We finally reached the alpine lake at the top of the mountain. Mom led us to a clearing with short bushes surrounding us. It was protected from the harsh wind and it was the best place in the whole area to eat our lunch. Strawberry plants covered the ground. Guess where we were? Yes, it was Strawberry Lake.
E on the ridge almost to the lake.
The roaring winds hardly touched us as we ate our summer sausage, tuna, and crackers. Mom and Dad shared an apple, fresh from our fruit trees. Dad couldn’t seem to stay put and took pictures all around the lake. An extremely light snow fell from the sky, barely touching the ground before it melted. I borrowed Dad’s racked out mittens, the ones that flip open to expose fingertips. They are very valuable because the thumbs open too. After lunch, I snuggled up next to M, trying to keep warm. I used Dad’s backpack as a pillow and lie there in the midst of the bushes until Mom came back from peeing in the woods. She declared that she had accidentally tinkled on her bear spray as it slipped off of her belt.
Lunch in a strawberry patch
We strapped on our backpacks and headed back down the trail. Dad was left behind as he took pictures. Mom thought my core was cold because my lips were blue but it was my fingertips and face that were cold. We made it down the very steep trail, passing two bow hunters on their way up.
Dad looks at Strawberry Lake
I had reached the top and bottom first. I was tired as we rode home and instead of having my Sunkist soft drink, I saved it to make an ice cream float at home.
