What a barren wasteland that is down there. But you know what, slogging through an arid ravine in 90 degrees is still an order of magnitude easier than a weekend at home with the kids. Bring on the wilderness boys!
Oh I see, when you said roughing it you actually meant a curated fire pit experience where the ice in the artisanal cocktails is roughly-hewn to accentuate the subtle notes of juniper pine in the micro-batch bourbon.
The hottest trend in hotels right now is, well, motels. As in take a rundown Motel 6, slap some Brooklyn-white on it, put a giant You've Been Gentrified mural on the outside, polish up some exposed concrete - which conveniently there's a lot of in a Motel 6 - and presto, you've got a hashtag instead of a roach-infested truck stop. You've also got rooms that go for quadruple the price and are booked out a year in advance by by bearded folk with #williamsburgontheprairie on their phones and kayaks on their Subarus.
Digging a hole is going to be a rude shock after enjoying all that civilization can offer, namely some soothing jazz notes delivered courtesy of an actual vinyl record on an actual vintage turntable on an actual, uhm, dwarf.
Allbirds sandals? This is supposed to be a hike not a stroll to Smorgasburg.
The great thing about a wilderness is you can pitch your tents wherever you want. Hey that means we can give up at mile one and set up camp, right?
Snow and ice weren't in the Instagrams, what gives?
So we slogged eight miles up a mountain to discover the long-lost source of the world's mosquito population?
Gentlemen, break out the whiskey flasks. At least then the bloodsuckers will be over the limit if they breach our defenses and get to the bloodstream.
It may be mid-90s in Boise but up here in the Sawtooth Mountains winter never really lets go. Nor do those skeeters.
Hey, I don't recall having to light that fire pit back at the motel? It sort of just happened magically, like the way that cocktail appeared in my hand.
Got the Instagram, can we go home now?
Morning comes early when you're so focused on staying hydrated that... let's just say the tent flat zipper got a lot of use.
Up before the crack of dawn. Not up before the mozzies.
A single-origin pour-over at 8,000 feet? Are you sure the weaker gravitational field won't impact the tasting notes?
Day two requires traversing the high pass between Toxaway Lake and the Twin Lakes that lie on the other side of the glacial valley.
#nofilter. Literally. Just fill up your bottle and drink. Water doesn't come any better than this.
These trees live for thousands of years. So this one almost survived to see the completion of this blog.
One of the twins...
...And one of the twin lakes. Looks like the fatter one both times.
Please choose a different direction to mark your territory.
The day two campsite is a beaut, perched on a small peninsula that juts into the magnificent Alice Lake.
It's not shrinkage if there's no one around to see it.
Don't get complacent boys, these Millennial bears will do anything for a bag of organic quinoa.
The problem with a guy's hiking trip is there's nothing to talk about once the whiskey flask is empty. Which is an issue because sunset is still nine hours away.
Day three is hike-out day. It's all downhill and there's burgers and wifi waiting at the end.
Keep that spring in your step lads, just think of how many WhatsApps there are waiting for you at the end.
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