McCall Idaho Lakes Backpacking Through Four Seasons in One

Day 1: Three Lakes and All Four Seasons

The first real test came shortly after our group left the trailhead. The path pitched upward through a corridor of old-growth Douglas fir, and the temperature dropped a full ten degrees in the span of a quarter mile. My breath was immediately visible. The pack, loaded with a tripod, two camera bodies, and enough layers to survive whatever Idaho decided to throw at us, pressed into my shoulders with that familiar, honest weight.

The ground underfoot alternated between a frozen winter crust and soft spring mud: the kind that grabs your boot heel and holds it a half-second longer than expected, throwing your rhythm off just enough to keep you honest. I stopped at Fog Lake, tucked into a granite bowl, and watched the surface shift from mirror-flat to rippled as a cold front pushed through the gap above me.

The Payette National Forest, which manages the majority of the backcountry surrounding McCall, asks that visitors practice Leave No Trace principles throughout these high-elevation lake basins. It is a rule that felt less like a regulation and more like an obvious obligation once I was experienced the area.

We pushed further that afternoon, exploring a loop that took us past Boulder Lake and a third unnamed lake in the same drainage. This single day of hiking delivered an absolutely absurd weather whiplash. A ridgeline to the north was buried in low cloud and winter cold, while the basin directly below it was lit up in full autumn gold with larch needles catching the sun like something on fire. Lower down the trail, patches of spring wildflowers pushed through the mud next to hard-running snowmelt.

I shot nearly four hundred frames, chasing the light as it moved across the water in long, slow sweeps. Scale was the thing that kept catching me off guard. What looked like a gentle slope from the trail turned into a sustained, lung-burning climb once I was on it. I had studied detailed trail information on AllTrails before the trip, but no elevation profile fully prepares you for the way these mountains stack on top of each other.

Day 2: First Light and a Summer Exit

I was up before first light the next morning with the tripod planted at the edge of an outlet stream, waiting for the sky to shift from black to that particular shade of deep blue that lasts maybe eight minutes before the sun takes over.

When it came, the light hit the peaks across the water and turned them briefly pink, then orange, then white again. The whole sequence was over in less than a quarter hour.

That kind of moment is exactly why the pack is heavy. That is the entire reason for all of it.

After breakfast, we packed up our gear and began the hike out. By the time we hit the lower elevations, the remaining seasons had finally caught up to us: the cool air vanished completely, replaced by pure, baking summer weather.

It was great visiting McCall for the first time, and even better experiencing that kind of wild terrain with such good company. The group I went with was incredibly adventurous, made up of interesting people from all walks of life:

• A doctor
• An engineer
• A firefighter
• A salesman

It was the perfect crew to share a packed, two-day trek with, making the heavy loads and steep climbs more than worth the effort.