Kings Canyon backpacking trip, 2002.

About three weeks before my 10-year high school reunion, I went on a week-long backpacking trip with some friends - Silver Divide loop out of Lake Edison. I had only car camped before this trip so I was a bit anxious about the logistics, the altitude and the pace we would be attempting (average 8-12 miles/day with 35 pound packs). But, okay, whatever. The friends I went with had done these types of hikes a zillion times so I was fairly optimistic, and I'd been pretty active at the gym for several months so it seemed like a reasonable endeavor.

I remember being at their house the night before we left. We were packing up our gear, and when I tried on my stocked pack for the first time I felt the blood drain from my body. There is just no way I am going to be able to do this, I thought. But I kept my reservations to myself figuring I'd either find a way, or I'd hang out at Lake Edison for a week while they had their adventure. That didn't sound so bad either.

The first day out, my concerns were still valid. We started mid-day and only went about 4 miles but it was pretty much straight up and I was hurting. The second day was pretty intense as well, but on day three we left our heavy packs at the campsite to check out a few lakes nearby. A 5-pound pack for a few hours, after a 35-pound pack for three days? I felt like skipping. In fact, I think I did.

Minnie Lake

Day four and five we saw so many amazing lakes, it reached a point where we'd look up, say, "oh, look at that amazing lake," and keep walking.

Glen Lake, near Purple lake, which really is purple when the sun sets (photos do no justice)

On the sixth day we reached the top of a particularly difficult summit and I remember exclaiming, "I feel GREAT!" My friend said it was because my muscles and lungs had finally adjusted. I thought it had more to do with the constant lack of oxygen. But I felt ready and willing to go another week.

It was pretty much downhill (literally) from there, and on the last night we camped at Mott Lake.

Mott Lake

This could very well be my favorite lake ever. Not just because it was at the end of a grueling week... I can't say why, exactly, but the serenity I felt at this lake was like nothing I'd felt before. Not sure I've felt it since, either.

One of the friends has since parted ways but I still enjoy memories of this trip, and I often look back at my photos and at the map he gave me. It was definitely the most physically challenging activity I'd ever attempted - and I survived. (And step class at the gym the next week? Piece of cake!) It was also the most subtle natural beauty I'd ever experienced.

The other friend hiked the Pacific Crest Trail a few years ago, where 20-mile days were the norm for six months straight. I simply cannot imagine living through that and it fills me with pride to know that she did. So while I probably won't embark upon such a trek, I'd like to do another week(ish)-long trip at some point, perhaps in my dear Rockies. What say you, Ghost?