I have thought long and hard about what to include on this site, how it should look and work. Traditionally, Studio Casey has been merely for my graphic and web design business, but I feel that in this world of blurring the lines between personal and work life that it can and needs to be more. On this new site, you will find not only my professional design, but also fine art I have created and other interests.

You will notice three major categories on the top navigation:

• Commercial Art, containing design, marketing, and advertising work.
• Fine Art, containing printmaking, illustrations, photography, and other work for sale or just display.
• And finally, Adventure.

Adventure contains interests, backpacking, running, hiking, cycling, telemark skiing, philosophical musings, and thoughts concerning my profession. I’m quite excited to have an outlet to write, share experiences with other people, and combine illustration and photography with these writings. I think this all relates nicely with design and marketing and serves as an excellent example of my work in its purest most tangible form—myself as the client.

It has been a long time coming. The last redesign was about six years ago. I hope you enjoy the site and progress with me on this journey of content, functionality, and relationships.

I hope you get involved. I hope you will invest in the stories and become part of the communication. Also, this website, as all sites, is constantly changing. If you see something that doesn’t look right, please let me know.

This is gonna be fun!

david

• Duration: 3 days, September 15 – 17, 2010
• Location: White Clouds
• Trailhead: Slate Creek/Hoodoo Hot Springs
• Distance: 11 miles total
  • 4 miles, each way
  • 3 mile day hike
• Elevation gain/loss: +1900 feet, -100 feet
• Day Hike, Elevation gain/loss: +-1860 feet
• Backpackers: Bud Reberry, David Casey, Neddie, Sunny

I knew this was going to be a strange trip even before we left. We were supposed to leave Monday, the 13th, but I threw my back out a week previous playing basketball with my brother. I could barely walk for a week-and-a-half. Bud had been sick the previous week as well. We decided to make the best of things and give it a go.

We had gathered that finding the trail would be the most difficult part of the trip. I had been to Hoodoo lake the previous year, so I was familiar with the area, but had not been up the Ocalkens trail. We had also heard that the trail had been abandoned, so we were expecting to do some bushwhacking and climbing over deadfall. We found what we thought was the trail, which took us up the riverbed. We stuck it out for quite some time before we gave up, mostly because of my back. I would hate to know how far we would have made it up that stream if we were feeling good—probably the entire way.

We gave up and turned back a bit disappointed. Coming out, Bud looked back at the mountains and saw the downed trees that were covering the real trail. It was still early enough, we could make the lake before dark. Speeding up the trail, we made good time for a couple gimps. The trail was easy and didn’t seem abandoned at all.

As we were nearing Ocalkens Lake, it was just starting to get dark. I told Bud that I didn’t have much interest in staying there and would prefer Lake 8872. It meant some cross country, but it seemed light enough outside to make it. We set off straight up the hill that holds the lake, finding it just as the light started to fade.

The next day we were slow to do anything. Our tentative plan was to bag as many peaks as possible and maybe see Swimm Lake. That just wasn’t going to happen on this trip. Instead we waxed philosophical and challenged each other on theologies. Around mid-day we got some energy to do a day hike. We cross-countried over the hill separating our lake and Ocalkens.

Ocalkens was half-dry. It looked like a short twisty river that appeared and just as quickly disappeared more than a lake. We continued on toward the pass below WCP 6, with intentions of summitting. Getting to the saddle was exhilarating. We had lunch and a mountain goat knocked some boulders off the mountain nearby. I was spent and didn’t have the ambition to climb a mountain…even if it was just a little further. I kinda regret that decision, but I’m sure we’ll get back to knock off the nearby peaks.

On our way down from the saddle, we found a high point that gave a good 360 degree view. I shot my sequence there and we took in the scenery. The panorama is at the bottom of this post.

We headed back to our campsite for dinner and another evening of lively intellectual conversation. After dinner, we hiked behind our lake to the base of Ocalkens and completed the loop to our camp. We spent the evening talking, smoking pipes, and drinking scotch.

