Mt. McLoughlin and the Sky Lakes

As is frequently the case, the rooster alarm crows far too early. Matt and I fumble around in the tent, wriggling out of our sleeping bags and rolling across the floor. Our new car camping tent, both spacious and luxurious with its built-in lighting system, is quite the upgrade from camping in our backpacking one.

Without having to do the morning shimmy out of our pajamas and into pants, we're able to stand tall and pull them on like civilized people. Our car camping system keeps improving every year, and while I pull on my shirt with ample elbow room, I wonder when I'll give in to the luxury and permanently transition to tent sleeping in campgrounds only and not on mountaintops.

Emerging from the tent, fully dressed and packed, Matt and I busy ourselves with breakfast. Coffee first, muffins second. Since I took far too long deciding on layers for the day, I have to take mine to go. Together with Brad, Matt's coworker, we're meeting two others for our hike up the most prominent peak in southern Oregon. The three of us pile into the car as we make our way down dusty forest roads to the trail parking.

By the time everyone finds their way there, our group has grown to five. Brett, a weatherman from a the neighboring office and Billy, a blogger from the area have joined us. We begin the morning's hike as mere acquaintances. Thankfully, everyone gets along. We climb the ever steepening hill through the trees chatting and getting to know each other.

We emerge above tree line and get our first view of the day. The air nearby has a faint tint of wildfire smoke. Shortly after we leave the forest behind, the trail turns to boulders and peters out. From here, it's up to us to find our way.

Following a trail of orange blazes, it becomes a fun game of who can spot the next one first. We spot other teams climbing up the spine of the ridge, but we choose to climb just below it. We take turns leading the way as we pick our way through the rocks. I've steeled myself for the difficulty of Mt. Thielsen, another peak in the area, but this one turns out to be much easier, with almost no exposed sections to skirt around. I'm relieved.

It's not until I finally sit down with my lunch, at the highest point on the summit, that the first wave of vertigo washes over me. I think of the view of this mountain from Interstate-5.

Taken the previous day while heading south from Grants Pass.

I'm at the top. Yikes. That's really high up. I push all those thoughts aside and try to enjoy the view. We can almost peer into Crater Lake's crater from here. We spot Mt. Shasta to the south. Lake of the Woods is over there. Four Mile Lake, where our new tent, the Palace, is set up is right there.

Group shot, 9,594 ft. above sea level.

Blogging buddies.

On the return trip, I find myself paired up with Brett. He's got some serious ski mountaineering skills and has not only skied this mountain, but has several trips up Mt. Shasta on his resume. I quiz him about climbing Mt. Shasta, skirting around in such a way that I don't really have to tell him that I'm afraid of losing my arm on that mountain. "Can it be done without ropes?" "Without skis?" "What if I were afraid of heights?" "Do I go with a guide?" "Tell me about the glaciers..." He's patient to answer all my questions and by the time we reach the trees again, I'm convinced that should be my next mountain. Silly endorphins, quiet down!

After parting ways with Billy, we make a beeline for the lake, barely pausing to grab snacks and drinks. We dive in. The water is chilly but exhilarating. It isn't until I catch an icy gust of wind that I decide I've had enough. I head for shore and break into the snacks. As I watch the others splash around in the water, I can't believe that summer will be ending soon. I want days like this to last forever.

We say goodbye to Brett and then head back to camp. Since it's only mid-afternoon right now, it's too early for dinner. My and Matt's hammocks are set up. When I offer my single one to Brad, he wastes no time jumping in and dozing off. I cozy up with Matt in his double hammock and we doze off ourselves while the breeze gently rocks us to sleep.

The friends portion ends with campfire pigs in a blanket and a delicious s'mores idea I found on Pinterest. We tuck into bed and by the next morning, Brad is packed up and headed for home.

This was amazing! A+ to the people of Pinterest!

Last view of Mt. McLoughlin on our drive out of Four Mile Lake.

Matt's long weekend still has a few more days to go, so we head out toward our next adventure. We spend most of the day driving and lounging at a campground in the middle of nowhere. The campground host, a very curious and bold doe keeps us company and checks in on us. We're the only campers in this small campground and everything about our rest day is perfect. Matt and I pore over the map and settle on a plan for the next day before climbing into bed once again.

South Fork of the Rogue River, adjacent to our camp.

Nearest to our campground is the trailhead for the Seven Lakes Trail. Judging by the trail map, it appears to be the most scenic option. In addition to the namesake lakes, there's an optional summit if we are feeling ambitious.

The Palace.

Backpack butterfly.

We set off from the car dressed for a run. The elevation looks forgiving so depending on the technicality of the terrain, we might be able to run it. Not ten steps down the trail, we realize that the day is going to be more of a hike. We begin climbing up and over downed trees and count more than 55 trees in the first mile. After that, we stop counting. The going is slow and we soon realize that we've chosen the least used trail (of three, I think) leading to the Seven Lakes Basin.

The trail eventually leads up and out of the trees and for the first time in over two hours, it's runnable. I break into a trot and not two minutes in, my foot catches a rock and down I go. I tear some skin from my knees and left arm. We decide to skip the whole running thing for the day. Why rush?

Lake #1, South Lake, is down below. We pass a few other lakes, discussing our turnaround point. After my crash, I'm sore and tired and unwilling to take on more than our original plan of ten miles.

We pass a couple more lakes before we arrive at our lunch spot. Before we pull out sandwiches and snacks, Matt bandages up my booboos. One of the cuts, the one on my left knee, is pretty deep so he cleans all of them out with an alcohol wipe and I take his photo to distract myself from the sting. It's rare that he's chivalrous and takes care of me like this, so I soak it up. Usually I'm too independent to accept help.

Ouch.

Bacon makes it all better.

We make our return trip, talking about how familiar the area seems to us. It's not until we've talked it through for ten minutes that we realize it's reminding us of our favorite nearby mountains. "Sky Lakes is like Trinity Alps Lite," Matt says. None of the brutal slogs from the highway, yet all of the gorgeous mountain lakes. The people of Southern Oregon are spoiled rotten.

Smoke on the northern horizon.

The slight downhill turn and light conversation makes the miles through the forest pass quickly. Soon we're back at the car with ten dusty (and for me: bloody) miles on our legs. We return to the campground for a quick lunch and goodbye to our favorite campground host.

Mac and dogs, a car camping staple meal.

On longer adventures such as these, Matt and I have started a tradition of camping for several days and then checking into a hotel to spoil ourselves with long showers and a dinner out. Of course, when in Medford, this also means Dairy Queen.

The next morning, we go for a quick run and then head for the coast. Thank you again, Southern Oregon! I love you!