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Long before any little Lintereurs were on the horizon, Dr. Clare Macaulay was building her dental practice here in the SCV, and spending her free time exploring in the High Sierra. And there, in 1998, on the summit of Mt. Whitney, she met her ‘match made in heaven,’ her now-husband Lou Lintereur.
By the time seven years of marriage had passed, Clare and Lou had been blessed with six delightful children. Dr. Macaulay’s love of the outdoors never died, but rather was transformed into pint-sized outings, suitable for the ages of her children. It didn’t take long, though, for her enthusiasm to be shared by her children and they looked forward to adventures of their own. They started with local hikes at Towsley and Placerita Canyons, then camping in the eastern Sierra, in Death Valley, the San Gabriels and other local spots.
One adventure they will never forget occurred this past summer. It was her first backpacking trip with her older three children, Colin (11), Shane (10) and Eva (8).
She tells us of her adventures…
..At last Saturday came and I set out with my intrepid adventurers, leaving the SCV at 4:30 a.m. with the goal of reaching the eastern Sierra ranger station at opening, 8 a.m., to receive a backcountry permit.
We drove to Horseshoe Meadows, at roughly 10,000 feet, and set out for New Army Pass through Cottonwood Lakes. Day One was a long hike through forest, by beautiful (and mosquito-laden) lakes and finally above the tree line to High Lake. We picked a campsite in a pristine little valley next to a network of waterways fed by snowmelt. It was at the foot of a huge wall upon which the trail traced a thin line of interminable switchbacks. This was to be the beginning of the second day’s summit attempt.
We shared a pot of pasta, cleaned up and settled down under the light of a full moon in our beautiful, if temporary, mountain home. The sounds of wind and water lulled us off to sleep, with dreams of our big day tomorrow.
We awoke to a soft pink alpenglow on the wall behind us, with the moon gently hanging on before giving way to the sun, and set out by 6:15 a.m. for the wall.
The wall was barren and very steep. After traversing back and forth to find a way over, we finally discovered a narrow rocky chute through the snow and all at once we were standing on top of that formidable wall! From there one can see the top of Langley, which looks so close but is yet so many difficult hours away. We forged on, amused by marmots scampering about on this plateau, hoping for any scrap we might drop.
We trudged onward and upward, until we came to the foot of the peak itself. At that point, less than a mile from the top, the trail melts into the loose pumice that makes up the terrain there. Years of travelers, each thinking that his trail would be the easiest or best, created their own paths, leaving a criss-cross of confusing trails to the top. As the grade becomes steeper, each step in that thick pumice slides back to where you started, making the going slow and discouraging. Hands and feet are both valid means of making progress. We finally reached the massive, steep rockfall that covers the peak itself. The summit is tantalizingly close, but altitude and fatigue, and the difficulty of the home stretch make it seem endless.
But with steady progress, albeit slow, the uphill climb levels and the highest point comes into view. Literally when you step onto the highest point, you feel a wave of euphoria as you are treated to a dazzling view of a sea of peaks, as far as you can see! Fatigue turns to joy, and peace replaces the frustration of the last hours of struggle. High lakes sparkle like turquoise gems, some still frozen, and the spectacular rock formations of the high Sierra stir memories of the many amazing treks I have enjoyed in this place throughout my life.
Looking west were peaks like a choppy ocean, but walking east you come to a last rock, after which there is a drop off of thousands of feet, causing me to have nightmares about my children going too near that edge!!
And so there we stood, at 14,042 feet, these three children who don’t yet fully appreciate the magnitude of their accomplishment, who don’t yet fully appreciate this great gift we have here in our back yard—the magnificent eastern Sierra. The rangers later said they were not aware of any party as young as ours reaching that summit.
And on day three we packed up and left no trace, and said goodbye to this home, and vowed to return one day. There are many more mountains to climb, and it is thrilling to know that in these few short years, these children have developed a love of the mountains that will lead them wherever they dream to go. I am grateful for their presence, and for my dear husband Lou, who lets me fly.
The most wonderful thing about the outdoors is time and space, both of which seem to stretch out beneath this canopy of the heavens.
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