thanks California Joe

Three weekends past I saw a big sequoia tree in a desert town called big pine. Turns out the town is named after the tree, which was planted by Roosevelt in 1913. I ate hamburgers cooked in the high desert. I climbed up a mountain, past two lakes, to discover the third, nestled into the side of a snow covered peak. We took the peak, snow and all. I followed in Joe's footsteps through the powder-- his boots made a nice staircase and I was wearing sneakers. When we got a couple hundred feet above flower lake, and everything was white with snow and sun, we slid down the mountain on our asses. It was too much fun so we did it a few more times, leaving an unmistakable mark on the landscape. We cooked and ate camp food on a coleman, got drunk off whiskey, played cards, fired guns, etc...