Goat Lake

One month ago today, I visited the last three lakes in the Sawtooths as part of my epic journey. The first was the most spectacular, and the hardest to reach. This was to have been the day I ended my backpacking trek, but I ended up getting off the trail a day early. I opted not to loop around to Sawtooth Lake, the largest lake up in the mountains, and instead spent a wonderful afternoon, evening, and night in the nearby town of Stanley (population: 100). On this day, I had a choice of hiking to Sawtooth Lake, but the locals turned me on to Goat Lake, accessible from the same trailhead.

I reached the Iron Creek trailhead at 7 a.m., and it was in the upper 30s. There were just two other vehicles at the generous parking area. I was on the trail 10 minutes later. The trail roughly follows Iron Creek upstream for a little over a mile before entering the Sawtooth Wilderness. Shortly thereafter, the trail forks. The right fork climbs 1,400 feet to Sawtooth Lake via a different Alpine Lake than the one I camped at a couple nights earlier. The left fork, which I chose wraps around a narrow canyon before climbing 1,200 feet to Goat Lake. Well, the trail doesn’t make it that far, but we’ll get to that.

The Goat Lake trail climbs gradually through the forest along the shoulder of an unnamed peak. Eventually, the trail turns southwest and traverses a high wall above unseen Goat Creek. From this ledge, the pyramid crown of Williams Peak (10,635) can be seen peering over the shoulder of unnamed Pt. 10,035 (left). I’m still about 700 feet below, but less than half a mile away from, my destination.

It was now a little after 9 a.m., and in a few moments, the trail disappeared into the side of the cliff. “You have to be a goat to reach it,” one of the locals told me, and she wasn’t kidding. The last 600 vertical feet are off-trail, along various paths of least resistance, many of which look like rockslide chutes. There is loose gravel and sand in the chutes, and tangled tree roots provide the only sure footing, except where a downed tree requires some gymnastics.

The reward for this slow, slippery climb is about a quarter mile of boulder hopping. Big boulders, with big, deep gaps between them. At least most of them were perfectly stable, though some of the stones in between weren’t completely set in place. A tricky hop over Goat Creek, still more than 100 vertical feet beneath the lake outlet, led to another series of boulders. I paused along this tiring route to admire the view of stark Pt. 9,475 and its many offspring scattered between me and the lake.

Eventually, I found what looked like a social trail leading around the edge of the boulder field. Relieved, I finally picked up some speed as I neared the lake. It was about this point that I surprised a backpacker trying to have a private moment in the narrow space between the boulders and the cliff wall. She and her husband had backpacked here and spent a couple of nights. I can’t fathom taking a backpack up that goat path and over that scramble, but I found several other tents arrayed in the gash and, later, above the lakeshore. He felt compelled to tell me how beautiful the lake was, at some length, which delayed my beholding it with my own eyes but added some enthusiasm for finally making it.

He was right.

A pool of impossibly blue water stood like a sheet of ice beneath dramatic gray ramparts of stone while stubborn snow banks clung to the dark folds of a granite curtain, hanging above the water, poised to calve into its cold depths. Trees, their short heights belying their age, stood at the brink, grabbing hold of whatever craggy perch might offer support, and they hung in the shadows above the waters. The air was cold but still; no breeze wafted through this wonderland.

I wandered for awhile along the broken shoreline to my left, following it up and down ever steeper pitches before deciding I had gone far enough. Had I ventured further, I would have found an icy climb to a higher lake set in permanent winter, as it was described to me by another hiker coming down from there. I was content to sit by the icy mirror and stare at the razor peaks and their reflections.

With another lake to visit and a long drive beyond that, my time at breathtaking Goat Lake was short. About half an hour after settling down above the shore, I started back to the trail. I followed the social path as far as I could, but it once again petered out into the rocks. This time I picked a path higher than before, which was a bit easier. This in turn made picking my way across and down the slick chutes that much more tricky. I was glad I had brought both trekking poles. Between them and my two real legs (and an occasional arm), I made it back to a solid trail without so much as a slip.

From there, it was a straightforward 90-minute return to my car. The trailhead parking lot was completely full, and several more cars pulled up as I got ready to leave. I returned to Stanley for another lunch at Stanley Baking Company, where I had my first real food, served on a plate, the day before. After that meal, it was time to leave Stanley and, shortly thereafter, the Sawtooths.

Reflection in Goat Lake, SW09-0822-6322R, UTM 11T 0658462 E 4892928 N 8,240′ NAD 27; Pt. 10,084 and Williams Peak, SW09-0822-2070R, 0658936 E 4893489 N 7,545′; Boulder Hop Beneath Goat Lake, SW09-0822-6316R, 0658506 E 4893142 N 8,119′; Goat Lake, SW09-0822-6318R, near 1st photo; Pt. 9,475 Loom Above Goat Lake, SW09-0822-6329R, near first photo; Sawtooth Wilderness, Challis National Forest, Idaho | ©2009 Jeff Blaylock

Potentially related posts:

• Lakes of the Sawtooths, Part 4
• Snowyside Pass
• Predawn Scene at Alice Lake
• Lakes of the Sawtooths, Part 2
• Imogene Lake to Hidden Lake
• Farewell to the Sawtooths
• Pettit Lake to Hellroaring Trailhead