August 27 thru September 4, 2002
THE GREAT DIVIDE TRAIL
BRITISH COLUMBIA & ALBERTA, CANADA
(quotes taken from the book Classic Treks)

“The Great Divide, the watershed of North America, runs along the crest of the Rockies and forms the border between Alberta and British Columbia. The walk crosses the Divide three times before heading west to the Vermilion Range. On the way it passes through Mount Assiniboine Provincial Park and Banff, Kootenay, and Yoho National Parks.

Although the Great Divide Trail was first proposed in 1967, it has not yet been formally made into a trail, and may never be so. In the main, this trek follows the suggested southern section of the trail as first described by Jim Thorsell in “The Canadian Rockies Trail Guide”. Linking together several trails through the vast wilderness of the Canadian Rockies, the route climbs from deep-forested valleys to timberline lakes and high alpine passes. Much of the walking is on or above timberline, in a beautiful and dramatic alpine world. It is a walk for the wilderness backpacker; the lover of wild, unspoiled places who wants to be away from signs of civilization and to live for a while in the natural world. Although the terrain is rugged, with many steep ascents and descents, all the walking is on good trails and bridges.”

We were to find significant meaning to the phrase “it has not yet been formally made into a trail…” as our adventure unfolded.

Day 0, August 26
Travel from Santa Barbara to Canmore, Alberta, Canada. United/Air Canada. Met Ralf Schmitt who shuttled Stacey and I from Calgary Airport to Canmore. Interesting German fellow who agreed to resupply our group at Hawk Creek picnic area along the Banff-Radium Hot Springs Hwy 93 on September 1. Settled into the Green Gables and had a good dinner with Craig at Chez Francois inside the hotel. Strategic planning and then to bed for a good rest.

Day 1, August 27
9.1 miles. Minimal elevation gain of 262 feet to 5773’.
Watridge Creek to Bryant Creek Campground (BR 13)
“Beginning rather inauspiciously with a walk through an old logging area, the trail soon enters dense forest and the Bryant Creek valley, which leads to the Bryant Creek Warden Cabin and Campground. This is a short first day, which will probably be welcome with a heavy load, especially as there is much climbing to come.”

Breakfast set aside in favor of a taxi departure at 9 AM for Mt. Shark trailhead. Rag tag shimmying slide of a ride along washboard roads toward Mt. Shark ended with a collision between our 1988 Caprice Classic taxi and a good solid mountain rock with our driver’s name on it. Large hole in transmission cover, no fluid after a few seconds. Good day for a rousing game of 10,000 (dice game) while we waited 2 1/2 hours for the tow truck to arrive and our replacement taxi driven by the wife of our first driver (family business). Got to be after 2 PM before we actually started our adventure along the same trails used for the Winter Olympics Nordic events (I’ll look up the year of the Calgary Olympics). Very wide trails with smooth base for the relatively flat 9 mile walk to our campground at Bryant Creek (BR13). Plenty of bear scat on the trail to remind us that we were sharing space with some big boys and girls.

Day 2, August 28
8.7 miles. Vertical gain 1706 feet to 7216’
Bryant Creek Campground to Lake Magog
“The glories of the route are revealed as the trail contours high above dark blue, tree-shrouded Marvel Lake and then climbs steeply to Wonder Pass, where the Great Divide is crossed. During the ascent, the views open up to the peaks and glaciers rising beyond the head of the lake. From the pass, the vista is extensive and spectacular, with mountains all around. To the north you can see all the way up the Og Valley and beyond to the peaks around Sunshine Meadows. The descent past Gog Lake to Lake Magog is dominated by the soaring rock and snow cone of the 11,870’ Mount Assiniboine. Known as the “Matterhorn of the Rockies”, it is one of the most impressive peaks in the whole of the Canadian Rockies, ringed by its eponymous provincial park. No roads run into the park, although there are helicopter flights to and from the lodge.”

Early rise, simple hot cereal breakfast. Hiked the length of beautiful Marvel Lake that is oblong, very clear and blue in color. Near the end of this lake the trail turns toward Wonder Pass. The climb up 1200 feet seems more based on years of switchback climbing in the Sierra. That, we will discover, is one of the main differences between this trek and most others—no switchbacks designed to make the hiker’s life more enjoyable. What switchbacks there are come only after the trekker’s nose has touched the dirt due to steepness. The historic Warden’s Cabin at the junction from Bryant Creek was very interesting. Overlooks a beautiful, large green valley filled with wild flowers. Lots of wood sculptures, masks, Indian faces. Started to enjoy the tremendous views of Mt. Assiniboine and the books are correct in boasting about this structure. It overpowers all other mountain features and is visible for several days along our route. Lake Magog and the Mt. Assiniboine Lodge lie at the foot of this mountain. The Naisit Cabins are sprinkled around the more formal lodge and have good views of both the lake and mountain. Plumbed water was available and after a short visit with cabin dwellers we headed the additional 2 km to our campsite just above Lake Magog. Evening light was fading as we pooled our packets of food for dinner. No tarps necessary for this particular evening and it was a good thing because the remaining sites were rather exposed. Whiffle ball players. Very friendly large deer, a doe with good color and coat sheen. Strange little round rabbits with short and straight ears. Hop right up to your feet and look very hard at your eyes. Then sprint away. Apparently with important information for the rest of their warren.


Day 3, August 29
15.3 miles. Elevation gain of 2017 feet to the 7347’ level
Lake Magog to Howard Douglas Lake
“Beyond Lake Magog, the trail winds gently through groves of sub alpine trees and flowery meadows to Og Lake. Here, the terrain changes dramatically as the lake lies at the end of the strange Valley of the Rocks, where the forest is dotted with apparently randomly placed, oddly shaped boulders. This is in fact a huge rockslide, containing roughly one billion cubic yards of limestone. The trail twists and turns through the boulders, before the terrain becomes less rough in the Golden Valley. A steep climb to 7740’ Citadel Pass—another crossing of the Great Divide—and enters Banff Nat’l Park. Ahead are the Sunshine Meadows: a rich, rolling sub alpine landscape of flowers and forest groves through which the Great Divide runs. Not far from the pass lies Howard Douglas Lake.”

Very long day with a steep pass as a reward for hard work during the day. The roller coaster walk through Valley of the Rocks was interesting. Random shapes, sizes and facets kept our attention while the miles clicked away. The pass elevation change amounted to just under 1900 feet and our bodies felt the effect of the first 12-13 miles of the day. Headlamps were required to reach Howard Douglas. While no one saw an actual sign reading SU 8 for our camp, we found prepared campsites in the dark and set up our tents. Stacey went with her rain fly and Craig and I elected to go without. Early morning showers drove the men to the rain fly and tarp. Rapid deployment of the tarp provided a dry floor for the tents and our cooking gear. Soon we set up a shower enclosure and heated some water to fill our “solar showers”. Stacey got first honors and enjoyed the sudsing portion of her shower. Soon she reminded her dad that the larger (heavier) solar shower would have been the correct choice for her long hair. After deflecting the verbal abuse and providing an additional water bag, dad was able to escape further damage. Howard Douglas Lake would not be a popular picnic area even if it existed one block from your house. I’ll leave it at that for now.

