Canyon Creek and the Perfect Campsite

"We can come back to that one," I hear myself reply again as Matt points out yet another suitable campsite. While the forested sites offer protection from the elements, I can't erase the picture in my mind, and it beckons from high on a mountaintop.

I'm searching for the alpine country and mountain peaks, complete with wide open spaces free of mosquitoes. Since there's still plenty of daylight left, we agree to travel another thirty minutes before committing to a spot.

We tiptoe across fallen trees so conveniently placed as bridges over swollen streams. After almost a mile of climbing over blown down trees, we reach the switchbacks I've been thinking of all afternoon.

Much of the climbing is via granite boulders positioned as stairs and I remember to the time I ran this trail instead, each step swift and nimble. Of all the Trinity Alps trails, I know and love this one the best. It's also the most easily accessed from my home, especially this year due to the slip out that caused a full closure of Highway 3 (which is still closed).

I love that each visit to Canyon Creek is different. Recent warmer weather has melted much of the snow out of the mountains, swelling creeks to three or four times their normal size. Waterfalls cascade from places I've never seen before, with such force that the cacophony of Mother Nature echoes off the mountain walls. We decide to forgo the waist-deep crossing of icy Canyon Creek to the lakes at the end of the trail and settle somewhere near the falls instead. The current scenery is so spectacular that I don't mind at all.

Upper Canyon Creek Falls

Finally we reach the spot I've been thinking about all day: the perfect campsite. It's sheltered enough to keep the tent from flapping in the night but open enough to offer an array of breathtaking jagged peaks in every direction.

We set up the tent together and then I busy myself inside setting up our sleeping bags while Matt fires up the stove. I arrive just as he's about to pour water into my bag of freeze-dried macaroni and cheese. Warming my hands on the bag while my dinner cooks, I lean back against a boulder and take in the view that we have all to ourselves tonight. Springtime in the Trinities is my favorite.

Looking over the edge of Lower Canyon Creek Falls. This is where we got our water. Yum!

We tuck into our down cocoons shortly after nightfall and spend the evening enjoying the distraction-free company. Matt and I tell a story, taking turns passing the plot line back and forth at the most dramatic parts. Princess Karen and her kitty, Puffball, have been the main characters in our stories for as long as I can remember. Our most recent new character is Bandit, a very resourceful raccoon, who lives in their backyard and stirs up trouble.

The next morning, I awaken to a flat light filtering through the walls of the tent. I notice an opaqueness clouding up the window. I tap on the tent walls and some of it falls away. Sometimes springtime, even in late-May, brings snow.  Matt groans in his sleep as I excitedly point out it out. Uninterested in leaving his cozy nest at such an early hour, he stays in the tent while I take a few photos, to prove to him later that it wasn't a dream. He still doesn't move when I return to the tent so I climb back in and doze off again myself.

The thought of hot coffee coaxes us out of the tent. As usual, I pack up the inside as Matt retrieves the bear barrel and prepares breakfast. Even though it has been awhile since our last trip, falling into old routines is simple and comforting. Remembering back, I know that the reason I took on the inside role is because it was raining on one of our first trips together and I wanted to stay dry as long as possible. Sometimes breakfast is the only thing that will get me to come out.

Less than twenty-four hours after we left the trailhead, we've returned. The whole trip is so quick that it seems more like a pleasant dream than reality. I hope this dream, complete with the perfect campsite, will be a recurring one.