Lake Thirtythree

Richard has hiked to virtually every lake in the area. Whenever they can get together, he takes John to someplace new. It's a male-bonding thing, and we both immensely enjoy being out and our time together.

For some reason Richard chose a white shirt today, making him hard to see amongst the granite and patches of snow on the final cliffy section below the ridge top.

We sat and chatted for a bit on the pass, having earned our rest. But John was anxious to see the 'new' lake, which isn't visible from there. We started down.

It's only about 20 paces to a great overlook of the lake. The dusting of snow made the solitude seem that much greater.

Part of our routine is well practiced; Richard fishes while John hikes. In this case, John did a lap around the lake, stopping to get a picture of the pass they had walked over to get here.

Usually Richard catches a few fat trout, which are then barbecued on the deck when they get back home. Today we went home empty handed.

But even without fish, there is tradition is to be upheld. We scampered back down the valley and drove home to lift a glass of Richard's homebrew. We've found that a good glass of stout helps you forget about the one that got away.

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