Wasn't sure where to post this so I guess it goes here. I was going through some old files on my pc and came upon this six old trip report that happened 20 years back..


There is a place that is for the most part, is unspoiled by mankind, yet not so easy to reach. Maybe it’s because it was my first backpacking trip, but I will always view it as my favorite place on this planet. Since that first trip, I have had countless trips in the High Sierra’s, some good, and some not so good. The company one keeps can make or break a trip, and the weather can also play a role. But even the bad experiences can be good in the long run.
My first time to this place was at the age of 16 with my older brother and a few of his friends. At 16, I hadn’t been exposed to anything like it before; I haven’t even been on a camping trip. But to carry everything on your back for a whole week was totally cool with me. I remember drinking straight out of the lakes and streams, though this was about 25 years ago and having known what I do now, I wouldn’t have done it. But with all that said, this trip put an ever lasting desire in me to get back as often as I could.
My second attempt to this place was at the age of 20 with a few old friends from High school. We probably did the worse thing a person could do as far as backpacking in the high altitude goes. We each filled up our plastic lined bota bags with 151 Bacardi and headed for the hills with our heavy packs. We spent the next couple of days arguing over just about everything and giving on the whole trip. We didn’t even make it five miles, but we did make use of the 151 lighter fluid.
My third attempt was with a friend from the second trip. I don’t remember if it was any better then the last, but it sure didn’t last as long. Our first night in we got drunk, had about 2 inches of hail, and woke up with hang overs. We ended up packing out that day, and I probably spent the next 5-7 years trying to grow up.
By the forth attempt, I was pretty well partied out and dating a women who is now my wife. We had planned this trip very carefully, and even found a different route to take, that turned out to be easier then the original one. Everything was going well and to schedule, but it was a little early in the season and it started raining. Our little pup tent didn’t hold up to well that night and when I looked out in the mourning, it was a winter wonderland. I had covered a little wood the night b4 but it wasn’t much to get the shivering lady out of the tent to get dry. We did however, finally manage to get back on the trail at about 10 in the mourning and headed to our next camp site. The snow slowly melted away in the june sun and in mid afternoon, we made it to the first lake on the trip about 9 miles in. There was a little snow but we did manage to have fish for dinner and a warm camp fire to dry out. The next mourning, we decided to hike up a mile to the next lake to see if it was passable, but it turned out it was still iced over and we weren’t really prepared for it. So we ended up just taking in the scenery for the rest of the day and spending our last night at the lake below. Though we didn’t reach our goal, we did have a good trip with plenty of memories to tell our kids.