The Plan: Normally we don’t have much of a plan. This time was no different. A few lakes we wanted to visit and a map to guide us. Journeys that don’t have a plan always seem to turn out the best. No one has any expectations. You make your plan as everything unfolds. Soaking in your environment and adapting to it. Detours aren’t detours, merely another part of the journey.

Trinity Alps gave us just that; virgin land with overgrown trails or no trails at all. Our guide was a topographic map; we weren’t sure if our routes were passable or even recommendable, but when we wanted to get somewhere we studied the map and it told us how. Later, we followed bear tracks and game trails over ridges and into valleys. This was their home and we figured they knew where to go.

Venturing off the trail, you start to expect a reasonable amount of solitude. Chances are you won’t see anyone and most of the time you don’t. When you do, you are all the more surprised. We hadn’t seen anyone for days and were lounging around the campfire sipping wine. All of the sudden, a man appeared, sprinting across a granite slab on the other side of the lake. His backpack was easily twice the size of ours and he was jumping up and down, screaming in excitement. He was just as surprised to see us, he had hiked much further and seemed to have been born in the mountains. His hands nearly crushed mine as we greeted. We all exchanged words and he disappeared to find his camp, as is often the case in the mountains.

The next lake we visited was even more isolated. It was further off the trail and somewhat less spectacular. No one had much of a reason to go there, yet we found someones camp. All signs pointed to the person being there for an extended amount of time. A lean-to of logs and branches. A handful of catholes. An even bigger pile of empty tin cans. The fire ring was well-used and had a worn iron grill placed over it. At one point this place had been his home and for the night it was ours.

Our last day off trail proved to be the most demanding. One last ridge stood in between us and our way out. We could go around it or over it. The decision to go over would bring group morale to its lowest point. Every summit looked like the last. The earth beneath us was loose and steep, there were no trees to hold onto, or stop you in the event of a fall. We would stumble across game trails, but they would disappear as quickly as they appeared. We should have turned around but, pushed on. Warm sips from the wineskin helped to propel one foot in front of the other. Slimy salami and cheese helped to keep the nagging hunger away. Upon reaching the real summit we were filled with relief, finally knowing we could make it over and down the other side.

Trails offer a great experience. You know where you are going and the going is easy. No wondering where you are. No logs across your path. No rivers that you can’t ford or pass. No cliffs that you can’t switchback down and no cliffs you can’t switchback up. There are no doubts in your mind that the path you’ve chosen may not be possible.

Yet, there is something alluring about not knowing your route and creating it with every step you take. You end up in places no one may have ever been. Places no one may have ever seen. Regardless you feel as though you are the first person experiencing it. In all truth, no one has probably ever taken that exact path before. Those exact steps. A trail is worn from years of use.

True adventure has never been defined by following another person’s footsteps. True adventure is pushing yourself, taking gambles and going into the unknown. You never know what awaits you. You never know what turns your journey will take but, that’s the beauty in it all. Seeing what is around the next corner or over the next ridge.

That is what I found in Trinity. A new way of experiencing the world. I have spent countless nights under the stars and on the trail. Yet somehow in that place I found a new way of experiencing it all.

Story and images by Jason Domogalla