For the two older kids, this was supposed to be a breeze of a trip—one to two mile days, relatively flat, and many rest breaks. I intentionally picked this short flattish trail, because while Rakesh and his kids, Noah and Siri, have gone backpacking before, to Hilton Creek Lakes on a moderately strenuous hike, this will be his wife Sharon’s first time. This will be easy, I told them, because it has to be easy enough for Myles to walk on his own. As it turns out though, the week prior, Daphney got sick, then Jayden, and finally, Myles. For Myles, this would be a big milestone, the first backpacking trip where he would be walking, rather than being carried. And to top it off, he has his own pack.
Hiking to Heart Lake
After driving nearly non-stop to Bishop for lunch, then up to the Mosquito Flat trailhead, we head in at about 2:30 in the afternoon under clear blue skies and a stiff breeze. Almost immediately, Myles sheds his pack, and it ends up clipped to mine. The trail is a gentle uphill, then a gentle downhill, and we come across the spur to our old campsite by Marsh Lake. The group decides that it has been too short of a hike, and we carry on to Heart Lake.
The kids are the first to arrive. They find a mound with a downed tree serving as a long bench and angular boulders to climb on. Rakesh and I hike on ahead to the outlet of Box Lake to see if there are suitable campsites. A few small ones are tucked between rocks and trees high above, but I’m looking for more open space. We backtrack, meet up with the rest of the group, and find a beautiful meadow bordered by swampy marsh grass. From here, we have fantastic views of Bear Creek Spire and the headwall of Little Lakes Valley.
The camp routine for me doesn’t deviate much. Set up camp, bathe, hang up the clothes, then make dinner. Tonight, it’s egg drop soup and spinach noodles. It’s a hearty dinner, and we finish it off with a sloppy apple pie.
First night
Soon, the stars emerge onto a cobalt canvas, seemingly one by one, then the pace picks up, like popcorn on a stovetop maker. And before you know it, the sky bursts with countless stars on this moonless night. I crawl into my sleeping bag and set my alarm for 9:30 after dark night sets in. The next instant, the alarm is ringing, and I head outside with Sharon and Rakesh. The Milky Way is vibrant, bright, and arcing up from that southern headwall. I step out while avoiding the muddy areas and take some shots of the stars reflected in the still lake.
Waking up to frost
The morning is calm. The warmer waters create a still mist in the cold air layer. The mountains reflect in the hazy mirror as first light strikes the distant peaks. The kids get up early as well. I find many of the plants covered in frost. Through the macro lens, they are multifaceted crystals.
Everyone is hungry. We make the vegetarian taco meat, hydrate the black beans, and scramble the eggs. I think to myself that next time, we need to have some salsa, at least some moist sauce to go with it. The resident ground squirrel is hungry too, and it patrols our camp kitchen for scraps.
Hike to Chickenfoot Lake
After a lazy morning, we strike out. The trail rises to a scenic bluff overlooking Box Lake. From there, we boulder-hop across an outlet stream to arrive at Long Lake. I give the kids a choice: to stay here at Long Lake, or to carry on to Chickenfoot Lake. The decision is unanimous: it’s too early in the day to stop. We have lunch at the far end of Long Lake, refill our water bottles, and begin the gradual ascent to the next junction. At this point, Myles throws tantrums, demanding to be carried. The easy uphill becomes a major slog. Are we there yet?
We follow a spur trail to the left. I decide to scout ahead, and the kids, being full of energy, want to come along. Yan brings up the rear while carrying Myles. Rushing ahead, we stumble upon an expansive pristine meadow with a gentle creek running through it. The kids quickly find a way across by tiptoeing on rock steps. They run around carefree, exploring little mounds and rockfall formations. Rakesh and I look around and decide to camp here, on a peninsula pointing to the metatarsal fold at the base of the chicken’s toes. After setting our stuff down, I retrace my steps to find Yan and Myles.
Making camp
Before long, everyone settles in at camp. I consult the star chart, map, and compass, and determine that the Milky Way Center will be over Peppermint Pass—the saddle between Pyramid Peak and Pear Creek Spire, and from there, the stardust will arc over Rosy Finch Peak. I set my tent to anchor the foreground.
It’s now time to relax and explore a bit. Myles is exhausted from hiking and being carried, and now he’s snuggled on a sleeping bag under the sun-warmed tent. An angler tells me that the calm part of the creek, dammed by a fallen log, is teeming with fish; I see a bunch of fingerlings. I fish the creek and the lake but catch nothing.
After miso soup and Japanese curry dinner, I catch a sunstar hovering over the ridgeline behind our tent. Its golden glow lights up the headwall mountains. The kids balance on the talus field. It’s time for a favorite dessert: improvised strawberry cheesecake. Noah says he normally doesn’t like cheesecake, but he really likes this version.
Stargazing
Like the previous night, Rakesh and I duck out of our tents to see the stars when nightfall switches to dark night. My LED candle lantern casts just the right amount of light to illuminate the tent and part of the grassy front porch. Above Pyramid Peak, countless stars make up the steam rising from the teapot asterism. It’s another lovely night.
Final day
On this final morning, the kids are among the first to wake up. Although we are camping at a higher elevation, it seems a little warmer. There is no frost on the ground. I heat water for coffee and oatmeal, and everyone helps get breakfast ready. It’s a cold morning though, since we are nestled in the shadow of the steep western face of Mount Morgan and Little Lakes Peak. We are counting the agonizingly slow minutes as sunlight slithers down Ruby Peak, then Treasure Peak, and finally to the nearby ridge. And after what seems to be a cold long wait, the sunstar emerges, and our camp is suddenly blanketed with warmth.
Quickly, we break camp and pack up. Myles puts on his backpack, and I snap photo evidence that he actually backpacked. Within minutes, he whines about the load, his backpack comes off, and it gets clipped to mine. We backtrack down the trail—back to the junction, down the gradual slope to Long Lake, past our lunch spot, boulder-hop the outlet creek, over a hump, and back on the bluff by Box Lake. Here, we pause for a snack break. From here, the trail undulates gently, a little downhill, a little uphill, but more down than up. Jayden, just getting over a cold, also whines about his pack; onto my pack it goes.
Up ahead, we see cars. For the last third of today’s hike, Myles has been carried. He’s slipping in and out of his after-lunch nap. And in the next fifty steps to the trailhead sign, he completely falls asleep.
Final photo
The group picture at the end recaps the entire trip. Two families having a great time in the wilderness. Rakesh got Sharon hooked, and she was already thinking ahead thinking ahead to the next trip. The kids did great. Daphney really stepped up, carrying nearly a third of her body weight. Jayden marched on while recovering. And Myles—his backpack was like a prop for the single picture, and while he had to be carried about a third of the way, he too hiked most of the seven-mile in-and-out route on his own. A milestone checked off!
