Roughing It

Yesterday a friend and I were discussing a possible trip to the mountains this summer to go backpacking. It got me thinking about all the good times I've had on backpacking trips. The great plains are great, but this post is in honor of the greater Rocky Mountains.


As a twelve-year-old boy scout on the first backpacking trip I ever took, I hiked 50 miles in five days. I think my pack weighed more than I did.


On trips these days we usually hike into one lake, set up a base camp, and do pack-less day hikes to nearby lakes. That way we can see and go a lot more places, and we have a lot more energy to have fun:

My brother and friend returning victoriously from their conquest to the other side of the lake, and me enjoying an afternoon swim. It was definitely no hot tub.

For me, a backpacking trip isn't complete without a fly rod. One of the benefits of hiking into the middle of nowhere is you get to catch fish that have rarely seen an artificial fly or lure. They have not wised up to to the ways of man, so it's often easy to catch numbers of fish in the triple digits. They're never very big, but they fight as though they are, like this Rainbow Trout I caught on the lake's surface with a low-floating elk-haired caddis.


The rarest, yet most beautiful, trout in North America, the Golden Trout, can be found in only a few places, most of which are thousands of feet above sea level. I had to hike 14 miles to catch this one. Click the pic to zoom in and look how bright red his belly is. God must have been in a colorful mood when he created this species.


Here I stand about 12,000 feet above sea level atop the Continental Divide. Had I spilled my Gatorade in front of me, it would have eventually ended up in the Pacific Ocean. Had I spilled it behind me, it would have been Atlantic bound. The wind was fierce.


This picture was taken atop another windy pass. As we crested the top we noticed a large thunderstorm rolling our way. Carrying my graphite fishing pole in that high and wide open country felt like holding a little lighting rod. Needless to say, we hurried down the hill, praying that the next bolt of lightning was aimed at anything but us.

Somewhere during our descent I misstepped and strained some tendon or ligament in my right knee. For the rest of that trip I limped around straight-legged because any weight on my bended knee sent waves of pain from ankle to hip. Fourteen miles in the back country and injured, with hiking...well, limping...as my only way out was an intimidating thought. Luckily I was with good guys who were willing to help lighten my load by carrying some of my gear. Still, when I finally limped my sad self to the truck at 1:00 AM, I dropped my enemy pack off my sore shoulders and decided I would never go backpacking again.

The next year I packed in the ingredients to make a cheesecake.


When you pack the whole week's worth of food on your back you tend to go for lightweight noodles or dehydrated anything, but we have a tradition of surprising each other with luxury food items, (such as cheesecake). In the past we've brought Pepsi, Johnsonville Brats, or steak with A1 sauce; and I've even seen a fellow packer bake a chocolate cake up there. One year my buddy packed in a watermelon. No kidding. I say he should make it a habit, especially since I was lucky enough to get a piece of it.

Backpacking offers some crazy fun, like skiing down glaciers:


and cliff jumping into ice-cold, alpine lakes:


But it also offers serene and soul-satisfying moments, like my wife and I up with the sun fooling a few final fish before breaking camp to head home.


It's no easy task to put ten or so pack-laden, high-altitude miles under your feet in one day, but it's worth it when you get to wake up to this: