In 2011, my dad, brother and I hiked up to Russian Lake, camped for one night, and then rushed to the emergency room after my brother filleted his leg open with a tin can lid. No joke, muscle hanging out, it was frightening. Since then, I have always wanted to go back. Lauren fancies herself as having Russian blood, so it was a perfect match.
After spending a night with my pops, helping him with the crossword, listening to a few rants about the hippies in Willow Creek, preparing our packs, we drove through Forks of the Salmon and up to the trail head.
I'll put this question to the readers; of there two trail head pictures do you prefer the calm, cool, collected and casual shot of me and my customized walking stick....
or Lauren's Good Living Magazine, hand-on-hips, gosh golly darn shot?
Hmmmhmmm. She did improve a bit as we hiked.
The Deacon Lee trail hikes along this ridge, then makes its way around a few peaks. From this vantage point, you can see the Pacific Crest Trail cut into the side of the distant mountain.
The first lake you hit is Waterdog Lake. Good fishing, a couple of nice campsites.
But the second lake you hit is Russian Lake. Surrounded by granite walls, perched on the edge of a cliff, so deep and blue, it's a little scary.
This is the view from our campsite. Lauren agrees that it's a little nicer than the view from her old apartment on Telegraph, which was usually of Tom, the pants-less gardener/ rat keeper.
One of the best presents ever was this packpacking hammock. Every evening, we could be found reading in there. Very peaceful considering I was reading about the brutality of the Commanche/Texas wars.
Other activities included, fossil finding...
...fishing...
...swimming..
and making Pink Squirrels. A delicate blend of vodka and Crystal Light Pink Grapefruit Powder, something that is only drinkable in very specific situations like backpacking.
When we first showed up, there was this older couple nakedly lounging on a rock. We made a few jokes and tried not to stare. The next day they took off and, soon after, we didn't really see the point in bathing suits either.
During the day we did some exploring down to Lower Russian Lake and Golden Russian Lake
We found a secret fishing camp complete with skillet.
We even found the spot where my brother almost lost his poor leg.
But our lake was still the best by far.
Goodbye Russian Lake. Goodbye.