Day 4, August 30
11.5 miles. Elevation gain of 1443 feet to 6560’
Howard Douglas Lake to Egypt Lake
“From the lake, the trail winds through the meadows with superb views back to the now distant, but still dominant, Mt Assiniboine. The peaceful beauty of Sunshine Meadows is interrupted by the Sunshine Village Ski Area, giving easy access to the area via a gondola. Here the nature of the walk changes, as the open landscape is left for the closed-in terrain of a series of high passes and deep valleys. From the Wawa ridge, directly above the resort, there is a last, tremendous, expansive view of Sunshine Meadows with Mt Assiniboine behind them. Now the trail descends through forest to unmemorable Simpson Pass, named after Sir George Simpson, governor of the Hudson’s Bay Company, who crossed it in 1841 while searching for a new route across the Rockies for fur traders. More interesting is Healy Pass, with good views all around. To the west lies the cluster of summits known as Pharaoh Peaks, and below is Egypt Lake Campground, a popular site with a shelter cabin in it. Lying in the center of an area of attractive lakes—Scarab, Mummy, Pharaoh, Sphinx, and more—it is a good place for a rest day.”

We agree that Simpson Pass is not a highlight. Overgrown in places. No memorable views to be enjoyed. Healy Pass more than makes up for this disappointment. The first view of the Pharoahs overlooking Scarab and Egypt Lakes is cut right from Lord of the Rings. Too fantastic to be real. We wished for the time to sit and soak in the reflected light coming from this magical place. Goodbye to our friend Mt. Assiniboine. Someday I’ll be back for another memory saturating session. There is a shelter at Egypt Lake and just beyond are some campsites tucked into groves of fir trees. We set to work attaching our tarp to the trees under the threat of a rather serious storm moving rapidly toward us. Tarp and tents in place we began fixing our dinner while the lightning and thunder moved close enough for split seconds between the two events. Good drainage and we stayed dry throughout the night. I’m starting to remind myself that averages are pretty poor statistical numbers. The “average” rainfall in this part of the world in August/September is 1.2 inches. We’ve endured way more than that by now.

Day 5, August 31
The rest day we had imagined had finally come. Several lakes are near Egypt and the rock formations overlooking them appear pyramid in geometrical shape. We did not hike up to Scarab, but chose to lounge on the shores of Egypt. Craig braved the very cold water for a brief swim. His second dive caused enough chest discomfort to convince him to dry in the sun and call it a good bath. Stacey continued her hunt for distinctive rocks and found a nice wind sheltered cove. As the day wore on I knew we would have to discuss the logistics of meeting Ralf the next day and that meant we would have to pull out of Egypt in the afternoon to eliminate the need for a death march starting at 5 AM. We chose to cut the distance in half by striking out for Ball Pass Junction. Just under 1,000 feet vertical gain, threatening weather was beginning to become routine. Whistling Pass was quite steep and once again water run off had cut the main trail and there was very little attempt at engineering a good switchback system. Nevertheless, we got excited by the clear view of 5 white Rocky Mountain Goats. Majestically grazing slowly in a green terrace surrounded by craggy rocks. The pass was named for the marmots that whistle to each other, but on this particular day the whistling was done by the high winds. Many rock slides and huge boulders strewn along the path. Just before Haiduk Lake streams had cut their way through soft ground and flowed just below the mossy surface. Having ended our “rest day” with an afternoon walk from Egypt Lake to Ball Pass Junction, we set up a tarp and tents in anticipation of worsening weather. We were not disappointed. Once again the tarp saved us from becoming drowned rats. Plans to cook in the designated area several football fields away from our camp were abruptly changed once the rains began to fall. We carefully cooked under the tarp and stored our canisters, pots and pans away from the tents.

Day 6, September 1
Ball Pass Junction to Redearth Trailhead along Trans-Canada Hwy 1
12 straight hours of rain made it very difficult to get going this morning, but we knew that the job of reaching Ralf Schmitt by radio telephone before he left Calgary toward the wrong location was critical. Craig talked with a hiker to find that the route from Redearth to Shadow Lake and the Brewster Cabins was long, but low elevation and downhill most of the way out. We opted to steer away from Ball Pass and follow the trail to Shadow Lake. Wonderful warm lodge with an assortment of teas, coffees and friendly hostess greeted our small party. The radio telephone call was made in time to redirect Ralf and we set a time consistent with our estimated 3 hours of walking to the rendezvous point. Joyous meeting and short trip to Canmore’s Rocky Mountain Ski Lodge buoyed our spirits despite the bad weather. Warm showers, Italian food, snug as bugs in rugs for the evening. We had completed 60 miles of hiking despite the lightning storms, sometimes non-existent trails, Grizzly scat to step around and be reminded that we were their visitors and the threat of winter advancing daily. This day’s rendezvous walk had been our longest at about 16 miles.

Day 7, September 2
Weather continued to challenge and we decided to rent a car and dodge the rain for sightseeing rewards. Stacey was trading SFSU time for an extended visit with two old foggies. Doesn’t make sense does it? It didn’t and we gathered our wits after a great breakfast at the Kabin in Canmore. Casual drive to the Calgary airport turned frenetic after taking a wrong turn that spit us out into the center of town. Lady on street could not believe that someone in that part of the city would ask for directions to the airport. We had to coax the info while she continued to be confused by our lack of awareness. Apparently no one had ever ventured into that part of town and then wanted to get to the airport. Immigration, customs, United Airlines folks taking money without actually changing itineraries added to the game of getting Stacey to San Francisco. She had led the way for 6 days and proved to be quite strong physically and mentally. This was only her second extended backpacking trip (she walked the Inca Trail to Macchu Picchu a few years ago) and she was an important teammate.

