he says:
It’s funny how emotions can shade an experience. Rolling east out of Eureka, headed toward the Trinity Alps, the road was miserably windy, faithfully following the Trinity River to the Pacific. None of the ranger stations were open, so we were not able to get a detailed hiking map of the area. Add to that a series of forest fire closures in the area which were making it seem as though we would have to by-pass the entire region. The end of the day, still no map, and despite being in a national forest we had a difficult time finding a side road to find a suitable camp. Then Mo wakes up in the middle of the night with serious stomach issues (you do the math)... so far, not a good start.
The next day, we drive into the half empty Trinity Lake (a years long drought is starting to have an effect) and make breakfast along the tributary stream that is now crawling along the lake bed. With resolve brought by the new day, we make a plan. We’ll drive up the nearest road, park at the trailhead there, and hike using the topo map in the Gazetteer. I pull the staples from the spine, and remove the appropriate page. The scale is 1:150,000. A mile is the width of my pinky nail. Not a lot of detail, but it will suffice. The major trails are shown, and we’ll bring a gps for back-up.
By noon we are walking. Elizabeth has packed enough food for 3 days +2. That means we are planning on a three day trip, with two days of emergency food. She is great at planning trail meals, so I seldom interfere.
That night we camp along a creek in a deep valley. A small flat gives us a great camp, and we can swim in the deep pools. We hang the food in a tree, because we have entered bear country. At dusk, as we sit and talk by the creek, I sense motion out of the corner of my eye. Across the creek valley, about 100 feet away, a black bear is making his way down the valley. We shout and bang pots, Mo looks at us like we’re nuts. About 30 minutes later we hear, but can no longer see, something moving across the creek. We repeat the noisy drill, and hear nothing more. Perhaps it was enough, perhaps we were just hearing things. We sleep soundly.
The next day, we start climbing in earnest. Our planned destination is a mountain lake about 12 miles away and at approximately 7,150 feet above sea level. We start the day at about 2,400 feet. We are getting used to the map scale, and we mark each trail junction with the gps. In a worst case scenario, we can backtrack using just the gps.
By early afternoon, we have entered a granite cirque, with no where to go but up.
We climb dusty switchbacks in the hot sun, until a deep green lake in a bowl of rock appears before us. We’re home.
We set up camp, swim, and lounge in the sun. We decide immediately that we will be staying in the wilderness for longer than three days. We figure that if we ration carefully, we can stay for six days... but it means living on less than 1000 calories a day. Well worth it.
Sunset lights the granite walls on fire. Bright red light in a darkening sky. Beautiful.
Sunrise slowly creeps down the opposite wall, and makes it’s way across the lake to camp by 9:30. The alpine meadows come alive with he buzzing of insects, the snapping of grasshoppers, and hummingbirds whipping from flower to bush.
We rest. The climb the day before was tiring. We do laundry, swim, read, and just sit still. A great day in the mountains. We also notice the altitude. We get winded easily, light headed when we stand up too quickly. The rest day will give us a chance to acclimatize.
We climb. Siligo Peak is a grayish granite spire that rises another thousand feet above the lake. We climb with ease through the thin mountain air, and explore the summit ridges, the other alpine lakes, and the passes between peaks that exit to the south and west. We save the peak for last, and climb the last 500 feet or so quickly. Huge views. The white granite peaks of the range to the west shine brightly. Mt. Shasta to the north. And the smoke plume from the fires to the southwest.
An explosion of mayflies has drifted in on a thermal, and we watch them swarm in the light of a setting sun. Thousands have had the misfortune of landing on the lake, and the trout are having a field day. The lake is alive with feeding fish.
Eventually we must say goodbye to this place. We pack our loads, significantly lighter now, and head down the valley. We know where we are headed, and camp along Stuart Fork Creek beneath a water-slide with several deep pools. We swim in the sun, and dry off quickly in the near zero-humidity. Our last night in the Trinity Alps, the sound of the rushing creek puts us to sleep.
So with Moby in the back seat, Johnny Cash on the iPod and a flavored cigar in hand we hit the open road. We take in the foggy Oregon coast, have handpicked blackberry pancakes for breakie, and ultimately arrive at the Redwoods! 
