The Named, the Nameless, and the Too-Be-Named?

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Beep! Beep! Sheep in a jeep on a hill that’s steep.

~ Nancy E. Shaw

You may already know this. This may be common sense. Perhaps I am just dense or have not been paying attention.  Here it comes: Jeep trails were meant for jeeps. They were designed for jeeps and when they are labeled “steep jeep trail”, one ought to pay attention. One’s ears ought to prick up. They were not designed for bipedal simians with stuff-carrying sacks on their backs (A.K.A. backpackers). The Green Mountain trail in the western Trinity Alps Wilderness is one such old jeep trail.  Even though built for motorized vehicles, the terrain along this trail is so precipitous in places that one thinks of the ending of the classic literature “Sheep in a Jeep” where the vehicle ends up in a heap with a sign that reads “Jeep For Sale, Cheap.” This is the kind of country where I backpacked this past weekend and this is the type of trail that I hiked. Averaging 16% grade and going down nearly as much as it went up with nary a switch-back in sight. Rugged. Beautiful. Quiet.

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View of Thurston Peak North (in the center) and Thurston Peak South (distant peak to the right after the saddle), the high points of Limestone Ridge, Trinity Alps Wilderness.

The unmapped and unnamed lake that was our destination lay a mere seven and a half miles away and only 1,200 feet above our trailhead. Piece of cake we thought, especially with our relatively light packs. Six and a half hours later, however, and after climbing 3,389 feet and dropping 2,159 feet we arrived exhausted and sweaty at our destination. Perched high in a cirque on the flanks of Limestone Ridge, this un-named lake rests in a precarious and stony world dotted with occasional conifers: mountain hemlock, Shasta red fir, and western white pine. The glacial carving of these mountains, which often results in high alpine lakes at the heads of drainages, left behind few cirque lakes along Limestone Ridge. Instead most of the drainages (going into the North Fork Trinity River on the East side and Big French Creek on the West side, from our location), were steep and deep and delineated by long fins of remnant rock. Most contained small creeks, few contained ponds and small lakes, and fewer yet contained meadows.

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The un-named and un-mapped lake at approximately 6,200 feet. The shoreline was dotted with mountain hemlock, Shasta red fir and western white pine, and lined with mountain heather. At a size of approximately 120 feet long and 35 feet wide, it was just deep enough for us to cool our weary bodies in its water. It was surprisingly cold for such a shallow lake at the end of summer. Refreshing indeed!

Limestone Ridge is a bit of a misnomer because it contains no limestone although it does contain minerals that are often found with limestone. Rather it consists of massive metabasalts intruded by gabbro and serpentinite (see http://blog.conifercountry.com/2014/07/limestone-ridge-trinity-alps-wilderness/).  Translating that geo-ese goes something like: molten or melted rock that cooled quickly was transformed and then rudely invaded (aren’t all invasions rudely done?) by two kinds of rock; (1) other molten rock that cooled slowly under the earth’s surface (gabbro) and (2) by altered rock that comes from the earth’s mantle and is often high in heavy metals (serpentinite). What does all that mean? To translate one more time: it would be like taking the Rolling Stones and replacing Mick Jagger with Robert Plant and Keith Richards with Ozzy Osborne (from the Black Sabbath era). Think of that strange amalgamation of sound and you are beginning to understand the strangeness of standing on all this volcanic and metavolcanic rock on a ridge named Limestone. It was confusing and dissonant in a beautiful sort of way.

Get it now? Yeah, me neither. Where words fail me, I will rely on photographs to illuminate.

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Mountain hemlocks stand in the middle ground on metabasalts with Cabin Peak to the north and the Salmon Mountains in the far distance.

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View from Limestone Ridge looking east to the high Trinity Alps above Canyon Creek, Papoose Lake, and Grizzly Lake. The North Fork Trinity River is deep, down below flowing to the South.

My friend John, who was my backpacking partner, asked me what we should name the lake. I hesitated to answer not because I had not thought about. I had been thinking about it on and off for most of the grueling walk in. My hesitation came rather, from a desire to not name it, to not name everything. Looking at our maps of the area I noticed that every last drainage was named from full blown creeks down to trickling gulches. I wondered where the compulsion to map and name the world came from. Does it give us power over the place, over the planet? Certainly. Does it help us make sense of our world? Yes indeed.

One of the powers of naming is to invoke the past. But who’s past? In this area, the names are those of White settlers, not the native peoples who have lived here since time immemorial. Names like Thurston Peak, Pony Camp, and Jim Jam Ridge.  And here John and I were contemplating doing the same thing. Why? Did we want to invoke the past or to usurp Native American rights to this place? I certainly hope not. We had a more pragmatic aim. Throughout our weekend, I found that John and I often stumbled over talking about the lake and we usually simply referred to it as the lake. At times we called it “the un-named lake below Thurston Peak”, fumbling over its awkwardness; whereas if we had just named the damn thing “Thurston Lake”, we would have communicated directly and clearly. In the end that may be the best reason (at least the most pragmatic) to name places and features; so that we can communicate clearly and unambiguously about the landscapes we travel upon. The compulsion to name may be ancient, however the choice of what to name is contemporary and carries with it power to change the place and the people. There is much to think about with the naming of places. Too many questions to answer tonight. With the inky night sky descending and shooting stars zipping across Milky Way, we laid back to stare up at the billions of stars above and to simply enjoy the quietude of this tiny corner of our small planet in this vast and infinite world. Both named and nameless.

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4 Comments on “The Named, the Nameless, and the Too-Be-Named?”

  1. Julie says:

    Sounds intense as the rugged wilderness you were in and as extreme as the landscape.

  2. Kelly says:

    Oh Romeo, a rose by any other name is still a rose 🙂 I guess Shakespeare and you are both saying that name or no name, we can still enjoy the beauty of God’s creation, even those hidden places enjoyed by brave adventurers like yourself. But as you say, a name provides a reference, a way to remember. But for those of us who are bad with names….. 🙂

    • dhlafever says:

      Thank you for your comment Kelly. Yes we can still enjoy the creation and the creating for these places are constantly changing even if it happens so slowly that we mere humans cannot grasp it. Mountain building, metamorphosis and erosion happen both before our very eyes and behind our backs. As for names: not only can we still enjoy the place, words/names too often get in the way of the direct experience of something because we are interacting with the word/name rather than the thing itself.


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