Rainbow Rim (Grand Canyon)

I'm really getting behind in my posts. Hopefully I can catch up soon.

Back in June I went with some friends to Kamas with the hopes of doing Buckskin Gulch, one of the longest slot canyons in the world. We had a permit for our entire group, all the equipment we'd need, and two cars to be able to do a shuttle from one end to the other. The only thing we didn't have was clear skies.

The night before we were scheduled to drop into the gulch there was a flash flood. The ranger warned us that there would be knee-deep mud, shoulder-deep nasty pools, and possibly areas that were completely blocked off. Oh, and the road was washed out so we'd have to approach through Arizona.

After much thought and deliberation we determined that the dangers weren't worth the risk and that we'd try again another year. But we still had our backpacks loaded and ready to go so we had to find somewhere equally spectacular. The ranger suggested the Rainbow Rim in North Kaibab National Forest. It sounded like what we were looking for so we loaded back up and headed south to Arizona.

The Kaibab National Forest surrounds Grand Canyon National Park, and has a few areas that actually overlook the canyon. The Rainbow Rim is one of those areas. There are five big "fins" that stick out into the canyon with roads that head out to each one. There's a hiking/biking trail that connects each of the trailheads.

It's very primitive; we drove 40 miles on dirt roads to get there (they were nice dirt roads, though). There were so few people out there it was a little eerie. We hiked along the north rim of the Grand Canyon for 18.5 miles and only saw a handful of other people.

We drove both vehicles to the northernmost trailhead, then loaded everyone up into the truck and drove to the southernmost trailhead 20 miles away.

The hiking was pretty flat, but there were some places where we climbed a few hundred feet at a time. Looking at the map, we realized there would be 2 good places to sleep where we would likely have a great view of the canyon. The first was about 9 miles in and it would have been ideal. There were a few people who had driven in to that point and set up camp, but we could have shared the views. The problem was that 9 miles in would only put us halfway to the end of the trail.

We pushed on to the second area that looked good on the map that was about 12.5 miles in. It was a difficult first day, but it set us up really well for the hike out.

After we had camp set up and ate dinner we wandered around a bit looking for a good place to watch the sun set. We found a particularly perfect spot on a fin sticking about 100 feet out farther into the canyon with 1000' drops on 3 sides. It was amazing to see the light work its way across the formations in the canyon until the sun finally dipped below the horizon.

I was able to hang my hammock about 4' from the rim of the Grand Canyon. I would have been able to look out at the canyon all night but just before bed scattered rain storms came across the canyon (which was cool to see). Even though none of them hit us I figured it would make a lot of sense to put up the tarp just in case.

The next morning we packed up and started on the trail. We only had 6 miles to go to make it to the car and the end of the trail. We didn't stop much, except to take pictures at some amazing overlooks.

We all piled in the car and made the 20 mile drive to the truck back where we started. With about 5 miles left to go it started to hail. It varied between pea-sized and marble-sized, but there was so much of it the road turned into a river of hail. We were involved in what was going to become a flash flood downstream. It kept hailing for 20-30 minutes, during which time some of us had to jump out, grab packs from the trunk, and get in the truck. Fortunately I was driving the car and got to stay dry.

We heading back up the dirt road to Freedonia, then across the border to Kamas, and eventually to Parowan where we parted ways after an amazing adventure. We hiked (according to my GPS) 18.5 miles, climbing a few thousand feet (hard to say for sure), but ending up at the same elevation we started at. This was my first time seeing the Grand Canyon, but I can guarantee it won't be my last.

Pacific Crest Trail - Miles 324-342

For those of you who may not be familiar with the Pacific Crest Trail, it's a trail (unsurprisingly) that roughly follows the Pacific Crest, a chain of mountain ranges in California, Oregon, and Washington. The trail start at the Mexican border and ends at the Canadian border 2668ish miles away. As long as I've known about the trail I've wanted to hike the whole thing, whether in one 5-month epic journey or in the occasional weekend/weeklong trip.

Well, I finally got a chance to do a small part of the trail (about 0.7%). That's a pretty good start, though, right?

