Pardon my ramblings - just an old story from a trip back in 2006 - and it is slow here.
Iron Chef – Clouds Rest 6/30/2006
This solo backpacking adventure started days prior at Matthes Lake. Tucked under a fantastic cockscomb ridge, Matthes Lake, seldom visited - a marshy, off-trail, 9,600 in elevation, YNP lake that has on past occasions produced more than its share of significant healthy lunkers – Brookies…only if one has the will and a mind to get off the trail and trudge up the friggin hill.
It is also the gateway to Nelson Lake, directly east, just through a narrow rock pass…another lake never before fished…another alpine tarn off the beaten path. After a few days camped where hoards of ravenous mosquitoes ate me alive, (I hate marshy lakes, but with the bugs, comes the trout)… after two days of good to spotty Sierra fishing, hastily retreated, heading now southwest towards Clouds Rest intending, at least temporarily, to get some high altitude respite from the omnipresent blood-sucking swarms. Following a stream back down, (not telling you where exactly either), soon stumbled upon a healthy stand of wild Sierra Onion, (Allium campanulatum); growing proudly among the Aspens and Alders…indeed, stopped to gather up a few for later.
The narrow knife-edge ridge heading up to Clouds Rest, rocky and steep with a long drop-off on the right, leads up to what is arguably the best panorama found in the entire park. Unobstructed views all around and the opportunity to gaze down upon the Half Dome massive in the foreground, there is more than adequate room on the peak to sleep ten or more quite comfortably. That day, a little after the noon hour, I arrived atop and there found another fellow backpacker about my same size and age…worn…maybe a little ragged at the edges…we hit it off immediately. I cannot remember his name, but for the sake of this tale will call him Fred. (Yes, my friends, there was the traditional breaking out of the stash: bowls filled and Bics clicked…some things never seem to change.)
Getting back to the saga, there is no water anywhere near the top; the closest drinking water is south, down a switch-backed meandering path to a small, cold, artesian spring emanating right on the CR trail itself, about one or two miles away and a good thousand feet down. Still early afternoon, we hung our food bags over the cliffs, gathered all our nalgene and any other available reservoirs, and headed down to replenish our overnight water cache. Can still remember the grandeur of the amethyst-colored Manzanita-lined trail, a hundred various shades of green highlighted…always dominated though by a daunting Half Dome jutting out prominently. One or two gigantic Ponderosa Pines among the waves of golden scrub framed this vista. Obviously, there were many Kodak moments along the way as we made our way down to the spring. Soon, about two hours later, back on top again, and that is where this culinary story finally unfolds.
Late afternoon arrived and soon enough, three more backpackers straggled in, joining us at the top…there were now five for dinner…all solo…all equipped…all capable. Initially there was some talk about a community meal but instead everybody opted to cook something for himself. Amid the sarcasm, laughter, and general dirt-bag camaraderie, a cooking contest emerged…the best gastronomical feast produced atop Clouds Rest. The winner would get the bragging rights for the remainder of the stay. (I had mentioned previously that up high, mundane tasks somehow become special…here was a prime example.) This was truly to be Haute cuisine.
Before going any farther, should make mention here that nobody attempted to bring out anything freeze-dried from a foil pouch (thank God). Certainly others besides myself carried at least one such pre-prepared meal, but nobody brought one out for this ad-hoc, food-preparation competition…interesting that everything offered was actually something cooked. My own personal thoughts on those freeze-dried foil meals: after one too many dinners…well, let us just say the desserts still rock as breakfasts.
From deep within five packs, five stoves emerged….five sets of similar pots…sauté pans….titanium this and Teflon-coated that…it was a solo backpacker’s culinary extravaganza. We counted two MSR stoves (one using white gas), one Peak 1, one alcohol homemade lightweight, and an old Hank Robert’s canister model… figured that we had the gamut of stoves pretty well covered; our impromptu kitchen stadium was indeed something to behold.
The first “chef” brought out a nalgene bottle filled with chunks of lamb. He said that he always froze up a lamb stew at home beforehand – on dry ice – and this was his traditional “first night” backwoods meal. Cleverly, he had some sort of insulated carrier thing wrapped around his bottle; plainly, there were still frozen chunks of meat inside as he prepared his lamb ragout over bowtie pasta. While original, savory, and the dish did smell rather enticing while cooking, the flavor of the lamb was…how should I say it…a bit mangy, (and usually relish the taste of lamb); alas, he burned it too. We all voted …and while deemed an extraordinary and worthwhile effort…he came in last…you cannot burn dinner and figure on winning…not among this group. (Could you pass me over a taste of that the single malt scotch, please?)
A second entrée consisted of the traditional Mac & Cheese, with a twist. The chef here started with thin slices of Pepperoni and sautéed them with fresh garlic in extra virgin olive oil. Then he opened a small can of prepared ham and added it to the fry pan, combining all this eventually with the boiled noodles and cheese packet. This dish – so prepared – has now (thanks to this chef), become one of my main “go to” staples over the last few years; the kids always like it and it fills you up…maybe a little hard to clean up though. The vote: The spicy Mac took high honors, was easy to prepare, and totally eaten by all in its entirety. (Any more of that 100 proof, peppermint schnapps left? - thanks.)
Vegetarian cuisine certainly seems obligatory in such a serious outdoors competition such as this one…yes indeed there was one presented: a couscous/pine nut/tofu medley made with some secret fresh saffron/tabooli/eucanuba concoction dressing…whatever. Maybe it was the dire need for fresh spices or perhaps the lack of other available herbs, but while this dish turned out to be quite the filling meal, it unfortunately had little in the way of satisfying color, taste, or texture; it just sat there sullenly resembling lumpy wallpaper paste...at best bland, insipid, pasty, and ultimately disappointing. (The verdict: at the very end of the competition, this dish was the only one not entirely eaten). Even the chef who created it scoffed at the eventual outcome…admittedly, not his best effort… recall his immortal words afterwards, “I usually prepare it a little differently; should taste much better." (Pass over that pipe please…damn!)
Countering with a healthy portion of wild onions and fresh minced garlic, sautéed in olive oil, to which was added a small can of chicken, a few cream of chicken bouillon cubes (for a savory sauce), a few well-chosen “secret” spices…all served over a bed of Uncle Ben’s wild rice. Admittedly it was, if I say so myself, damn fine eating. Everybody raved and commented most favorably…the addition of the fresh wild onions certainly made the meal…a sure fire winner, I thought…until the last chef pulled out all the stops.
From deep within the bowels of his well-experienced Gregory, Fred somehow produced a package containing five fresh Bratwursts, a loaf of pita bread, packets of Dijon mustard, and then, as a kicker, he even proceeded to hit me up for some of my recently purloined wild onions to caramelize. What could a dirt-bag do…he even offered me my own Brat to sweeten the vote. There is nothing comparable to the sweet summer aroma of fresh meat grilling at 10,000 feet…now perched high above Clouds Rest…at sundown. We had our unanimous champion.
That night the sun set red; we took our sweet-ass time the rest of the evening consuming most of the available options at hand, all the while watching the fading alpenglow radiate off the mass that is Half Dome…seemingly just an arm’s distance away. There was no moon that night; the sheer volume of stars…the solid stripe of the Milky Way. Once again, I cannot reiterate too strongly, how glorious a place Clouds Rest can be to spend an evening. Maybe this night it was the company, certainly the food contest helped…whatever, but without any of these extras, this place would always remain a celebrated memory…somewhere special…with or without the experience of Iron Chef, Clouds Rest.
Another solo hiking adventure … by markskor
