Lake Aloha Hike

This weekend Nathan and I hiked to Lake Aloha, in the Sierras, and camped overnight. We took the Pacific Crest Trail from Lower Echo Lake, about a six mile trek and 1000 ft. of elevation gain. Doesn’t sound like much, but with the weight of our packs it was quite challenging. However, the views were breathtaking as I hope will come through a bit in these photos.

We drove up friday night (during which Nathan inadvertently invented the word “scrubble” to describe my unshaven face) and car camped at Fallen Leaf Campground, which is near South Lake Tahoe. Very basic, and thankfully quiet (aside from the back hoe at the entrance that inexplicably was left idling all night). We got up at 6:30 and I had my first taste of instant coffee in many years. It’s like coffee flavored hot water — reminiscent of the real stuff, sort of like carob is to chocolate. Later, after driving around to find the ranger station to purchase our wilderness permits, and discovering that it had been across the street from the campground, we treated ourselves to double espressos in town before heading up to the trail head. Maybe it was the mountain air, or our giddy anticipation, but that was some of the best espresso I’ve tasted.

Permits acquired, we drove up to the trail head’s parking lot. I pulled my pack out of the trunk and oh my God what the hell was I thinking? The thing must have weighed 70, 80 pounds. I strapped it on and it somehow seemed lighter. Amazing how much the waist can carry when you have a proper pack, I thought. Now I understood Nathan’s previous weeks of research into ultralight gear, though. In comparison, he looked downright sprightly, even though he was carrying most of the food and all kinds of other supplies that I hadn’t thought of.

After 25 minutes we finally reached the actual trail head at Lower Echo Lake. Those taking a day trip wishing to get a 2.5 mile head start could take a water taxi from this point. Not we! We were in this for the long haul, for the sheer exuberance! We were Hikers, not mere day trippers! After availing ourselves of the last civilized facilities we’d see for the next couple of days, we began our trek in earnest. Within a half hour we were treated to a gorgeous overlook of Lower Echo Lake, with its turquoise rim and dramatic mountainous backdrop. One could mistake this for the Swiss Alps.

An interesting cultural note about hiking: people always make eye contact with you and greet you. Is it the narrowness of the trail, which forces closer proximity? Or physical exertion and the solidarity of sharing a common experience if only for a day? The grandeur of nature knocking down the defensive barriers we urbanites erect as protection against strangers? Whatever the reason, it was refreshing and seemed important to note.

A couple of hours later we stopped for lunch on a large rock above the trail. Nathan had made tuna, mustard and mayo bagels in the morning; an everyday meal that seemed positively decadent at that moment. After the rest my formerly lumbering stride became almost jaunty again, which turned out to be good timing as we were climbing up some tricky lose stones on the trail after that. Eventually we reached Haypress Meadows, a lush, green flat stretch after a long climb. This area seemed almost cartoon-like with its saturated colors and vibrant wildflowers.

We arrived at the South Eastern edge of Lake Aloha in the late afternoon. A few parties were already scouting their campsites (wilderness permits allow you to camp anywhere at least 200 ft. from water’s edge). This seemed a little crowded for our taste, and also a bit barren, so we kept going for another half hour along the lake’s Eastern edge. Finally we found a perfect spot: far enough away from the nearest camp that we wouldn’t hear them, and with some green grass and trees for shade. This was truly a stunning place to camp. The many rock outcroppings trees (some mere skeletons of what they had once been) in the lake reflected on the glassy surface.

I started working on putting my tent up. It seemed only a minute when I looked up and Nathan’s was already assembled and he was walking down to the beach, camera in hand. I was moving in slow motion. Every decision seemed impossible. I had completely bonked. 45 minutes later, my shelter was in place (a process that usually takes 10 minutes). Just in time to capture the sun disappearing behind the Crystal Range on the opposite side of the lake. We ate dinner — dehydrated chili and pasta alfredo which you simply poor the boiling water into a let stand — which was surprisingly tasty, and enjoyed a dessert of dark chocolate and scotch, ironically sipped from the antenna of a cell phone-shaped flask. Could life get any better than that?

Sunday morning was another glorious day. I awoke a few minutes after dawn, unzipped my tent, and was greeted with a stunning view of Pyramid Peak bathed in Alpenglow. We wandered around for a couple of hours and leisurely photographed the area. The utter quiet and peacefulness of that spot had an incredible calming effect.

Eventually it was time to pack up and head back to civilization. We started the hike back down. I noticed my pack leaning back a bit and pulled the top straps tighter. Perfect. This was how it should have fit all day yesterday, I thought, as I continued pulling on straps, not seeing the small rock jutting out in front of my left foot. At first it seemed possible to recover, but the pack kept its forward momentum, an invisible hand intent on seeing this slapstick routine through. As Nathan later described it, I turned sideways as I fell, affording him a perfect profile of my face, which had a stern, yet very calm expression. He thought I must have been jockeying to save my camera, which was dangling perilously from my neck. That’s me, always thinking of others. I should back up here and explain that Nathan and his girlfriend, Krista, had just been hiking a few weeks before and she broke her leg under very similar circumstances. Which explains his quick spring to action. Within seconds he was handing me an alcohol swab to wipe the gash on my knee and cutting hospital grade adhesive tape to affix gauze on it. Ally told me later that she had made him promise to keep me from injury (apparently not his forte), which explains his first question after “are you ok?” — “what do we tell Ally?” Thankfully it was merely a surface wound and the rest of the hike went without a hitch.

Our pace back was quite a bit quicker, even though my wipeout made me choose my steps more carefully, especially on the descent through the loose rocks. It was surprising how different the views were going in the opposite direction. The final two miles seemed a steady uphill climb and my legs started to burn. This was what walking on Jupiter, or the bottom of the ocean, must feel like. If only we hadn’t passed up the chance to take the water taxi back. A number of hikers made comments like, “Jesus, that’s a heavy looking pack.” Oh, to be a carefree daytripper, making light of others’ packing deficiencies. Making light… oh, the cruel puns my mind comes up with.

“Parking lot! I see parking lot,” Nathan said. We might have been lost at sea, crying “Land ho!”. We let out a huzzah and plodded through the last mile. I was nearly delirious as we crossed the spillway into the Echo Chalet parking lot. I smiled, wild-eyed, at strangers, who looked away. Ah yes, these were normal non-hiking strangers, still wrapped in their social cocoon. No matter. We had conquered mountains! We were the mighty — oh look! A stone ledge at sitting height! Perfect for pack removal. Oh, the relief of pack removal. Does life get any better than this?