In infancy, the baby's normal development is often rewarding to - and therefore rewarded by - the parents. For instance, the baby's smiles (gas or not!) are usually a source of pleasure for the parents and are greeted with excited voices, attention, cuddles. Eating, sitting up, movement, noises and attempts at vocalization are all usually both rewarding and rewarded. The child's needs and the parents' needs are in sync; there is no problem.

The youngster's normal development, however, may pose a threat to the parents. The toddler's exploration requires vigilance and patience; her shouts of "No!" and "Mine!" can be infuriating and embarrassing. The preschooler's questions and demands are intrusive and time-consuming. Further, the needs of children - especially the emotional needs - increase geometrically as their tractability decreases. As a normal child develops, her need to please herself and her friends increases as her need to please her parents decreases.

In a healthy family, however annoying this fact of life may be, it still does not change the basic conceptualization of parental responsibility: the parents' job is to meet the child's needs, not vice versa. In the narcissistic family, though, as the child's need for differentiation and fulfillment of emotional needs escalates with normal development, so does the parents' belief that their child is intentionally thwarting them, becoming increasingly selfish, and so forth. The parents, feeling threatened, thus "dig in their heels" and expect the child more and moer to meet parental needs Somewhere between infancy and adolescence, the parents lose the focus (if they ever had it) and stop seeing the child as a discrete individual with feelings and needs to be validated and met.

The child becomes, instead, an extension of the parents. Normal emotional growth is seen as selfish or deficient, and this is what the parents mirror to the child. For the child to get approval, she must meet a spoken or unspoken need of the parent; approval is contingent on the child meeting the parent system's needs." - p. 29

" the narcissistic family, the children may get their emotional needs met by accident - as a by-product of the parent system's getting its needs met. For example, Susie (age six) has a need to be nurtured. Susie's mother is usually "too busy"... to meet this need, and she demands that Susie's older sister, Joyce (age twelve) "get her out of my hair!" Susie does not get her needs for nurturance met by Mom; Joyce does not get her needs for either nurturance or autonomy met by Mom.

But suppose that the mother-in-law comes for a visit. Mom has needs for praise and esteem from her mother-in-law, who values good parenting. So, during the visit, Mom is available and cuddly to both her daughters. Susie and Joyce get their nurturance needs met, and Joyce gets some time free from baby-sitting and mothering her little sister. The mother-in-law praises Mom's parenting, so Mom gets her esteem needs met. Everybody is happy - temporarily. Mom met the children's needs, but only as an action coincident to getting her own needs met.

In the previous example, the effects are particularly damaging. The children may believe that they caused Mom to be more loving, which will encourage them to believe they have control over her actions. When Mom reverts to form, they may then believe that they have caused the rejection too. They cannot win: they are taking responsibility for things they do not control. The only lesson they can learn from this pattern is that they have not gotten it right - yet. There is really something wrong with them; they got it right briefly, and then they blew it. The children will continue to try to hit the moving target - in this case, the "button" that causes their mother to nurture them." - p. 37

Sunday, September 27, 2015

PCT Planning: Section A Again

The trail is still calling, but I am not sure if I will be able to go during winter break as planned. Maybe. It depends if a friend wants to go with me. It depends on whether I need to get work done during that time. Unfortunately, because of the Christmas holiday, there is limited time available then for me to interview people for my master's thesis research, since you can't call people up on Christmas.

At any rate, another hiker posted his lessons learned from two previous hikes of Section A of the PCT. I found his reflections very helpful, and asked if I could repost it. Since he said yes, here it is...

"Day 1 ---- 2008 --- Campo to Lake Morena -- 20 miles. The last 5 miles is pretty much up the mountain. 2011 --- Campo to Hauser Creek -- 15.4 miles. I learned from '08 that I had pushed myself to hard that first day. I plan on Hauser again next year even if there is no water. I'll pack it!!

Day 2 ---- 2008 --- Lake Morena to Kitchen Creek -- 10 miles. I was sore and beat from doing 20 on the first day so I took my time and laid up early!! 2011 --- Hauser Creek to Fred Canyon -- 17.2 miles. By laying up at Hauser and making the climb to Lake Morena I felt much more refreshed.

