Deep in the wilderness there's this towering peak. It's not the highest around or the most epic, but it's very distinctive and visible from the freeway. With a gorgeous lake at its base, I figured perhaps it'd make a great trip for one of the kids. And if I happened to get to the top... well that'd be nice. (Secret agenda: My usual hiking buddies climbed it in a long one day push and they won't shut up about it so if we climbed it, I'd have a tale to tell as well.)

There are three main ways to get there. You can follow the Pacific Crest Trail for 15 miles and then go off trail to the lake, you can go the way my hiking buddies did and follow unofficial trails to the ridge before going off trail and then go off trail, or you can go the way we did through the brushy wonderland. This way would be only five miles. Easy choice right?

Except for that brush. Two miles of brush. Deep brush. Yeah, there's a trail through it and it wasn't this kind of terrible brush, but still. Ugh. It seemed to go on forever. From the creek to the last push up into the trees was about two miles, gained a thousand feet, and consumed one pair of sunglasses. (Yeah. Mine. Dims here decided they'd be ok hung on my pack.) I don't know if it was worse than miles and miles on the PCT, but it did have me thinking about a different exit.

Thankfully, it was just a mile more to the first of many lakes for this trip. Even more thankfully, it was prime blueberry season. All along the way I'd been sampling berries. Ew. Too tart. Ew. Tastes like poop. Yum! Blackcap raspberry! (There was one bush.) Ew. Seedy. In general, the berries were few and not that tasty. But once we broke into the meadows by the lake they were spectacular! You're probably thinking about big, plumpers from the grocery. These aren't those. These are smaller and have the slightest taste of banana. It sounds weird, but it's wonderful. And they were everywhere. We may have stopped for a while. I didn't eat lunch.

Another mile and a half of mellow climbing on the PCT, a little off trail, and then a very steep drop. I slipped and broke a pole, but Lilly made it down in one piece so that was a win. Another mile to the lake and wow. Those blueberries were good, but this camp was great.

We set up at the end of the lake near the outlet. It was much bigger than the lake the boy and I had camped at the week before and far more dramatic. While the side we settled at had a little beach and some grass, the far side had a 400 foot high cliff. And above the cliff it was another 1,700 feet of rock to the summit. DRAMA.

We explored around camp and found we were the only group at the lake. An unreal paradise and it was all ours. We cooked and ate on a huge pile of rocks and watched the sun disappear over the ridge. The pikas chirped their goodnights and we crawled into the tent.

I woke early because day two is the best day. It's the day we get to explore a place as though it was a dayhike even though we're way beyond our usual dayhiking range. The lake was calm as glass and there weren't any bugs. I roused Lilly, but she wasn't nearly as excited by the prospect of the peak as I was. In fact, she downright refused.

What? How could it be? We are here! It's day two. It's the best day. Surely, we'd go to yonder peak. It'd only be 2,000 feet of gain. And there'd be rocks. You love rocks!

Nope.

I love that my kids are growing up. I love that we can have actual conversations. I love that they can drive me around (and now I understand why I always had to drive my father around on our adventures). But what the heck is with this thinking for themselves crap? Ok, fine. They can think their own thoughts, but they should at least pretend they still want to do what I want them to do. Right?

Nope.

So rather than spend the day grunting and sweating our way to the peak we had a relaxed breakfast. We waded into the lake. We took naps and played cards. We did some SCIENCE! It was nice, but... the mountain is RIGHT THERE!

We came to an agreement. We'd climb up the talus field that was the gateway to the upper basin and see what there was to see. Boring? We'd come back down. Awesome! We'd keep going. Each time we got somewhere notable we'd re-evaluate. It seemed like a fair deal even if it wasn't the wholehearted endorsement of peakbaggery I was looking for.

From the lake, the talus field looked imposing. Up close, it was. Especially the massive fin at the top. It was at last 30 feet tall and seemed like it would fall over if a bird landed on it wrong. However, it'd been there for years so it probably was only moderately unstable. Nonetheless, we stayed well clear of it.

