The Perfect Trip

I wrote this a couple of years ago now, recounting a trip I took in 81 or 82. The dates are sketchy for obvious reasons, there was a lot of the 80's that I just know it was the 80's.

This article includes description of the ingestion of controlled substances. It is also one of the most cherished memories of my life experience. It is not a debate on drug use, just a story I wish to share with my friends.

Where is Mr. Peabody, and his sidekick, Sherman when you need them ? Into the wayback machine we go. It must have been '81 as my new '80 "Dodge" Challenger was not quite too shiny take camping. The Dodge is quoted, as it was a Mitsubishi with nameplates, but a badass little car with a 2.6 4 banger that was a monster for the day. I include that at this point as a time reference not much more. I did like that car.

My "friends list" started to increase as I graduated from high school and many were a tad older as some of my brothers friends decided I was cool enough to have around. My skill at the poker table in the beginning had nothing to do with that I am sure.

This group was discussing a back country pack trip that several had participated in before and was on the way to become a tradition.

Count me in, I said. I don't have a knife, a pack, a sleeping bag, a tent, Not a worry, I was working in computers ! I was being well compensated at the time for working with dinosaurs, so it worked out. I went down to the shiny new REI. I think it was the second or third store they opened, and got over outfitted. The boots at $85 in 81 were worth every penny. Do NOT skimp on your feet, especially when your life may depend on them.

The "plan" was to start at the Agnew Meadows trail head, About 6 or so miles up a fairly gentle pass to Garnet Lake, and establish Base Camp. When we arrive at the ranger station, we are informed that the trail has been fully booked, we can wait for a day, perhaps two to pursue that route to our intended destination. OR we could go over the backside from the Rush Creek Trail head and start today, Hmmm.

Since we were in Mammoth Lakes anyway, a trip to the Devil's Postpile was fun and fascinating and we headed for the June Lake Loop. The Loop is perhaps my favorite place on earth. It can be some of the most beautiful scenery on the planet, and I have been blessed with multiple visits. We were then presented with the Rush Creek Trailhead. Oh dear. The photo I have is hiding from me atm, I have a hard copy I will not be denied.

That slash mid center between the peaks was the "pass" we had to navigate with 100+ pound packs. Oh to be young and stupid again.
2 plus full days straight up the side of this mountain with way overloaded packs, we were supposed to be taking a day hike with a long extension. I had a 20 pound inflatable boat on my pack. It did pay it's way as I collected more fish than the weight over the trip, from it. Just as a side note: The above photo was taken from the road on a subsequent visit to Grant Lake, and this was a foothill. We crested this beast in about 5 hours from here and the next ridge was bigger, and just as rugged. Oh dear. Odd thing, we were not carrying any photo equipment. I had some pretty sophisticated stuff for the time, but it was much too heavy and delicate to risk in the back country. Point and shoot was beneath me. (a little slack please, they were pretty bad at the time)

A little geography before we continue. The area we were in is designated The Minarets Wilderness Area. It was a permitted wilderness area when I was there. I am not sure of the status today. We did not influence that. North of Mammoth, just a couple of ridge lines from Yosemite proper, including the Donner Pass.

It took us almost 3 full days to establish our base camp at Garnet Lake. Day 4 was a lot of napping and whining about OUCH.

It was hard not to jump into the complaining over the pain, but here we were, in god's country and alive. A good nap cures that, the lactic acid buildup, not so much.

A meteorologic anomaly occurred that year. A storm ran through and dropped 6-8" of snow in the Eastern Sierra on the 4th of July weekend. I think we departed on the 9th. Was originally planned as about an 20 day trip. I think we called it at 17 after burning so much food and energy going over the hill. We actually had a snowbank in a sheltered crevice next to camp. Used it for cold storage of the fish one of the first nights. Oops. The marmots were our friends from there out, wiki says they are are more herbivores, these guys liked trout. Bears eat vegetables too, glad they did not take any interest. Odd that we would be smart and careful enough to hang our packs on the first day out, then bury a pile of fish 30' from camp. Oops.

One of the members of the party was to be commemorating his birthday at the approximate midpoint of the journey. Some fungus was on the menu. We all got up nice and early and fished hard securing nourishment. We did all the prep that involved edged instruments and precooked just about everything. I was still the kitchen bitch but that did not deter me, I was good at it and the smiles at mealtime was payback threefold. We were were ready like boy scouts.

There was this huge rock that was around 100 yards from our camp. There was a pile of boulders the was like a staircase behind it making access stupid easy. The rock itself perhaps extended 20' below the waterline. BFR. (Big Freaken Rock)

On this day, having secured food and shelter, we consumed the mushrooms on top of this rock.

Yes, dogshit may taste better, and I can't say there was not an element there, but l don't have a reference sample.

The beauty of this perfect storm was the valley where this lake is located, The lake itself is around 9k' in elevation and we were free from caring what the the rest of the world was doing.

The Majesty of viewing the valley was unique, as we looked to the south, to view the north facing slopes with the partial snow cover, which was almost complete,with the sparse pines and boulder piles jumping out in stark relief. Stark relief is quite the understatement once the effects started to become apparent. That direction was also the view across the lake, add the reflections and a few ripples, the game is afoot.

Turn to the west, and we have the Towering Banner peak, at 12,936 feet. A tiny photo on wiki here. But that is where we were.

Turn to the north and see the south facing slops in full summer glory, The birds, butterflies, and all the rest of the fauna going nuts, flowers in bloom. The top of the ridge was leaping off into the crystal horizon in waves. Watching the wind tickle the trees and tracking the gusts across the forest. Oh wait, watch that gust come through the aspens and spin around and watch it dance across the lake. You can't see the wind?, Balderdash, you just need to know how to look.

The view to east, some dense pines obscuring any real spectacular views, and our camp. 3 out of 4 ain't bad. To be able to choose what direction you watched was amazing, and none disappointed.

One of the things, which contributes to the unfortunate outcomes of experimentation with such substances is they do not have an immediate effect. Patience Grasshopper.

So, here I am, on a BFR, having ingested mushrooms in one of the most beautiful pieces of nature I can imagine. I am not high on the mushrooms yet. I should walk back to camp and bring the boat over. I make my way down the rock pile and around the bank of this small cove we were calling home. This raft, (I will no longer dignify it as a boat) was advertised as a two man craft. I am 5'7" and when I sat in it upright I went end to end with legs extended. Two man if the men are 7 maybe. I unlash it from it's tree, nasty gusts can come anytime in the passes, take it the waters edge and embark on my 100-200 yard journey. At this time I think all is normal, I got nothin, those were bogus man.

A few pulls on the oars and I'm away from the shore. I notice some activity behind our campsite. What the heck ? Here comes about a dozen of Japanese Tourists with their little day packs, all the Nikons, and the knee socks. Now they are all taking pictures of the maniac who carried a raft up here. About that point the trees started dancing and the hills started sliding. I started giggling to the point of near incapacitation. The ability to pull the ping pong paddles called oars in any useful manner had pretty much departed, and I was about to pee myself from laughing so hard. I made it, but it was funny and an adventure. Our party was once again united on the rock. The tourists for some reason headed down the hill pretty quickly.

We lounged on the rock for several hours with little if any conversation, each of us communing with the incredible place of beauty we had placed ourselves in, and connecting to the forces that made it all possible, whatever that was to each of us.

As we were approaching the end of our journey, out of the blue, literally, here comes a F4 Phantom from the northwest at close to 600 knots from behind us. If he was 500 feet off the level of the lake, I'm a smurf. They were running hard terrain avoidance drills out of China Lake and another base that escapes me, but they ran the canyons hot and low. He was there and gone so fast and so loud, we all turned to each other, you saw that too ? Then his wing-man came though, Yes, Yes, I did see a Puddytat.