Day 8, September 3
Eased back to Canmore and decided to rent a room at the Quality Resort because they had a great indoor pool and outdoor jacuzzi. Chance to do laundry and soak aching bones. Absolutely fabulous dinner at Sinclair’s. Venison stew with all the extras and crème brulet dessert. Cooked up another plan to the sound of rain dripping all around. Drive to Jasper and take the Via Rail to Vancouver to see the Canadian Rockies from another viewpoint. Turns out Via Rail is mainly for commutes that cater more to getting into Vancouver rather than seeing anything along the way. 5 hours of light and then an overnight trip getting into Vancouver 8 AM. We switched our thinking to using the rental car to drive to Vancouver with a camping stop wherever the weather was more agreeable. Tentative plan in place, we drove along Trans-Canadian Hwy 1 toward Jasper. Frequent stops to take advantage of lighting and extraordinary photo opportunities. Cloudy stop at Lake Louise was mandatory. Quite a bit of development since my last visit 22 years ago. Beautiful water color, glaciers at the end of the lake are doing their best to counter the aggressive crush of buildings and people. Spotted a young hiking/climbing couple along the highway hitchhiking in the rain. After rearrangement of our hiking gear we welcomed them aboard. French couple in their early thirties. Not married yet but soon. Glacier climbers. Jean Luc and Elivie. The young lady served as interpreter for Jean Luc. She spoke 3 or 4 languages, but not much English. Their map showed a destination of Whiskey Jack’s Hostel and despite the fact that this was around a half hour out of our way, we decided to take them. Along the way Craig and I phrased and rephrased words to gradually find that they had been climbing as a hobby for about 10 years, were not famous French climbers, Elivie works with kids and Jean Luc studies the environment. Huge bull elk appeared at the road’s edge and he eventually stopped grazing with his herd to settle down. Craig’s telephoto lens should have produced a good close-up shot, but there was not much sunlight. Contrast may make it one of those pictures where time is spent convincing the viewer of our great prize. My efforts to squeeze information about how France stores nuclear waste (since 80% of all power produced is from nuclear plants) went unrewarded due to language barriers. It was fun to try. Craig running the dome light while I motioned and talked about energy. Yes. Yes. No. Dropped them at Takkakawa Falls. I think they were happy to leave us. I have a tendency to look at faces while talking and the timesharing of driving around sharp curves at speed and looking into their eyes unnerved them a bit.

Many, many brilliant glacier pictures later we arrived at Jasper’s Whistler Mountain Tram and rode up for dinner. Interesting talk with our 24-year-old waiter. Guy came from Windsor, Ontario came to Jasper to work and ski at Marmot Basin. No insurance. Injuries. No benefits. Better work than in the big foundries and automotive plants of the Canadian mid-west. He and a few buddies were thinking about going to Mexico in the next month or so. Hmmmm. 36 hours of driving didn’t seem to faze him.

Sampled many lodges before choosing the Marmot Inn to overnight. Good rooms if one is staying for a few days. Calls to United to arrange flight change were met with bad news. I explained that I had really wanted to see a lot of the Rockies and fly from Vancouver to Santa Barbara instead of the Calgary arrangement. Her reply was that she believed I would be seeing much more of the Rockies than planned. The cost of such a change would be $395 US for a one-way trip to Santa Barbara. She proved to be clairvoyant.

Day 9, September 4
Early rise because we had to haul back down the highway to Calgary in time for the 4:30 PM flight to San Francisco. Craig’s flight left at 5:00 PM for Vancouver. Very good breakfast at O’Shea’s and then a billion kilometers per hour along good highway sans RCMP. Driving back into the weather system that had changed our plans. Fourth change to our Hertz rental car plan erased the $150 Can drop charge in favor of the airport $50 Can. Normal travel obstacles were met and I arrived safely in Santa Barbara at 9 PM.

WONDERLAND TRAIL TREK
AUGUST 21-31, 2001





August 17, 2001:
Fly America West from Santa Barbara to Phoenix to Seattle-Tacoma Airport. Rental car to Mom Mills' house in Auburn. Late and we talk briefly before getting some sweet rest. Raytheon work pressures starting to fade already.

August 18, 2001:
Federal Way REI to buy food and rain gear. Tell them I can't buy food unless they give me the use of a telephone to consult with my hiking partner. Craig on the phone and we throw dozens of packets on the floor during our shopping spree.

Bad news when the ladies come home from church. Lifetime friend Ray Huber, who was scheduled to walk a portion of the trail with us, has had a stroke and is in a coma. He had retired a couple of years earlier and was in good shape at 62. Ray passed away before we left for the trailhead. I'm reminded that early retirement is an important concept that I will trigger March 1, 2002.

We visited DeForrest relatives at brother Ken's house in Tacoma Saturday afternoon. Good feed. Spread the map to describe our trek. Most relatives wonder why we are going to hike this distance. As we study the map, I start thinking it really is a long walk. Must leave to pick up Craig and trip planner Mike Byers at the airport.

August 19, 2001:
The hikers segregate food and organize backpacks. Sort the food and fresh clothes into sacks for resupply points. Made a trip to Puyallup to visit with brother Larry who has agreed to spot his Prowler trailer at one of the resupply locations. This will give an opportunity to shower and sleep on soft beds one night.

August 20, 2001:
Craig and I drop Mike to make final arrangements with the Longmire Rangers and we continue on to view the washout and discover fording opportunities. We return in a half an hour to find out that our plan to circumambulate Mt. Rainier is unacceptable. Mike has already resigned himself to deal with the cancellation. Craig and I work hard with the Ranger to map out a new route. We must burn our only layover day, but the resulting itinerary looks good. White River-Summerland-Nickel Creek-Cougar Rock-Devil's Dream-Klapatche Park-Golden Lakes-Mowich Lake-Carbon River-Mystic Lake-Granite Creek-White River.

August 21, 2001 (gain 1900 feet, lose 275 feet over 6.5 miles):
Leave White River Campground to find the Wonderland Trail near Fryingpan Creek. Hike the remaining 5.3 miles to Summerland. Rain near the end of this climb and we are happy to find space inside the shelter. Like a ship at sea with sailors aboard waiting for the weather to break. Summerland is our designated campsite, but the shelter "owners" are gracious and soon a dozen folks are huddled together to share stories. We meet PJ and Carl the Navy folks and are amazed to see that PJ is a woman who knows how to use duct tape on her feet to prevent blisters. Very athletic woman with a ready smile and very positive attitude. Rain was not going to stop her. Carl was going to be deployed on Special Operations soon and although he could tell us about the mission, he would then have to kill us. And so on. Ron Rothman tells us he is from California. He is sure that we have not heard of his little town. Turns out Atascadero is well known to us who live just down the road in Solvang and Santa Ynez. Folks share stories and when they say "that's a long story, I'll shorten it", we say "We've got time, tell us every chapter." Ron talks about his Nepal trip with his wife. It's her birthday and they are inside a hut with a dirt floor cooking dinner over a yak dung fire. His wife is sick. We say, "That must have been the last year of your marriage to that woman." Ron objects, "She loved every minute of it, I swear." I've got to meet this lady.

August 22, 2001 (gain 2360', lose 4335' over 11.3 miles):
I head out first to fight the rain and 40-50 mile per hour wind over Panhandle Gap. Snowfields are now frozen and going is tough with only my walking stick to keep me from sliding a long ways down. Probably wouldn't die, but some bruises would certainly be raised. Lots of berries and bear scat along the trail, but no sight of large wildlife. They are probably too smart to walk around in the rain which has persisted and gotten a little worse on the way to Indian Bar. The shelter here is called the Hilton. It has bunk beds, three walls, a roof and an open front. I peel back the tarp covering the front and find a group of hikers hunkered down watching the mice and squirrels have their way with whatever food they can discover. Not a good place to hang out. Craig and Ron show up and we have lunch. Ron departs about an hour ahead of Craig and I to make Nickel Creek camp. Craig and I follow and become aware that the trail descriptions and contours that we have do not match the occasional rise and fall of the terrain. Some 600 footers in there to irritate us just a little in the bad weather. We walk into camp to find Ron already bedded down. He has a blue tarp strung between trees over his bivy bag. Food and urine container inside and he is not moving. We set up some shelter and the tents and concentrate on making dinner. I notice that Ron has a sawed off milk container to catch drips from the tarp. It is full and I inquire whether or not this is a technique to get better tasting water. Negative. He is trying to avoid engulfment by the pond that is steadily forming near his head. I trench a bit to relieve some of the pooling. Effectively, we have become his hotel management crew. Dusk, raining, gloomy feeling. Ron looks at Craig and I and says "It don't get any better than this." We love this guy. He offers the blue tarp for the rest of our trip because he is finishing the next day. We will hand it back to him in Atascadero someday. He gets a chocolate chip cookie from Craig in appreciation.