Day 3 ---- 2008 --- Kitchen Creek to GATR Road -- 18.9 miles. By stopping early I felt much better the next day. Made it to GATR Road with time to stop at Mt. Laguna and hang out at the store for awhile. 2011 --- Fred Canyon to GATR Road -- 16.7 miles. Plenty of time to hang out at Mt. Laguna.

Day 4 ---- 2008 and 2011 --- GATR Road to Rodriguez Spur -- 19.6 miles. Rodriguez Spur is a good stopping place to set you up for the longest day. With the removal of the Scissor Crossing water cache the next day will be long and you will have to pack a lot of water unless you go into Julian.

Day 5 ---- 2008 and 2011 --- Rodriguez Spur to Third Gate -- 22.8 miles. Start early because after you drop down to the valley after 9 miles you go back up and hike along the side of the mountain till you get to Third Gate. Can get very hot!!

Day 6 ---- 2008 and 2011 --- Third Gate to Warner Springs -- 17.4 miles. Left early, easy day. Even with 17 miles you can still get there before the Post Office closes.

So there you go. As you can see the last few days were the same. There is no need to push yourself the first 100. You will have plenty of time for that once your body is in trail shape. As far as water is concerned I plan to carry water based on drinking a liter for every 3-5 miles. That means, for me, 5 liters on the 22.8 mile day."

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Grand Tetons Death Canyon Loop - Day 4

This is my last post on my four day backpack of the Death Canyon loop at Grand Tetons National Park. Previous posts are here: day 1, day 2, and day 3. The trip was in a pretty area, and the trails we did could be combined into longer or different backpacks, like Granite Canyon on the Teton Crest Trail. We stayed on the other side of the mountains in the Grand Targhee Resort before and after the trip, and we could have actually hiked to and from there instead of driving as we did. (Although the Grand Targhee Resort is in Wyoming, driving between there and the Death Canyon trailhead requires going into Idaho, then back into Wyoming and through Jackson.)

On our last day, we just had to retrace our ground from the Death Canyon camping area back to the Death Canyon trailhead. As previously noted, I was pretty pissed off with my group. I'd found them on because I did not want to hike alone when there was a risk of encountering a grizzly. I was pissed because they left me behind - alone - so that I ended up doing exactly what I categorically never want to do: hike alone in grizzly country. At least I had bear spray. To make sure I avoided surprising an unsuspecting grizzly and her cubs, I sang the bears an out of tune Broadway medley as I hiked. The grizzlies of the Grand Tetons were treated to selections from Cabaret, Spring Awakening, Singin' in the Rain, and more. I hope they appreciated it. I never saw a bear of any species, so either there were no bears anyway and I was singing in the woods like an idiot, or my strategy worked.

By the fourth day, I was not just pissy about being left alone to risk a grizzly mauling. I was pissed at being treated like a non-entity by the rest of the group for the past several days. If I contributed to any conversation, the others often acted as if nobody said anything. Perhaps the song I should have sang for the bears was "Mr. Cellophane" from Chicago.

The last day had the potential to get ugly. I drove to Wyoming whereas the others had flown, and the car at the trailhead was mine. They needed me to drive one of them to the airport to pick up their rental car (my car was stuffed to the gills so I only had room for one). Then that person would return to the trailhead with the rental car to pick up everyone else. I knew what they'd want: if they beat me to my car, they'd want the keys from me. They'd want to go get their rental car, and they'd want me to wait until they finished before I could drive into Jackson and use a flush toilet and eat real food. And that wasn't happening. They could not be bothered to wait one minute for me for three days, and now, on the last day, I would give them no choice. Yes, it's a bit passive aggressive... but I did not sign up for the trip to be their doormat.

I would have liked to be more assertive in telling them about my feelings, but I did not know how. It did not seem to be a good risk to take. Brene Brown, whose audiobook I had listened to on the drive there, says you should be vulnerable with people who have earned the right to hear it. These people had not earned that right. Opening up and honestly telling them about my feelings meant risking getting hurt worse. And I was stuck with them just a little bit longer, since we were sharing a hotel room that night. So I kept my anger under wraps.

To avoid the impending problem of them wanting to drive my car off without me, I set out for my car early that last morning. It was not hard to do. I'm not a morning person, but these people were the latest sleeping and slowest packing backpackers I think I've ever met. It was just 5.5 miles to the car. I estimated that I needed to leave about an hour before them, and we'd reach my car at the same time. So off I went.