Annie won a ticket to a conference being held in California last weekend and things worked out such that we were both able to go. Because of the location of the conference we'd need to pass through Cajon Pass both going and coming back. Cajon Pass is where the Pacific Crest Trail crosses I-15, and there just happens to be a hotel there.

I'd been debating which section of trail to hike; there were a lot of things to consider: it's early in the season so my body may not be up to a long hike, but I had 32 hours to both hike and sleep and I wanted to make the most of it. I'd have to do a certain number of miles the first day to be able to find a suitable camping spot, so I'd have to be sure that the total miles for each day wouldn't be too much, or take too much time given the time constraints I had.

After much deliberation I settled on an 18-mile stretch between PCT Miles 324 and 342 (according to the quasi-official Halfmile maps (that would be starting 324 miles from the Mexican border). I had Annie drop me off on the side of Highway 173 just West of the Cedar Springs Spillway at Silverwood Lake. The weather report (which had been spectacular every day leading up to the day I left) said there would be high winds and a chance of rain. That's the first time I can remember the weather report being so right.

One unique aspect of long distance trails is that people who live near the trails like to do nice things for the hikers, helping them out however they can, often referred to as "trail magic". One common way they do this is by leaving food or water (sometimes ice cold) at places where hikers could use a boost. Not a half mile into my hike I came across my first "trail magic". There was a color with some fruit and bottles of water. There was also a notebook to sign in on; these notebooks act as registers so you can tell who's ahead of you on the trail. As I looked through the pages I noticed that only one person had passed before me that day.

The hiking was pretty easy, even with my heavyish pack. With water it was probably close to 30 pounds. It certainly could have been a lot heavier, but I'm hoping to get it lighter one day, too. Just a couple miles in I ran into a guy coming the other way. He looked like a very seasoned hiker; probably a few years younger than me. He asked if I was a thru-hiker (someone who does the whole trail non-stop in one season). I told him I was just doing a small section, but he still seemed excited to talk to me. He hiked the entire trail in 2014 and was doing certain sections southbound this year to try to run into as many thru hikers as he could. I wanted to ask if he ever worked, but it didn't flow naturally into the conversation. He was a very nice guy, though, and gave me a lot of good information about the miles to come.

The next couple miles followed the West side of Silverwood Lake, meandering around all the inlets, staying at about the same elevation for miles. 4.5 miles from where I started I came across the Cleghorn Picnic area, which looked really nice except for the heavy machinery ripping up the parking lot. I would have stopped anyway, just to check it out, but I knew I had a lot of miles to hike before dark. I didn't want to be setting up camp after the sun went down.

As I passed the picnic area, the trail ducked under Highway 138. As I was crossing past the exit ramp on the far side, trying to find the sign showing me where the trail went, a truck stopped at the intersection across from me. An older man hopped out of the driver's side and yelled across the road to me, "Hey, would you like an ice cold soda?"

That's all the invitation I needed. "I would love one," I replied. He opened up the back door of the truck and started digging through his cooler. In all he gave me a Ginger Ale (first one I've ever had; it was actually very refreshing), a Lunchables tuna pack, and a can of Pineapple juice. He said that he and his wife like to keep things on hand this time of year to give to the hikers as they come through the campground.

He also gave me directions on where I could top off my water supply, and how to rejoin the trail farther up the road. I was amazed at his generosity, even though I was only doing a night out on the trail.

I filled up my water, drank the Ginger Ale (while there were still garbage cans around to put the trash in), and kept hiking up the campground road to meet back up with the PCT. At one point it looked like I should have already passed where the road met the trail so I backtracked a bit looking for the sign, but couldn't find it. Eventually I just decided to keep heading up the road, and it wasn't long before I saw the trail again.

The trail is designed for hikers and horses so the average grade is less than 10% all along the trail (as far as I know). Most of the trails I hike here in Utah have a grade between 15% and 25%, sometimes more, so it was really nice to be on a trail that wasn't too steep. Of course the downside of the shallow grade is the distance. To climb up on top of a ridge the trail would wind around the canyon a couple times; never steeply, but it sometimes felt like I was walking miles to avoid a 25% quarter mile.

