A little over 30 years ago I set out on my first backpacking trip with my grandfather and his buddy Jim. Mind you I was probably 10 years old at the time going out into the Sierra Nevada with 1 (I did not know this at the time) of the best outdoorsman that I have known, my grandpa. Our trip would start out at Lake Edison on horseback and then we would backpack out completing a loop. This would be my introduction to backpacking, opening a whole new world of the outdoors to me.
I don’t remember much of the journey to get to Lake Edison. All I remember is this little cafe with incredible homemade apple pie that we ate at the night before our journey. The next morning we were to set out on horseback to our first campsite. Mind you at 10 a horse is a huge animal. Hopping onto a saddle of one of these animals was something I had only done at small petting zoo type parks. Here I was mounting this horse about to head into uncharted territory for me. Needless to say I was scared shitless! Of course there is some old school ways of getting you over your fears and that is to just push you into the deep end. So of course we headed out and immediately start into a gallop as I am gripping onto the saddles horn for dear life. I am pretty sure at this point I was holding back tears and some screams. But do not feel sorry for me. It did not take long for my fears to fade away and for me to feel like John Wayne commanding that horse. We rode through the high country, up & over passes, along streams, through switchbacks and finally ended up at camp 1.
There we were, the 3 of us out in the middle of nowhere with our packs, as the horses and the guide rode back to the stables. We loaded up our packs and made a short jaunt to our campsite. So if you haven’t been into the high Sierra Nevada it is covered with light grey, speckled with black dotted granite. It’s the incredible rock that peaks are formed from and that glaciers carved Yosemite out of. Our site consisted of a 30 foot long piece of granite emerging from the soil in the form of a couch. At 10 years old this was pretty cool to have a massive granite couch in our campsite. Now that camp was set up it was time for my grandpa to bestow a safety whistle on me. This orange whistle hung around my neck with a worn lanyard for the remainder of the trip. The instructions from my grandfather was that if I was to find myself in any sort of trouble I blow the whistle. My education of the outdoors had begun and has continued since then.
There is something about this high country that I am now drawn to. The feeling of the sun on your skin as your lips begin to chap, the smell of the fragrant evergreen trees and the sounds of nature. Like an addiction I have been hooked. When I leave, I become anxious for the next indulgence of adventures into the woods. Maybe their is something that triggers a nostalgic memory causing me to love these experiences. Now I find myself with my camera trying to capture a moment that expresses the feeling of being out in the wilderness. But I find that a picture is only worth a thousand words. Nothing quite beats the experience that is felt out there.
Camp 2 was along a river that had carved its way through the granite creating water falls and clear pools of blue water. Of course camp 2 had a front row view of a huge granite channel that had a school bus sized granite rock dividing the stream around it. As any 10 year old would do I began to explore under my grandfathers watchful eye. I found myself leaping from boulder to boulder trying to make my way across the river. Of course as any skilled adolescent would, I made it across. It was time for a different way back. I scouted a different route and found a way. The first leap would be a big one, but I was 10 and invincible. Away I leapt and of course came up short, which meant I was getting wet. I was now in the river. Granted this was not a very large river, but it was a cold alpine river fed by glacial melt up in the higher elevations. I quickly grabbed onto a piece of granite rock and pulled myself out of the cold river. I am sure the stunned look on my face was entertaining as my grandpa came running over to make sure I was ok. He scolded me for not using my whistle in that situation. Since his passing I have had the privilege to read some of his short stories. Some of the adventures and hairy situations that he was in made me appreciate his knowledge of the outdoors more than ever before.
Our last stretch of trail before returning to the car offered a section of river with a natural water slide. The smooth granite rock becomes slick with algae as the water cascades down its face ending in a large pool. We dropped our packs to take advantage of this refreshing experience. The cold water almost takes your breath away as you sit down on the granite slab and the water wells up behind you. With a little push off you end up sliding uncontrollably across the face of this granite slab and end up splashing into the pool below.
I am the only living member of that trip as over 30 years have passed since this introduction to the wilderness. My grandpa passed away less than a decade ago, but I cherish these memories as I wish there were an endless amount of these experiences.