We used the Thomas Lake Trailhead and hiked that trail as far as Rock Lake, noting the abundance of three species of huckleberry ripe for the plucking. We took the route heading due east from Rock Lake and soon reached the old route of the PCT. The burnt scalp of East Crater loomed ahead, and we thrashed a short distance cross-country to reach it.
Don convinced me that we needed to go up the west slope of East Crater to visit a little lake he had touched base with in the past. It’s surrounded by the 2017 burn but a few conifers are standing along its shore. Since we were all about names on the day, we have now christened it Kelly Lake.
We headed down the PCT and picked a spot to bushwhack to Lake Toke Tie. Pretty soon, we were on a cliff and had to detour around it. Toke Tie is a pretty body of water - and, yes, Toke Tie (or Toketee) is Chinook Jargon for “pretty.” There was someone camped on the west shore. He told us a quicker way to get back to the PCT, essentially a short distance southwest up to a small meadow and then due west up the slope to the PCT.
Once on the PCT, we met a couple of thru hikers and a pair of ladies from Corvallis who were day hiking from their camp at Junction Lake. We exchanged conversation as we hiked south until we got distracted by the fairly big nameless lake just below the PCT. We parted from the trail again and named that body of water Lake Susan.
Finally we reached Blue Lake and then kept south reach the ridge north of Lake Sebago. We decided to sidehill up the south slope of the ridge, with the lake’s outlet and ravine to our left. In no time, we were at the Lake Sebago, a dark but pristine little expanse nestled below the eastern cliffs of Gifford Peak. Apparently, Sebago is named after the deepest lake in Maine and, in the Abenaki language, means “like the sea,” which this Lake Sebago is definitely not. We circled the lake and took an easy course back down to the PCT on the south side of the ravine.
Then it was a peaceful lunch at Blue Lake and back along the Thomas Lake Trail. We took a diversion to the south end of Lake Umtux, and stopped for huckleberry picking several times, using a couple of tubs my wife had provided with the endearing request, “Don’t show your face until you’ve filled these.” Since the other two lakes we’d named had been after women in Don’s life, I insisted we tarry at the tarn opposite Brader Lake, which I have now dubbed Lake Juliette (after my granddaughter).