August 23, 2001 (gain 2020', lose 460' over 9.2 miles):
Leave Nickel Creek about 11 AM in the rain, which has not stopped for long in the past 48 hours. Our plan calls for a pick-up at Narada Falls by the support crew and a good rest in Cougar Rock Campground in brother Larry's Prowler trailer. Lots of beautiful waterfalls and stream filled trails on the way to Maple Creek. Sloshed to Narada and began the vigil waiting for pick-up. Comfort station looked like a train station with benches and hand driers in the bathrooms. We used these to dry socks and coats. Finally had to go out to flag down someone to get word to the rangers and our camp that we were okay and that we were waiting at the appointed site. "Stuck in the sixties" microbus with paintings and all pulled over. Dreadlock headed guy with blue tint glasses carried my notes to the Paradise rangers. First card said, "DeForrest party is okay." Second card said, "Support crew is at B-33 in Cougar Rock, please direct them to pick up hikers at Narada Falls." This scheme eventually worked and we peeled off wet clothes inside the Prowler. Hot showers. Steak and potatos along with vegetables and fresh fruit. Almost too good to be true.

August 24, 2001 (gain 2400', lose 200' over 7.5 miles):
Split round after round of cedar wood and burned a campfire for half the day to dry everything we owned. Took on new hiker: brother-in-law Mark. Ran into PJ and Carl who were disappointed because there was no room at the Longmire Inn and nothing to be had at the Cougar Rock Campground (reservations are made via phone to Chicago, go figure). We let them know that the B-33 site was available for them. After some refreshments started hiking in earnest for Devil's Dream. Met Jeff the dentist at Devil's Dream. He is hiking solo and has excellent Nikon camera gear. Good cook. Vegetarian dishes with excellent spices. Has important life changing decisions to make. He does dentistry to help people, not to make a lot of money. Spent two years on a Navajo Reservation and then on to Salem, Oregon to serve the underprivileged. His lady friend is also a dentist, but needs to relocate to make more money to pay off school debts. She wants to go to Las Vegas. Next morning I tell Jeff that I've got his problem solved (I've got a 24 year-old daughter). I remind him that the Chinese way of having adults choose mates is very successful. I'm on the trail for 11 days for only one reason; I'm looking for a son-in-law. This raises mixed emotions within Jeff. The next three days are used to expand this theme and gain information. I am only half kidding.

August 25, 2001 (gain 3880', lose 3386' over 10.2 miles):
Toughest day of all was anticipated, but not fully realized until all dues were paid. Up, down, up, down, up and a partial down. Climbing up Emerald Ridge I talk with a fellow hiker and we are surprised by a 4 point buck in velvet from the brush. This guy looks at us with eyes that tell us we are on his trail. He slowly goes around us and hoofs down the trail right for Craig and Mark. Mark stops and tells Craig to look. As Craig tilts his head to see around Mark, the buck duplicates this head motion to look at Craig. Careful study is followed by the buck detouring just a bit before picking up his trail again. Beautiful animal. Long descent and at 5:30 we decided to cook up a good dinner at the South Puyallup River Camp before making the final ascent to the ridge above Klapatche Park. Good choice because we would not have had the energy to cook anything later. We used the rest step to ease into camp at around 10 PM with headlamps glaring. Quarter moon helped a little, but the headlamps were necessary. Just enough energy to pitch tents and get a good night's sleep. Slow going the next morning. I recall glory days when the West Side Road was open in the 70s and 80s. We used to drive to the trailhead and walk up to Klapatche Park 3 miles and enjoy majestic views. Sitting at the edge of Aurora Lake I realize that these walks were made 30 years ago and that I feel like I'm in better shape now at almost 56. It's amazing what the brain can do to fool an otherwise complaining body.

August 26, 2001 (gain 1800', lose 2150' over 7.8 miles):
Dried clothes along the logs next to Aurora Lake with Rainier in the background. One of the best views along the trail. Headed out to Golden Lakes. Several days in a row we have left camp at 11:41 AM. Some are wondering if I have a real watch strapped to my wrist. Arrive Golden Lakes with some spare time. Craig makes conversation with pony-tailed Ranger who directs him to an excellent sunset vista. Couple of miles adds to the 100 that Craig eventually logged. The Ranger's cabin offered a nice view to the west above one of the Golden Lakes.

August 27, 2001 (gain 2400', lose 2520' over 10 miles):
Good camping at Golden Lakes and a relatively easy day compared to the Klapatche haul, but definitely not a gimme. Deep draw to cross on the way to Mowich Lake. We know that another resupply is waiting at the Lake. Sister-in-law Debbie does not disappoint and we feast on chickens and the sweetest corn of all time. Cold pops. Cheesecakes. Invited Jeff who concentrated on the non-meat/non-poultry items since he is a strict vegetarian. Rains a little at night. Mark departs and nephew Ronald comes aboard properly warned by Mark that this is not a walk in the woods.

August 28, 2001 (gain 171', lose 2880' over 8.2 miles):
Fresh and strong, we move out to Carbon River Camp via Ipsut Pass. This is a very steep rockfall. More of a controlled fall than a hiking trail. Good berries and Craig grazes in the manner I imagine the bears must do along this stretch. Even steep drops do not deter him from capturing the best blueberries. His hands, face and shirt are blue. Bears probably not pleased to lose a good share of their harvest to one beast. We were surprised to be overtaken by PJ and Carl who had taken a day off. They were just a few miles from their exit point at Ipsut Creek. PJ had started to smell the barn and cranked out 15 miles. We followed them to the parking lot and enjoyed a beer and a little wine cooler they had stashed in the stream. Photos, congratulations and goodbyes. We pushed on to the next camp. It was fun to visit with these guys and I hope that somehow we can get together for the post-trek barbecue. The Carbon River Camp was hit by a severe windstorm two years prior and the windfalls were cut just enough to create semi-flat sites. Pit toilet gets an award for the most scenic. No time spent erecting walls or roof. Just a box covering the toilet seat. Al starts his Peak 1 stove and spends time talking with Jeff while the fuel spills over the top and ignites the rubber feet at the stove base (what were these rubber feet good for anyway?). Huge flames and my buddies spent time taking pictures while I struggled to get control. Title to pictures will be "Al Cooks". Ronald finds out that his 6'3" frame does not actually fit inside his new tent. Must sleep diagonally across the rectangular floor. His pack had been failing along the trail as well. During the mild night he was quite cold because his sleeping bag did not own up to the 20F rating. We joke that it must be a 20C bag. His boots are a little too tight as well and the blisters must be treated. So in summary, setting aside the fact that his pack seems to be disposable, he doesn't fit inside his tent, his bag is good only for in home use and his boots were made for someone else, Ronald is having a good time.

