photos — joshua seligsohn

Another empty spot on the map, a has-been along the highway. A road dotted with places that “once were” and structures that “used to house.” Falling down, battered and broken, doors locked and windows boarded they serve as a reminder of the America that is objectively failing and in need of being made great again. Trade wars and tweets, tariffs and Trump, it seems unlikely that their savior will do much to help them at all. Driving along seeing these places, these communities wither away as years of drought, years of decline in rural America have left their toll it’s hard to imagine that this is the America really back in power and not just the America being exploited by yet another coastal élite.

Self portrait at Dick’s Lake, Desolation Wilderness, CA

I left straight from work to get to the cabin late in the night effectively guaranteeing myself less than a full nights sleep.

Departure was 06, breakfast at 0530. When we loaded the Jeep I had my puffer jacket on and almost immediately I was too warm. I thought that maybe it meant we were in for a stretch of warm nights. As we rode to Echo I felt nothing but excited; we were about to embark on a stretch of days on the same trail that I’ll embark upon next spring. Assuming all goes to according to plan I’ll be walking this same stretch in early summer.

Shortly after stepping off we made it to Lake Aloha. A short snack had us back on the trail for several more miles until it was time to get more water. Filtering water then turned into us eating lunch and a quick nap in the sun. As I lay in the sun under my jacket the cool September breeze reminded me not only that fall was approaching but how fortunate we were to be there high up in the mountains of the Sierra Nevada. We were away from the noise: the noise of the city, the noise of drunk college students yelling late at night, the noise of police sirens wailing as they race down our street, the noise of a president tweeting incoherent threats to his own administration, the noise of all the takes on the Mueller investigation, the noise of the endless twitter notifications. For those moments it was just us, the mountains looming above and the trees beside.

I made myself some coffee. Why would a small packet of instant coffee make up for consecutive nights with four hour’s sleep? As I packed my bear canister on top of my bag I was acutely aware of this lack of sleep but my excitement for our first pass of the day was more than enough energy for me to run on.

I don’t know how to convey what I feel sitting atop a mountain. It’s less a sense of awe, though that might be present at well, than it is a sense of peace. I feel like those high peaks and passes have a gravity that draws me back time after time. But more than that they draw me in and demand my attention. I doubt I'll ever grow tired of sitting there gazing out across the granite peaks, deep blue lakes, and low valleys of the mountains.

We made camp at Dick’s Lake, 15 miles from where we’d been dropped off that morning. The sun dipped behind a mountain and almost immediately the air began to cool. A slight breeze picked up and I thought back to the warning other hikers had given us not to camp there because of the wind. Graham’s tent was pitched behind a fifteen foot tall slab of granite but in the morning even he reported the wind keeping him up; my tent was almost totally exposed.

The next morning brought us to Fontanillis Lake which Graham immediately decided was his favorite lake. The steep granite plunging into the cobalt waters of the lake were beyond perfect. I anxiously await my return on some hot summer day.

The rest of the day was defined by food and water. We hiked until there was water where we would filter, eat, then continue on. At Richardson Lake we met a gentlemen who inquired as to how far the next pass was. I informed him it was six miles ahead. Such information was met with great relief as he explained he started on the trail 25 miles back and that he intended to run the entirety of the Tahoe Rim Trail, a mere 170 miles, over the course of the week. We chatted a bit more before he jogged off. Shortly thereafter we followed in his direction though we never encountered the man again.

We ultimately made camp near a stream in the middle of the woods after miles of uneventful hiking. In contrast with the previous day after the first few miles we had few climbs, no grand vistas, and only a lone lake. The forest we hiked through was pleasant enough and there were some mighty junipers we marveled at but it was a different environment than the previous day’s.

Graham seeks refuge from the morning cold. Tahoe National Forest, CA

Drogo drinks from his human’s Camelbak, Granite Chief Wilderness, CA

The morning was cold. We were slow to start the day. Once we began I warmed up but it was tough to get moving.

We were surprised to find a bathroom and a picnic table at Barker Pass. A quick bite and we were off to explore Granite Chief Wilderness.

I had never been to the Granite Chief nor did I know much about it. Early on we were treated to some epic views of the lake. Scree and a zig zagging trail made a long climb up to the Granite Chief but our arrival was incredible. Sharp ridges, granite peaks, and a massive cliff left me without much to say. There’s just too much to consider when looking upon the world like that: there are the forces that drive up shear granite faces thousands of feet into the air; there are the seemingly endless mountains that stretch on in every direction; there are those original explorers to whom what lay before them must have been so daunting; there are the native Americans who originally called these lands their home and the reverence to which they treated them; then at the most superficial there are just the trees slowly shrinking and eventually fading into a sea of green.

Graham caught up a minute later and together we marveled at the the scene before us. We moved on another mile or so until we decided to have lunch. While we were hanging out we met a couple of guys out hiking with their dogs. We chatted for a bit and I took a couple snapshots before we parted ways.

Several miles and several thousand feet down into a canyon we set up camp near a creek. This was the last real day of hiking for us. The next day would be six quick miles into town and then we’d find a ride back.