The next day we had a leisurely stroll back to the trailhead, had pizza and beer at Papa Brunee’s. We listened to John Mayer and Modest Mouse coming home.

• Duration: 4 days, August 9 – 12, 2010
• Location: Bighorn Crags
• Trailhead: Crags Campground
• Distance: 24 miles total
  • 8 miles, each way to campsite
  • 8 mile day hike
• Day 1 Elevation gain/loss: +2180 feet, -1740 feet
• Day 2 Elevation gain/loss: +-1860 feet
• Day 3 Elevation gain/loss: +1590 feet, -2030 feet
• Backpackers: Bud Reberry, David Casey, Dillon Reberry, Neddie, Sunny

I’ve been wanting to go to The Bighorn Crags for probably 15 years. Bud had been wanting this trip even longer. This was the year. We were finally going to do it…and it actually happened, although not quite the way we had imagined.

It rained throughout the trip completely changing our plans. The plan was to hike into Ship Island Lake the first day. Second day run down to the end of Ship Island to get a view off the edge, catch the upper lakes, and see Shoban and Sheepeater Lake. Climb Mount McGuire the third day. Fourth day see Big Clear Lakes and hike out the following day.

The first night we got there it rained without stopping—it was pretty demoralizing, thinking we had finally gotten here and were about to be turned back by torrential rains. The next day, it was bright and sunny. We let our bags and tent dry out over breakfast and decided to continue with the trip.

Forecast was for more rain and lightning storms. We pulled into the trailhead parking and met Ranger Dave. There was a handwritten note on the trailhead sign stating that the ranger was eager to talk—this was a warning. Dave wanted to explain the entire trip to us, telling us to watch out for wrong trails, etc. He was a nice enough guy, probably really needed some communication way out there, but we were ready to be on our way. He snapped a picture of us and we trekked onward up the trail.

On our way in, the clouds were threatening to unleash on us, but never really did until the day’s end. Hiking though The Tombstones was quite the sight, reminding me of The City of Rocks. They were large fins of granite batholith sticking out at regular intervals across the ridge. Most seemed to be about 60 to 80 feet high or so.

We were worried about finding the spring, just in case we didn’t have enough water. However, it was pretty easy to find. We braked for lunch at the fork for The Waterfall Trail and Fishfin Ridge leaving the decision until last minute. We decided to skip Fishfin Ridge for the inbound trip, opting for The Waterfall Trail where we weren’t about to get zapped with lightning.

The Waterfall Trail was fairly uneventful. Down, down, down. We got to the waterfall that came from Welcome Lake, after that, it really started raining, breaking occasionally. We hiked up the steep trail to Wilson Lake. Looking back we could see a huge cloud building up over The Tombstones. Getting near the top we saw a beautiful waterfall cascading from the lake. It was enough to renew the life in our feet and push us forward. We finally made it to Wilson Lake, nearly drenched. We checked out Harbor Lake, but there was another group camped there and we decided the towering cliffs of Fishfin Ridge bearing down on us felt more rugged.

It rained hard all that night. The lightning and thunder cracked around us, echoing off the rock walls. We were immersed and swallowed in the throat of the storm. We slept hard late that night, exhausted from the hike in the rain and the evening’s show. We woke in the morning to sunrise; the ground smelling of fresh earth.

Today we were to do some day hiking. Over Fishfin Ridge to Birdbill and Gentian Lake. We met three nice people on the trail curious about where we had come from and our travel plans. The two women were cute, looking as if they had stepped out of a 1950’s camping magazine with their sunglasses and scarves securing their large brimmed hats under their chin.

Once on the pass at Fishfin, we noticed the old trail going nearly straight down the talus. It appeared we could cut off a mile of our day hike, so we indulged ourselves in the glissading down the decomposed granite sand.