The trail eventually made its way out of the canyon with the campground and I was feeling really good. I had already hiked more than 8 miles, nearly half what I'd need to hike to make it to the hotel, and my body was in great shape. My feet didn't hurt, my back felt fine, my legs had all the energy I needed. I didn't expect to be feeling so good so early in the year. Maybe the elevation helped a little, too.

I started down into the next canyon and decided to have a "shoes off" break. I found a nice rock to sit on and took off my shoes and socks so I could check my feet for blisters or hot spots. They were just fine. I ate a Power Bar and took a few minutes to relax before hitting the trail again.

From the preparation I had done, I knew that the trail dropped to the bottom of Little Horsethief Canyon and that there should be good places to camp at the bottom. My goal for the day was to get there. The trail stubbornly stayed near the top of the ridge for miles, though. Finally, about 11.5 miles from where I started, I got to the bottom of the canyon and started looking around for a place to camp.

This year I added a hammock to my backpacking gear. Technically, it's a hammock, straps, a bugnet, and a tarp. All of that still weighs less than my tent, and is so much more comfortable. The only trick is finding a place to string it up. I also brought along a ground tarp to sleep on just in case I couldn't find any suitable trees, but I really wanted to sleep in the hammock.

After nearly a half hour of wandering I came across the only set of trees that would work. It was a really tight area, though, and took some real imagination to get the tarp to fit in between all the other trees. I wouldn't have bothered with the tarp if the weather had been better, but with the high winds and the possibility of rain I didn't want to risk not having protection.

Because the site was so tight I didn't have anywhere to set my stove to cook dinner so I just held it on my lap for the 3 minutes it took for the water to boil (JetBoils are great). Then, while the food rehydrated, I finished setting up camp: inflating my sleeping pad, pulling out the sleeping bag, etc.

I ate dinner, changed clothes, and climbed into the sleeping bag, only to get up another dozen times to adjust the tarp. Some time well after sunset I finally found the right fallen tree branches to attach it to (the ground was too cluttered to use stakes), and I put in my earplugs to drown out the wind and went to sleep. 

The next morning I woke up and checked my work e-mails. Yes, sadly I had cell service and a lot of code at work that had to be checked. I laid in the hammock a bit longer and actually fell asleep again. I had to have slept nearly nine hours. My typical night's sleep is 6.5-7 hours, and drops to 3 when I sleep in a tent. I'm glad I took the extra time to find a hammock site.

It didn't take long to break camp and eat some breakfast. I changed back into my hiking clothes and started back on the trail. Within a mile I felt two nice big fat blisters appear on my feet. It wasn't a surprise, I guess, but it made the last 6 miles difficult.

The trail started getting into areas with a little more human activity. There were some dirt roads with ATVs and motorcycles driving up and down, power lines running overhead, and the regular blowing of a train whistle.  The miles were much more difficult than they were the day before, but I still kept up a good 2.5mi/hr pace.

The wind was ferocious, though. It was blowing in from the South and would hammer the South-facing slopes. The trail moved from one side of the ridge to the other, shielding me from the wind half the time and throwing me to the wolves the other half. Of course, then there were the times when the trail went right on top of the ridge and the wind would blow even harder.

Still, the whole hike I felt very fortunate to be able to be out there, and experienced a few hours of absolute peace. I had no worries or problems except to figure out what I was going to order at the McDonald's restaurant at Cajon Pass.

Just before the trail ducks under I-15 there's a sign showing the distance to Canada: 2296 miles. I be back to finish those miles another day.

Just past that last sign the trail splits.

It was .4 miles to the McDonald's where I ordered a Jalapeno double, a ten pack of McNuggets, a large fry and a drink. Then topped it off later with a McFlurry. Mmm... It was enough food that I even skipped dinner entirely.

It felt really awkward walking into the McDonald's, though. I was the only smelly hiker in there, and felt about 10 feet tall. Everyone was staring at me. It was an odd feeling. After I ordered, though, an older guy came up and introduced himself as a hiker. He was coming from the North and had already spent the night, and was planning to spend the next night as well. He told me all about the conditions for the next 50 miles, what places to be sure to see, where to camp, how the water sources looked. I didn't have the heart to tell him I was done, but he made me feel much less out-of-place while I waited for my food.

I spent about an hour at McDonald's eating and making people feel awkward, then started walking up the street to the hotel. It was a steep road, and my feet were killing me. Just a little past the McD's a guy in a pickup truck beckoned me over. We talked for a bit. He asked if I was a thru hiker and what my plans were. He said he was out there to find hikers and supply them with treats. The entire passenger seat was filled with candy bars, cookies, fruit, etc. He offered me whatever I wanted, but I declined since I was already done hiking. It amazed me that he'd give up his Saturday to go sit by the side of the road hoping to help someone out.

As I limped into the hotel the lady behind the desk offered me the hiker rate ($10ish less than the AAA rate). I told her I was done with my hike and didn't deserve the hiker rate--I wasn't going on--but she insisted that I was a hiker no matter how few miles I walked.

It was a great hike, and a great way to start my hike on the Pacific Crest Trail. I hiked 18 PCT miles (about 19.5 total miles), climbed 3000 feet, and slept like a baby for 9 hours. Just 2650 miles to go.

White Pine Lake - Maybe a Little Too White

When I first started hiking a couple years ago one of the first trails on my list was the trail to White Pine Lake in Little Cottonwood Canyon. Its relatively gentle slope and long length intrigued me a bit and I always wanted to go. The trail is five miles to the first view of the lake (don't believe the sign at the trail head that says it's only four. The trail starts at the White Pine Trail parking lot (pretty easy to remember) and climbs up over 10,000 feet.

Fortunately I was able to convince my brother-in-law Shawn to hike with me. I'm still a little leery about camping alone so far up, so it was nice to have some company. Plus, since he's in better shape than me he kept me moving forward even when I wanted to stop.

This time of year is always a little difficult for backpacking since all the highest elevations still have snow. We chose White Pine because there are quite a few good camping spots on the way up so if we were unable to make it all the way to the lake we'd be able to find a spot to sleep without heading all the way back home.

The trail begins by dropping a couple hundred feet to the river, then slowly climbs to the West for about a mile. At this point there's a sign pointing left for White Pine, and left for Red Pine. Yes, you read that right. The Redd Pine trail turns left also, but a few feet past the White Pine turn off.

We saw quite a few people on our way up to the junction, but very few after. I don't think White Pine is nearly as popular as Red Pine, but it certainly should be. 

The trail has a few switchbacks and you gain elevation pretty quick, but within a mile from the junction the ground levels out a bit and there are some level areas where the hiking isn't too bad.

The picture above is the first time we saw where we were going. You can sort of make out the trail on the left side of the picture up in the snow. White Pine Lake sits just to the right of center behind the hill.

We saw a few more people as we climbed higher; a lot of them running the trail (crazies). About 3.5 miles in we stopped and talked to a couple that had been up at the lake. We asked how the snow was and if there would be any place to camp. They said that it was mostly snow-covered, but that there were already two tents up there and there might possibly be enough dry land for another one. That wasn't encouraging.

About 4 miles in we hit the snow. We had been climbing over small patches here and there, but our luck had run out. We would have to climb a couple hundred feet up a snow field to get to the lake.

In the above picture you can see the footprints on the right, and the trail up higher in the snow. In the picture below we're standing on the trail at the top looking back down to where we started in the snow.

The views from up on top were spectacular, though. We were over 10,000 feet (I forgot to check and see exactly how high) and just below some of the highest peaks in the Wasatch. The snow, though tricky and arduous to climb through, made the mountains look even more majestic and beautiful.

The next picture I took the next morning, looking back at the snowy trail. It was about half snow and half rocks, but the steep slope made it a little spooky on the snowy parts.

We dropped down into the little valley with White Pine Lake at the bottom. Most of the ground was covered in snow, and the only bare spots we could see already had tents. We kept sliding down the snow till we were almost at the lake and found a small patch of bare ground big enough and level enough for two tents. It even had a nice rock to cook dinner on.

We got camp set up, cooked dinner, and settled in for a cold night. After the sun went down about 9:00pm my thermometer dropped quickly from 70 down to 50. It was going to be cold. Every time I woke up during the night I checked the thermometer; it never dropped below 40.

In the morning the temperature had climbed all the way to 50 by 7:00am. We got up, ate breakfast, repacked our bags and headed out by 8:00am. The trip down was uneventful, except that the snow was much icier than it was the night before.

We made it back to the truck at about 10:15 and headed home to rest.

We ended up hiking a total of 10.3 miles, and climbed 2700 vertical feet or so.

Four Lakes Basin

All year I've been preparing to do a long multi-day hike in the Uintas. I didn't have any idea where I'd go, who I'd go with, or when, but I knew I wanted to go out for a couple nights and hike a long distance. After a lot of research and mind-changing I finally decided on Four Lakes Basin from the Highline Trailhead near Mirror Lake in the Uintas.

I invited brother-in-law Shawn along and last Friday we took the day off work and headed to the mountains. The weather forecast a week ago said that the storminess we had been having would be gone Thursday, so I figured we'd be fine to go Friday - Sunday morning. The storminess persisted a lot longer than anyone thought, however, and we ended up running into some rain.

We drove through heavy rain to get to the trailhead, but it cleared out and blue skies appeared as we began our hike. We were each carrying a bit more gear than we normally would to be extra prepared for the rainy weather. We were also carrying enough food for two nights rather than the one night we'd normally do. I weighed my pack full the night before and it came in at 33 pounds with food and water. I tossed in a couple things last minute so it could have been a bit heavier than that.

About a half mile (I honestly can't remember how far) into the hike we entered the High Uintas Wilderness. I guess we'd been in the Low Uintas Wilderness up to that point. Or maybe we were just in the mountains. Either way, we were now officially hiking in the High Uintas.

The hike was pretty uneventful at first. We were able to see a few views down into the valley. We couldn't see any of the mountain peaks with the clouds so low, but we tried to imagine what the mountains looked like. I believe the blue sky in the picture below is the last blue we saw.

A storm had just hit the trail before we started so the trail was soaked. Where ever there wasn't a rock there was mud. Some of the puddles were so big we had to find paths through the trees to get around. That definitely slowed us down a bit.

The trail starts at about 10,350 feet, and drops over a mile or so to 9,900 feet. From there it goes up and down, staying between 9,900 and 10,100 feet for 4 or 5 miles. On the way in we didn't mind the ups and downs too much. On the way back the ups were much more difficult than they had been the day before.

About 2 miles in there's a turn off to Scudder Lake. It was close enough to the trail that we could see it through the trees. It looked pretty inviting, and we actually considered staying there the second night.

There were a few big open meadows along the trail. It looked like they were probably full of water and might actually be lakes earlier in the season. It was nice to occasionally get a view through the trees, though.

About four miles in we saw the turn off to Naturalist Basin. It marked the approximate midpoint of our hike, so it was exciting to see the sign. Our original plan had been to stay in Naturalist Basin the second night, but we ended up changing our plans when the storm rolled in.

The trail seemed much better maintained up to the Naturalist Basin turn off. From there we started seeing more and more trees blocking the trail. They weren't ever hard to get by, but all the trees had been cut and removed from the trail prior to the Naturalist Basin turn off.

About 5.5 miles into the hike the rain started. It started out pretty light, and we briefly thought we could just wait it out, but as it got heavier we realized we'd just have to tough it out. We pulled out the ponchos and the garbage bags and tried to protect ourselves against the rain as best we could. Another mile in the rain got much heavier. It was at this point that our feet got wet. I've always believed that as long as your feet stay dry while you're hiking you can still be happy, but that once your feet get wet it's hard to be happy. That certainly seemed to be the case.

When we reached the turn off for Rocky Sea Pass the rain turned ugly. We hid under a tree for a bit trying to decide what to do. We were more than 6.5 miles in--about two miles from our intended destination, or 6.5 miles from the car. We decided to keep going and hope for 30 minutes of no rain to get camp set up when we arrived.

To get to  Four Lakes Basin you have to go up over a small pass and then drop down into the basin. Well, the "small pass" takes you up to 10,940 feet or so. We had about 1000 feet to climb over the last 3ish miles. In the rain. On a muddy trail.

