First Dinkey Lake. Leaving My Camera Behind.

On our hike into the Dinkey Lakes Wilderness last Saturday I made what was, for me, a big choice. I left my camera behind.

"But wait," you might object, "What about those photos you shared in your first blog from this hike?"

Ah, what happened is I left my dedicated camera behind. My really nice, expensive, and unfortunately somewhat heavy camera. I still the type of camera roughly 7 billion people globally carry in our pockets every day— my smartphone camera.



My choice to leave behind my dedicated camera on this hike was a calculated one. The biggest knock against it is that currently I don't have a midrange zoom lens for it. I lost it a week earlier in an alpine swamp. I figured since that's the lens I'd want to make a lot of pictures with, not having it would mean I'd mostly be using my smartphone camera anyway— as in the photo of First Dinkey Lake, above. So why not take only my smartphone and leave the weight of the dedicated camera behind.

It would've been nice to have my dedicate camera even for photos like this. My smartphone took a nice picture.... My dedicated camera would've taken a nicer one. There'd be richer color rendition, more control of depth-of-field, and the ability to zoom out wider. My iPhone SE 2022's camera has a 28mm equivalent focal length. That was considered wide angle in the late 1990s. Since the mid 00s I've been using cameras with 24mm or even 21mm as wide angle. I wish I could have zoomed out a bit wider in the photo above.

"Oh, but there's panorama mode with smartphones...." Sure.



It's fun to shoot panoramas. Like the one above. And smartphones make it a snap to make such pictures, while dedicated cameras still often leave it as something you have to stitch together with software later. But the problem with panos is that they look fake. The perspectives are off. I like making ultra-wide pictures with the ultra-wide lens I have for my dedicated camera. I could have carried the camera with me, and that lens— since it currently isn't broken, despite living a rough life— but it seemed like too much extra weight in my pack on a long trek for what I estimated would be a small number of unique photos captured with it.



As we relaxed at First Dinkey Lake, sitting on a log overlooking the lake, I was both happy and sad for leaving my dedicated camera back down in the car. Happy, because that camera felt so heavy when I lifted it by the strap, deciding whether to add it to my pack. The hike up the mountain was strenuous, mostly because of the high altitude. This lake is at almost 9,300' (over 2,800 meters) above sea level. But also I was sad, because I knew I was missing out on better pictures. As I made the photo above, again I wished that I could zoom out a bit for a wider perspective from our lunchtime perch.

Still, though, I approached the situation with a positive attitude. I had chosen not to take my big camera. Thus, with smartphone camera in hand, I was asking myself, "What nice pictures can I make?"



In beauty I walk.

More Dinkey Lakes

What comes after First Dinkey Lake on a hike in the Dinkey Lakes Wilderness? Second Dinkey Lake? Dinkier Lake? Well, there actually is a Second Dinkey Lake, but it's off on a spur trail. The loop we were hiking brought us to South Lake next.



Though South Lake is smaller than First Dinkey Lake (so it really is Dinkier Lake 🤣) we liked it better. The granite walls at the back of it make it seem both cozier and more imposing at the same time. It's a classic Alpine shape for a lake up here at 9,300' elevation.

From South Lake we continued the loop trail up over a ridge then down steeply to Swede Lake.



By the time we got to Swede Lake we were getting a bit laked out. And definitely trail-weary, as by this point we'd already hiked over 5 miles with nearly 1,000' of ascent at high elevation with no acclimation. But we did poke around a few spots on the rocky lake shore to check out different vistas.



From Swede Lake the trail continued down steeply again, dropping into a large hanging valley around Mystery Lake. From this angle (photo above) Mystery Lake looks kind of small, but that's because we're standing at the head of one of the inlets that feeds it. The stream above here is dry, the snows on the 10,500' peaks above us having already melted in this summer's record heat. But you can see where water flowed in to replenish this lake weeks ago.



We picked our way around Mystery Lake, heading off trail to stay close to the shore as the trail veered away from it. It turns out the reason the trail veered away is that we were actually veering into the lake. ...Well, actually out onto a marshy spit exposed by the low water. The photo above shows us looking back across a pond separated from the main lake by the receding water. The trail is off in the distance near the trees.



Picking our way around the shore and over the boggy spit afforded us some different views of Mystery Lake other hikers in the area didn't find. We chatted with a few of them when our paths rejoined. They seemed to be in the mode of putting one foot in front of the other. I don't fault them; we get like that at times, too. But we do try to remind ourselves to slow down a bit an appreciate the beauty in which we walk.