Hiking past Mirrow Lake below, we reached Birdbill Lake and had lunch. Here we saw a fox running between Birdbill and Gentian Lake. We climbed the next pass to the west to see Airplane and Ship Island Lake. There was an excellent view about a quarter mile beyond the pass where we snapped some photos and decided to return another year for the spectacular drop off another seven to eight miles round trip away. It was a difficult decision—Airplane Lake is a big reason we wanted to do this trip. The massive cliffs were impressive and seemed stolen from Yosemite Valley. We also got a view of the route up Mount McGuire, also saved for the next time.

We turned back and decided to make our way toward Big Clear Lake, if only for a quick view. Hiking north beside Gentian Lake, we made our way up the endless switchbacks. This had to be one of the best views of the trip. Standing on a rocky outcrop above the pass we had 360 degree views of Fishfin, Gentian, Birdbill, Mirrow, and Big Clear Lake drainage. I was able to set up my newly fabricated armature and shoot the following 360 panorama. (I highly recommend the full-screen view.)

Looking over the top of Mirrow Lake, we could see the pass on Fishfin Ridge and the old trail we had slid down. Just to the right of the pass was the opposite side of The Rusty Nail. As we had passed by, I noticed that it looked like a good shortcut back to our campsite at Wilson Lake.

After a long rest, a cliff bar, and some gorp, we headed back to camp. When we got to The Rusty Nail, I decided I wanted to do it; Dillon and Bud had had enough for the day. Normally I don’t like hiking by myself over steep passes or mountains, but I had my dogs and the guys would be coming around on the trail shortly.

Going up the scree tossed slope was not too bad—I gained the ridge quickly. On top I had a spectacular view of Wilson and Harbor Lake. I took a photo before heading down the other side, which seemed a bit more steep. I had some adrenaline going being solo. I picked my way down between some trees and made it safely back to camp, probably an hour faster than Bud and Dillon. I was quite pleased.

Once back at camp the clouds rushed in. It looked like another serious storm. I pulled out our food bags and got things ready for a quick dinner. By the time Bud and Dillon got to the tent, it was raining pretty fiercely. We made quick work of dinner huddling under a thick canopy of trees.

The next morning we had enough of the rain. We decided to head out a day early. No regrets. We had received a pretty good tour of the Northern Crags. Before we could leave a pair of bighorn sheep gingerly walked across the cliffs above our camp. Bud started talking to them in his “sheep language” and surprisingly enough they responded.

We packed up our gear and headed for Fishfin Ridge. Again coming out there was no rain, although it appeared that the sky would dump on us any moment. We had lunch at the fork again and made really good time coming out.

Looking back the trail seemed to have more up and down than I expected. Not difficult, but the topo map was a bit deceptive, or maybe we just didn’t read it carefully enough.

We got back to the truck where beers (and a soda for Dillon) were waiting in the creek. This trip was definitely not what we had planned. But, we had a fun time hiking and hanging out together. We are looking forward to going back and completing the trip and hitting all the hot spots very soon. Driving out we listened to Led Zepplin IV and Niel Young. We stopped at Sawtooth Luce’s and ordered a Big Homer Stud Pie…it’s tradition.

• Duration: 3 days, July 31 – August 2, 2010
• Location: Payette Crest
• Trailhead: Kennally Creek
• Distance: 6 miles, each way
• Elevation gain: 2387 feet
• Elevation loss: 973 feet
• High point: 7800 feet
• Low point: 5600 feet
• Backpackers: David Casey, Diego, Tom Callmeyer

Blackmare wasn’t highly rated on my todo list. For some reason it was intriguing me this season. I thought six miles would be a good season opener in one of my favorite mountain ranges. Tom and I emailed beta found on the web about this lake along with Google Map and Earth info. We had a late start this year and were excited to get some mileage under our feet.

We got a late start to the trail, arriving at the trailhead at 5pm. It was late enough we were considering going in the next day. We figured, there were enough options, should it get too late, we could drop tent at another lake. We started up Kennally Creek trail, then up the Needles trail. Pretty easy going, we were moving quickly.

