Want to Go To the High Sierra?

Want to Go To the High Sierra?

“Yes, I’ll go.”

One summer, in the mid-1970s, I agreed to go on a backpack trip to the High Sierra with David Gould, my debate partner from high school, and his brother, Marc. Marc had four or five other friends who planned on meeting us in the mountains.

With seven or eight of us going, we had a lot to prepare. On the weekends, we took shorter practice hikes near Griffith Park Observatory and on Mount San Gorgonio.

Since this was my first backpacking trip, I borrowed a Kelty backpack. I took a regular sleeping bag, fishing gear, and Mountain House meals. I also found an old hat.

We made our gorp, better known as tail mix. We would take a mixture of salted mixed nuts, raisins, M and M’s, and granola. For lunch, we would eat sliced salami and crackers.

Once in the mountains, we would hike from early in the morning until about noon. One sunny afternoon, we finished hiking for the day and set up camp next to a mountain stream. Everyone sat in the shade playing cards. I lost one game, so I had to wait for the next one to start.

Wasps busing around our heads during card game didn’t seem to bother anyone, but it gave me an idea. What if I used my hat to stun a wasp, and use it for fish bait?

I finally got one, put the wasp on a hook, and went fishing. That is when I caught a trout. As soon as I showed the others my fish, everyone threw down their cards and ran to get their rods and reels.

That night, we had plenty of fresh trout. I can practically taste them.

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