Wallowa East Eagle Loop Day 2: Moon Lake to Douglas Lake

A quarter-mile from our campsite for the second night I asked Joe, “If you had to describe today in one word, what would it be?” His word is not entirely family-friendly so I guess we will just have to go with my descriptor for the day: brutal. Our second day was brutal. I’m sure I should wax poetic about it or preach some life lesson or something, and be patient, some of that might come later. For now, let’s rewind.

We both woke up after a really, really good night of sleep. Maybe we are finally conquering this alpine backpacking thing because with the help of a new sleeping pad for Joe (technically my backup sleeping pad I loaned him), sleeping bag liners, and the aid of some hot hand warmers, we both slept like the dead despite the chilly night.

We also knew our day was starting out with a downhill after the climb to Moon Lake, so after a disgusting breakfast of rehydrated pancakes (never again), we set off just after seven. We filled our water at a creek and began the leisurely climb up to Horton Pass. 

Starting the climb to Horton Pass

First view of Horton Pass which we needed to traverse

It was leisurely, for a little bit, but then it suddenly wasn’t and that wasn’t so great. But it was doable and the scenery was absolutely breathtaking so we didn’t mind the climb. Much. 

The last stretch of flat ground before the big climb

Video: Approach trail to Horton Pass

Then it got even harder and well, let’s just say I had a couple non-PG words run through my head too. But the promise of traversing the pass gave us the mental strength to keep climbing.

Up through the spotted rocks that reminded me of Dalmatians, up through winding switchbacks that just got steeper, up over loose rocks that caused us to stumble, up across smooth slabs jutting from the mountain, until finally, we were there, the top of the pass and an entirely new view now to gaze upon. A view of Lakes Basin and Eagle Cap.

The view from Horton Pass

A plaque reminding us of the accomplishment allowed for a brief celebration but we couldn’t dawdle too long. 

What awaited us was the very thing that would be the epitome of brutal, summiting Eagle Cap. 

Heading towards the summit!

To date, our highest summit we’ve ever done at 9572 feet. I had this idea of eating lunch at the top with this magnificent view, you know like something out of a backpackers magazine. But the reality is that we started climbing right after noon and immediately I knew lunch needed to happen sooner or I simply wasn’t going to make it. So we took a pit stop on some random rocks where unlike breakfast I had one of the best dehydrated concoctions I’ve made to date - rehydrated homemade red pepper hummus with brussel sprout chips and sun-dried tomatoes on some Norweigian crispbread. Delish.

Yum!

But now without any more excuses, the climb resumed. And climb I did, slowly like a turtle. Joe was way ahead, nothing new, and I kept telling him to just go without me, but like a good husband, he didn’t. He also didn't rush me or bemoan my slow pace, he just let me be as we both did our best to climb. And climb, and climb, and climb. I stopped with the guise of taking photos but was really just using it as an excuse to breathe. Needless to say, I took a lot of photos and videos.  

Video: Summiting Eagle Cap

Somewhere around 8500 feet my nose started bleeding. Yay high altitude! I was feeling queasy. Yay high altitude! Every step I took my backpack felt like it was getting heavier. Yay mediocre fitness!

But I’m nothing if not stubborn so I persisted. Even though by then I was probably taking the smallest steps possible and doing more of a shuffle, I was also being passed by day hikers without packs, but I didn’t care. A third of a mile from the top, Joe debated leaving his pack at a lookout point and just continuing without. 

You would think I would have rejoiced at this plan, but deep down I wanted to prove to myself I could do this pack and all. Honestly, I’m just really stubborn. But also I felt like I needed to do this 100% and not 50%. Let’s be honest though, carrying a 28lb pack up a mountainside is more like 110%. I had carried this pack that far, it was my livelihood for the next four days, and it felt like such a wuss move to not go the last third of a mile without it. For some reason, I felt that would be cheating. It’s not, by the way, there are no rules of backpacking. I can’t explain it though, I just had to do it. Now I look back and say, what a fool you were Chelsea, are you happy with your bogus participation trophy?

I did eventually get to the top and so did my backpack. When they mean the views will take your breath away it becomes both figurative and literal when you are wheezing from the climb and altitude sickness. But even in my still woozy state, even I could appreciate the three hundred and sixty-degree views. I lack the ability to describe them eloquently so just enjoy the photos.

Finally at the top of Eagle Cap!

A view of Glacier Lake from the summit

Looking towards the valley where we had spent the previous day 

I summited the mountain completely drained and left filled to the brim with its beauty and my personal accomplishment. Joe pointed to an even higher peak in the distance called Matterhorn Peak and asked if we could climb that one sometime. Still out of breath from the climb I couldn't help thinking, “Dear Lord, my husband is trying to kill me.”

Unfortunately for us, our day was not over, not even close. We now had a steep descent ahead of us and the uncertainty of where we were actually camping for the night in Lakes Basin. Our pipe dream was Horseshoe Lake since it was the farthest one in a series of lakes and would therefore give us the best head start for the next day, but just reading the title of this entry you can guess that didn’t happen.

After descending and drained of energy, we decided to just camp at whatever lake that would have us. We wandered through Mirror Lake and Moccasin Lake but discovered that sites were either full or too crowded for our liking.

Mirror Lake

So we just hiked on and kept telling ourselves, maybe the next one, only to feel the crushing rejection at more tents pitched at sites and plenty of revegetation signs basically saying don’t camp here. 

Finally, we found ourselves at Douglas Lake. A lake not advertised for its beauty or mentioned in many hiking guides, but a lake with flat ground and no tents in sight. Located just a mile before Horseshoe Lake it also meant the next day wouldn't be significantly longer. We were alone and we were tired so for us it was perfect.

We also did something we’ve never done before. We made dinner before our tents went up. So while the day didn’t go completely as planned and our muscles ached like they had never ached before, we wrapped up our day knowing it would be the worst it got (hopefully) and knowing that despite the difficulties we overcame it. Because even when the hard days feel insurmountable you can do them if you are persistent enough.

How’s that for a poetic life lesson about backpacking?

Douglas Lake at dusk

Distance Logged 13 mi

Ascent 4144 ft

Descent 3850 ft