August 29, 2001 (gain 2600', lose 300' over 5 miles) :
Carbon River to Mystic Lake. Many false arrivals and picturesque moraines. Along the way we bump into the "80 pound pack guy". Cannot believe that he has a full aluminum chair strapped to a bunch of other car camping gear that sticks out about 4 feet from his hinder. He is proud as can be of this load. I ask him to turn sideways so that I can document with camera. Unbelievable. A little time with some African tribes would show him the benefit of putting the load above his center of gravity. A couple of moraines offer great mountain views and we believe this is The Land of the Hoary Marmot. These silver/gray/brown guys were very healthy and had plenty of good food. They seemed to be attracted to Craig and treated him as one of them. They meandered to him and practically walked across his boots. We began calling him "Lord of the Marmots". Had to walk past the lake to find campsites. Good dinner and then time for a little 10,000 (some call this dice game "Mississippi Marbles"). Young couple comes across from another site to join in the fun. We learn they look very young, but have several children with the oldest 18. Steve and Noel. Steve is concerned that he has not been able to generate any "Deep Thoughts" on the trip so far. This is the signal that he has a very entertaining dry humor. Noel is quiet at first, but then singles out Craig and says as she prepares to roll the dice "You're going down big boy". Entertaining. Noel does beat Craig, but Jeff comes from behind to beat everyone.

August 30, 2001 (gain 1400', lose 1400' over 4.5 miles):
Mystic Lake to Granite Creek. We say goodbye to friend Jeff who is pushing on to Sunrise. I give him a few more daughter Stacey tidbits for the road. Walk between the Carbon and Winthrop glaciers. Beautiful mountain views. Continued excellent weather. Talked with Ranger near crystal clear creek and he described their work to expand our campsite during the last off season. Only two campsites here and number 2 is ours for the night. We fear gathering clouds and spend extra time rigging two tarps over the tents. Once again Craig's water bag makes filtering a comfortable chore. Dip bag in stream and then hang it at camp near cushy "chair" and pump all the water bottles full. Fortunately the night was mild and rain free.

August 31, 2001 (gain 1400', lose 3700' over 7.7 miles plus the make-up 3.5 miles):
11+ mile day to finish the loop. Very exciting views near Sunrise and rewarding wildflowers in Berkeley Park. Long downhill plunge to the White River Campground. Phone calls for pickup and the realization that Craig and Al cannot return to California without knocking off the 3.5 mile stretch that was flooded just prior to the start of the trip. Decision is made to leave Ronald with the gear and hitch hike 30 miles to Narada Falls to begin the final leg. Wait with sign in hand, but just like Steve Martin in "The Jerk", we have no luck because we are standing on a dead-end road. Ranger comes by eventually and gives us a lift to Ohanapecosh and the Park entrance on Stevens Canyon Road. Getting by the toll taker lady was what it must have been like at the Berlin Wall. She shouted us down and forced our story to be told before relenting. She could not believe that we would walk 21 miles to complete the last 3.5 miles of the loop. Of course we had no intention of walking, but it is illegal to hitch hike within the Park. A young couple driving a heavily loaded Ford Ranger truck picked us up and after their sight seeing deposited the weary hikers at Narada Falls. A smooth bedded, descending trail greeted us and with a few pauses at spectacular waterfalls, the trip was finally completed.

Brother Ken picks up and we go to Mom Mills' house in Auburn. Can't find key to house. Supposed to be inside plastic rock. Lots of help from neighbors. No luck. Ken finds keys hanging on hook in garage. Now it is 9:30 and we shower. Clean bodies and clothes. Only place still serving food is nearby Muckleshoot Casino. My head is spinning. 11 days in the pristine wilderness and now the racket of various gambling machines, Keno runners, smoke and the sounds of a raucous crowd saturate my senses. Good food and back at Mom Mills' home to eat the Copper Creek blackberry pie with vanilla ice cream. Well deserved reward.

Conclusions:
Total gain=22,331 feet
Total miles summed from above=91.4
Total miles hiked including side trips and hitch hiking=95 for Al and 100 for Craig

Mt. Rainier National Park does have two seasons comprised of 10 months of winter and 2 months of late fall. You will find rain on an 11 day trip. Bring a light-weight tarp. Do not believe any gear claiming waterproof. Use one gallon zip lock freezer bags to keep clothes dry. Conditioning in preparation for this tough trek is important. Our loop, which started at White River Campground and ran clockwise, was a good plan organized by a Ranger who knew the circuit very well.

If I lived in Washington State, I would divide the Wonderland Trail into 4 segments and choose the best weather for each 3 day walk. One can almost predict a 3 day run of weather in August.

Planning started in September, 1999 for the Maroon Bells Four Pass Loop Trail. Maps, ranger discussions, luncheons, hiking certificates, low airfares, van rental, conditioning hikes…well not as many conditioning events as should have been completed.

The foundation for a great start and finish was laid by our Guide and his wife. Great condo in Keystone served as the jumping off point and safe haven after the trek.

Rangers warned that lightning was more than an average threat this year. Late monsoons from Arizona guaranteed heavy action every day. This could not damp or dampen our spirits. Even after we were told that lightning had actually killed a hiker a few days earlier on our trail.

Day 1, Monday, August 21, 2000:
Objective: Head towards West Maroon Pass to camp in trees short of lightning danger.
3-4 miles and 1,000 feet elevation gain.

Last minute shopping in Aspen for odds and ends. World's most expensive pack rain cover. Drive to the Maroon Bells overnight lot. Rain subsides with several hours of daylight remaining so we head off to the first camp below West Maroon Pass. Maroon Lake is everything the screen saver said it would be. Large beaver dam, aspen groves with very round leaves, some are turning yellow. Crater Lake is low because of the dry spring and early summer. Just beyond a stream crossing there are fir trees grouped for a very scenic camp. Tents were pitched, within sounds of a stream, on a soft pine needle base and trees were all around. None so large and singular as to be a good lightning pole. We dig into our Bearikades for our first meal away from civilization. The food kindles stern memories rather than stimulates saliva glands. Nevertheless, it is great to be on our way and the team of eight backpackers settles in for a good night's rest. Ricky the Squirrel (AKA mule) has packed his all season tent which sleeps 3 luxuriously. Alpine Al sleeps alone in his tent which resembles a swollen thumb. Boss Kip (prior to retirement, he had been our BOSS and he is a really big guy) and Commodore John (Hobie Cat sailor extraordinare) each have good two man tents. Mad Dog Bill has a slight headache, but it cannot get him down. Mike the Guide (last year he was Gui, but was able to earn back his letters in time for this trip) frequently talks loudly in his sleep as if guiding the team through a fire swamp. Iron Man Craig (started the trip by dead lifting a 300 pound rock to his waist in the parking lot) snores in response to similar action from Alpine Al. Parking Lot Bob (so fast on the trail it seems you only see him at the start and end of each trek) is unaffected by the day's work and is already preparing for the next leg of the trip. Deer sleep nearby without fear and without begging for food. Very interesting and enjoyable to think that we are coexisting.

