July 9th . . . as if Virginia didn’t exist.

Last night we cranked for two hours to get up to mosquito infested Squaw Lake, with the intention of doing Silver Pass in the early morning. 

“We invented our own God damn pass,” as Scott would remark, but we also passed through some cold, steep, snow.


Yes, I seem to remember the snow. Lots of it going up, over and down Silver Pass. 

I don’t remember Virginia Lake though and I didn’t really do anything but race by it for several more trips . . . but that night (the first time I stayed there) is another few journals away. 

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