Osceola and Lago

Todd Gits is a climber, meaning he likes to climb things. To Tod's way of thinking, on a good climb, you walk a little and climb a lot. On a bad one you walk a lot and climb a little. It's that simple. The Bugaboos, Yosemite, and Squamish offer many good climbs, for example. Somehow last week, (7/9/05), I managed to talk Tod into joining me to climb (aka slog up) the remote, tedious, and well, uncomely choss piles Osceola and Lago, far back in the Pasyatan, during really crappy weather. With bugs. And mounties. And a dead mule. I am not making this up, a dead mule.

And why, on earth, did I drag poor Tod to such Godforsaken a place? Well, because they're on the 100 highest list, silly, that's why. And there are four more dirt heaps just like them in the same neighborhood, whoes only claim to fame is that they heap out more than 8,300 feet above the sea.

It's disconcerting to face the fact that something you've committed a big part of your life to might not be such a good idea. It's like waking up one day thinking "Hey, my dog is a duffus", or, "I wonder if investing my life's savings in Pasta Billys is ever gonna pay off", or "Maybe I shouldn't have tattooed that picture of Kramer onto my forehead".

Well, stumbling down Lago's steep, slippery, bushwhacked behind to reach the avalanche blow down to attain the bug-choked swamp to finally grasp the 14-mile piping hot escape trail, that's how I felt about this 100 highest thing. Maybe it's just stupid. Oops.

Don't go there. Don't climb Osceola or Lago. The lakes below them are prefectly lovely and make nice backpacking destinations, but as mountains, they stink.