July 26-27, 2011

Last year friends of mine showed me an alpine lake that blew me away.

High in elevation, rarely visited, tons of fish, surrounded by greenery,

and a dozen other features.

    On July 26, Andres and I parked at Convict Lake and headed toward

Lake Dorothy, to camp overnight and fish. People had warned us about the raging river and the dangerous crossing, but like most warnings, I waved it off, “for I am a mighty mountain woman, right?”

    At the other side of Convict Lake, wary hikers warned us that the bridge had washed away. After they pass, I whispered to Andres, “the bridge had washed away years ago.”

    Now I know I am building up this river crossing, but take heed that it was no big deal. Nothing like, say, forging chest deep, alone, through a 30 foot wide river in New Zealand.

    As imagined, the rocks used last year to hop gracefully across were now the cause of white rapids. I took my boots off, while Andres tiptoes across the river in his FiveFingers. It was suggested that I toss my boot across to him, however there is a reason I climb and hike, rather than play other sports that involve throwing or kicking balls around. I managed to gently toss my boots into the river. Luckily, they landed next to Andres so he fished them out. As I crossed, my feet froze and I cut my knee, but I made it fine.

   My boots were soaked. Fortunately, I brought my Sanuk’s. I slipped them on and tied my hiking boots on my backpack to dry. We headed up the trail another five miles with 40 lb. packs, no boots, and no socks!

    Lake Dorothy is the main feature of one of the most beautiful meadows in the High Sierra Nevada Mountains. The meadow stretches for  miles with spring flowers lasting well into the summer and yellow aspens in autumn.            

    After goofing around the meadow, we hiked up in the sand on a faint trail. One reason I love this hike is the drastic changes in scenery; canyons to valleys, valleys to dry rock, dry rock to meadow, meadow to aspens, aspens to a marble ditch, marble ditch to destination. In this case the destination is the most spectacular fishing lake.

    Before setting up camp, I dump the contents of my backpack on the ground, grab my Fisher-price quality rod, and other gadgets, and stand at the side of the lake determined to catch something for dinner. Then it hit me. I just hiked up with a 40 lb. pack on sharp rocks with no socks and wearing Sanuk’s, yet my feet were happier then ever.

    Just as this thought leaves my unwinding mind, I catch a fish. About time, I had already lost a fish by unhooking it over the lake and it shimmied out of my hands. I reeled the second fish in slowly, as I walked to my staged head-whacking rocks, the though still welds my stomach shut. As the fish gets closer to the shore, I notice it wiggling side ways. Did I catch the most inadequate fish in the lake? Hanging right over the water at the end of my line was a nice sized alpine lake trout, hooked by it’s belly.

    I know what you are thinking, I am the best fisher woman ever, right - or the luckiest? This fish must have pitted me. My quickly rigged lure had loose fishing line ends that most likely poked fish in the eye as I reeled the lure in. The poor guy, swimming along saw the lure and said, “she

thinks she’ll catch us with that lopsided hair ball of a lure!” And as he was laughing, poke, hook in the belly.

    Andres and I had a fish each that evening, fried a few up with a

bunch of bacon and vegetables.

    The next morning, I put my dry hiking boots on, even though the day

before they gave me a heel blister, which filled with a  mysterious

liquid I hacked loose with my knife. We started down the trail.

    After crossing back over the river, I decided to try out my Sanuk’s the last four miles of down hill. Despite the sharp rocks on the trail, my leaking heal blister, the heavy backpack, and downward slope of a sandy trail, my feet felt great. Better then my hiking boots.

    It got me thinking about this “support” I talk about with customers all the years I’ve worked retail selling shoes, and this new barefoot-running movement. But that is a whole other article. My conclusion is; if I keep hiking in Sanuk’s, I am going to need another pair.

Sasha Lovell