The final morning of our adventure began early. We woke with the sun and ate granola bars while we packed. It was chilly but not uncomfortable, and we set out rested even after the previous day.
Instead of barren slopes, we meandered through trees and shrubs. The trail began to descend, heading towards Farve Lake. Meadows full of crimson foliage were common, and the longer we walked, the more people we began to encounter.
Fall Colors
Farve Lake was not as impressive as Overland Lake, but it was pretty all the same. We passed several hunters, even one with a Snow Cock tag. He'd managed to at least stop one of the elusive birds, while our wildlife total stood at a herd of sheep and a couple of cows. Our first ascent of the day began as we passed Farve, winding up a steady stream of switchbacks.
Farve Lake
Liberty Lake came into view at the top of the climb, and with it, dozens of day hikers and backpackers. In an instant, we went from utter solitude to Labor Day weekend crowds. To say the experience was jarring was an understatement. I seriously considered turning around and heading back the way I'd just come. Unfortunately common sense caught up with me, and I sat down to snack, hording my trail mix from an overeager chipmunk.
Liberty Lake
Another batch of clouds began to move in as we climbed up towards Liberty Pass, the final summit before the trail would lead down into Lamoille Canyon. After the day before, I practically flew up the trail, making excellent time. I stopped for a long while at the pass, looking down where the parking lot was already visible, the bright blue and orange of parked vehicles garish after days of natural colors.
Down Lamoille Canyon
Less than enthusiastic, I began to head down the switchbacks towards Lamoille Lake and Dollar Lakes. It was strange to see a familiar landscape after days of unknown territory. The clouds were growing heavier overhead, and there was an electricity in the air that spoke of a coming storm. I stopped again at Lamoille Lake, intentionally dragging my feet to prolong the experience. Eventually, there was nothing else for it, and I headed for the parking lot.
How Far We've Come
The moment my boots hit the pavement, I officially considered it a job well done. My total mile count stood at forty-four, and despite the blisters on both my heels, I was ready to do it all over again. My hiking companion arrived shortly after, and we both looked behind us in awe. I declared my first backpacking trip a resounding success and was already pondering where I wanted to go next.
Our ride was waiting, and we piled in, well aware we smelt like four days of sweat and dirt. The drive down Lamoille Canyon was the cherry on top, and the heavens opened up on our way out, rain pounding down from the clouds, like the mountains were sad to see us go.
The Ruby Mountains are truly a special place.