Day 2, Tuesday, August 22, 2000:
Objective: Early rise and conquer both West Maroon and Frigid Air Passes to arrive at camp near waterfall along Fravert Basin. Gain 2,000 feet at West Maroon Pass. Lose elevation between passes and then gain about 1500 feet over Frigid Air Pass. 8-9 mile trek.

Early morning breakfast preparation begins with a trip to the watering hole with filters in hand. This group has never consumed water without first filtering. Big day ahead with both West Maroon and Frigid Air Passes at 12,500 feet looming above. Five of the eight hikers reach the pass and watch as storm clouds gather. We watch the progress of the others with binoculars and notice that Boss has stopped and is conferring with the others. Now he is going back down the trail and we find out that he had fallen earlier and twisted his ankle. Iron Man works out a deal with two hikers heading down to make sure that Boss has company. We later found that he had a very enjoyable week camping and fishing streams and lakes in the Aspen/Independence Pass area.

The scale of Fravert Basin is awe inspiring. A wall of green and flowers goes all the way up and as far ahead as we can see. Unlike the Sierra where bare rock is what you get at high altitude. Some in the group compare the scale to the Grand Canyon and others to Waimea Canyon. Later review of photos highlight the immensity by showing puny little backpackers inching along the Basin.

More fir trees, stream and waterfall for the evening of day 2. In fact, we are sure now that Parking Lot Bob intends to walk each day until he gets within earshot of a good stream and/or waterfall before setting camp. Very brilliant flashes and loud booming thunder entertained the group and made us feel certain that this kind of show would become routine. Our job was to predict when to avoid the passes and get to lower elevation and mix with the randomly sized trees. Away from the big boys that were daring to be struck. California Lottery talk about being more likely to be hit by lightning than to win the big pot was now plainly understood at the gut level.

Day 3, Wednesday, August 23, 2000:
Objective: Traverse Trail Rider Pass and enter the realm of Snowmass Lake. Another 2,000 foot elevation gain and 5-7 miles.

The best pancakes in the world were cooked by Mad Dog Bill (once a Hot Shot fire fighter who ran a chain saw long and hard without oiling the chain--boss had to say "Hey Mad Dog, slow down and give her some oil"). Vermont pancake flour and a special spatula produced nicely browned cakes for each one of us. This was done even though Mad Dog had a terrible headache. One tough trail cook.

Leisurely departure from camp and a nice walk in the woods was offset by the realization that all the elevation we were losing would soon come at us like the Grim Reaper on our way up Trail Rider Pass--another 12,500 footer. Half way up Trail Rider we were driven into tents by a sudden hailstorm. Rain and hail did not last long and the group watched the sky for signs that the way was safe for the final assault. Parking Lot Bob, Ricky Squirrel and Mad Dog decided they were fast enough to beat the flashy bolts. The rest of the pack team thanked nature for an excuse to hunker down for a good night's rest. Alpine Al relived an old Army experience associated with over-exercise. Huge projectile streams explode from his head. Everyone waits for his head to spin. All are certain that he is devil possessed. Episode passes quickly and he says "Let's eat, I'm hungry". Witnesses are not nearly as ready to eat. Pleasant evening is enjoyed by Iron Man, Guide, Commodore and Alpine Al. Twelve hours of rest. The fast group (Squirrel made the pass in 28 minutes) had found the best camp of the entire loop at Snowmass Lake. No threat of death by jolts. They enjoy solitude and have left directions for their teammates on the trail.

Day 4, Thursday, August 24, 2000:
Objective A: Fast group gets to take a break and enjoy Snowmass Lake. Objective B: Slower group faces the climb-out over Trail Rider Pass and the reward of a spectacular sunlit view of Snowmass Peak and Lake. 600 feet of elevation gain from the tarn to the summit. Maybe 4 mile walk to camp.

The Trail Rider Pass climb by the second group was completed with sunny and mild conditions. Vigorous, yet relaxing walk with a satisfying visual reward looking down both sides of the summit. Snowmass Lake on one side with Snowmass Peak towering over all, green fields, crystal water, fir trees at Lake's edge and Trail Rider's tarn and flowery, green fields on the other. Just when our self-approval was at a high, we spotted a group of four joggers heading up the Pass. Two guys and two gals looking like the world class athletes that they probably were came gliding past. One of our guys asked, "What are you training for?" The reply came, "Life, man". They were well on their way to completing the entire loop in 11 hours. An extreme marathon.

Tents were pitched, and well trained by Mother Nature, each site was prepared for the lightning, thunder and rain that was sure to come. We were not stood up and this time an extremely powerful storm roared through. The team was pinned inside tents for three and a half hours. The Squirrel's tent held Guide, Commodore and Iron Man. Close by, Alpine Al eased into his borrowed Tom Clancy book with a nice reading light. On the lower camp level, Parking Lot Bob, Mad Dog and Squirrel endured Chinese torture with a set of semi-dry tents. Squirrel dreamed of never carrying his casino tent again (affectionately called the Ricksino on past trips) or at least being able to sleep in it once dragged into the wild. Cabin fever took hold and those without books began pleading. Alpine Al was asked to rip out pages that had already been read. Ripping could occur, but the Ricksino occupants would have to make their way to get them. No deal. The Tom Clancy book had passages that were useful in this situation. Guide and Iron Man are optics engineers. Quote from the book "his rifle was sighted to within one arc minute and could send three cartridges within the diameter of a nickel at one hundred yards". "Hey optics guys, do these numbers make sense?" Lots of head scratching can be heard and without calculators they spend a little extra time making sure that Clancy hasn't goofed. A few rounds of this and the storm is easing off. A break in the weather allowed a dry cooking session and everyone concentrated on eating as much from the overstocked Bearikades as possible. Afterall, we were heading back to civilization the next day.

Fishing Snowmass Lake requires extra work to get in position where deeper pools exist. Most of the edge seems too shallow for good fishing. Lots of casting with two different types of lures did not attract eatable inhabitants. Very skillful casting is demonstrated again and again by Mad Dog and Iron Man. Until Alpine Al is offered the chance to exercise his skill. He casts very long and accurately. Too long. Can't reel in fast enough to avoid what all knew would happen sooner or later. Snag on the bottom.

Day 5, Friday, August 25, 2000:
Objective: Leisurely wake-up and hike over Buckskin Pass and into Minnehaha Gulch on the way to meet Boss at the parking lot. 1600 feet elevation gain and a long 7-8 mile walk.

