All the stars (weather, time, conditions, dog) finally aligned and Tink and I headed out early in the morning to attempt the loop. At the trailhead, we briefly ran into a local adventure hero who buzzed by us on his bike. He ran up the trail while I marveled that anyone could do the things he can do. I bet he's going to be epic, I thought as we plodded along.

The first four or so miles climbs through the forest with views here and there. We've done it many times before so I settled into cruising mode while Tink strained at her leash to be set free. Patience, dear. Patience. Once we departed from the trails and entered the areas only the foolish frequent I loosed her and she explored and sniffed all the things. One of those things was a set of fresh tracks heading pretty much in the same direction we were. I wonder who that could be.

After crossing a mile of snow up a world-class valley we gained the saddle between two towering peaks and looked down on the lake we'd seen a couple of times before, but never visited. Our time was good. The weather was right. I got out my axe and readied myself for a sweet, sweet glissade. Alas, the snow wasn't quite what was needed so I had to walk down the slope, postholing all the way. The horror.

From up close, the lake was just as pretty as from 500 feet above it. Its blue halo of spring meltwater was uniform and almost slushy. It was definitely different than the clear water over snow that I was used to seeing around other lakes. I was tempted to get a taste. Instead, we climbed up to the ridge that looked to connect to the route I'd explored in 2015.

But wait, the footprints we'd been following all day descended instead of traversing. The only person that could be ahead of me would be Mr. Epic and if he went down... Yeah. I'll go that way. He probably knows a better route that will bypass some of the slopes I'd have to climb otherwise.

Yep. You guessed it. Bad choice. The tracks descended, entered the forest, and then stopped. I looked, but couldn't find them continuing. I retraced my steps and found the tracks and climbed back up to the ridge we were originally on. Ugh.

Serves me right for assuming someone else would be right and I was wrong. I won't deny I often take advantage of beta from others to find great places to go or look to more experienced adventurers when I'm uncertain. It has been an effective way to increase my skills and have experiences I otherwise wouldn't. It goes sideways when I doubt myself for no reason other than I'm me.

So back up the ridge we climbed. The sun was starting to warm the snow and it wasn't particularly deep in this area to begin with so it was the hardest effort of the entire day. Next time I'm going with my gut.

Once back on the ridge, it was an easy jaunt to the next lake on the circuit. I'd been there on many occasions. Sadly for Tinkham, it also marked a return to populated trails so she went back on leash. The last five miles of the adventure were as much a slog as the first four, though being mid-day we saw lots of people experiencing snow for the first time. And lots of those people looked quizzically at my gaiters, ice axe, and tired countenance, mistaking me for Mr. Epic.

It was a long, hard trip, but one that had been on my list for years so I was completely satisfied. What was it about this route that had stuck with me for years? Probably that I'd approached parts of it repeatedly, but never completed it. The lake below the pass was gorgeous and just out of reach. And I suppose hearing that it could be done was pretty tempting, too.

Now I'm looking for more loops like this that connect seemingly disparate trails. I've got a couple in mind, but feel free to send me your favorites. Just don't expect me to follow you down the slope when I know the right way to go is up.