You've got to be a tree hugger to go there. Three miles from the closest road, you can only get to our relatives' hide-away by foot or boat. We opted for the water-taxi.
The cabin is blessed by off-the-grid basics that include no electrical, internet, garbage, water, or phone service.
Francesca roughing it with her siblings
Using the outhouse was a gleeful adventure. Propane fed the stove and our water came from a spring fed by melted snow.
Francesca and I were strongly encouraged to join a daily ritual, "The Morning Dip". That's when everyone jumps off the dock into 60 degree water. It was so cold I was able to pogo out almost as quickly as I had pogo'd in. Sunday's dip was followed by Bloody Marys at dockside.
The Pacific Crest Trail passes by Echo Lake. Some of the hikers are there for the day. Others were spending seven months walking from Mexico to Canada on the mountain crest thoroughfare.
For a few days we able to throw off the shackles of modern life breathing cool high-mountain air.
There were still piles of snow here and there, great for keeping the beer cold. Such are the perils of primitive living.
Reflection- Francesca in her kayak