the High Sierras

The view was phenomenal and if I could have heard anything over the pounding of my blood in my ears I would have been overwhelmed with the silence. There is something about the High Sierras that has never translated well to me by photographs. I have always been unimpressed with the snowy, rocky, treeless vistas that people seem to blather on about but figured you had to experience it in person at high altitude to appreciate it.

I would have continued to drool over my surroundings, but the snow had begun to melt into my clothing and I needed to make some attempt to right myself from my face-down, spread eagle position. This is when I realized that my left knee was jammed between two boulders and my right nipple felt like I had just gotten a surprise piercing by one of those enormous kindergarten sized pencils. I've never fallen face-down while backpacking before and I have to say it was a curious experience. My pack wasn't very heavy while I was walking upright, but it managed to push me gently toward the slippery boulder and sit on my back like a friendly paperweight. A backpacker-weight.

The entire route up to 11,500 feet had been brutal even though relatively short. My right knee apparently hadn't bothered to repair itself completely after a sprain/ligament strain sometime in August and decided that 3 miles into this hike was the proper time to alert me to its condition. However, the fates decided that I should bury my good knee in a snowy boulder pile to even me out.

We were nearly at Muriel Lake, so I limped along with both sets of trekking poles while glaring at my 17-pound mutt who had hitched a ride in my friend Dave's arms. The Sierras made up for screwing with my knee by putting on a 20 minute sunset show which basically turned Muriel into an infinity pool below our tent. I'm not a great photographer, but it was impossible to take a bad picture of this sunset. The temperature dropped into the 20's just after the sunset ended and it was into our down sleeping bags for everyone!

For those of you who have not had to share a fully-zipped mummy bag with a dog, I suggest you wait for this experience until the temperature drops well below comfortable. That being said, I am so glad Zoe was snuggled into my stomach because I'm halfway convinced I would have frozen to death otherwise. Plus, the comedic value of watching my sleeping bag vomit her out the face-hole every morning was a great way to start the day.

I was attached to the campsite for the duration of the trip, thanks to my knees, but enjoyed myself immensely. The fishing, while not incredible, was entertaining and the lake yielded surprisingly large trout for the altitude and water temperature. The cool thing about this area is that some of the lakes were stocked with native brown trout in order to preserve the genetic lineage. These lakes are difficult to access, making them some of the last remaining "pristine" brown trout habitats.

Dave and I didn't have any trouble with wildlife, but made sure to use our bear canister and hang whatever other smelly things using the PCT method. Of course, any trees at our altitude are woefully short and I'm sure if a bear did happen by it would have viewed our bag as a giant cupcake dangling at eye level. We heard plenty of coyotes and saw so many tracks thanks to the snow. Some of them belonged to my dog, but we soon learned to tell the difference.

The hike back was bittersweet. The views literally didn't stop until we were halfway back home in the car, my knees behaved themselves admirably the entire trek back, and I couldn't wait to sleep on a mattress that wasn't the texture and temperature of the frozen ground below it, but all the same it was difficult to leave. In just a matter of hours I had gone from my mountain ringed Sierra infinity pool to a traffic jam miles deep on the 405. Sigh! I guess that makes these trips all the sweeter!