The perfect campsite

There is nothing quite like a perfect Sierra campsite.

Perched on a high ledge deep within one of the most obscure Sierra Canyons, I spent two beautiful nights in the Tuttle Creek drainage with a group of climbing friends as we ascended Mt. LeConte and Mt. Corcoran.

The whole trip was perfect and we climbed both of these challenging peaks successfully in the spirit of high adventure, but I'll only elaborate on the campsite, because after this trip, I was yet again reminded that comfortable and inspiring living spaces in the wilderness rival the most luxurious dollar-soaked five-star hotels in the world!

We set up base-camp for the 3-day trip at 11,000 feet – just above timberline. The last vestiges of foxtail pines that dotted the sheer granite walls of the upper canyon served as the perfect shelter from the cold wind blowing down from the Sierra crest. Nearby, a trickling creek of fresh icemelt provided us with water for sustenance.

As my partners were erecting their tents late in the first afternoon, I struck off and made my amends with the world around me. Rising 1000 meters above less than two miles away in each direction, the peaks of the High Sierra cradled our little nook of tents and shone fiercely in the evening alpenglow.

For dinner, the fare was a delicious feast of tortellini, miso soup, wasabi peas, goat cheese, bruschetta and couscous with savory vegetables topped with the unfailing magic of pinot grigio, jack daniels, and bailey's chocolate liquor.

mmm...

Tibetan prayer flags fluttered in the breeze. The cloudless night sky, in all its splendor, revealed the bosom of the universe as it treated us to a display of star after endless star. The bright streak of the milky way mingled across the vista like a wayward traveler seeking comfort in the abode of friends.

My mind drifted that night into immemorial thoughts of peace and comfort.

What I would give right now, as I’m surrounded in my small Los Angeles apartment by loud raucous frat-parties and countless stacks of papers and to-do-lists, to be back again resting under the skies without a care...


The camp at the head of the Tuttle Creek drainage. From left to right are Tom, Jennie, Doug, myself, and Asher. Photo by Alex Amies.


Tom and Jennie


The half-consumed portion of Alex's potluck fare.