Here we have a 23-mile stroll with 3,400 total feet of up and down located within the Dinkey Lakes Wilderness on the Sierra National Forest. The hike was completed over three days, from June 23 to June 25. The 30,000-acre Dinkey Lakes Wilderness is on the traditional summer territory of the Western Mono people.

The days were warm with a nice breeze. The evening low in my tent was around 45 degrees. The trails were clear and mostly dry. A little snow could be seen in the north-facing gullies of the mountain peaks. There were a few mosquitoes here and there. (I returned home with only one or two mosquito bites.) The vibe was very quiet. On the first day, I hiked all day without seeing anyone.

My reading companion on this trip was Kook: What Surfing Taught Me About Love, Life, and Catching the Perfect Wave, by Peter Heller.

The drive up was very nice. After 160 miles of driving, I entered the 1.6-million-acre Sierra National Forest. As is true of all forests, this one continues to be shaped by fire. Evidence of past burns is noticeable.

On my drive in, I saw fuel reduction and post-fire restoration work tied to the 2025 Garnet Fire. Heavy equipment was being used to thin dense forest, remove dead or small trees, and reduce wildfire risk along the corridor. Logs were being sorted for removal, while brush was piled as part of the cleanup process. Some of those piles will later be burned or chipped. It looked like they were doing a good job.

Thirty miles after entering, I passed through the McKinley Grove of Giant Sequoias. It’s disarming. After miles of impressively large conifers, you round a bend, and there they are—trees easily three times as big as anything you have seen all day. And it’s not just their size. They look different because they are different—in that they are resistant to beetles and fire. I felt like Dr. Grant from the Jurassic Park movie. Nothing can prepare you for when you first see a real dinosaur.

Also, Cressman’s General Store (1904), which was destroyed in the 2020 Creek Fire, is finally being rebuilt. I used to stop there for pies. It made me happy to see a new building, reminiscent of the old structure, standing in its footprint—surrounded by charred forest. Cressman’s is rising from the ashes!

Upon arriving at the Cliff Lake Trailhead, I was greeted by a truly absurd display of pink penstemon. I parked the car and got out. A marmot chirped. A mountain chickadee sang. I was once again home amongst my own kind! Animals!

There is another “Underwater Yosemite” here at the trailhead that is evocative of the Hetch Hetchy Valley. Who knows what lies beneath the waters of Courtright Reservoir? All the large granite domes remind me so much of Yosemite.

By hiking seven miles a day, I enjoyed a three-day tour of lakes. I passed a total of eight beautiful, perfect little lakes. They are remarkably similar, though each lake does its best to assert its own personality. Some have fish. Some have ducklings. Some have islands. Many of the lakes are shadowed by the Three Sisters—a family of 10,000-foot peaks. There were wildflowers galore and distant views of the Sierra Crest.

There were also numerous creek crossings. Each one was a mental and physical puzzle. Which foot to start with? Left or right? Then what? Be careful—the water is lava!

On day one, I drove, hiked, ate, watched the sun set, and went to bed early: 9:00 p.m. (also known as “backpacker’s midnight”).

The second day, I was a little more productive. After hiking my seven miles, I swam out to a small island in the middle of the lake. Then I composed a watercolor.

I also had neighbors that night. They invited me over for a campfire at 7:30 p.m. We had a grand time! The merry band of campers was made up of The Colonel, Al, and El. I knew I was in good company when, early on, I learned that The Colonel had for many years been in charge of the Grizzly Youth Academy.

As a teacher, I had sent several students off to Grizzly. They would return six months later—transformed! I was so impressed that I thought of ditching my regular teaching job to go work at Grizzly. After spending some time with him, I could tell that The Colonel led with kindness and humor.

El was a happy and relaxed thirty-something. He is a neighbor of The Colonel. El impressed me with his complete pop culture literacy, going all the way back to the 1970s. (He knew who Roseanne Roseannadanna was!)

Al had an amazing smile and an even better laugh. He, too, was very adept at storytelling.

I had not planned on staying up past “backpacker’s midnight,” but I did. Without a headlamp, Al and El had to walk me back to my tent—which was probably a good idea anyway, as they had not only provided good stories but plenty of vodka. Vodka and Tang—which reminded me of my early days learning how (not) to drink as a member of Boy Scout Troop 84.

I drifted off to sleep watching the constellations rotate by my tent window, spiced up by the occasional meteor.

As this Trail Report comes to an end, I want to revisit the purpose of my hike—to see the Dinkey Lakes. They are small, but that is not how they got their name. They are named in honor of a heroic dog named Dinkey. Some folks say Dinkey was killed by a grizzly bear. Then there are others who say she was saved by one.

The way I heard it told, little Dinkey was a servant to a misguided master—an unhappy pioneer. Every evening, as Dinkey sat by the campfire, she would stare into the flames and imagine an ancient time—a time when all creatures were truly wild – even the humans. Dinkey would feel the pull. The pull of the wild. Sometimes she imagined wolves moving silently through the timber. Sometimes she imagined cavemen huddled around the fire. She could not explain why, but she felt that somewhere beyond the circle of light there lived creatures who were more nearly her kin than the unhappy man who fed her.

The old pioneer would stare into the fire as well, his eyes glassy and dazed from drinking too much vodka. He had the habit of mixing vodka and Tang, a dangerous combination that would earn him the nickname “Pioneer Tang.” It was rumored that Pioneer Tang was not playing poker with a full deck.

The year was 1863, and there weren’t many grizzly bears left in California. Today there is only one, and it’s on our flag. One evening, Pioneer Tang stumbled onto a sleeping grizzly. That ol’ grizzly was not a threat to anyone in its somnolent state, but Pioneer Tang thought he should dispatch the beautiful beast anyhow. The only problem with that plan was little Dinkey. Dinkey sensed a closer relationship to the bear than to the human. So when Pioneer Tang raised his Sharps Model Carbine—well, Dinkey leapt up and grabbed Pioneer Tang’s arm, and the carbine fired harmlessly into the air. The grizzly woke up and ran into the woods. Pioneer Tang was so enraged by what he saw as Dinkey’s betrayal that he reloaded the carbine and pointed it at Dinkey. That’s when the big bear returned from the woods, this time on Pioneer Tang’s blind side. I don’t think I have to tell you how this story ends, except to say it ended without ol’ Pioneer Tang.

The great bear paused only once, looking back over one shoulder before disappearing into the trees. Dinkey did not hesitate and followed suit. Somehow Dinkey survived out in the wild. She learned its rules and earned the respect of its members. Some say they had seen the big grizzly with the little dog by its side—foraging for berries or snatching fish from the stream. No one ever owned Dinkey again.

Dinkey followed the call of the wild. The call of the Dinkey Wilderness.

I hope The Colonel appreciates this story. That Grizzly school of his may not have saved the life of a tiny dog, but I’m sure it saved the souls of many a misguided youth. So here’s to Dinkey, The Colonel’s gang, and the grizzly. Cheers! And pour me another Tang and vodka!

Wildflower Gallery: