We arrived on-time and were quickly hustled on to the trail as Craig needed to run a round trip in order to have the stock available for the next morning.   We were up at Dorothy Lake by 2:30 in the afternoon and pitching our tents.   Which was a good thing as the weather started to turn cold and wet and as you probably guessed, snow flurries!!   Pretty much a good old fashioned " welcome to my world"   from the Sierra Nevada range.   George and I have camped at Dorothy four times and it has snowed/rained three of those, so it was not much of a surprise for us but the boys from UK were a touch cold and concerned.   We ditched into our tents and as the flurries subsided we crawled out, had dinner and watch the alpen glow take effect.   The night was cold and dipped into the 30s.    

This particular stretch encompassing Jack Main Canyon was a treat as we have only gone up canyon and never had the pleasure of the downward leg. Lot more fun but the wind was blowing and the temps were still low. And they would get even lower that night at Wilmer or Wilma or whatever you want to call it.   George made the first of his detours to climb Keyes Peak (10670 ft) and met us at the lake just as we were finishing our dinner.   Lucky for him there was a bit left as I defended the gruel with my life from the the UK boys.   The following morning turned spectacular and we rose to tackle the day.

And what a day we had to tackle.   The weather cooperated but the terrain was tough with two 1000 ft plus climbs and two 1000 ft plus descents ending up on the water's edge of Rancheria Creek.   The acclimation, elevation and hard hiking was taking a toll and some of us were looking for the quickest way out.   After a hearty meal and a warm fire, calmer heads pervailed and we decided to keep on the original schedule with a bit of extra food for our guests.

Unlike day 3 with its never ending ups and downs, today was just one up and one down section, with more down than up which is always a good thing.   We were headed to Benson Lake, a spot I had wanted to see for many years -- and it did not disappoint.   As we rolled along the lake trail, the beach greeted our arrival and we found a prime front-lake site.   From the ridges that ringed the lake to the deep forest that covered the valley floor this spot had a bit of magic in the air.   It also had a community of owls.   Now in this world there are a lot of dirfferent owls, and I enjoy the low key hooting melodies and George has a knack of calling them in.   But George's skill is not honed enough to attract the Great Gray Owl and let the Western Screech Owls know they are not welcome.   So after his customary success, we were treated to at least two univited guests that shattered the silence of the night with the most grating sounds reverberating throughout the valley.   I believe that in a former life George was an owl as it is uncanny how he can rustle them up every time, but whether he calls in a male or a female remains a mystery.

Each day unfolded with a new set of challenges and today was no different.   It was a short day, straight up and the trail was all business as it started going vertical as soon as you gained sight of it.   Now how each individual tackles trail pacing is always interesting to me.   George lives by the Minimum Maintainable theory which calls for the slowest speed at which you can keep a continuing pace.   I practice Section-at-a-Time, where I spy up or down the trail to identify my next rest spot and move towards it at  a medium pace with a 10-second rest before continuing on.   There is the universally known Rest Step which I practic embedded within my preferred techinque and countless others.   Rob and Tom each had their trail strengths and what was interesting is that Tom was strong on the upswing and Rob was a demon on the downswing, to the point of running past me after we crested Benson Pass (Day 6),   George on this day had targeted to bag Volunteer Peak (10481 ft) and as the rest of us came to the trail junction at the apex of our climb, there was the peak and one of Geo's makeshift signs indicating he had left the trail.   A quick scan of the ridge and there he was, perfect timing.   We headed for the lake and after a bit of back and forth, found the campsite that was recommended to me by a fellow Emingrant hiker, and it was the perfect spot.   As Benson was magical and nestled in a deep canyon, Smedberg was powerful and open to the elements.   As night settled, we took a short climb to catch some of the evening light and colors.

After our pow-wow at Kerrick Canyon, this was the leg that concerned us the most and Matterhorn Canyon was a possible stop short campsite. The trail out of Smedberg rose, constantly passing through alpine meadows and cresting at Benson Pass.   As we took a morning snack, a family of deer trotted by, as if we did not exist, off on deer business somewhere.   The pass is a spectacular scenic point and the downhill after a pleasure.   The moment of truth at the canyon did not happen as we blew by it and made it to Miller Lake.   A nice reward for the day's hard hike as Miller has the classical Sierra lake look: deep blue/green waters surrounded by granite ridges and perched on a high shelf with wide open views.   This was to be a two day stop to regain our energy and allow George the time needed to bag Whorl Mountain, which we had come across a few years back as we went cross-country from Spiller to Matterhorn Canyon.   We found a decent spot to the east of the lake up above a few tarns that provided good shelter from the howling winds.   Now for part II.

A day of rest is always appreciated and at least three of us took advantage of it.   As I mentioned earlier, George took off to climb Whorl Mountain (12033 ft) to add to his peak inventory.   We lazed around, ate a bit and hiked around the lake. At the far end of the lake, I took a shot of Whorl Mountain right about the time that George was up on top.   If you look real close you can see his silhouette.   George strolled into camp right at dusk and told us tall tales of bushwacking, beating away countless predators and being pursued by a Yeti up to the peak.   But he made it and had pictures to prove it.   Another score for the Alpinist!!

Now we start the downhilll part of our trip.   A quick 3.6 miles and we are at a junction of trails and Return Creek.   After a bit of searching we found a nice campsite, collected fire wood and washed out the trail dust from our clothes and bodies.   Wow, the water was cold!!

This day, reality set in.   We were on the final stages of our trip and the time went by slowly with a mostly downhill hike through quiet meadows.   Good thing that we did not continue on past Virginia Canyon the day before as we would have been hunting for a water source.   There was not one creek still running.   Our destination today is Glen Aulin, site of one of the High Sierra Camps that Betsey and I had visted earlier in the year on a Yosemite Mule Trip.   As I rolled in, the cowboys had just finished breaking down the semi-permanent compound and it was a vast contrast to my earlier summer expereince.   We spent the night at the backpacker camp with what to us seemed like an army of fellow campers after the days of solitude we had just passed through.   In order to get away, we walked over to the High Sierra camp fire ring and started a blaze that would not die. In the center was a twisted and gnarled log that burned with an intensity that made you feel it was alive.

Well the day is at hand, time to finish off this stroll and think about 20 years of plying the backcountry.   What a wonderful strange trip we have been rambling on, to steal a few lines.   The climb out of Glen Aulin is a wonderful mixture of different textures, pounding waterfalls, sleek glaciated slopes, wide open meadows and rock spires towering in every direction you turn.   The rest of the group went ahead and I enjoyed a bit of solitude and stopped frequently to take some memories.   I will let those images speak for themselves.

Tuolumne River	Twin Bridges	Unicorn, Cockscomb, Echo Ridge	Cathedral, Fairvew

An event of this significance needs a good epilogue and our family and friends were there to celebrate with us.   We were greeted at the Lember Dome trailhead with a picnic spread of real food and the world famous FSZ (Flint Simon Zborowski) orchestra serenading us with 2  compostions written just for the occassion!!  

And the final touch was dinner at the Awhanee, a comfortable rest that night and the beauty   of one of the great lodges in the West.   I have had the pleasure of seeing 5 of those so far and hopt to visit them all.   Not a bad way to end and as always, 'May our paths and errands meet.'

Who knows what the next 20 hold in store.