Skip to main content

Sierra's 2017 - Part Two

My reading friend, as you enjoy my Sierra blog posts, by now I’m sure you get the impression that I’m obsessed with age. And maybe I am. Now that I’m on the north side of 60 honestly, I find it difficult to do what seemed so effortless just 10 years ago.

Committing to an annual Wilderness Mountain Adventure is my way of reminding myself that daily activity, regular exercise, stretching your imagination, proper diet, and a positive approach to living are what allow me to live life to the fullest. 

As Zig Ziglar would say, “You don’t pay the price for good health, you enjoy the benefits of good heath.” So, when I see someone older than me, (older than me, you understand, is 10-15 years my senior) engaged in the same challenging activities it gives me hope that you and I will be exploring life’s mysteries well into our 80s and beyond, God willing. So, let’s get to Part Two of this years adventure.

We left our heroes kicked back gazing into a starlit black velvet sky watching the Milky Way appear with millions of tiny twinkling lights above. The temperature was dropping quickly now.

“I’m turning in for the night.” Thinking, the warmest place for me right now was the comfort of my down sleeping bag, away from the wind, in my tent.

Those of you that know me well, know that I’m an early riser. About 4:45 am. I start pulling clothes into my sleeping bag to warm them before leaping into the morning frost. It was still dark, (about 36 degrees) the moon had risen in the east, illuminating the landscape, the skies crystal clear. You could see Orion's belt and a multitude of Constellations.

We have a tradition during these Mountain adventures. Our goal is to capture the golden glow of “first light” as it creeps down the peaks. In September, in California, this happens around 6:30 am. To my surprise, I watched daylight come without fire on the peaks. That’s odd, I thought. Looking at my Topo Map I realized that our campsite on Upper Lamarck Lake was nestled behind a much higher range of the Sierra’s and the Sun was still hidden behind that horizon.

So, I decided to carefully traverse the lake to another vantage point. For those not familiar with high elevation terrain, this means bounding between very large boulders, paying close attention to each step, or you  end up in a freezing cold lake. It was about 6:40 am, by then. So, when I stopped and looked up suddenly, very unexpectedly, the mountain began to glow! No creeping down the peaks, just POW there it was - Fantastic!

Now, the best part of having a base camp is exploring the Sierra’s without a 35-40 pound pack. It’s also a huge advantage when your backpacking partner is a seasoned Mountaineer and Geologist. So, with a small fanny pack, the 10 essentials, lunch, water, and our hiking poles we set off to explore an area North West of our camp, the Wonder Lakes (click the link to see Google maps location).

According to the map, this area was about one mile from our campsite, no problem, right . . . wrong. Day hikes are ‘off trail” adventures where very few venture. The challenge is to carefully pick your way UP and Down sheer cliffs; over huge boulders, getting trapped in a crevasse formed by an ancient glacier, working your way to a higher elevations, exploring verdant hidden meadows, and to our surprise discovering 10 beautifully hidden waterfalls not visible from the trails.

What an epic hike!

“Let’s go up just one more level,” Brendan would say after conquering a waterfall.

Apprehensively, “I don’t know, How do we get back to our camp from here, I’m exhausted?”

“No problem, we’ll drop down to Lower Lamarck Lake and take the trail back to our campsite.”

“Are you sure that’s the best way?”

Sounds easy enough, well, by the time we get back to camp it’s five hours later and my FitBit had recorded over seven miles of hiking. Needless to say I was beat.

Well, as you probably surmised by now we made it home. 

Today, as I reflect on this years Sierra adventure I’m reminded once again of natures potential; exquisite solitude, exhilarating experiences, a beautiful companion, the delight of discovery, yet contrast with the harsh reality of survival.

As John Muir so eloquently stated, “Take a course in good water and air; and in the eternal youth of Nature you may renew your own. Go quietly, alone; no harm will befall you.”

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Feeling Human Again

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...

Patience – the Only First-Class Ticket

In this episode, Why Patience is the Only First-Class Ticket They say travel broadens the mind. After eight days sailing the Rhône with 140 fellow luxury vacationers, I can confirm it also tests patience, calf strength, buffet strategy, and one's tolerance for people furious that France insists on being French. Don't get me wrong—I adored this trip. The river shimmered like liquid optimism. The villages looked hand-painted. The pastries could negotiate world peace. But somewhere between Ship Horn Hello and Bon Voyage, we'd inadvertently boarded a floating behavioral research study disguised as a holiday. Our ship was less a cruise and more a ferry for the Sailors of Status. ⌚ The Wristwatch Wars Some passengers approached relaxation like yogis. Others treated leisure like a final exam with extra credit. I came to believe certain luxury watches emit ultrasonic signals that only their owners can detect. A frequency calibrated to trigger rapid movement toward any line forming...

Up the Rhône

Up the Rhône by Patrick Ball We booked a fine cruise up the Rhône — what a treat! With iPhones, lanyards, and schedules so neat. They promised us peace and a mind that would mend, But each calm beginning had chores at the end! "Now breakfast at seven! At eight, take the view!" At nine, there's a lecture on ' What Tourists Do!' At noon, there's a tasting (you must love the cheese), Then hurry to nap time — as corporate decrees! I followed that plan till my patience ran dry. The Rhône softly chuckled, "Oh my, oh my, my! You've missed half my sparkles, my ripples, my tone— You're busy pretending you've peacefully grown!" So I fired my planner and banished my clock. I tossed my agenda right off the dock! I let the wind tickle my schedule away, and drifted through hours that danced where they may. I chatted with swans, had no notion of when, I'd nibble, or nap, or go roaming again. No Wi-Fi! No meetings! No planning! No fuss! Just me and ...

When "Not Working" Becomes Your Actual Job

✨ In this episode. The Unscheduled Life: When "Not Working " Becomes Your Actual Job L'horloge du café est détraquée, le serveur s'en fiche et moi, j'essaie. Somewhere between the third sip of espresso and the second croissant, it occurs to me: doing nothing is the hardest work of all. The question on the table this morning, as I sip this slightly-too-strong French espresso, is deceptively simple: How does one define "vacation"? The conventional answer—an enduring triumph of corporate minimalism—is: "Not Working." But that tidy phrase immediately opens a philosophical can of worms. When is life working , and when is it not ? If the highest measure of vacation is simply the absence of labor, then most of our existence amounts to a relentless, unpaid internship for a job we never applied for. We've been conditioned to believe that life works when it's maximally efficient, tightly scheduled, and aimed at the shimmering horizon of "...