Six Days in the High Sierra

August 23–28, 2026 | Cross-country travel, quiet camps, gear lessons, and a long-awaited return to backpacking

There are few feelings quite like walking away from a trailhead with everything you need for the next several days on your back.

This trip felt especially good.

Last December, I had surgery for Morton’s neuromas in both feet. I had still been spending plenty of time around the mountains since then—visiting trailheads, exploring mountain towns, and supporting other adventures—but I hadn't been able to put on a pack and disappear into the backcountry myself.

In late August, that finally changed.

I started from Lake Sabrina and spent six days moving through the High Sierra. The trip took me away from established trails, across the Sierra crest to the west side of the range, and eventually back across the mountains before hiking out through Lamarck Lakes.

Granite. Alpine lakes. Cold mornings. Quiet camps. Route finding. Long climbs. And a whole lot of space.

More than anything, it felt like a gift just to be back out there.

The kind of quiet that's hard to find

One of my favorite parts of the trip was simply how quiet it was. There were long stretches of solitude with nothing but granite, water, huge Sierra skies, and the rhythm of walking.

Wake up. Make coffee. Look at the map. Pack up camp. Start walking.

The weather was about as good as I could have asked for: beautiful late-summer Sierra days, cool nights, and almost no mosquitoes. I encountered them for maybe 30 minutes one day while walking around an area with large puddles of standing water.

There is something incredibly freeing about life becoming that simple for a few days.

Carry what earns its place

Every trip teaches me something about my gear. I'm not interested in being ultralight just for the sake of being ultralight. I want to save weight where it makes sense while keeping the things that make me comfortable, safe, and actually allow me to enjoy being out there.

My sleep system is a good example. I carry a lightweight foam pad underneath my Big Agnes Rapide SL Insulated. The combination is the most comfortable system I've found and the least likely to leave me waking up with back pain. The foam pad also gives me a backup if something irreparable happens to my inflatable pad.

Those ounces earn their place.

I'm looking for weight savings elsewhere. I've used an Osprey Exos 48L for years and have loved it, but I'm considering moving toward something lighter and more streamlined.

I'm also rethinking my water and power setups. I'd like to replace the lightweight plastic bottle I carry alongside my 32-ounce Nalgene with a lightweight metal option, and I'm curious whether I can lighten the Anker power bank that currently gives me four to five full phone charges—or whether a small solar setup could make sense for longer trips.

One tiny change from this trip is definitely staying: compressed PACT wipes. I used to portion out baby wipes, usually one per day. The compressed wipes were tiny, hydrated really well, and took up practically no space.

I also carried my Garmin inReach Mini 2. Satellite communication is something I don't head into remote country without. I received a newer inReach for my birthday after this trip, so that will be coming along next time.

Always bring the rain protection

I have a rule that some form of rain protection always goes in my pack, even when the forecast looks great.

For almost six days, I didn't need it. Then, on my final day hiking out, I got absolutely poured on.

I was very thankful for that cheap little $5 poncho buried in my pack. There are plenty of things I'll debate carrying over a few ounces. Basic rain protection isn't one of them.

It goes in the pack. Every time.

And after waiting so long to backpack again, even being soaking wet felt pretty damn good.

Everyone was present

That last day also ended up being one of my favorite parts of the trip.

As I made my way back toward the east side, I joined the PCT/JMT through Evolution Valley. After spending so much of the trip traveling cross-country and in relative solitude, I was suddenly passing other hikers again.

But it didn't feel crowded. It felt refreshing.

Nearly everyone I passed seemed to be in the same state of awe. People would look around and comment on how unbelievably beautiful it was—almost acknowledging that you couldn't really explain this place to someone who wasn't standing there seeing it themselves.

And everyone seemed joyful.

People looked at each other. They said hello. They asked where you were coming from or where you were headed. There weren't faces buried in screens or all the constant distractions of normal life. Everyone was simply present.

Out there, your world gets remarkably simple. Walk. Eat. Find water. Pay attention to the weather. Figure out where you're going. And occasionally stop because what you're walking through is almost too beautiful to believe.

Everyone was there for the same reason: to be there.

Find your version of the Sierra

I could give you every mile, campsite, and coordinate from this trip. But that's not really what Beyond the Trail is about.

Your Sierra trip doesn't need to look like mine.

Maybe it's your first night in the backcountry. Maybe you're ready to leave established trails behind. Maybe you've dreamed about spending a week in the Sierra but aren't sure where to start, what gear you really need, or how to put all the pieces together.

That's where I can help.

Through Beyond the Trail, I help people choose an area, build an itinerary, work through permits and logistics, dial in gear and food, and plan a trip that fits their experience, comfort level, and goals.

I can't recreate exactly what I felt standing in Evolution Valley that last day. You have to be there for that.

But I can help you figure out how to get there.

PLAN YOUR SIERRA TRIP

Beyond the Trail LLC