The best camp ever.......



Bridget and Dave had to leave and found out that their jeep would not  stay on while going downhill, so we followed them down to Huntington Lake. As most of the trip down to Hwy 99 is downhill, they had a challenge - then they found out it wouldn't stay on while stopped, so the trip got more exciting.   They sped off to Lodi while we camped at 6,800' with the rest of the hordes along the lake and decided to head back  up to the high country.  Florence Lake was all slabs of granite, great rushing waters along the road, and a flooded campsite. We had given a Berkeley couple a ride from the ranger station, and they managed to squeeze in with their packs were in awe at how different the landscape was from Lake Edison.  We looked at various campsites but were  not thrilled with mosquitos, lack of water, (close water) and went to our old campsite at the creek at Edison.  That lasted one night - more mosquitos, the creek having become a raging river with angry trout - I got a strike that shook my arm.  I don't want a fish that big!  My son commented something like one uses a knife to fit the fish in the pan - but you have to catch the monsters first.  They were not cooperating.  We moved camp to above the lake, with some grumbling - but were rewarded with fewer bugs and a view you could not buy for any amount of money.



Koa was in heaven, looking for squirrels and chipmunks, who caught on to his game right away.  The lake at this point is over a mile or so across to the creek where everyone seems to catch fish.  I kayaked over one morning  didn't find any bites, no matter what I threw in to intice a bite.



We unzip the tent - comfortable sleeping on the futon, and this is what we see when we are sipping our morning brew.



The wildflowers were just beginning to show - Indian paintbrush.  There was an astonishing wall of white azealeas at 8000' off the road, on the way down, and meadows were covered with blue lupines.  Magic time in the high country.



Cold Creek in full spate - one fisherman hung a worm on his hook and then added a marshmallow to make it float.  It worked and he was pulling in trout, who ate everything - strange wilderness fish.  Me, I cooked my marshmallows over the fire.  One year, a fisherman told me to use corn - but the trout ate anything I put in the lake - this year, they were fickle.  One day, salmon eggs, the next day, marshmallows.  Go figure.



Koa and one year old Molly, who showed up on our last day.  Molly was so fascinated with Koa, that she would bound up and introduce the leaping and bumping that is great dog play.  It was chase me, big boy and I will catch you.  He misses this sort of thing, but Molly pretty much wore him out.  Their play was like an energetic ballet - so why didn't they huff and puff with the altitude?