Anticipating a sign that pointed to Blackmare Lake and said No Trail, we came across it later than we expected. Heading straight up the mountain to the east we followed a lightly worn climber’s trail gaining elevation at a steady pace. We kept thinking, “No trail, eh?” There was definitely a trail, all the way into Lake 7300. We reached the saddle at 7800 feet and looked down onto Lake 7300 and its smaller pond above.

Reaching Lake 7300 there were mosquitoes swarming everywhere. The north side of the lake was fairly marshy, and this was prime time for insects. We made our way to the outlet thinking there may be more wind and less bugs. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a flat spot to be found. It was getting late, perhaps another hour-and-a-half of light. We decided to push for Blackmare; after all, we had been following a trail the entire way. We soon found out that the trail to Blackmare had been abandoned and we were following cairns.

The sun had gone behind the mountain ridge and it was getting dusky. Somehow we lost the trail and got into the worst bushwhacking I have ever been through. I couldn’t see where I was stepping and the shrubbery was over my head. I just knew the general direction to go: down. We got to the bottom of the drainage, I knew we needed to head south and up the steep slope to find Blackmare.

I found a worn game trail that I figured had to be the old trail. We continued up the trail hoping to make the lake by dark. It was thick and downed trees blocked the path, making it slow and difficult. Diego was having a rough time getting over the logs and I could tell Tom was getting frustrated. The sun had gone down and it was starting to get dark. I decided to push up the near 60 feet to the top and let Tom work through the trail with Diego. I got to the top and found a nice campsite, just in time. Dropping my pack, I put on my headlamp and went back for Tom to let him know we had made it.

Tom got to the campsite and was pretty quiet. I was thinking he was mad at me for getting him into this trip. I could tell he was pretty spent and didn’t know which way to turn. We got dinner started and set up our tents. Eating that night was what we both needed. We were running low on fuel and it was affecting us.

The next day we just hung around camp. It was nice. We watched the day just burn by. How often do we do that? We talked some, smoked our pipes, and drank some brandy. It was a relaxing day, glad to be in the mountains away from the busyness of life.

I was surprised of the size of this lake and that it had been abandoned. I’m sure we had the entire drainage to ourselves. In fact, I wasn’t sure if anyone had even been there this year.

I hiked over to the outlet of the lake, the logs were packed tightly. I found a good spot to shoot a 360 degree panorama. There were a few fish jumping in the lake, but I didn’t bring any equipment.

The next day we headed home, with a mid-morning start. Going down the trail in the daylight was quite a different story. We could see the trail much easier, but we were still climbing over deadfall. We got to the bottom of the drainage and found the trail we had missed. It was more obvious with the light. Hiking up the lightly worn game trail we made our way back up to Lake 7300. I found where we had lost the trail—a tree had fallen directly on the trail. I built a cairn for the next traveler.

Coming out, I realized how steep the trail was. My knees were burning and I was having a time coming down. We took it easy and getting back on the Needles trail was a delight. The Needles trail had also not seen maintenance for a while. It needed several water bars built as the trail had become a stream for spring runoff in many places. The Kennally Creek trail was wide. In many places six to eight feet wide. This trail is open to motor vehicles and it was quite obvious.

We practically ran down the Kennally Creek trail. Beers were waiting for us at the trailhead. Reconsidering the trip, it was one of the most difficult lakes I have attempted, partially because we got off trail, but even difficult coming out on the trail. It was an epic adventure!

• Duration: 2 days (overnighter), August 21 – 22, 2009
• Location: White Clouds
• Trailhead: Slate Creek/Hoodoo Hot Springs
• Distance: 1.75 miles each way
• Elevation gain/loss: +1622 feet
• Backpackers: David Casey, Neddie, Sunny

Turned out, this was my only backpacking trip of the year, and it was solo. For one reason or another all my backpacking partners and I weren’t able to work out a trip. This was also the first year that I became a dad. So, I’ve been preoccupied with getting out with Cindy and Cohen for easy camping trips. I wanted to get to Ocalkens Lake, but wasn’t sure how likely that would be given that the trail was supposedly abandoned. Hoodoo Lake was the alternate plan.

