NOVEMBER 16, 2015 — The seemingly ubiquitous Facebook-page background photos of tourists posing in front of Machu Picchu serve as an ongoing reminder of the strange lack of imagination that seems to take hold of people when they plan trips around the world. To be fair, it’s human nature to want to do interesting things we’ve learned about from our peers, and Instagram seems only to magnify this effect. But, as my experience planning and leading adventure trips has grown, I’ve started trying to push myself harder to invent more imaginative, complex, and epic adventures. It’s fun to start with a well-known backpacking trip, and then add novel elements, like off-trail backcountry routes and additional sports, like paddling.

So, when I show up for a three-day backpacking trip in Ansel Adams Wilderness, carrying multi-piece paddles and three packrafts — small, five-pound rafts that can fit into a backpack — I hear a lot of grumbling from my friends Rich and Jake.

“I hate packrafting, so far,” Rich complains as he tries to stuff the raft into his backpack. “They’re absolutely huge. They’re like the size of a very tall baby!” To be fair, while my Los Angeles-based friend Rich and I have been planning this trip for weeks, Jake, my best friend from high school, decided to drive from San Francisco and join the trip at the last minute. I sprung my packrafting idea on them only days before leaving.

Nevertheless, they’re not surprised. They’re both already well-acquainted with my packrafting obsession, something I’ve been talking incessantly about for years. After my first difficult but rewarding packrafting trip on the Sanctuary River in Alaska’s Denali National Park, I was hooked. But there are many fewer packrafting opportunities in California, and it wasn’t until last year that I finally bought two packrafts of my own and headed out on a whitewater paddling trip with my brother on Arizona’s Salt River. Since then, I’ve had the two rafts in the corner of my dining room, constantly making me feel guilty for sitting in my apartment instead of heading outside to go paddling. So, while reviewing the details of the well-worn Lillian Lake Loop backpacking trip in the Sierra, the packrafts caught my eye. Could they be the perfect way to make our trip more novel?

With our food packed into bear-proof canisters, Rich, Jake, and I start hiking at the Fernandez Trailhead, about a 90-minute drive northeast from Oakhurst, California. Admittedly, all three of us are a bit skeptical about the worth of carrying so much heavy gear so high in the mountains, because flat-water paddling just doesn’t invoke the same adrenaline rush as white-water paddling. But, I encourage everyone to continue anyway, under the theory that an adventure involving two sports must always be better than one.

After a short stop at sparkling Vanderburgh Lake, we climb up a steep incline on a barely-marked trail to Chittenden Lake. Quickly, we lose sight of the path and find ourselves off-trail, slowly scaling enormous boulders and climbing over long slates of rock. We’re moving slowly and having trouble catching our breath, because we’ve traveled from near sea level to almost 10,000 feet this morning, and our bodies haven’t yet acclimated to the high altitude. As we climb, we’re all questioning our decision to lug the heavy packrafts and paddles, especially on a weekend trip that we hoped would be a relaxing getaway from the city and our jobs.

But, when we reach Chittenden Lake, a pure turquoise lake at 9,215 feet surrounded on all sides by severe black and white granite crags and towering green pine trees, it’s clear that it’s one of the most beautiful lakes in the Sierra, and all of our hard work suddenly seems worth it. After a peaceful night spent camping next to the lake under a dazzling blanket of stars, we inflate our packrafts in the morning, assemble our paddles, and head out onto the water.

“All right, it was worth it to bring the rafts,” says Jake, as he paddles across the lake for the first time. The water is perfectly still, and the packrafts glide effortlessly, making it easy to focus on enjoying our surroundings.

“It really does feel like we’re exploring and getting to see something that we only have access to because of the extra work that we put into getting these up here,” says Rich. “That’s sort of special.”

After exploring for awhile, Jake suggests that we take advantage of the rafts by paddling to the lake’s opposite side and climbing up a ridge opposite from our campsite — one that would have taken a significant amount of hiking to get to on foot. When we reach the top of the mountain, we stand by ourselves, with no one around for miles, marveling at the view of the blue-green water below us.

“It’s as quiet as I could ever imagine quiet being,” I say.

Invigorated by our successful flat-water paddling experience, the three of us decide to spend most of our second day on the water. After packing up our gear at Chittenden, we head back down the steep mountain toward Lillian Lake, where Rich suggests after lunch that we inflate our packrafts and paddle again right away. Lillian Lake is impossibly blue, and our impromptu paddle on the lake is a perfect way to break up the long backpack toward our final paddling destination. After Jake takes a quick dip in the cold water, we head off-trail, over a few high ridges, toward Rainbow Lake. We stop for lunch at Flat Lake, and, then, climb up the final steep peak toward Rainbow. Now, we’re more accustomed to the altitude, and though the climb leaves us breathless, we manage to reach the lake with enough time before dark to fit in a sunset paddle.

“Rainbow Lake was really worth saving for the end,” Rich says. “You could settle in for a few days here and keep exploring it and keep finding something new.”

When we ease into our rafts and paddle out onto the lake, we discover chains of small islands, meandering channels, and humbling views of tall trees. It’s a perfect pre-dinner appetizer. After spending another night under a clear, star-filled sky, we decide to paddle Rainbow one more time, early in the morning, before tackling the long hike down the mountain, back to the trailhead.

Though I’ve never been there, I’m sure Macchu Picchu is beautiful. But, as we enjoy our last paddle on Rainbow Lake, with the reflection of a golden Sierra sunrise on the water, it’s hard for me to imagine a more serene, fulfilling weekend adventure, made possible with just a bit of imagination.