Iron Man (hurting from the rock exhibition and a twist on the trail) gets drugged up with codeine, helped to his feet and backpack lashed in place. He plans to make steady progress at a slow pace. The Guide moves out not far behind followed by Alpine Al and Commodore who have their own machine like pace. Parking Lot Bob, Squirrel and Mad Dog take their time eating breakfast and fishing. They know they have the capability of catching the others without even lighting their afterburners.

Stream crossings have been unchallenging for the whole trip. Only one crossing between Frigid Air and Trail Rider required the most conservative hikers to switch from boots to sandals. The trail toward Buckskin Pass crossed a stream that was flowing nicely, but well placed rocks made passage with good balance feasible. We worried that our codeine laced friend might not have had the requisite balance skill, but there was no sign of gear or flesh so we moved on.

Beautiful mixture of wildflowers, aspen and fir trees, meandering stream and occasional waterfalls. Puffy white clouds dressed the scene for photos and promised to bring lightning later in the afternoon. The switchbacks up Buckskin Pass are the most pleasant of the entire loop. This is a nice change from those ascents earlier in the trip that seemed to be carved especially for pack animals.

Faithful Boss was waiting in the parking lot when the fast team arrived just past the assigned noontime rendezvous. He did not have the platters of appetizers, fresh fruits and rounds of cold beer that each hiker's brain had crisply imagined. The thunderclaps and light rain that drifted in with the last group seemed an appropriate end to a great Rocky Mountain experience. One year's worth of planning had served the team well, but there was to be more adventure before safe passage to Santa Barbara.

Day 6, Saturday, August 26, 2000:
Objective: Relax at the Guide's retreat in Keystone after a night of pizza, beer and wine. Parking Lot Bob to visit son in Boulder and the rest plan to tour Denver before meeting our 9:54 PM flight out of Denver Int'l.

The Guide's wife and our wonderful hostess prepared an excellent french toast breakfast. Fresh fruit and drink coupled with sandwich fixings for the trip to the airport were greatly appreciated. The drive to Denver Int'l was smooth and plans were refined. PLB warns that we should be back at the airport two hours before the flight. We all nod our heads and then guffaw after he is gone. You know where this story leads.

The group of five head into the Mile High City with Mad Dog at the wheel. He has in mind a shady park where food and drink can be enjoyed, but first we park in the Tabor Center Mall to check out the Visitor Center. All agree that the Natural History Museum and Zoo have plenty of sights to see and a beautiful park setting with panoramic views of the city. We settle on a plan to tour the Museum and Zoo (Kimodo Dragons are on display) until 6:30 and then return to the Tabor Center and take advantage of the free shuttles to make our way to the Broker Inn for dinner. Bottomless iced shrimp bowls are a Broker trademark and we were not disappointed. Five hungry hikers ate their way through 5 huge bowls of shrimp before the main meal was ordered. Alpine Al (designated driver for this leg) warned the waitress that the group needed to leave at 7:45 in order to get to the airport in time for the 9:54 flight. Good food and the attraction of a guided tour of the wine cellar combined to push dinner past the deadline and AA rushed to retrieve the van as the others finished their desserts. After corraling all passengers, we asked a couple of semi-drunks how to get to the I70. They might have been somewhat incoherent, but they did know the best way and we were grateful to be headed for the Pena exit and the dragstrip to the airport grounds. It was close to 9:15 by the time the van doors opened at the check-in and AA had to concede that he would not make the flight because the car had to be gassed and returned. Mad Dog went inside and returned with a long face--our flight was actually 9:24 not 9:54. Five of us with tickets and no one had actually inspected them for the correct time. Or did Iron Man actually say 9:24 at dinner? Squirrel, Commodore and Iron Man ran for the gate in the hope that a delay might rescue them. Squirrel was rewarded and he chuckled with Parking Lot Bob later that evening in Las Vegas about the knuckleheads who did not give themselves two hours at the Denver Int'l Airport. Commodore and Iron Man watched at the window for 15 minutes while the plane remained connected to the jetway. Would have been considered torture except that the ticketing folks had just finished a double shift and had gone immediately home at the sound of the bell. Mad Dog and Alpine Al gradually joined the other two at the C gate after getting supervisors to help push their bags the size of small ponies through the security machines. After seriously considering the erection of tents in the waiting area, we decided that a motel would be good because the next flight attempt was 6 AM for two of us and 8:40 AM for the others. A long dice game of 10,000 on the concrete bench at the shuttle pick-up point took some of the edge off the unnecessarily long wait for Holiday Inn. Two double beds. Early riser bed and late guys in the other. Two wake-up calls came after the early guys had gone. Clock radio set at 6 AM by one of the early boys also conspired to rob MD and AA of dream time. All four late Denver guys met up in Phoenix for the connection to Santa Barbara and after another delay arrived safe and sound in Goleta--the Good Land.

Our heads would spin for the next week or so trying to integrate the beauty and purity of the Colorado Wilderness with the western big city culture of Denver and the mad rush to push modern man's high-tech transportation system to the maximum. Van wasn't fast enough, shuttle was late, Concourse C train should be a maglev bullet and so on. Hey, maybe next time we will listen to PLB.

story coming soon...

Trans-Sierra trek with an assault on Mt. Whitney. Total 70-75 miles in 9 leisurely days.

Day 1:

Rental van transports the hearty crew of five (Alpine Al DeForrest, Bill "Red" Cushman, Craig "Crosscountry" Kent, Mike "Gui" Byers [he lost two letters to his guide title during past ventures] and Rick "Mule" Peralta [youngster who agrees to carry lots of equipment]) to Lodgepole and a rendezvous with Al's cousin Dana Gawley. Dana and relatives endure both the hot trip from Clovis and the unexpected 9 mile winding route to the real drop zone at Crescent Meadow. Along the way to the trail head we encounter our first bear. Rick barks that four of us could probably take this bear. We envision a squealing, crying bear and a ranger punishing us for beating up his pet bear. No attempts are made to exit the car however. Lots of pre-hike pictures are taken and slowly we understand our plight as Dana vanishes in the distance. An easy walk of about two miles lands the group in a makeshift camp by nightfall. First camp meal showed real promise that this time our food would be appetizing and something to look forward to each day. This feeling was to pass.

Day 2 (hiking day 1):

Early breakfast and a scenic hike to Bearpaw Meadow. Reports of large bears in the area peak our interest because each of us is carrying a Wild Ideas canister. After reaching the camp and setting up tents we learn the bears were lured by termites in rotting tree stumps and limbs. Kinda like the ones right next to our tents that we have just erected. Later in the afternoon a couple arrives and questions us about taking over their site. No signs were obvious to us and the "site" was actually about 10 sites. They weren't from this area. We made peace and gave them the campfire for their meal preparation.

Day 3 (hiking day 2):

Off trail death march begins. Bearpaw to Tamarack and on to Lion Lake and camp on "The Ridge". Watch intently as Air Force Search and Rescue helicopter battles altitude, ridges and nightfall to pick up a severely injured trail chief who had fallen and broken numerous bones while working on a trail that will be used by hikers like us in the future. Off trail ventures really stink.