Morning in Death Canyon

Up until this point, my wildlife sightings had been limited to deer and rodents. I saw my first buck with antlers ever, so I was pleased about that... but since I'd driven all this way to a place with moose, elk, pronghorns, bison, and grizzlies, none of which live where I hike at home, I wanted to see something. And ideally not a grizzly. Well, I wouldn't mind seeing a grizzly from the safety of my car. Or across a lake from me. Or in some other safe sort of way.

But just before reaching the Alaska Basin junction, I saw something. It was large and dark (dare I say, moose-colored) and far off in the woods. I began singing "Good Morning" from Singin' in the Rain (in case it was a grizzly) and kept hiking. Then I saw it move. It had antlers. I kept looking, but could not see it at all. Then it was gone.

I continued on the trail, wondering if this counted. Could I now tell people I'd seen a moose? Was I even sure it was a moose? And then I saw this:


And that, my friends, is a moose butt. With a moose head at the other end. Female. And standing right in the middle of the trail. She didn't want to move either. So I got my wish, I saw some exciting wildlife... but until I could convince her to move, I could not continue hiking. I talked to her like you'd talk to a dog, asking her to please be a good moose and get off the trail. Which she did. I attempted to take more pictures - better pictures - but the light was not very good and none of them came out well. I suppose I should have wished not just to see a moose but to see a more cooperative moose in brighter light. Oh well.

I continued on, with a big smile on my face. I had my wildlife sighting. The others had also seen a female moose on the first day, and I was really sad that I hadn't. So now I had too. I finished up the trail, and took their stuff out of my car. Then I waited. They arrived soon thereafter, and I took one of them to the airport to get his rental car. I told him I'd see them back at the hotel, because I did not plan to have lunch with them. Then, free at last, I headed off to Jackson.

It would have been more efficient to do what I did in reverse order, but I was hungry. First, I went to the Lotus Cafe, a delicious organic restaurant in Jackson. I looked like hell and did not care. I ordered two meals - one for there and one to go - because the menu was so good I could not even choose, and because the restaurant at our hotel was expensive and disappointing. My to-go order would be dinner.

Then, I went back to the park. I wanted to drive around a bit, to see what the rest of the park was like, and to maybe even see some wildlife out the window. I drove through the Moose entrance to Jenny Lake and continued past it. Then I turned and went out the Moran entrance and headed back to Jackson. The road went along a flat plain to the east of the mountains. If it weren't for the smoke from distant wildfires, they would have provided a stunning view of the Tetons. Instead, it looked like this:

Tetons in Smoke

The plains were covered in sagegrass. For a short part of the drive, there was forest along the roads. Then more plains again. As I headed back to Jackson, concluding that my drive was a bit of a bust, I saw some pronghorn out the car window. I stopped and took a few pictures, but they were not very good. I'd left my telephoto lens in storage at the hotel. A little bit later, I passed a herd of bison. Again, my pictures did not come out. But, I saw pronghorn and bison in the wild! Good enough for me! (Later, while driving through Wyoming to Ft. Collins, CO, I saw lots and lots and lots of pronghorns. No shortage of pronghorns in Wyoming. I saw a male very close up too, because he was grazing by the side of the road, but I did not stop my car and take a picture.)

The last thing I did before returning to the hotel was stop at Moo's Gourmet Ice Cream in Jackson. I decided that my 13.5 mile hike the day before justified two scoops and a waffle cone, especially because the ice cream was organic.

I am definitely heading back to the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone again, the sooner the better. Preferably when there isn't any smoke from wildfires obscuring the view. And I am not going with strangers from a Meetup group again. The trails are pretty well-populated if you do day hikes, so I think I will bring some bear spray and stick to popular trails unless I've got people I trust to go with me.

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Grand Tetons Death Canyon Loop - Day 3

I normally don't say anything negative about people I know on my blog, but this will be a notable exception. The people I went to the Tetons with first declared an intention to stick together for safety due to the grizzly bears and then promptly ditched me. Instead of hiking in a group of five, as planned, I ended up walking alone with a can of bear spray for three and a half days. That was just the start.

