Just arrived home from what is surely my last backback adventure/fiasco. It was 20 some years ago I gave up backpackpacking for a good nights sleep. But my youngest daughter(now 19 years old) has been after me for maybe 5 years to take her on her first backpacking trip. First she used the "daddy" coo that baby daughtes are so good at. Then she resorted to another well practiced method, the gilt trip, "You took my brother and sisters on their first trips."
What's a dad to do? I picked a very gentle trail about 5 hours from home into Soldier Lakes. We drove 10-12 miles off the highway on smaller and smaller mountain dirt roads until we came to a washout from flash flooding. The road was simply gone with a gaping hole where it use to be. It was another 11 mile hike just to get to the trail head. Change of plans. Headed to another trail a couple hours away that I haven't done for 39 years. I cannot believe how much taller and steeper that moutain had grown in those 39 years.
The trail went straight up for 2 miles and practically disappeared into a rocky trough a foot and half deep for another what seemed like 17 miles. Every muscle in my 59 year old body was screaming you foolish fat fellow! What are you thinking? You don't belong up here. Then the muscle cramps started. First to knot up into a pretzel was my right calf.Then it was my left pectines or adductor(I get those two confused. My left Biceps femoris joined the party soon to be joined by the right of the same name along with the right pectines/adductor(you choice). After that the left calf was feeling left out so he joined the group. We were still a mile away from what I remember being a lush, lakeside setting with a nice spring within a few yards for drinking water. It was a very long and slow mile. I really was thinking at this point that death was a fine option. But that would be pretty hard on my daughter.
We finally made the 3 miles into the lake. The area was totally burned by last years fires, the ground black, ugly black snags where the trees used to be and the water still somewhat ashy.The spring was there but due to the drought the flow was reduce to not much more that a drip.
By then it was almost dark so we set up camp for a very long night rolling around on rocks and sticks, trying my best to keep my more tender parts of me on a sleeping pad 14 inches wide and 1/2 inch thick. I don't know what idiot named them sleeping pads. There was no sleeping on my part for sure.
And just for your information I'm a lot wider than 14 inches no matter which angle you measure from.
The whole affair gave me yet a deeper love for my teadrop.