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After covering so much ground over the last two days, I was worried about how we'd fare on the next day's hike. But with the rest we'd gotten the day before, everyone was fit and ready to roll. The whole party shared a feeling that finally, after the interruptions and unplanned detours of the first few days, our trip was properly underway.

For the first time, we appointed "Leaders of the Day" which is kind of a cheezy phrase, but describes the position well. The guides hiked with us, but stay mostly quiet. It would be up to the "leaders" to move the group toward our goal in whatever fashion they were able.

Carlos jumped at the opportunity, and there was a long pause, broken when I raised my own hand. I was interested, and more than happy to jump in first. I had thought others would be more eager, but I guess not. I think everyone had the same thought: I want to know what I'm volunteering for.

We divided into hiking groups, splitting up tent groups for the first time, and generally trying to mix things up. The circumstances of the trip had kept Brad, Aaron and me hiking almost exclusively with each other and with Manu. We'd hadn't had much of a chance to get to know everyone, so this was a great chance to spend time with new group members.

Remembering her interest in navigation, I nominated Tuti as our official navigator, and the rest of the group pretty much organized itself. I have to say that my job as "leader" was extremely easy. I bet with teenagers it's more challenging, but having been in a work environment for a few years, and dealing with a group who were all fantastic, I really didn't have to do much. I took a vote once, and did the obvious thing.

The hike to Long Lake went realy well. Tuti did a great job navigating. Tuti had some experience: she and her husband had traveled with the help of GPS before, and she was very comfortable reading the map and keeping us on course. We only lost the trail once, and briefly. We found ourselves countouring around a mountain about eighty feet above the actual trail. The group was split on whether to descend immediately to the trail or continue contouring. We were on bouldery terrain, picking our way slowly over the rocks, and my feeling was that we'd have an easier time of it on trail. The rest of the group felt that since the day's hike involved a sizeable altitude gain, we shouldn't give up what height we'd gained, so we continued contouring until we hit a spot where continuing over the rocks was clearly harder than descending to the trail.

We'd been ascending a very closed-in canyon between two large peaks, moving quickly, but also gaining altitude, and breathing harder as the air thinned. (I'd been feeling the thin air since Coyote Lake.) But oh was the view of the valley below Long Lake ever worth it. Everyone was stunned for a minute, breathing "Oh, wow..."

This was one of those moments you hope for on a trip like this. The moment you know you're out somewhere amazing, where very few people ever go. It's a great big wet kiss from Mother Nature saying thank you for taking the trouble.

We stopped to take this picture:

Our campsite at Long Lake was the most severe of the trip. We were above the tree line, and the ground was rocky and sloping everywhere. Our tents were about 200 meters uphill from the river, and another 200 meters downhill from the cooksite. We stayed for two nights, and each morning started with about half a mile of walking from the tent to the river to get water, then up to the kitchen for breakfast. And at about 10500 feet, this was highest altitude we camped at. And the wind was constantly trying to blow away our supplies. We even weighted down our backbacks with rocks as a precaution. We set up tarps as windbreaks in our cooking areas, and had just enough space underneath to sit comfortably.

This was the first camp where I really noticed the expertise of our guides in choosing and setting up cooksites. I helped Manu move a large, flat-topped stone into his cooksite, and watched him arrange his tarp as a roof betwen two boulders. On the harshest landscape of the trip, he set up the cushiest kitchen of the trip.

This camp was also where I learned how to sleep in cold weather. Until then, I'd slept wearing nearly every piece of clothing I had, and was still chilly. And wearing everything meant that there wasn't much left over to make a pillow. Determined to be warm, I wore my beanie and added one of my Buffs as a scarf, and soon found that I was overheating. I stuffed my fleece jacket back into my "pillow" stuff sack, and slept really well-- toasty, and with a pillow.

Sunday dawned pale and windy and absolutely breathtaking. Between the altitude and the incredible scenery, everyone was taking frequent breaks just to take it all in.

Manu and Colleen, our guides, had risen early to scout climbing areas, and rejoined us after breakfast to take us to where they'd set up. We spent the entire day on the rocks above Long Lake climbing and rapelling. Everyone managed one climb, and Colleen, Ken, Manu and I stayed for a second as well.

Manu commented that Colleen and I had "gym technique", and at the time I didn't really know what he meant by that. I think he meant that we used the larger holds, making big moves. I've seen a few climbers who've honed their skills largely outdoors, and they make greater use of smaller holds and moves, and generally use less energy on the same climb. Maybe that's what he meant, maybe not. But it got me thinking about using my body better and not just doing the obvious thing.

Carlos and Antonio, displaying a lunatic genius for cliffside cuisine, brought their whole kitchen with them to where we were climbing, and made fritters for everyone while we took turns climbing. The fritters were fantastic, and really helped make the day something special.

The next day we hiked to Halls lake, taking a detour to the top of Medina Peak. I served as navigator for the day, which was great fun. I'd been frustrated in the last couple of days that I had to look over someone else's shoulder to get a look at a map, so having one of my own, and being able to walk along with the map out was really cool.

Medina Peak lay about halfway between Long Lake and our destination, and we made a quick side trip to touch the top. We dropped our packs at the bottom of the slope, and Colleen carried everyone's water so that we wouldn't all have to get out our day packs (we would have had to completely unpack to get to them), and could still have free hands to scramble to the top. I felt silly handing someone half my size my water bottle to carry, but she insisted, and I would have felt even sillier arguing.

The view was incredible: we could see the path we'd taken to get there laid out beneath us. We spent some time checking our maps against the terrain (very easy from that height), and choosing routes to Halls Lake, just visible in the distance some miles away.

On the hike between Medina Peak and Halls Lake, we kept overtaking the group ahead of us. I never did get a complete story of why they weren't moving faster. They're all strong hikers and able navigators, so there's no reason our hike should have been going that much faster. In any event, the second time we bumped into them, we decided that since the two groups had obviously picked the same path (the groups had planned their courses independently), we'd take an alternate route down into a wide drainage valley, then up to Halls Lake. The route would involve about 200 feet of additional altitude gain, but we decided we were fine with that. It had been a pretty short day, and we all had the legs to go for something extra.

The drainage was beautiful. It was mostly dry, but I'm sure it's really something to see flushed with melt water in the spring. We hiked up and over the lip of the valley to Halls lake, and spotted the first group about a mile behind us. They quickly caught up, arriving at the campground just a few minutes after we did.

We were all smiles after a great day of hiking, and sat for a bit talking and dipping our feet in the lake. I could feel that after days of feeling short of breath I had finally adjusted to the altitude and was breathing easy. Everyone seemed to have more energy, and our campground was astonishing in its beauty and relative comfort: soft grass, a wide level area to set up our tents, and water and cooking nearby. Paradise.

Unfortunately, our horsepacker Niki had had a pretty rough day. Her horse had spooked and dropped her into a river, and it looked as if Niki might have a broken toe. I helped Manu set up the picket for the horses. I demonstrated a complete inability to make a clove hitch (which I've since remedied), so Manu took over the knot tying and I ran the line instead. Before long, campers, guides and horses were all settled in and enjoying a lakeside dinner beneath one of the most beautiful sunsets I've ever seen.