I had some new music and a nice cigar to keep me company, but I was feeling very solitary. Driving in I saw a brown bear cross Highway 75 and swim across the Salmon River. It grabbed a boulder and the swift current pushed him around. It was plain to see its imposing strength as it pulled itself onto the rock and climbed out of the river, making its way to the campground above.

I arrived at the trailhead with some very excited dogs. I sunk the beers in the stinky water and headed up the trail past the hot springs. I was glad to be out, but missing companionship and missing my newborn son. The trail was gradual, and for good reason; it was an old mining road and I was hiking up double-track most of the way. The trail was arduous and defeating.

I arrived at the lake glad to have the trail behind me, and it was starting to get dark. I quickly scanned the lake and didn’t notice any designated campsites, and the trail gave out upon arrival. I found a flat spot and quickly made camp, had dinner, and crashed for the evening.

The next morning I woke, and hung out on the lake for a bit. There were dragonflies buzzing about, snapping their wings through the tall grass that surrounded Hoodoo Lake. I had considered doing some day hiking, but decided to come home a day early.

Coming out was quick. I had a beer, and lit my pipe for the ride home. A most uneventful trip.

• Duration: 2 days (overnighter), September 2 – 3, 2008
• Location: White Clouds
• Trailhead: Fourth of July
• Distance: 4 miles each way
• Elevation gain/loss: +1382 feet, -682 feet
• Backpackers: Bud Reberry, David Casey, Neddie, Sunny

It has been getting cold early this year and this was looking like one of our last opportunities to get out before some serious snow started flying. For over ten years, I’ve been wanting to make a long loop tour of the heart of the White Clouds: Fourth of July, Chamberlain Basin, Little Boulder Chains, Born Lakes. It is a long trip to see everything, about six or seven days to do it right and Bud has been a little troubled by the reports of Devil’s Staircase, at least doing it with a heavy pack. Born Lakes would be the perfect opportunity to get a view of Devil’s Staircase and Four Lakes Pass from the west.

We drove in to views of snow licked peaks of the Sawtooths and the White Clouds. It was beautiful. We had just had weather move through the day previous and the sun hadn’t had the chance to burn off the snow. Forecast was for good weather. Hiking up Ant’s Basin Pass we looked back on Chamberlain Lakes Basin and the mountains were snowy and craggy, the gateway to heaven.

Since this was a quick trip and it was already getting late, we passed the chance for a quick peakbagging of Patterson and Blackman Peaks. Looking across Ant’s Basin we could see D. O. Lee Peak rising with White Cloud Peak 9 behind. Bud and I had been on WCP-9 last year. It was fun to see them from this perspective. I could picture Ant’s Basin with a thousand-head herd of elk grazing; no luck. We didn’t see any wildlife on this trip.

We made our way into Ant’s Basin. The trail cuts east along the edge of the talus heading straight toward the lakes, cutting out a couple miles as compared to the topo map.

We arrived at the lakes. They were quite close to each other, the two lower separated by a short hill where people have made a nice camp. There were several campsites in this area. We continued to Lake 9555 and set camp on the west rim. Surveying our home for the evening, we came across an old outhouse complete with a comfy toilet seat. Apparently someone didn’t feel like roughing it.

That night a storm pushed in on us. It worried me most of the night. I could see the heavy snow pushing down the tent. Sunny got out of the vestibule, presumably to drink from the lake or relieve herself. I don’t think she could figure how to get back under the tent, so she curled up outside against my feet. By the time I could get my jacket and moccasins on, there was a couple inches drifting around her. She was surprisingly warm and did not seem to be bothered by the weather.

I got back in the tent and mentioned to Bud that it was really coming down out there and that I was hoping for an easy trip out, especially with the steep pass. Fortunately, the snow let up and in the morning we had a few inches. By midday, most of the snow had burned off.