Once we got over the pass we could see two of the four lakes. The picture above is Jean Lake. We camped near the southern edge of the lake (really the first adequate camp site we could find).

Fortunately the rain stopped as we started setting up camp. We got our tents set up and got dinner cooking before the rain started again. Shawn had the bigger tent (mine barely holds me) so we both sat in his tent to eat dinner.

Then we waited for the rain to stop. We had planned to hike around the lakes without our packs as soon as the rain stopped. The next picture is the view we had from the tent through the rain. You can't see them in this picture, but there were 5 mountain goats up on the cliff between the trees. We watched them for hours waiting for the rain to stop.

Here's a self-portrait sitting in the tent. With two jackets on. I would have been wearing a hat, but it was completely soaked. In fact it's still wet a day after getting home.

At around 8:00 I ventured over to my own tent and climbed inside. I left my soaked shoes in the vestibule hoping they'd be able to dry a little by morning. At least they wouldn't get rained on.

I pulled out some dry socks, long pants, and a warm cap and climbed into my sleeping bag. My feet were still freezing from the hike through the rain and mud. It took more than an hour before they felt warm enough to allow me to comfortably sleep.

When I sleep out in the mountains I like to wear ear plugs. Otherwise every noise seems so loud and even the slightest noise will wake me up. Apparently after we went to bed another group with horses set up camp a couple hundred feet from us. I didn't hear them at all. In the morning I looked out toward the lake and saw their horses and tents and was utterly confused.

We survived the night and discussed our plans for the rest of the trip. As I said, our original plan was to hike back 4 miles to the Naturalist Basin turn off and head a couple miles up to one of the lakes there. That would have been a 6-6.5 mile day, and left us about the same distance to get back to the car the next day. We also considered hiking to Scudder Lake which would have been 6-6.5 miles, but leaving us only 2 miles back to the car the next day.

We packed up camp still not sure what to do. We didn't want to spend another night out in the rain, soaked and unable to even see anything. We determined that if the skies cleared and we were able to dry out by the time we hit Scudder Lake we'd stay there, saving the Naturalist Basin for another trip.

The farther we hiked the harder the rain fell until about a mile before Scudder Lake. The rain stopped, but the skies still looked threatening. It wasn't enough to convince us to stay another night. By this point the idea of having dry feet was too tempting, so we continued past Scudder Lake and headed for the car.

The last couple miles were difficult. We had to gain about 400 feet to get back to the car, and we had already hiked over 15 miles in less than 24 hours. We were exhausted and still had heavy packs (we still had that extra day of food in them). About a half mile from the car we could hear cars driving on the road. That gave us the extra little push we needed to climb the last little bit.

We got in the car just as the rain worsened (it started up again about the time we heard the cars). We drove through multiple storms back to civilization and surprised our wives with an early return. I think they were happy we didn't push it another day.

In all, we hiked 17.25 miles in just over 24 hours with nearly 3300 feet of climbing. We saw numerous lakes, the lower half of a lot of mountains, 5 mountain goats, and tons of clouds. At least it wasn't buggy, and we didn't get sunburned. Now I'm just waiting for my prunes to turn back into toes.

Lakes Florence, Blanche, and Lillian

In an attempt to get another night out in the woods under my belt I asked my neighbor Casey if he'd like to do a backpacking trip sometime. We both had this weekend free, and as it turned out the mountains were still there. There are always a lot of good places to hike here in Utah and we picked one of the best ones. 

We made it to the trail head by 4:45pm, a bit earlier than I thought we might, being a work day and all. There was one parking spot left (maybe two) when we got there and we pulled right in. It still amazes me how quick and easy it is to get up into the mountains here.

We took the Lake Blanche trail from the Mill B South parking area. The trail starts out on a steepish paved trail for about 1/4 mile, then the dirt trail branches off from the paved trail and gets even steeper. Our goal was to get to Lake Blanche with enough time to set up camp and cook dinner before the sun went down. The sunset in the valley is right around 8:30, but we knew we'd be losing light before that.

