A knife's edge of sawtoothed peaks rims the vicinity of Cramer Divide.

At the end of this, my 8th day on the trail and its 10 hot miles, I began writing in my notebook with a simple assessment of my condition: “Backpacking fatigue has set in.”

The previous night was a practically sleepless one. The narrow spit of level land I occupied beside Hidden Lake combined with an uneasiness as I felt all evening and the awful unseen but definitely heard terrors the mind pictured causing several loud, unexplained and nearby noises. I had tied my Ursack close by, instead of hiking up the steep hillside, and now surely a bear was trying to get into it, ripping into the log. I was raised by a sudden, loud rushing sound, occasionally repeated. In the darkness, it sounded as though it were right behind my head, where, less than 30 feet away, the Ursack was wedged between logs and lashed to the smaller one. Then there was a loud splash. Was the bear gone, swimming across the lake? Was it something else?

I hardly slept from there, as each noise, real or imagined, became another bear.

At first hint of light, I got up and surveyed the situation. Expecting to find my bag of food dangling by its cord, I instead discovered the Ursack was completely undisturbed. It wasn’t a bear ripping into anything. In fact, it wasn’t a bear at all. It was a rockslide, across the lake. The mountains lining this narrow valley echoed their sounds, and my mind transformed them into a fearsome bear. Wearily, I chuckled, and quickly broke camp, eager to leave. I was on the trail by 8 o’clock.
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