The trail itself was pretty easy. We began on day 1 with about 7 miles of hiking, followed by less than 5 on day 2. The trail milestones, which were not at all marked on my lousy map, went as follows so far as I can tell:

  • Death Canyon Trailhead: 0 mi
  • Phelps Lake Overlook: 0.9 mi
  • Phelps Lake junction: 1.7 mi
  • Alaska Basin junction (and log cabin): 3.9 mi
  • Death Canyon Camping Zone begins: ~ 5 mi
  • Fox Creek Pass: 9.4 mi
  • Death Canyon Shelf Camping Zone begins: ~ 10.5 mi
  • Meek Pass: 12.7 mi
  • Alaska Basin: 15.1 mi (lots of camping available here)
  • Another junction: 17.2 mi (no good camping from here until the end)
  • Buck Mountain Pass: 17.8 mi
  • Static Peak Divide: 19.0 mi (10,790 feet, highest point on the trail)
  • Alaska Basin junction and log cabin again: 23.1 mi
  • Phelps Lake junction again: 24.3 mi
  • Death Canyon trailhead and end of trail: 26.0 mi

This is likely wrong, in one way or another, because the trail is supposed to be 28.2 mi total. But that's the best I can come up with using the mileage marked on the signs from the trail.

At any rate, a better way to do this trail would be as recommended by Backpacker, camping at the end of the Death Canyon camping zone on the first day, in Alaska Basin on the second day, and finishing with a 12.9 mile hike out on the last day. Our group camped at the "group sites" in Death Canyon and on the Death Shelf the first two days, and each one had a bear box to store food in. The second day was pitifully short, and we got started pitifully late (around noon). When we reached the campsite, my least favorite two members of the group decided to go for a "hike" and then climbed straight up the face of a butte behind our campsite without any harnesses, helmets or safety equipment. Nobody fell, but if they had, we were about 12 miles from the trailhead, so I thought it was a selfish risk to take. Nobody in our group brought anything like a Spot to call 911 if something happened.

The trail started below 7000 feet - I'm not certain of the exact altitude - and climbed up to 7200 feet at Phelps overlook, down about 500 feet, and then up above 8000 feet in the Death Canyon camping zone. It was uphill but not bad. The second day, our short day, we climbed about 1000 feet. My group sped off and left me to hike alone, then one person, a man named Rob who resembled an overgrown frat boy, later remarked that it was "pretty steep" going up Fox Creek Pass. Um, no it wasn't.

Rob was also one of two people in the group who did not own a bear can. The Grand Tetons rents out bear cans for free, so there's no cost incentive not to bring one - but they do weigh several pounds. Rob's pack was over 40 lbs to start, and that was before adding water. It seemed like he had everything but the kitchen sink - a camp chair, 100 feet of paracord, a solar charger, two walkie talkies, and who knows what all else that could have been left at home. Two or three pounds of bear can would have made an unwelcome addition.

So Rob and the other girl who needed a bear can came up with a good idea: we would have bear boxes our first two nights, and by the time we actually needed to use our bear cans on the third night, we would have eaten most of our food. Then the two of them could share just one bear can. So they only got one, and Rob did not have to carry it.

When we reached the first campsite, we began to see just how much food Rob brought. His stash included two sandwiches from home and 13 Mountain House meals in their original packaging. It seemed like a lot, but he explained that he would eat Mountain House meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, so his math worked. I've never known anyone to stop and pull out their stove to cook lunch, but even if he had, I only counted a maximum of 10 meals that we would eat on the trail. Including his sandwiches, he had 15 meals with him.

By day 2, Rob still had 12 Mountain House meals left. I often saw him eating Slim Jims or other snacks and not cooked meals. He said he'd hang his food the next night if he could not fit it in the bear can. I replied that bear bagging does not work. "It does if you do it right," was his answer. I insisted that it does not. It never did.

I just read the book Speaking of Bears, an excellent book about a century of bad and, more recently, better management of black bears in the Sierras. Bear bagging was primarily tried before the invention and deployment of bear boxes and bear cans. It's true that some of the time, when you hang your food, a bear won't get it. Just like it's also true that some of the time, when you sleep with food in your tent, a bear won't get it. That happens when there aren't any bears who wander into your camp, smell your food, and try to get it. Unfortunately, with bears, "some of the time" isn't enough. Managing bears requires preventing ANY bears from EVER getting human food, because once they get a taste for it and lose their fear of humans, it's near impossible to get them to stop. The parks solve the problem by killing the offending bear. If you don't want to be responsible for the death of a bear, you need to 100% bear-proof your stuff - all of it and every single time - because even if the bears don't get your food most of the time, most of the time isn't enough.

