At the bottom of Arrowhead Lake a deep and wide outlet flowed down the valley into the south fork of Woods Creek. Luckily it was moving at a slow, lazy pace and though cold, crossing the thigh-deep stream did not pose much of a challenge. The tributary led us down to its confluence with the main current, where this remote (and rather convenient) suspension bridge spanned the creek.
A long, hot climb followed as we made our way along the rushing creek and across tumbling side streams to Pinchot Pass, named for the first director of the US Forest Service. Setting up camp on a hilltop just before the pass, I attempted to collect some water by filling my bottle with snow and placing it on a rock in the sun to melt, which turned out to be very inefficient in the rapidly cooling evening air. I sat out under a half moon watching the sun disappear behind the ridgeline, painting the mountains in pink alpenglow.
Russell on the Road 