We set off to get a closer view of Devil’s Staircase and see the rest of the headwall and lakes. We found several cairns that took us right to the trail. We watched a pair of backpackers make their way up and over the pass. It looked quite doable. We also watched a hiker make his way from Patterson Peak to Four Lakes Pass, disappearing into the basin. Another possible route, depending on what someone wanted to see.

After we had our fill of Born Lakes we packed up and headed home. By then the snow had all but melted in the direct sun. We had an easy way out. We listened to Carrina Round, Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins, and Ray LaMontagne. We came back to Boise through Stanley, stopping at Sawtooth Luce’s for a Big Homer Stud Pie and some suds.

• Duration: 2 days (overnighter), August 11 – 12, 2008
• Location: Payette Crest
• Distance: 3 miles each way
• Elevation gain/loss: +1700 feet, -600 feet
• Backpackers: Bud Reberry, David Casey, Neddie, Sunny

This was our third attempt for Thirtythree Lake, but our second going this route. Here are links to our first and second try. We were eager to find this lake and excited for the journey.

We hiked quickly through the flats finding the area where we picked our way through the tall brush. Here we stayed high and sidehilled to start following a slight trail and cairns. This seemed to go faster than heading straight up the draw. There are cairns scattered all over this country. Fact is, it is off trail, there are a million ways to get there and it seems more trial and error to find the best route.

Using a map, we just kept heading toward the lake, knowing the general direction and that it would become obvious when we got near the pass. Heading up after leaving the low, there is a trail that skirts a very small stream. Finding this trail is key for getting up the steep easily. Because we were staying high left through the low, we had to sidehill to catch the trail.

Finding the trail, we made good time moving up. It was steep, but quite doable. We stopped to have lunch on a huge boulder where we could see the headwall we were headed for. It seemed like an obvious place to stop as we were about to leave the stream and the topography was about to change drastically, moving from abundant brush to thin alpine trees and craggy rocks.

Getting to the pass was no easy accomplishment. There were a couple places requiring hands to make the climb, but it was all worth it for the vista that awaited us at the top. We were standing atop a batholith. Granite humps spread out and we had a spectacular view of Thirtythree Lake and Fitsum Peak. It was grand.

Coming down was steep as well, with a couple places we just slid down granite ramps. We found our campsite on the peninsula and had the lake to ourselves. Dropping our packs, we hiked to the outlet to view Fitsum Peak and the Salmon River Mountains far in the distance.

That night Bud and I were quite pleased we had finally made it to this lake after being turned back twice before. The night got dark and the stars were more brilliant than I had seen in a long time. The sky was absolutely clear. We were standing on the edge of the peninsula looking at the sky; glancing down the calm lake reflected the stars perfectly. I felt like I was floating in space with a thousand miles above and below me. It was a marvelous feeling.

The next day we headed home. Climbing up to the pass was somewhat difficult, but we felt fresh and just starting our day out. The ramps required some hand-over-fist climbing and I enjoyed working my hands into the fist-width cracks in the granite to gain leverage.

Once we got to the other side, coming out was a cinch. We made very fast time, looking forward to the beers we sunk in the creek. Coming home we stopped at Toll Station Pizza for pizza and beer.

• Duration: 5 days, July 1 – 5, 2008
• Location: Seven Devils
• Trailhead: Seven Devils Campground
• Distance: 13 miles total
  • Day 1: 4 miles: +816 feet, -1776 feet
  • Day 2: 2.5 miles: +893 feet, -212 feet
  • Day 4: 6.5 miles: +1992 feet, -1713 feet
• Backpackers: Cindy Casey, David Casey, Jen Casey, Michael Casey, Mo, Neddie, Sunny

We were planning on doing the Seven Devils Loop. This would be our first backpacking trip with Jen, my brother’s wife. She is a newcomer to backpacking and hasn’t had many good experiences yet. Also, Cindy and I had a surprise that we were considering disclosing on the trip.

