"Lizard, look at my boot." It was Rick, in a rather discouraging tone. We were about four miles from the trailhead working our way up to 11,400-foot Piute Pass in the Eastern Sierra out of Bishop. "Doesn't look good" were the first words out of my parched mouth as I stood gasping for the little bit of oxygen that is available above 10,000 feet. Sure enough, the Florida Lizard's boot sole (much like his reptilian soul) had almost completely delaminated from the main body. During the course of the next 7 miles of trail consisting of sadistically sharp angular fractured granite, Rick would apply, in vain, various measures of first aide to his boot and body - tying cords around the sole and boot, toasting the arrival at Piute Pass with Yukon Jack, taking his mind off the thought of a steep descent in floppy soles by engaging in flirtatious conversation with a group of coed high school students from Ojai on top of the pass, and using duct tape to hold the sole to the boot. The sad thing is that none of these interventions worked and after about a mile descent from the Pass, the other boot's sole had also completely departed. With another hit of Yukon Jack, the course of action became clear to Rick- scuttle the boots and put on sandals. Now, under different circumstances, like carrying a daypack along a fairly level trail composed of autumn leaves, this might be a plan that a reasonable person would hatch. But what lied ahead was a stunning vista that was sure to distract attention from the twisty trail composed of sharp rocks waiting to ambush exposed fleshy toes. Not to mention carrying a heavy pack, which was made even more burdensome by the dead weight of worthless boots. (Yes, there would be many times throughout the trip that Rick would seriously consider donating his sole challenged boots to the John Muir Wilderness.)

But alas Rick, with his "damn the torpedoes mentality" and hard as steel feet honed by years of playing barefoot as a child on hot Florida asphalt, would triumph and spend the rest of the trip hiking over 25 additional miles primarily in his sandals. (There was a short day-hike on the third day in the boots, which had been temporarily revived with "shoe-goo," that ended with a final divorce decree between the boots and the soles.)

Enough of the boot story already! As is becoming more common as the Lizards age, the number of idiots wanting to subject their bodies to four days of hiking and imbibing in the High Sierra has dwindled. Even Rick coming out from Florida was not enough to jump start most of the middle-aged reptiles, who for some weird twist of fate have been brainwashed into thinking that they are valued and responsible members of society and that taking five days out of their grinding schedules would lead to the collapse of the free world. Wake-up, George Bush has already accomplished that!!

Like so many other Lizard adventures, the trip really started in the grocery store with a chance encounter with what appeared to be a super model holding a basket filled with wine, cheese, and crackers. The temptation to use the Lizard's classic pick-up line ("Want to spend three nights in a tent with two Lizards) was strong, but remained unspoken. Rick and I would have several other opportunities to utter the line - at the Ranger Station, a Bishop pizzeria and atop Piute Pass. What was special about the pre-trip preparations this time was that Mr. Kull and the lovely Joanne invited Rick and I (and our spouses) over for cocktails and dinner. Needless to say, we did not make our planned departure time the following morning.

Once in Bishop, we grabbed a pizza-to-go (and as eluded to earlier we tried to also grab the waitress). In less than an hour we were eating pizza at the 9400 foot trailhead along a meandering stream framed by golden aspen and a view of snow capped peaks that would be our habitat for the next four days. Our plan was to car camp at North Lake Campground, where the trail began. However, it was closed and gated. That did not deter the Lizards though, we strapped on our packs and carried the cooler full of beer and hiked about a half mile into the closed campground. With the whole campground to ourselves, the Lizards frolicked and then collapsed.

The next morning was freezing (27 degrees) with ice on our heads, water bottles, and sleeping bags. The good news was that the sky was sparkling blue and we would not see a cloud for the next 2 days. We of course picked the campsite where the sun was due to make an appearance about 2 PM. Although the start was numbing, within a mile of being on the trail the Lizards were fully encased in sunshine and breathtaking views. The trail leading up to Piute Pass is one of the most scenic that we have traveled - high alpine lakes surrounded by aspen and 13,000 foot peaks, which had recently been snow capped by an early winter storm the previous Sunday and Monday. A couple of hikers coming down the trail told of 50 to 80 mile an hour canyon winds on Sunday night and snow on Monday. They spent 17 hours in their tent praying the flattened poles would not break completely. (This same story was independently confirmed by another group, who we met at our first night's camp.).

