Adventure always happens when Ashley and I do something. I should’ve considered myself forewarned. I mean, she was partially the cause of the most miserable night of my life… but that’s another story. I had a weekend off, though, so I must go into the mountains. Ashley and I -it didn’t work for anyone else- both got off work Thursday afternoon. Thursday, June 21, was the longest day of the year. Since it would be light so long, we decided to go up Thursday night.
Summer solstice camping expectations were pretty high. I could see myself sipping my after-supper-tea, the smoke swirling gently over the peaceful lake, and the late evening sun suffusing the mountain peaks in a gentle golden glow.
But, Reality would have none of it. Reality check #1. The car overheated on our way up the mountain.
#2. The first few rain drops patter on the windshield as we pull into the parking spot.
#3. It begins to pour. So far we are dry, despite the weeping heavens. This is when I look back at Ashley, and ask, “Should we wait for it to stop?” She gave me a mad grin of pure joy and content, “No, let’s keep going.”
#4. The trail turns into a raging river. Damp shoes aren’t that bad are they?
#5. Uh-oh! Snow!
#6. Where’s the trail? More importantly, where’s the lake? The lake moved at this point.
#7. This isn’t the lake; it’s a swamp! My shoes are now sloshy, and my pants dripping. Ashley is smugly dry in her super rain gear and waterproof shoes (these were points of pride for her and jealousy for me all weekend.)
I was about ready to sleep in the swamp, but lucky for me, Ashley was convinced we could find the elusive lake… and thankfully we did. The rain stopped and we set up a cozy camp with a crackling fire (it took a whole box of matches because everything was wet, but finally, with much coaxing and bribing, it caught).
Friday morning burst blue and golden upon us. From Pyramid Lake we hiked up to Pyramid Peak. The view was breathtaking and the sun warm, and we wanted to stay up there all day, but rain clouds began to build and we weren’t about to scramble down the rocks during the rain.
We detoured over to Trout Lake on our way to camp. The rain caught us between Trout Lake and Pyramid Lake. We hid under insufficiently limbed trees during the fiercest bursts, but finally decided to brave the blasts to get back to camp.
Since the day had begun so gloriously beautiful, we hadn’t expected rain and were a little afraid our gear and sleeping bags would’ve gotten wet. They weren’t, but to keep things dry during the continued patter, we cinched the tarp down tight. Before long, we were seated under our tarp, eating supper, watching the flames dance and the rain pour down. We were way too smug for our own good. “This is just so cozy,” Ashley gushed. That’s when the storm hit.
Wind whipped across the lake, thunder reverberated down the ridges, hail pelted our tarp (which was showing scary amounts of wear and tear), and rain gushed out of the sky. We managed to rearrange the tarp a bit to protect from the extra wind lashed rain. The holes were stopped with duct tape and band aids.
I only had a limited amount of dry clothes, so I was stuck in my sleeping bag, with the tarp a mere 18 inches above my head from 4 p.m. until we woke up the next morning. Although I became bored with the never-changing pattern of raindrops above me and worried a little about the ancient tarp shredding, I slept extremely well.
A friend in the valley told me the next day, “I’ve never seen it rain so hard in my life.” And we not only survived this storm huddled under a tarp, but slept warm and dry. What’s not to be smug about?
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