Sierra Nevada 2013
by Harvey Lankford
Part 1 of 3 - Introduction
History and topography
Preliminary dayhikes in Mammoth
Part 2 of 3 - Backpacking trip 1: South Lake to Onion Valley.
Part 3 of 3 - Backpacking trip 2: North Lake to South Lake via Lamarck Col Part 2 of 3
Backpacking trip 1: South Lake to Onion Valley. In 2009, I had done this section solo, hiking 64 miles, 16 miles daily for four days from dawn to dusk, climbing and breathing hard over five 12,000 ft passes without more compression-fracturing of the cuboid bone that had given my left foot so much trouble the year before. While Reid and I had done some very similar long routes by going early, going long, and going light, I did not plan to do that this year. Instead, the pace would be identical to last years’ trip with Jesse, Carole, Andrew, and Dan. At any speed, I knew that the ‘make or break point’ would be Mather Pass on day 3.
But today is day 1. The high trailhead from South Lake eases the climb toward 12,000 ft Bishop Pass. The natural lake had been augmented by a dam, the water level now lowered for repairs, but even when refilled it will end up being sucked away by the 200-mile aqueduct to Los Angeles. Last winter’s small snowpack is gone, but streams are rushing from last week’s major rains. I send a satellite phone message to Philmont-dessicated Chris Habenicht that there was water, water everywhere. Temperatures are better than last years’ scorcher, with nights all 32-40 F. It is our first day and with a late and warm start it is slow for some of us. We take a break at Long Lake where Clemmie, Reid and I had to wear bugnets once in early July. A word about lakes: above 9,000 feet the lakeshores are dotted with evergreen trees of various types, sizes and frequency, eventually culminating in the gnarled and twisted Whitebark pines hanging on to life at the 10,500 ft treeline. Whenever a named lake is mentioned, realize that there are usually 5 to 10 un-named lakes nearby, all connected by gurgling cascades, alpine meadows, rocky terraces called benches, and soaring Sierra slopes and cliffs all around.
We reach the first high point of the trip, Bishop Pass, barren, but with a stunning view of the lakes we had just passed. This description is from Reid’s 2007 story. He anthropomorphized:
We could see the marker sign sitting lonely atop the rocky pass, driven into the dry rocky
soil unable to move, waiting eagerly for hikers to fill the barren pass with their presence,
lest he be left alone all day, having no one with whom to share the beautiful solitude. We cross the boundary of SEKI (Sequoia Kings Canyon), descending through alpine bench territory to Dusy Basin, reaching the treeline by 530pm. This is the latest we will arrive at any camp, so the days on this trip #1 are not long. We all hear rockfall from the cliffs during the night, but I am the only one up after midnight to enjoy the best view of the Milky Way that we will have this year. Although there is far less smoke here in SEKI compared to Mammoth, visibility is affected both day and night.
7/30/13 – Descent to LeConte Canyon. Early departure is more than just ‘early to bed, early to rise.’ It is part of my hiking style. I would rather be hiking than camping. There is the spectacular reward of seeing the early morning colors in the sky painted on the mountains. Furthermore, if one were climbing, it would be good to do it in the cool morning. But today is an unusual wetness inside and outside the tent and a somewhat late 730am group departure - probably from being the first morning start until we get better at it. We begin our long descent. Reid and I had slogged uphill through here at the end of our longest day in 2007 and it feels better now to be fresh and going downhill. Lee gets ahead and waits for us on the Dusy Creek footbridge halfway down the Canyon. He speeds forth again, stopping to lie on a log and rest, and is sound asleep when we pass by. We literally have to wake him up and descend through the forest past the ‘granite water slide’ to the LeConte Canyon junction with the JMT. We turn south toward our second nights’ stop, with the final 3 miles a hot ascent along Palisades Creek to wooded Deer Meadow. Three of us pull off the trail at a flat spot to camp among the pines. Ian comes along later, thinking we are just taking a break. He is greatly relieved when told it will be an all night break.
7/31/13 – Mather Pass day. Purple predawn light filters in – no alarm is needed for Casey or me at 500am and off at 610. Today is ‘make or break day’ starting not with the itch of anticipation but more like a deliberate get-it-done focus. But Ian and I both take time here and every day to shoot close-ups of flowers. Clemmie has taught us well to appreciate the minor miracles on this pilgrimage and not just the mighty mountains. I carry the flower manual she painted on indestructible Tyvek. Ian finds a bloom that I would only see later in his photos, but back home, none of us are able to identify it. We determine it maybe was a Western Eupatorium. I contacted a SEKI ranger and am still awaiting a reply.
The first landmark on the long 3,300 ft climb to Mather Pass is the Golden Staircase. Early morning light gilds the canyon walls. Magnificent. The guidebook-dread about the switchbacks is misplaced. I don’t mind treadmilling up past the tumbling waters. For me, other trails that rollercoaster up - down - up - down – up – down takes some adjustment. Just plain old continuously up is more robotically do-able. Just get in the groove.
The 14,000ft Palisade Range towers above us at Lower Palisades Lake. A trail crew is doing hard stonework here from July 4 until Sept 20. Casey and Lee spurt ahead on the long grind to Mather Pass, waiting an hour before Ian and I arrive at the 8-hour mark. Mather Pass is the entry to the Upper Basin. The Most High dwelleth not in temples made by the hands of man, but here.
The Upper Basin refers to the alpine headwaters of the South Fork Kings River. Lifting arms heavenward, we feel and know we are going to make it. Any doubts disappear in the wonder and joy of just being here. George Mallory once wrote that our literature gives little indication that our performance in mountaineering is concerned with the spiritual side of us than with the physical. Superlatives are inadequate to describe what we see and feel. Surrounding us on all sides are astonishing scenes of grandeur, the thirteen and fourteen thousand foot peaks. To the east is the main wall of the Sierra. To the west is another tall crest of peaks. In the far south is the Lake Marjorie Basin and around the bend tomorrow’s Pinchot Pass.
The trail zig-zags down from Mather Pass onto some easy flats still high above the treeline. The group picture is a pose that the 2012 crew did. As we continue on, I let my guard down. I tend to drag and/or buckle my titanium right knee, having fallen multiple times in the last two years. With this stumble, I barely get an arm out to protect my face. A bloody forearm, bent glasses, and a half inch separate me from a cracked skull. Split Mountain is ironically to my left. We descend to the first scruffy trees and camp 3, where the earth beneath our feet is but a footstool for the thrones of John Muir’s Range of Light.
8/1/13 – Upper Basin to Pinchot Pass day. Up at 5am again. It is a cool 32 degrees with lighter silk on my legs this year instead of my usual wool. What to do? – just get out of the bag, move, meet the sun, and before long I’m in shorts. Early morning light softens the surrounding peaks. It is not just the splendor but the personal privilege of experiencing this beauty that is so powerful. I am lucky to be here and have written this before: you cannot get to a place like this except on foot. That’s the way it should be. This area and further south at Bench Lake was the haunt of the missing ranger, Randy Morgenson, who once said that he owed the mountains his body, and so it came to be.
The river crossing is uneventful and is followed by the morning climb to Pinchot Pass. It’s the third of the five high passes. As usual, Casey and Lee get there first. I leave Ian behind for the last section of the climb just to push myself harder. Lee notices that I arrive at the top with a smile. By now, fourth day in, it has become much easier. Topping out brings more expansive High Sierra scenery. From here, in 2009, the long unbroken 3,500-foot descent to Woods Creek was hot and tiring after being in the alpine zone. So like in 2012, we break it up, stopping at Twin Lakes. This campsite is memorable. Lee always looks out for animals. He is rewarded with a giant rabbit (or hare) at dusk, and a string of pack mules bizarrely on a training hike of their own with two handlers. We hear them again in the middle of the night, their tinkling bells sounding like wind chimes heard for miles and miles while we are trying to sleep. Lastly, two runners come through at 1 am on their successful attempt to break the JMT ‘supported’ run record of less than 4 days. The surprisingly faster ‘un-supported’ run record still stands.
I should mention something about our own speed, or lack thereof. Historically, our groups have been slow compared to younger or faster veterans in the area. Counting breaks, we generally average about 1 mph carrying a pack at these altitudes. Most days are 8-10 miles (unless I go solo and hike for 12 hrs, or have Reid with me). I don’t think I will ever break any of the speed or distance personal records that he and I racked up. I once wrote about one of our long journeys together, “I have to remind myself that he is not gonna let up.” Nowadays, the slower speed is advantageous for my knee and Ian’s knee and extra 10 years.
8/2/13 To Rae Lakes. Another early start. I want to get the long descent along Woods Creek over with. I remember it as plain, but this time have a better appreciation of it. Casey describes it as one of his favorite sections. Why? In part, rushing water, and … again…early morning light. At the floppy suspension bridge, a variety of crossing methods is videotaped by Lee. First, he talks to himself while filming and timidly stepping across the heights. Next he films Casey smooth as silk like riding his bike, next Ian lumbering across, and then me jogging. About halfway pounding across, I realize that the boards really do not look all that thick. The climb southbound out of the Woods Creek Canyon is hot and uninspiring as usual, finally reaching Dollar Lake, purportedly the warmest lake in the Sierra. Casey and Lee swim. Lee films as Casey says, “If this is the warmest lake, I’d hate to see the coldest.” Ian and I skip this sideshow and hike on. On the narrow path on a ledge above the west shore, a teenager is charging up the way, head down, earbuds in, oblivious to the pending collision. I bang my walking stick on the rocks to get his attention. No luck. So I rip one of his earphones off, saying, “Listen to the rocks!” He was unperturbed. Later, when we see a sign for two hikers separated from their groups (one in English and another in French), we wondered if this boy was one of them. I press on to stake our claim at Arrowhead Lake, with the Sixty Lakes Basin hidden just over the ridge. All reach camp at an early 300pm with plenty of time to wash up, and wind down. A beautiful evening beneath soaring Fin Dome. There is a reason (tomorrow) that I want to camp at this particular spot again.
8/3/13 Glen Pass day . All up early and on the trail at 5:50am, a warm 39 degrees. This next factual description does not do it justice. The Painted Lady dominates the heights and the clear blue morning sky. As the sun sneaks above the ridges, the Painted Lady changes her colors, and she is reflected in the still waters of Rae Lakes below. Only the early riser gets this privilege; the changing colors, the first rustle of an unseen animal scampering in the bushes, the first ripple of breeze on calm waters, the first feeling of a newborn day….
The power and the glory of the High Sierra. Amen.
Glen Pass is reached – also one of my favorites. The view is so stunning – the Rae Lakes basin to the north, and the starker peaks to the south. It is no wonder that this beloved area was the first to require a permit to prevent overusage. Some Scouts are here at the top and, alerted by us arriving next, they give a round of applause to Scoutmaster Emeritus Ian Coddington.
Descending from Glen Pass, we see that the two larger lakes have water, and last year’s dried up smaller lakes are full, all but one. It was a very small snowpack this year, but recent rains have helped some plants. Flowers and grass have not been hurt overall, but I see only a handful of red Sierra gooseberries, and the lupines are past-prime. Only minty Pennyroyal seems more prominent.
We turn the corner above Charlotte Lake to view Kearsarge Pinnacles and Vidette Meadow, seen by our groups the past two years, and by me several times before, including with Seth in 1996 when we backpacked the southern quarter of the JMT down to Whitney. I have a sense of being safely ‘home’ already. We elect to take the High Trail and its airy perch far above Bullfrog Lake, then drop down to Kearsarge Lake #2 for the night. Tomorrow will be a short day out.
8/4/13 Out Kearsarge Pass.
Up early again. The Range of Light does its morning magic as I rise toward Kearsarge Pass. Casey catches up. We watch a Clarks’ Nuthatch pulverizing a Whitebark pinecone …some of the 60,000 seeds he will disperse this year. Even though we move fast, reaching the top in just one hour, it is cool enough to keep our extra clothes on. We feel good about our fast time, but the guy at the pass eating a banana had just RUN up from Onion Valley in 1.5 hrs, making our short ascent sound pedestrian. He plans to go all the way to Whitney and out ...as a dayhike…54 miles.
I linger at this last pass, savoring the view in both directions. Bob Marshall once wrote about such staggering grandeur as living intimately with something so splendidly immense that life seemed trivial in its presence. I am reluctant to break the spell, and feel the bittersweetness. How many times have I been high like this, thinking, ‘I was here once before, will I ever be here again?’
Lee and Ian catch up. We retrieve our van, descend to the thick air of 4,000 ft Owens Valley. Our celebratory lunch at Carl’s Jr in Bishop does not satisfy Lee, so he goes next door for Mexican food and pays the price for overeating. A walk to the Galen Rowell Mountain Light Studio and several gear shops does not help. Lee has to skip dinner tonight. We stay at Parcher’s cabins above 9,000 ft near South Lake so Casey and I can maintain our high altitude acclimatization for trip #2.
8/5/13 Lee and Ian return to Las Vegas
The two guys returning to Virginia need a way back while Casey and I stay longer. We drive south, taking a side trip up the Whitney Portal Rd, meeting Doug Thompson again at his trailhead store. I climbed with Doug last December. Afterwards, the road leads us to bleaker and bleaker terrain. South of Lone Pine, the former huge Owens Lake is dry. Steamboats no longer ply the waters. Los Angeles has it all. We reach the barren wasteland of the Mojave Desert that only the government can love - China Lake Naval Air Station. The car rental counter at the small, public Inyokern Airport closed up at just 1030 am, so we go over to their other office in Ridgecrest, next to the military base. Lee and Ian drive back to Las Vegas and home, Casey and I return to Parchers cabins near South Lake. Tomorrow morning we have a reservation with the reliable Mt Whitney Shuttle of Bob Ennis for the start of backpack trip #2.
Go to Part 3 – separate forum thread
Backpacking trip 2: North Lake to South Lake via Lamarck Coll
