I drove from San Diego to Onion Valley, knowing that when I got to the campground, the hours in the car would be worth it. It was.
I pulled into my campsite, set up camp, and made my way in the direction of the trail that climbs up to Robinson Lake. Fellow campers clued me into the unmarked entry and then a man walked me to it to be sure I found it. That was nice.
Up and up, the trail went. I went with it. A mile and some change and 1000 feet and some more change in elevation into the Sierra sky, I went. When I arrived, I didn’t see another person.
If this view doesn’t wash away the road grime, nothing will.