We camped the first night at the trailhead in Seven Devils Campground, planning on hiking into Sheep Lake the next day. Mid-morning we got on the trail. It was easier for Cindy than it had been last time were here. Several years before, we came up a year after an ACL/PCL/miniscus replacement and she hadn’t gotten the rehab necessary. We turned back before we could even make the first scenic view.

The four of us made our way around the ridge to see the deep ravine of West Fork of Sheep Creek. This was a good place to stretch out, throw down some gorp, and let Jen have a break. The fire damage was still overwhelmingly visible. Charred trees and snags were abundant. After our short break, we continued on. We came to a small snow field that needed to be crossed. It was perhaps 50-feet across on a less than 30-degree angle. Jen was not happy about this. Cindy and I kicked our way across the snow and waited for Michael and Jen. Michael threw down his pack to help Jen across.

We got our first view of Devil’s Tooth as we made our way deeper into the Seven Devils. Descending to the West Fork of Sheep Creek, Jen was getting pretty worked over. We decided to camp at a large outfitters camp that night and skip Sheep Lake, continuing on the loop to Echo Lake.

The next day, we headed up Dry Diggins Ridge. Looking back on the drainage we had come out of was certainly breathtaking. This is steep and big country. We made our way toward Hibbs Cow Camp. Unfortunately, we had been climbing over downed trees across the trail and the further we got, the worse it got. This was not a good experience for Jen, and Cindy was throwing up occasionally.

I turned us around and decided to head toward Sheep Lake and stop wherever felt good—the loop was out of the question with this group. Getting to Basin Lake was good enough for everyone. We set up camp at a well used site, complete with fireplace and bench seat. Not exactly the kind of place I like to camp, but it was comfy.

That night we were talking about the hike in and how difficult it had been with all the deadfall. Cindy explained that she was throwing up on the trail because this was Cohen’s first backpacking trip; Cindy and I were going to have our first baby. It was the perfect setting and Jen and Michael were excited for us.

The next morning we woke to a cloud hanging over the lake. We were socked in. What a beautiful sight looking through the trees with all the fog enveloping us. We spent the day hanging out at camp reading and talking. Michael tried fishing the outlet, first with my fly rod, then with his hands. He almost got one, but it slipped through his hands.

Michael decided to make a fire. He gathered some wood and was breaking branches down to size. One branch was especially large. He had Jen stand on one end as he jumped on the other to break it over a rock. Jen was instantly launched coming down hard on her butt. Swearing at Michael, she had had enough of the outdoors.

The following day, we headed home. It was a long and tiring day, slowly making our way back to the trailhead, climbing over occasional deadfall and feeling the steep terrain. Getting near the trailhead, a man and his seven-year-old daughter were making their way in. His backpack was over his head, she had a small day pack on. Cindy and I looked at each other in expectation. I couldn’t wait to experience backpacking and the outdoors with Cohen.

• Duration: 4 days, August 5 – 8, 2008
• Location: Sawtooths
• Trailhead: Alturas Lake
• Distance: 18.25 miles total
  • Day 1: 4.25 miles: +1536 feet, -95 feet
  • Day 2: 7.25 miles: +-3165 feet
  • Day 3: 2.5 miles: +-481 feet
  • Day 4: 4.25 miles: +95 feet, -1536 feet
• Backpackers: Cindy Casey, David Casey, Neddie, Sunny

Cindy and I had decided to backpack into Alpine Creek Lakes over the weekend. She had a business meeting in Twin Falls Monday morning, so she would hike out early. Tuesday, Bud and Dillon Reberry would be hiking in. Then we would all leave Thursday. The topo map shows the trail ending where the two drainages meet, however there are trails to the lower lakes in both. We decided to set basecamp at the first northern lake, Lake 8523 and day hike to see the other lakes and maybe climb Snowyside Peak.

We chose this area because it seemed that all of Idaho was on fire. I didn’t feel like hiking in the smoke and Alpine Creek Lakes were the best option we could think of. The sky was hazy, but really not too bad.