So Day 3, I set out before the others, since they were going to speed past me in the end anyway, and because they were taking forever to get going in the morning. My Aqua Mira all spilled on the first day - it turns out the little bottles are actually two separate pieces of plastic and they can break easily - so I had to wait until one of the others filtered water for me. Sammi, a snotty 21 year old who works at Starbucks and stubbornly insists that Starbucks makes excellent coffee (no it doesn't), offered to give me water that day. She was the same one who had climbed the butte the night before and thankfully lost only her new iPhone and not her life in the process. She refused to let me use her filter alone because I might break it or lose part of it (I don't follow her logic, but whatever) so we had to go to the stream together.

I set out and continued along the Death Shelf, photographing flowers and counting marmots to amuse myself. The ground was rocky and the soils were thin on the shelf, but there were still grasses and wildflowers.



Sulphur Paintbrush
Sulphur Paintbrush

The marmots up here were busy eating, as marmots always are, but they appeared to be eating seedheads from mature grasses. I'd never seen marmots do that before. Usually I've only known them to steal whatever they can get from humans. But these marmots, deprived of Clif bars and trail mix, would waddle around with their tails swishing behind them, frequently stopping to nibble on whatever it was that they are naturally supposed to eat.

Yellow Bellied Marmot

Yellow Bellied Marmot

It was not long at all to Meek Pass at 9600 feet. Since it was not well marked and was not really a climb, I did not even know I had gone over it til a sign pointed backward and said Meet Pass was 0.3 mi behind me. I met some hikers going in the opposite direction, and they told me that Alaska Basin camping begins in earnest at a large stream crossing, but the good campsites aren't visible from the trail. My group was worried about the availability of campsites, since Alaska Basin did not have a designated camping zone like the other areas. I figured that was likely because Alaska Basin is not actually in the Grand Tetons National Park. It's in Targhee National Forest, which perhaps has different policies about camping.

The drop down to Alaska Basin began with steep switchbacks. It was quite pretty once I got down there, although it's a shame the view was so obscured by smoke from distant fires.



When I got to the bottom, I looked up and saw my group coming down the switchbacks. I waved, and they ignored me. I waved again. Still no response. Maybe they did not see me. Or maybe they ignored me because they are very unpleasant people.

I passed the stream that marked the start of the area where the couple told me to camp. It was just past noon. No matter where we camped in Alaska Basin, we'd arrive there before 2pm at the very latest. I sat down at the stream to eat lunch and wait, so I could talk to the others. It made no sense at all to stop hiking so early today only to have a 12.9 mile hike the next day. The higher we could go in elevation toward Buck Mountain Pass, the better. Obviously we could not camp ON the pass - or if we could, I would not want to. The other option, which I favored, was to go up and over the pass today and camp on the other side somewhere. Worst case scenario, we'd have to hike back to the Death Canyon camping zone, retracing about a mile of the trail, but that would give us a short 5 mile hike out on the last day. I liked the idea of a short hike on the last day, because that would give me time to explore more of the park either by car or on foot.

The group reached me, discussed options, and came to no real conclusions. We would hike on to the next junction, and see if there was a good campsite somewhere beyond there. Already that would begin to reduce the miles we would hike on our last day.

We came to the next junction, still having reached no decisions and kept going. Then they stopped at a point a mile or so later. By the time I reached the group, Sammi and Rob had already left to keep going. The other two stayed behind to rest a minute longer. They told me the group had decided to go up and over the pass and to look for camping on the other side. The other side, by the way, was a very steep drop down according to the map. Then they left me, and after a minute, I followed along behind them.

I met them again at the next junction, 0.6 miles short of Buck Mountain Pass. This was the only "real" pass of the trail. It went up above 10,000 feet, above the treeline to a rocky ridge that continued for a ways and then switchbacked up to the highest point on the trail, Static Peak Divide, at 10,790 feet. It was cold, windy, and everything you'd expect from a mountain pass. I caught the group at Buck Mountain Pass, and saw them again at Static Peak Divide, where they did not wait for me. Then, as I went down the switchbacks on the other side, I saw them talking to a group that was sitting under a tree on the trail. Then they left.