The other side of Piute Pass opens up into Humphries Basin, an 11,000 foot plateau of crystal clear lakes surrounded by 13,000 foot dramatic peaks. Despite the boot saga, Rick and I managed to drop our packs for a short side-trip to one of the lakes in the basin - Lower Desolation Lake, which lived up to its namesake.

We had originally planned to camp at Hutchinson Meadow at 9400 feet, but having done battle with the boots and having spent about an hour at the top of the pass basking in the warm sunshine talking with the Ojai group and another hour on our side excursion to Lower Desolation Lake, we were fast approaching that point in the trail where "let's just throw our stuff on the side of the trail" was sounding good, when all of sudden we stumbled upon an idyllic camping zone about 5.5 miles from the pass along cascading Piute Creek just below the 10,000 foot marker. Cocktail hour was a hurried affair intermixed among camp chores - airing our wet bags out to dry in the fading light, filtering water, and fixing dinner. Later that evening we joined the aforementioned group of hikers around their campfire and exchanged stories of past adventures and the really stupid things we have done while in the backwoods.

The next day was spent doing a 13 mile round-trip day hike down to Hutchinson Meadow, up dramatic French Canyon, and over to a basin of lakes at 11,200 feet with names like "Moon Lake" and "L Lake" (which of course we had to visit since it was obviously stood for "L"izard Lake). As is typical for Rick, he took a naked plunge into icy Moon Lake. On the descent back from the lakes to the main trail, Rick performed an unplanned "Downward Facing Dog" maneuver that resulted in a nice gash in the palm of his hand. A little first aide in the form of a bandage and Yukon Jack and Rick was once again trail worthy. Cocktail hour was again later than planned, but since we were the only people for miles, we could stumble and yell about in privacy without offending others. This time we had our own campfire (the group we met the first night had hiked out) and toasted all the Lizards while gazing into the cosmos.

Our third day was experienced at a slower pace - a leisurely breakfast, an attempt to find an abandon trail leading to a lake in a high cirque (we still have no idea how to really use a GPS), and a cross country scramble up a steep slope, which revealed magnificent views of our past, present and future. A round of Frisbee Golf entertained the Lizards for the afternoon. Not surprisingly, Rick was clearly the overall winner, but I managed to hit the shot of the day by making a hole in one between a V shaped trunk (Rick would take 4 shots). For the first time in three days, clouds began to appear late in the afternoon, which in turn prompted the Lizards to perform the tent erection ceremony that had the usual effect - driving the clouds away. Since the tent was up, we decided to sleep in it the last night.

Since we had an eleven-mile hike out over Piute Pass, Sunday morning for the Lizards began in the dark. By the time we were on the trail, there was enough light to navigate those pesky sharp rocks. A couple of miles before the pass, the wind began to pick up and fortunately for us, provided a nice tail wind that literally at times pushed us up the trail. Neither of us even paused at the top of the pass, for fear of being blown over. On the hike out we encountered a group who had camped at one of the lakes leading up to the Pass from the trailhead. They reported ferocious winds on Saturday night that wreaked havoc with their tents.

The biggest surprise of the trip was how much the aspens and other trees had changed color in just the 4 days we were in the backcountry. When we arrived at the trailhead parking area, we encountered hordes of people and photographers who had ventured up from Bishop and surrounding hamlets to view the spectacular fall foliage.

A fitting end to the trip came in the form of a late Sunday Mexican dinner in Old Town with our spouses and friends in which we learned that when Rick and Chris come to town, alcohol consumption in San Diego increases dramatically! (top)