Cindy and I drove separate vehicles in so she could get to Twin Falls. We started hiking along an easy trail and made good time. It was a good warm up and Cindy was feeling good. We had lunch at the fork and started our ascent up the north drainage. It was pretty steep considering the easy trail we had just been on, but definitely not a climber’s trail. We took it slow and steadily made progress.

About the time you would think you could take no more, it was over. The trail flattened out on a plateau with a jagged ridge to the north. Our destination lake was only about a half-mile away. We were getting hungry and glad to have the worse over and behind us.

We arrived at Lake 8523. There was already another group at the north end so we took the southern-most site. We were quite some distance apart and barely noticed each other. Cindy and I made camp and hiked around on the rocks above taking pictures and admiring the jagged cliffs that surrounded us.

That evening we had Italian freeze-dried dinner and drank wine from our bota. I was reading the topo and making plans for day hiking when Bud and Dillon arrived.

The next day, Cindy had to hike out early to make it to her meeting in Twin Falls. I hiked with her down past the fork in the trail to the huge open meadow. We said our goodbyes, Cindy continued down the trail and I made my way to the south drainage.

I was a little worried about Cindy. She didn’t have much backcountry experience; fortunately, there was only one trail to get back. We talked about what to do in case anything happened. She had her sleeping bag, extra food, and plenty of water. Bud would be making his way up the trail the following day and would find her, worst case scenario.

Going up the southern drainage was really steep, more so than the former, I was glad I was only wearing a day pack. The dogs and I made good time and had lunch at Lake 8522. My goal was to see everything on this side, then Bud, Dillon, and I would explore the northern section. I hiked up to Lake 8727 first. It was a nice lake with perhaps one campsite. I decided the upper-most tarn was probably skipable, so I turned back to catch Lake 8662 and worked my way up the other tarns.

I was curious if I could make a loop and cross the divide between the two drainages. I made my way straight up the divide toward the most obvious pass keeping close to the more solid dirt and trees. I got to the top, and it was quite a view. I was pretty exhausted and thought that I might be feeling the altitude a bit. Looking down the other side looked steep and loose and I didn’t think it would be wise to go it alone, so I reluctantly turned around to backtrack my route to my campsite.

It was a long day of hiking. I made dinner and spent the last part of the evening smoking my pipe, reading, and hoping Cindy made it out safely.

Today was the day Bud would arrive. I hiked across the valley, paralleling the topo elevation, to a point where I could overlook Alpine Creek valley leading out to Alturas Lake. I brought my book, pipe, Thermarest chair, food and water, and the radio. Bud and I had prearranged the frequency and he would be contacting me when he got close. I could see bits of the trail and was hoping to catch a view of them coming in.

Happy that I had my book, it was a long wait—I never did hear from Bud. It was nice just sitting at the edge of the cliff, enjoying the solitude and beauty of my surroundings.

Back at camp, I made dinner and was getting ready for an early bedtime. I was in my tent, finishing off my book, when my dogs started growling. I thought maybe Bud had found me. I looked out the tent and there was a huge mountain goat walking toward my campsite. I quickly grabbed my camera and tried to quietly calm the dogs down. Snapping a few pics, I could hardly believe that I was this close to a wild mountain goat. They are usually several miles away, disappearing behind rocks.

After the excitement, I finished my book and crashed for the evening. The next morning I packed up and headed out. I found the mud pit that I buried my beer in; it was delicious hiking the last mile with a Bridgeport IPA. I was nearly out and a woman backpacking in asked if I was David Casey. I said that I was. As she coveted my beer, she told me that my friend wasn’t coming in and that she had read the note that was left on my truck. It was all fairly humorous.

I made it to the trailhead and found the note. Bud had stepped in a wasp nest out at his ranch and his foot was so swollen that he couldn’t get his boots on. He and Dillon opted for an easy hike into Fourth of July Lake. I considered running up there, but decided to go have pizza dinner with Cindy in Twin Falls. I listened to nearly the entire anthology of Modest Mouse on the drive.