The sun was getting low, and we could all likely depart the rock with a high probability of survival. Tied the boat up over there, fool me once... Headed back for dinner. We had a wonderful dinner of pasta with a very meaty trout spaghetti sauce. It was really closer to trout chili two ways, you must use what is available in the wild. It was wonderful. A good nights sleep, and tomorrow we summit Banner. Because it's there. And so are we.

We were already running low on foodstuffs we packed in as we had missed 3 days of fishing in our pack in. There was almost no fishable waters coming up the hill. I did impress my colleagues on day 2 by tossing a fly on a castabubble into a puddle, coming up with a small brook trout. It was not a good morning for him, but there was some flavor in the powdered eggs.

There was evidently a tree or some major snag not far below or from the rock perch we were using for fishing. We lost almost all of the fishing lures in the party. Not a good thing when your master plan includes fish as the protein for 10 days of survival. We would not starve to death before we could get out, but this is vacation dammit, no 800 calorie days here please. You can throw me off a cliff, dump me in the river and wedge me under a log, (We actually had one of those on day 2, Good thing there was 4 of us watching and could help).

Somebody has to go to town, or we all go home 10 days early. Now if you were paying attention our original route was supposed to be about 6 miles, as the crow flies mind you, but it is not undoable as a day hike, as was proven by my tourist friends. We had vehicles at both trail heads, so that was not an issue. The guy who went under the log was the first to volunteer.

Oddly he was was one of the most experienced of the party, and came closest to death, when the call came he answered. I still had blister problems, my bitchin boots were very good but were not fully broke in. Ray's knee was gone before we left. The others would have no clue, as they had not been here, that would have worked against me to, Steve was the only guide with legs that worked.

He saddles up his empty day pack and full boda bag and is off, we wish him success and safe journey, and wait our fate.

Somewhere short of 6 hours later Steve appears on the incoming trail, His daypack seems to be heavy, It is laden with tackle, foodstuffs that make sense, and a 6 pack of BEER! AND a dozen Fresh Eggs. As there was 5 of us Steve got 2 beers, I would stretch the eggs as far as possible, and the the tackle shop closed early because he bought half the store. A bit of tomato paste, dried beans, a shaker of dill. That was not on the original list of supplies, nice touch, and one of those squeezey lemons. A major faux pas in a gourmet kitchen, mana from heaven on the trail.

We now have a safe reserve to continue the trip at a comfortable level. The trip was originally planned for 20 days. We became concerned 9 days in as our rationing did not match our projections. We took action and fixed the supply problem to ensure our margin of safety. As a group, we decided to head back 2 days early, mostly longing for a hot shower, You can maintain hygiene in 40 degree water, it is not particularly pleasant.

When we packed out, taking every morsel of our existence there with us that we could, we took the short road. An amazing gentle trail through groves of aspen with gentle slopes and babbling brooks that looked full of fish. Oh okay, this was how we were meant to go up the mountain. I could do it this way again. I never did. I would die now if I tried. No matter how hard you work at it, it is difficult to appreciate the truly unique moments you experience in your life, or even realize they need to be appreciated.

Many trout were killed and consumed in the making of this story. We never exceeded our bag limit, and were properly licensed and permitted. Sorry, that's how I roll, in this case it was in fact survival. I don't even like trout as a foodstuff, but I have never had it prepared by a master. Mostly because if I was in the house with a master, the last thing I would order is Trout. I prefer catch and release for freshwater, and most saltwater. Give me a 70lb bluefin, best bring the soy and wasabi.

To sit on the rock and look at summer and winter at the same time. To have toiled so hard to be there, to have 2 F4 Phantoms run the gorge at 600mph. Wowser wasn't looking for that. Lets just sit here and watch the mountains melt and drift. BAM just subsonic warplanes passing thru. Bit of a shock if you're not quite dead, but quick (credits to Monty Python)

This day and overall experience cured me of Psychedelics. Sometimes perfect is enough.

I will add the art later, This was harder than I thought