Day 4 (hiking day 3):

Continue off trail antics to Glacier Lake. Icebergs are floating in this lake. They are the size of football fields and one begins to move toward shore. Eventually this ice ship touchs shore and Bill decides that it would be great to crawl aboard. We are all aware of the risk posed by changing winds and freezing water. For a moment Bill is "King of the World" and photos are snapped before he scrambles back to safety. Just when we are all relaxing, Bill strips naked and dives into the icy waters. A Sierra tradition he says. One which will not catch on with me. Around the "campfire" (no wood here) it is quiet while we eat. We look at Bill who is suffering from altitude sickness. He quietly moans "momma". No place to pitch both the three man and two man tent so I end up sleeping in a moss lined cove next to bubbling and snorting icebergs. Nice moon. No mosquitos. Heavy winds which rip the others, but I am hundreds of yards away sheltered in my lonesome cove.

Day 5 (hiking day 4):

Having watched a group of Outward Bound trekkers find their way through a "pass" next to Triple Divide Peak, we altered our approach just a bit and made it to the ridgeline in about an hour. Probably an 800 foot elevation gain to 12,000 feet. Plenty of huge boulders trying to crush our little leg and ankle bones. No rock helmets. No ropes. No sense. Once at the top, we studied the best route to the next plateau. There is a challenge to skirt a cold tarn by traversing a snow field without the aid of cramp-ons or ice axes. One slip and it's into the cold pond. I don't think we shall reappear if we go in with 50 pound packs. Pictures are taken and off we go with appropriate trepidation. Safely reaching the objective, we are faced with another life threatening obstacle. Rick has offered to reconnoiter the best way down from our 12,000 foot level to the Kiweah-Kern basin. He has taken his pack along and Craig is worried because the topo (we have 20 foot long collection of fine topos) shows clearly that Rick will come to a very steep cliff. Calls are made for his return and Red Cushman searches an alternate route. After much discussion with lots of heat and just a smidgeon of light, Cushman returns with stories about a "path" wide enough for a four wheel drive vehicle to cruise to the bottom. Badgering ensues and the group follows Cushman. Very steep, but passable and after what seems like many hours, all five hikers have made it to the crystal clear waters of the Kiweah-Kern streams. A makeshift trail is used to eventually come to what can pass as a campsite and we begin to make food for the mosquitos to enjoy. The three man tent (AKA Ricksino) is used to play the card game Idiot and the dice game 10,000. Entry is allowed only after careful screening for mosquitos and a quick dive into the tent. Exit in the same manner is requested and the sight of Red Cushman diving and completing with a tumbling roll makes us imagine other campers remark "what a tough dice game".

Day 6 (hiking day 5):

The mutiny plan is unveiled by Rick and Al. Unhappy with the off trail experience, we plot to finish the remainder of the trek by Friday noon with really serious hiking. This would make the entire 75 miles a 6.5 day hiking feat. Mt. Whitney would still be captured. Mike cannot understand why we would want to turn this into a death march. We inform the Gui that we are already graduates of the Byers school of off trail death march and intend to finish with a fury. This is a safe thing to do because we have now reached the real trail again. We split up the fuel, matches, compasses and push off. Later discussions confirmed our suspicion that Bill, Craig and Mike planned to catch us that first day and mock our macho plan. Knowing this potential we work extra hard the first day and wind up 4-5 miles ahead and 2,000 feet higher than the crew we left. Camping was satisfactory near Wallace Creek. Very tired. Good sleep and an intense desire that someone be stationed at the Crabtree Ranger Station. This is the key to our escape--radio-telephone call to Diana for an unscheduled pick-up at Whitney Portal on Friday at noon.

Day 7 (hiking day 6):

Depart Wallace Creek and find the High Sierra/John Muir Trail. Proceed to the key Crabtree Ranger Station. These folks know better than to have a cabin near the trail. One must drop pack and walk down a steep bank, cross a creek on a log and walk up a steep trail to the cabin (not at all visible from the trail). I don't blame them. Erika (we call her goddess of the Sierra) is home and agrees to take notes for the radio call to Diana. Very terse message is sent "Pick up Rick and Al Friday noon at Whitney Portal Campground". Of course by the time relays are accomplished and Diana gets this call at her shop in Los Olivos it sounds more like a notice that something bad has happened and she began preparing for the worst case. She asked the ranger if everything was okay and the response was "I don't know, it just says pick them up." I'll be working off the bad marks for quite some time. Next time I'll remember to add two words "We're fine". Continue on to Timberline Lake and then Guitar Lake where we put up the tent for shade. Sleep for 2-3 hours and then eat some of that promising food. Promises, promises. Water up and start the many 100s of switchbacks which take us to the 13,500 foot windbreaks. Seems like we are on top of the world and why not? Nothing else in the lower 48 is higher once we do the remaining 1,000 feet by moonlight the next morning.

Day 8 (hiking day 6.5):

The bright moon awakens Rick and I at around 2:30 AM and we force down some calories, stuff our packs and set them inside the tent. Head lamps aid the moonlight as we walk gingerly past the three sets of portals towards the summit. Cold, dark and a disappearing trail make the final walk less than enjoying. Hut is full of hikers asleep and scattered tents all caddywompous mark the peak. We are ahead of sunrise and wait in the cold while my hands turn black and the sun eases up behind a layer of dark clouds. No good colors, but we have achieved our objective. The long walk down to Whitney Portal is about 7,000 feet elevation loss and a dozen miles. We have a car to meet and good food to collect in Lone Pine. I would not want to make the summit from Portal in one day. This would be too much work. Rick moves ahead of me by a good half hour in order to meet Diana. I tell him to watch for a blue Cadillac with a white top and probably Stacey driving. None of this is true. Diana took the day off work, rented a car and drove alone because she feared we were injured. They don't connect. Rick wanders to the camp store and is wondering what to do next when he hears the cashier say "You're from Santa Ynez?". They connect physically and mentally. Meanwhile Alpine Al is working his way down the switchbacks and when Diana sees him is quite upset because he is just fine. Several Powerades later Diana ferries the foul smelling hikers to the most beautiful barber shop on earth--or so it appeared to us. Hot showers for $4. No sign of the proprietor, but showers worked well and customers showed where to leave money. They were not upset that he was somewhere else in town and were sure that sometime that afternoon he would probably show up and cut their hair. Different lifestyle.

Great trek. Good field test for the Wild Ideas food canisters. Plenty of harmless wildlife. Beautiful wilderness scenes. Constant reminders of how important clean water is. Snow cones made from the icebergs at Glacier Lake. Erika the goddess of Sierra. Achieving our final push to leave Friday at noon instead of Sunday evening. Standing on top of the lower 48 while hands turned black. Good memories right up until the time I develop Altzheimer's. Also periodically interrupted by Diana's reminders that we should have done better with the radio message.

Next year's adventure will be Maroon Bells in Colorado. Five day circuit around them. 14,000 foot beauties.