Walking Trip In The High Sierra
June 25, 1966-July 10, 1966

Now 8:30. Sitting by the fire in our camp at the very end of Goddard Canyon. (6,960', est 4 mi from Simpson Meadow plus unknown but sizeable mileage not accounted for on map). It is almost twilight. The alpine glow is lighting the tops of craggy sheer cliffs that surround us. Bats are flying in large numbers. This spot is beautiful - tall pines, rocky shores of the creeks on either side (Goddard and Disappearing.) Wild flowers all over. This tiny meadow lies at the junction of the Enchanted Gorge and Goddard Canyon, both of which are visible from here. Disappearing Creek. runs noisily just next to us.

I've just had a pleasant meditation while using a first-class homemade jon. I took two flat rooks and strategically placed them with a good view of the canyon and creek.

The kids are asleep already. Completely fagged. Didn't even think of writing in the diary. That "leisurely trip" was HARD! We left Simpson Meadow at 8:00, waded across Dougherty Creek and took the footbridge across roaring green-white King’s River. Followed a faint trail along the river until the Goddard Canyon was in sight. Then lost the trail (it had petered out several times anyhow) ard shoved our way through brush and aspens to the shoulder of the mountain. Climbed trail-less up to the falls. Had hoped to find some kind of trail in spite of Starr's assurance that there was no trail anywhere. Aside from some antique ducks, nothing appeared. Hour after hour we climbed. over fallen trees, pushed through painful (stickers), brush, climbed over talus. Every so often would go way up or down the canyon side to reach a grove of pines that promised easy going, but they always petered out at once. Once inched our way across a nearly sheer hill-face,, over slides and holding to brush. Scary.

Ahead we kept seeing what looked like the Gorge entrance, but it was always another small fold in the mountain. Commenced to think we were lost by about 4:00- and decided to camp at a grove of pines ½ mile ahead. We pushed ahead through the last thickets over fire-downed logs, across a couple of grassy meadows to reach the river for the last time about 4:45. We waded across with glee and tossed down our packs on the rocky bank.

It didn't look like such a hot camp - lots of fire-blackened trees, rock-, etc. Marilyn and I, after a rest, explored and found this prime spot about a mile North.

Went back for Rich and the packs. Marilyn saw her second rattler on the way. By the time we got back we were all so bushed we did no more than sit for a half hour. Then tea, dinner and bed.. Will stay here tomorrow to wash and do the promised loafing. We'll case the entrance to the Gorge in hopes of finding a route

A few mosquitoes but we are either getting used to them or they're friendly. Place is 'WILD - if anyone else has been here lately, it wasn’t this year. Our little fireplace was here- but hadn’t been used for a long time.