I awoke in the middle of the night and was gladdened by the sight of hundreds of stars. The clouds had disappeared and I even spotted a shooting star blaze across the night sky.

With that encouragement I awoke early and migrated to the lake shore to have breakfast and watch the early sun glow off the cliffs above us. The peaks looked impressive from below, but we unnamed on the maps. Much grander mountains resided further into the range, and these formations were part of the huge alpine flats above us.

We had walked for a day through undifferentiated grayness. Experiencing this brilliant morning was like a curtain being drawn back, suddenly we found we'd been transported into a gorgeous alpine world.

We left camp even later than our previous day's departure from the trailhead. And only half an hour down the trail we stopped for a long break at Star Lake. Tim D started fishing the shore line and I looked up in time to see a bald eagle fly directly overhead. The eagle turned into a good omen, as time shortly thereafter caught a large brown trout. He cleaned it ran into the woods to bury the entrails. This activity quickly became known as the "Entrail 5K Run". Our series of races would grow as the trip progressed.

Further down the trail we were granted a great view of the distant peaks and Honeymoon Lake below us. After descending a few switchbacks we cut off the trail on a user created path toward the lake. Here we fried up the fish and relaxed for a while. Tim tried to continue his fishing streak, but was unsuccessful. Tim B and I tossed the frisbee then packed up and left with Helen to try and make Floyd Wilson Meadows for an evening camp. Cheryl and Tim D where packing up as we left, to follow right behind us.

We continued the descent on the switchbacks and reached Dinwoody Creek for the first time. We would follow this large glacial fed stream to its source at the glaciers flanking Gannett Peak.

After 45 minutes of hiking, the trail cut across the Dinwoody on a hand constructed bridge. The three of us waded in the cold water, soaking our feet and admired the work that went into constructing such a large bridge with hand tools. A few hikers passed by, including a young cowgirl working for one of the horse packers in the valley. We began to grow worried when an hour passed and Tim and Cheryl hadn't yet appeared. It was too late now to make it to the Floyd Wilson Meadows, so we agreed to continue on only to the first available camp site. There we'd stop, prepare camp, eat a dinner and if they hadn't shown up, Helen and I would walk back to locate them.

We were within 15 minutes of starting our search, when our missing friends appeared. Tim's camera had dropped off his pack shortly after leaving Honeymoon Lake, and he had to run back looking for it (known here on out as the "Where's My Sh*t 5K Run"). Much relieved, we agreed to wake up earlier tomorrow and make it to our Gannett base camp.

Before retiring we watched a herd of 15 horses pass by on the trail unaccompanied, and expected to witness a cowboy follow up shortly.