Sing Peak

The day after Thanksgiving, we took our fun-loving Uncle Greg into the high country for some exercise and adventure. Nothing like a little backcountry bouldering to burn off a big holiday meal.

It was one of those days where it seems the warmth of the world has drained away, and even one's thoughts clatter like keys on a typewriter. Splendid day for hiking.

One rule of thumb for figuring temperature is to drop 3º for every additional 1,000 feet of elevation. So, even though it may have been 50º in Oakhurst, it was 29º (or less) where we began hiking. Of course, the wind chill makes it much colder. It definitely wasn't the sort of weather where you could comfortably stop for any extended period of time. When it's this cold, you have to keep moving.

Our destination for the day was Sing Peak, located right on the doorstep of the High Sierra. The entire hike was cross-country, with plenty of challenging bouldering. It's true: kids never grow up - they just find bigger playgrounds.

After we broke out of the treeline, removing one's gloves was not a pleasant proposition. Still, I couldn't resist pulling out the camera to get this shot.

Here we are at the top: cold as frozen peas but victorious. The summit is at 10,552 feet and offers a breathtaking panorama of the central Sierras. Left to right: yours truly, Uncle Greg, Dave, and Jesse. I'm not sure if Greg is performing some kind of salute or just worried that his hat is going to blow away.

After coming off the mountain, we selected a reasonably sheltered place to have a quick lunch. You guessed it: turkey sandwiches. From there, we traversed down the gorge for awhile before cutting back over the ridge towards the truck.

Once back on the westward side of the ridge, out of the wind, we came across this obviously condemned but rather picturesque old shack. In contrast to the cold statues of New England or austere cathedrals of Europe, California history is still warm - almost warm enough to imagine yourself within it.