When I arrived, the group told me they had a message for me. My group would camp somewhere between here and the junction with the log cabin. At this point, there was less than 8 miles of trail left total. It was 4.1 miles from Static Peak Divide to the log cabin, and another 3.9 back to the car. I began talking to this group and found they consisted of a woman, her husband, her father, and her friend. The friend, a kind woman named Cheyenne from San Fransisco, did not like the idea of my group ditching me in grizzly country. Neither did I. She promised me they would not leave me. They were somewhat slower than me, but I stuck with them. I was grateful for both the company and the safety.

Most of this time, I did not bother with pictures. I just wanted to get to the damn campsite. Nothing was that scenic with the smoke, and I had already seen and photographed just about every flower on the trail. In fact, this is the only picture I took for the rest of the day.


I had to pee for about six miles, and the switchbacks offered no privacy. They also offered no possible campsites. At one point I caught up with my group, and they asked if I had enough water. I was touched that they had waited for me to check up on me, but it turned out they were only waiting because one member of the group had gone around the corner to pee. They said we were just going to head back to the log cabin and retrace our steps into the Death Canyon camping zone to take the first available campsite there.

From there to the end, it was just one long hard slog. I estimate it was about 13.5 miles of hiking that day, with perhaps 1500 to 2000 feet of elevation gain. It wasn't bad, but I was pretty out of sorts by the end, mainly because I had absolutely no say in the decision making and because the group sped ahead of me again and got to the campsite well before me, leaving me to walk through the camping zone shouting "Hello?" at every single site until I found them.

That night, Rob had to fit the rest of his food in the four partially full bear cans we had. He still had 11 Mountain House meals left, minus one he was eating that night. He muttered that he did not think there were any bears anyway (even though we saw a pawprint that day) and the hysteria was all an elaborate ruse to sell bear cans and bear spray as he tried to pack it all away. I don't know what all he had in total, but he fit most everything in our cans with some squeezing and was left with his toothbrush, toothpaste, and two packs of gum leftover. He tried to convince us to chew - and swallow - the gum to solve his problem, but nobody took him up on it. Somehow, he those last items in the bear cans. The next morning, when I took his stuff out of my bear can, I found a full sized container of sunblock (what the hell??), several plastic grocery bags nested in one another with the middle one containing garbage, a mostly full bag of raisins, a bag of candy, a bag of dried apricots, and some other items I can't recall.

Grand Tetons Death Canyon Loop - Day 2

On Day 1, my group camped about 7 miles into the trail. On Day 2, we were hiking from the group campsite in Death Canyon to the group campsite on Death Shelf. I don't even think it was 5 miles. I woke up with a migraine and continued hiking alone, behind the rest of my group, with a can of bear spray. It was not my best day of hiking ever.

From Death Canyon, you hike toward Fox Creek Pass, which is 9.4 miles into the trail. The trail goes up from about 8500 feet where we camped to 9600 feet at Fox Creek Pass.





As you can see, the canyon was covered in meadows of flowers and blanketed with smoke from wildfires out west that obscured the view.

Columbian Monkshood






Sulphur Paintbrush
Sulphur paintbrush








Lewis monkeyflower
Lewis monkeyflower










Colorado Columbine
Colorado Columbine

Colorado Columbine
Colorado Columbine





From Fox Creek Pass, it's 3.3 miles (12.7 miles into the trail) to Meek Pass and 5.7 miles (15.1 miles into the trail) to Alaska Basin, where we planned to camp the next day. The Death Canyon Shelf goes between Fox Creek Pass and Meek Pass. It goes slightly down in elevation after Fox Creek Pass and rolls gently along as you hike through the shelf. You'll see a lot of marmots up there, and maybe some deer. I did not get a picture but an entire deer family came into our campsite around dusk. The two fawns were playing, which was incredibly cute.

Just after Fox Creek Pass

The Shelf

Yellow Bellied Marmot


Yellow Bellied Marmot


And that's it. It was a short, painful day for me (because of the migraine). I think it would be a better idea to hike on to Alaska Basin, which would have given us about an 8 mile hike. But with my migraine, I was plenty glad to pitch my tent after hiking fewer than five miles and then go to bed early to sleep it off.