Let's start with a question about the last time you went to dinner. Did you go where it was all fancy and prix fixe or did you go where you could choose this and that and maybe one of those for desert? If you're reading this, I'm gonna guess you're closer to my style of "a burger, fries, and a bottle of your second cheapest wine." The reason à la carte works well for me is because I'm a simple guy with simple tastes. Childish, you might say.

Should it be any surprise actual kids are "childish," too? Nope. The point is both I and my kids do best when we have a whole bunch of choices and we choose what we want. That's both in the restaurant with cloth napkins (like we ever go to those places) and in the Wilderness.

The boy and I started early Friday morning with a short drive to a trailhead two miles outside the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. We're new to this land, but the Coast Salish, Snoqualmie, Tulalip, and Wenatchi people have been there far, far longer. The trail starts mellow for the first five miles. Then the trail turns uphill a bit before joining the Pacific Crest Trail.

If you know the PCT, you know it's remarkably well designed with switchbacks to help with the big elevation gain. At no time did the trail ever get steep with a capital STEE. It did, however, take F-O-R-E-V-E-R to get to the top. 22 long, meandering switchbacks climbing 2,800 feet over five miles. (It's only 1.2 miles straight-line.) About half way up, we were running on empty. We tricked our minds and legs into continuing by counting down the remaining switchbacks. Half the time we argued about which number it was and the rest of the time we chanted to ourselves. "Five switchbacks to go. Five switchbacks to go."

A rock marked "H20" signaled we had arrived at our destination and we were rewarded with a perfect location. The lake has no name. In the Alpine Lakes Wilderness there are so many lakes, ponds, tarns, and puddles that many are just little blue shapes on the map. Our camp spot was up above the lake with views down to the water, across the valley to the jagged Cascade crest, and up the ridge to our "destination," Summit Chief.

Destination is in quotes because it was one of the options for our middle day. Once I learned of the magic of the middle day, I've tried to include one in each trip. The middle day is magical because it's devoid of the work you do getting to camp or getting home. It's perfect for really enjoying where you are. The trick is not setting your itinerary in stone.

On this trip, we took a look at the route up to Summit Chief and said, "Uh... nope. Not a chance." Maps, trip reports, and videos had made it look like the route went, but not for us. It looked sketchy as heck. Instead, we chose a different item off the menu.

Past trips had taught me to have a number of different options to fall back on if one of the kids balked at my original plans. This was the first time I laid out all the options for the child and let them straight up choose. It worked well. We climbed as high as we were inclined and retreated to the upper tarn for a swim. We poked around up the ridge to see what there was to see. Incredible views down the valley we'd come up. Incredible views down the valley on the other side of the ridge. Incredible views up to the mountain itself. The best? Big snow patches begging for us to roll around in and consume. We dried off and went to the lower tarn for a swim. Dinner. Another swim. Amazingly, we didn't even wait 30 minutes after eating and didn't die! We played cards and dice and we turned in before it was dark because in the middle of summer it doesn't get dark until 10pm and I was wiped out.

Early the next morning, we rose, packed up, donned bug headnets, and headed north on the PCT. Unfortunately, the views were less impressive on our way out and the descent trail had none of the high-quality design of the PCT we climbed up. It was fast, though. Except that one spot where the trail switchbacked so tightly it seemed like it required a Yakety Sax soundtrack.

The last few miles along the mellow trail we celebrated on the way in were dreary on the way out. Tons of people meant putting on our masks frequently and the downhill coasts on the way in were unappreciated climbs on the way out. The trailhead was both a welcome relief and a disappointment. Too soon, he won't pick any of the menu options I present.

All I can hope for being allowed to choose off the seniors' menu. Fingers crossed I raised him right and he'll take me into the mountains when I stop taking him.