We had just spent two and half weeks tracing the Klondike gold rush trail from Alaska to the Yukon, testing ourselves against the elements and spending 14 nights in a micro-mini tent.
As we ascended from sea to summit on the Chilkoot Trail my thoughts wandered back to the footsteps that came before us, back to the Klondike gold seekers of the 1890’s, and even further back, to the original bushwhackers who created and controlled the trail centuries ago.
“This is awesome!” seven year old Chase exclaimed excitedly. What got him so excited? Disneyland? Action figures? Trucks? No, he was building a dam in a shallow creek to catch the elusive fingerling trout slipping by. We were deep in the Granite Chief Wilderness on a multi-day backpacking trip and his face reflected pure joy …
“How much longer? Are we almost there?” The familiar refrain from our godchildren came, not in a car, but in the Sierra wilderness, as they shouldered heavy backpacks and bent toward the granite formations as we neared the summit, having gained 1,000 feet of elevation in about 2 miles when we went backpacking to Loch …
This trip to Hellhole Reservoir in the Granite Chief Wilderness won’t qualify for the worst trip in the annals of backpacking because no one was seriously or mortally injured, but in our combined history, this was the worst trip ever for my husband and me. A combination of minor mishaps, lost trails, illness and topography …