California. Finally!

NOTE: This is the 8^th of a multi-part series chronicling my family's two week vacation in the summer of 2010.

For links to the entire series, click here.

When we finally finished drying our clothes at the truck stop in Sparks, NV, we piled back in and pointed our Blazer west on Interstate 80. Even though we were already hours behind schedule, I still hoped to arrive at the trail head in time to start our hike and find a place to camp along the trail. But it wasn't to be.

Our destination was a hiking trail my wife and I had discovered about 15 years earlier. At that time, I was driving a truck for a living. She, I, and our two dogs all rode together in the cab of 1995 long-nosed Peterbilt. We were carrying a load of landscaping stone from Idaho to Stockton, CA and our route carried us along I-80 through Donner Pass. We stopped at the interstate rest area just west of Truckee, CA to walk the dogs. That's when we stumbled across a sign marking the hiking trail to Summit Lake and Warren Lake. From the rest area, we walked with our dogs for a little over a mile and arrived at Summit Lake.

That day, all those years ago, we didn't have enough time to continue the additional five miles to Warren Lake so we turned around and headed back to the truck. As we pulled out of the parking lot of the rest area, we swore to each other that one day, we'd return and make the hike to Warren Lake. Our trip this summer was planned to make good on that oath.

Long before we reached the rest area we'd hiked from so long ago, signs on Interstate 80 informed us the facility was closed. Fortunately, I'd done a little research the night before and knew there was another access to the path via the Pacific Crest Trail at the Castle Peak/Boreal exit on I-80, just west of the closed rest area. We arrived at the trailhead and found snow still covering much of the trail.

The sun was now sinking lower and lower in the sky. My wife suggested we abandon our plan to camp on the partially snow-covered trail and search for other accommodations that night. Reluctantly, I turned the vehicle back toward the freeway and admitted to myself our Warren Lake goal wouldn't be reached on this trip. With a long face, I resigned to return to Truckee and head south hoping to find a campground where we could pitch our tents.

Lake Tahoe lay several miles to the south and I thought we'd be able to find a place there. But only two or three miles south of Truckee on Highway 267, we passed a sign informing us a left turn would take us to a campground. As we turned off the road, we noticed a small lake to the south at the base of a north-facing wooded slope. A half-mile or so from the highway, another road intersected our path and led to the lake. A sign there indicated the road would lead to the Alpine Meadows Campground.

The campground was situated in a large clump of pines on a hill just north of Martis Creek Lake, the lake we saw on our way in. We stopped at the self-service pay station at the entrance and learned that for $16 per night, we secure any vacant site we chose. Climbing back in the car, we drove around the paved loop and realized, though primitive, the place was nice and clean with a cozy feel. We decided to pay for two nights and attempt our hike again the next day.

As usual, it turned out the good Lord had his hand on our shoulder, guiding us, the entire way. Things were now looking up, much brighter than only a few minutes before. And they'd quickly get even better. The next day when we actually set out on our hike, we'd really come to discover He had delayed us for our benefit. The long day may have interrupted our plans, but God knew what was best for us the whole time and refused to let my stubbornness get in the way.

As we drove into the campground, we noticed a small cave high on the side of the hill above the lake. Once we had our tents pitched and finished a camp stove supper of Spaghetti-O's for the girls and canned beef stew for me and my wife, she and I decided to make the short hike to the cave. Our daughters, anxious to charge their cell phones using the electrical outlets available in the primitive restrooms, chose to remain behind.

We walked back to the campground entrance and down the drive of the lake access. To skirt the body of water that separated us from the hill, we angled toward the base of the mountain of rocks and boulders that cover the Martis Creek Dam. We could have chosen to climb out of the draw to the top of the near side of the dam and walked the road that traversed it, but took the more adventurous route around the end of the lake and climbed the steep, brushy slope leading to the cave above.

The road we didn't take led across the dam and the length of the hill that held the cave we wanted to visit. But from our position on the slope, it didn't appear to lead to the cavern. So we switch-backed our way up the mountain via game trails and breaks in the brush. Then, once we'd worked our way to within 20 feet of the elevation of the cave, we saw the trail leading down the finger of our hill to the road we'd crossed on the way up.

Oh well, we took the road less traveled I guess. And we were nearly to the cave.

Now we followed the trail along the side of the hill to a point directly below the mouth of the cave. As we drew closer, the regulations regarding the storage of food in bear country I'd read at the campground came to mind. I began to wonder if we might be planning to invade the living quarters of an animal we'd rather not disturb. But we'd come too far to turn back without checking out the alluring hole in the wall of this mountain.

The trail ran along the side of the hill about 8-10 feet below the floor of the cave, but the rocks provided an easy climb into the yawning gap in the cliff above. Just to be safe, I threw several rocks into the cave from below in case some surly beast resided inside and didn't want visitors. But my thrown stones drew no response from the empty cavern.

So we climbed up and into the opening. It was nothing spectacular, not deep at all. Others had apparently been drawn to this spot judging by the tracks and markings left behind. But as we looked back across the small lake to our campground, we were glad we'd decided to make the impromptu trek.

We made our way back to the campsite as the night overtook the day. During the descent, we were blessed with seeing two otters paddling playfully across the lake. We were too far from the swimming creatures to get a decent picture, but the sight of them was yet another gift from God. Walking on, it became clear He was in total control and we were meant to pass the night here according to His plan.

The next morning we'd try the hike we had looked forward to for the past 15 years.