If you're unfamiliar with the Lake Blanche area, there are actually three lakes at the top of the trail: Blanche, Florence, and Lillian. Blanche is by far the most spectacular with Sundial Peak shooting 1500' up from the lake, but the other two are worth the climb even if Blanche wasn't there. The interesting thing with these three lakes is that you have to hike to the highest lake first, then hike down to the others. As a result, almost nobody goes past Lake Blanche. 

In the image above it looks like the last mile of the trail goes straight up the side of the mountain. That's not an illusion. It's steep. According to my GPS data, the trail averages a nearly 17% grade, with the last 3/4 of a mile averaging 23%. I like trails in the 10% range.

We made slow progress up the trail. It's a lot different to carry up an additional 25 pounds. Hopefully by next summer I can lose 25 pounds from my front to make it easier to carry 25 pounds on my back. It was also extremely hot. I doubt the temperature dipped below 90 the whole way up. We were dripping sweat by the time we arrived.

Despite all of our short rests, we made it to Lake Blanche by 7:00pm, making the trip 2.25 hours. I did it without a pack last year in 2. We were very impressed with ourselves for making the climb. According to the GPS, we hiked 3.4 miles (note the 2.8 miles on the sign above... liars) to the lake and climbed 2700 feet (they got that part right on the sign).

As soon as we made it to Lake Blanche we started looking for a good place to camp. Last year I had seen a few good spots up on the hill to the North of the lake, but none of them looked very good to me this year. Camping spots can look great until it comes to throwing down your pack and setting up camp. Thinking about sleeping there can really change your perspective.

Since we arrived so early we decided to keep looking. There were a couple places that would work up near Blanche, but nothing really jumped out at us. We followed the trail down near Lake Florence (the next one down) and found the most perfect camping spot I've ever seen.

We didn't even have to keep looking. It was perfect. There was a small grassy area--easily big enough for both of our tents, surrounded by large rocks with an amazing view down the canyon.

Shortly after we arrived the sun dipped below the ridge as we set up our tents.

Casey went down to the lake to pump some water so he'd have something to drink that night, and got water for his dinner. Not having a filter, I packed nearly 4 liters of water up the mountain (that's 8 pounds of water). In the above picture Casey's coming back up from the lake.

The above picture shows the little waterfall that comes down from Lake Blanche and fills Lake Florence. We got to listen to the sounds of the waterfall all night.

We both cooked Mountain House meals. By cooked I mean we boiled water and poured it into the bag and let it sit for 8-9 minutes. While the food was rehydrating we hiked over to some rocks overlooking the big dropoff into the canyon and we ate dinner there while the sky darkened.

After chatting for awhile under a bright moon we each went to our tents and went to sleep.

When you think of sleeping in the mountains, you think it'll be cold, right? It wasn't. It was hot all night. I think we both got a bit of sleep, though, and no bears came through camp, so that's a plus. In fact, there was hardly a sound, hardly a breeze, hardly a speck of light after the moon dropped below the horizon. It was extremely peaceful.

Around 7:00am I got out of bed and got dressed. The sun was starting to lighten the sky and I wanted to get some good pictures of the sunrise. I see the sunrise most days on my way to work lately, but I'm usually cursing it for shining in my eyes as I'm trying to drive East. This was one sunrise I could enjoy.

The above picture is looking to the North at the ridge between Millcreek and Big Cottonwood Canyons. The canyon in the bottom of the picture is what we walked up.

After eating some breakfast and taking down camp we each filtered some water so we'd have something to drink on the way down. We took a little side trip all the way down to Lake Lillian just to see it up close, and then climbed back up to Lake Blanche. There were already a couple dozen people at Lake Blanche (but only one group of really quiet people near Lake Lillian--like I said, few people ever go past Blanche). As we descended we ran into about 50 more people in various states of exhaustion. We talked to a few people a little more than just the customary, "Hey, how's it going?" People seemed excited that we had spent the night up there (but they seemed equally glad that they weren't carrying our packs).

It was a great, relaxing trip. Casey and I seem to have very compatible backpacking styles, and I love being able to pick his brain about backpacking; he has a lot more experience than I do.

In all, we hiked 7.8 miles and climbed over 3000' (2700' to Blanche, then another couple hundred to get back up to the main trail). For the year, I've hiked right near 58 miles, 20 of those with a full pack.