At the top of the slope we passed through a cave formed by massive slabs of stone piled on each other. Just beyond was the clearest little pool of water I've ever seen in the mountains. It was fed by a small creek, but filtered through rocks coming in and going out. Lilly made me promise we'd swim on our way back before we could continue up the valley.

The brush was thick except where the spring snowmelt had scoured the creek bed so we scrambled straight up the channel. We found waterfalls and more gorgeous little pools. While the flowers were spent down by the lake, they were still in their prime along the creek. While I kept eyeing the summit, Lilly was content to hang back until I found a way forward. Some of the spots required some creative thinking and crawling. Coming down might not be much fun, but it was all worth it when we arrived at..

A tarn! (I know, you thought we had made it to the summit, but no.) We were still 1,500 feet below the peak, but the tarn was a worthy destination in itself. We immediately kicked off our shoes and enjoyed the soft embrace of the mud. It was a cross between Monty Python and a spa day.

In the rocks along the shore pikas scurried back and forth collecting hay for the winter. Thanks to the bowl we were in, their calls echoed off the rock walls. eep said the little one by the outlet. eep said the plump guy by the huge boulder. EEEEEEP said Lilly. So many eeps.

As nice as it was, we couldn't spend the entire day there. And as expected, it was a little dicey coming down. We did far more butt-scooching than on the way up, but didn't actually fall even once. We did, however, become entranced again by the crazy purple haze. No, not this purple haze. Or this one. This is the purple haze that was all in our brains. (And if you really want to get hazy brains, look up mondegreens.)

Just like before, the world went purple in the craziest way. Sticks and trees and rocks all looked like they belonged in a Prince movie. No matter how many times we blinked or rubbed our eyes... purple. The biggest upside was Lilly saw it, too. It wasn't just an old man problem. Validation!

(No, you can't see the purple in any still or video images. It's one of those you-had-to-be-there types of things.)

Back at camp we were shocked to see we had company. Another couple had arrived and made camp at one of the few other spots. No, we couldn't see them from our site and we couldn't hear them, but we knew they were there. It didn't stop us from popping popcorn or chasing pikas and butterflies, but wasn't this our secret spot? (Yeah. Like any spot is really secret anymore. And no, we weren't really put out by the company.)

We must have slept in because our lakemates were gone by the time we finally got out of the tent. In contrast to the previous trip with Henry, Lilly was content to have a leisurely breakfast and then head home. We got to packing and found there was lots of room in our packs. Not surprising. There's usually lots of extra room with all the food being eaten. At least, there was a bunch of room in my pack until we added the boat.

Wait... I had a boat? And we didn't use it? Nope. This was a bonus boat we found stashed under the rocks near the lake. It had clearly been there for several years and was starting to break down. It wouldn't ever inflate again and that made it garbage. Garbage in the Wilderness. That just wouldn't do. So into the pack it went. The oars wouldn't fit so they went on the sides making it look like I had antlers of sorts.

Just about the only downside to camping at the lake was that it sat in a bowl requiring about 600 feet of climbing to get out. Plus, that "very steep drop" I mentioned on the first day felt a whole lot steeper going back up. On the upside, it was the last climb we'd have to do.

We ate our way through the blueberry fields, cursed the brush while looking (in vain) for my sunglasses, and exited the Wilderness to find the last mile would be shared with an ultramarathon. (You think I do crazy things? At least I don't run ultras.) We didn't see any of the runners, but did see the aid station being set up at the trailhead.

Even though we were so very, very close to the summit, we didn't get there. Yes, it would have been great to touch the tippy top and share that with Lilly, but more important was sharing the kind of adventure she wanted to have. And it's not like it was anything less than an epic adventure. The memories we now have will be filed under awesome-time-with-my-daughter and there's nothing more epic than that.