East Lake
This trip was conceived and planned in the mind of my friend Amanda. She had more agressive ideas about the trip, but I told her that as an old man, somewhat dilapidated, 12 miles per day was pretty much my limit.
The idea is to make a big loop, entering via Kearsarge Pass, heading down Bubbs Creek, diverting into East Creek, then going over Longley Pass, down into Cloud Canyon, then up to Colby Lake, over Colby Pass, down the Kern-Kaweah, then up the Kern and to the Tyndall area, over Forester Pass, and then out -- with a visit to Center Basin. A fairly ambitious enterprise at any event. And we did it!
One mishap was the loss of my camera, late in the second day, which is why the landscape photos stop at that point. I insert some nice flower pictures after that so you don't just have text to read. I'll describe the camera mishap at the end of the writeup.
What I did just prior to this trip, was to climb Telescope Peak (11043) in the Panamint Mountains in Death Valley National Park, and spend two days camping at 8000 feet. The sleeping at altitude may be the most important thing, but a 14 mile round trip hike is a decent warm up in itself.
We get a little rain near Bullfrog Lake and I play with my umbrella. The bottom line is that you shouldn't bring an umbrella if you intend to hike with poles. For real rain you need a hat with a front brim (especially if you wear glasses), a rain shell, and rain paints. Dry bags for gear make sense too, not to mention extra socks.
I also have to say that I have come to really enjoy the Sierra when it rains. One old-time ranger said that if clouds are forming by 10 AM, you are going to have rain. This is not infallible, but it is a pretty good rule to bear in mind. With the right gear, you can enjoy the rain, hike in it, and not get incinerated by the sun. Besides that, if it is going to rain there is nothing you can do about it anyways. At least I have never had much luck changing the weather. So have the right gear and learn to enjoy hiking in the rain. One special concern though is not to be on ridges, summits, and high passes when the lightning starts. Things can develop really fast and/or storms can move over a ridge and you can be getting stormed on in short order.
We descend to Vidette Meadow (9850) in light rain and find a camp spot on an "island" in the midst of the meadow. There are lots of mosquitos, but we have tents! This is a new luxury for me.
The east side of Reflection Lake looks impossible, so we go around the lake on the west (right) side. In the midst of this passage, my camera comes loose from its bracket and is broken (see details below). We find a spot to camp near the inlet, considering ourselves lucky to find a camp spot before the rain starts. We discover the next day that there are even nicer spots higher on the ramps if you are willing to carry water.
The rain never starts and Sam thinks a swim would be a good idea. This is a new idea to me. I have always dilligently avoided any kind of swimming because I think these lakes are far too cold. They are cold, but it turns out that the benefits outweigh the discomfort. I get in, stand on a rock about thigh deep in water, then dive! It is cold, and I make a quick U-turn and get out of the water. But I dry amazingly fast and feel great. Being able to sleep feeling clean is more than worth it. This is a new practice to add to my Sierra lifestyle.
Heading up alongside the stream looks choked with willows and we opt to gamble climbing up the rock ramps on the right (west) side. This pays off nicely and we are soon looking across a small lake to a huge snow cliff and cornice guarding Longley Pass. It looks forbidding, even impossible, but our thinking is that you just never know until you get up close. We have come this far, and it only makes sense to do so. So up we go to the base of the snow cliff and then we see a totally reasonable bit of class 3 on the rock to our right. Up we go, and soon we are standing in Longley Pass. And the plant I am most eager to see (Hulsea algida, alpine gold) is growing happily right in the pass along with sky pilot (Polemonium eximium).
Going down Cunningham Creek is the game now. Rain starts. My plan is simple: follow Sam. We stay on the left side of the creek and never see anything even remotely resembling a trail. It is quite a bushwack. We learn later that the trail is on the right (north) side and stays up pretty high. We were laughing about the class 1 rating for this route. My raingear is clearly inadequate for real rain, but I avoid hypothermia by wearing fleece underneath it. By the time we reach the floor of Cloud Canyon the rain has calmed down and we are on a good trail.
I am getting tired and moving slow. Sam goes ahead to Colby Lake. I am excited because this is my first taste of "Sierra west side", but I am also completely exhausted. It continues to rain off and on. It is farther to Colby Lake than I think and I really have to push hard, but before long I am at the lake and find Sam at a nice camp near the outlet.
We find ourselves sharing the area with Matt, who is the backcountry ranger stationed at Pear Lake. He hiked today over Coppermine Pass from Pear Lake. These backcountry rangers are tough, well acclimatized, and know their way around. He is a nice fellow and enjoyable to spend time with.
The rain does start. The Kern-Kaweah is beautiful with plenty of meadows and sections of the river that run slow and smooth. Flowers are everywhere. Somewhere before the last big descent to the Kern River, we find a nice place to camp. It has one of the best features of a good camp: a large handy rock with a good view that can be loafed on. We can see across the Kern to the peaks on the Sierra Crest. The Sierra west side is pretty nice actually.
Down to the Kern River we go. I am expecting some kind of crisis crossing deep rushing water, but the river is braided in this somewhat level area, and crossing is no issue whatsoever.
Hiking up along the Kern is hot and humid. We are at low elevation for the Sierra, 8030 feet where the Kern-Kaweah meets the Kern. Crossing Tyndall Creek is an event. Sam manages the crossing with a jump, but I take to the water, up to my thighs and running fast (the water, not me). We hike up alongside the Kern to 9200 feet and find the old Tyndall trail. This switchbacks up a steep manzanita covered slope then wanders over to Tyndall Creek. This takes us past the Tyndall Ranger Station, and we are extremely fortunate to find the Ranger, Laura, "at home". We spend some pleasant time talking to her. She and her husband Rob are veteran backcountry rangers. The cabin they are in is an old snow survey cabin, a piece of history in itself.
Light rain is fading as we hike up Tyndall Creek to join the JMT and we find a campsite west of, but not too far from Tyndall Creek. Some JMT hikers are camped in the same general area.
I must be getting in shape and acclimatized, because the climb up Forester Pass (13180) does not seem like any big deal. We drop down the north side via the JMT, then around 11800 we take off east across a talus field, heading for "Rick's Pass" as we call it, which will take us into Center Basin. This involves a climb up steep talus, and once on the ridge we are looking down upon the two lakes in upper Center Basin. We spend some time admiring the old JMT alignment that used to come down the north side of Junction Peak. The main feature is a big snowfield, and this route would be a huge hazard any way we can see it. On top of this ridge we find an unexpected trail that takes us north along the ridge and then drops down the east side of the ridge into Center Basin. This is the old JMT! It is much higher than the trail shown on the old USGS topo maps.
As soon as we get into Center Basin a serious storm starts. Soon it is blasting us with hail. Hail big enough to hurt when it hits your head and hands. There is no real place to take shelter, though we find a small tree and shove our heads into the branches to gain some relief from being pelted by the hail. Soon the ground everywhere is covered by several inches of hail, and the mountainsides are adorned with hail accumulations. My old worn out rain shell is not doing the job and I am getting chilled and drifting towards hypothermia. Once again, the order of the day is "follow Sam", and as long as I keep moving, my condition is marginal, but OK.
Somewhere near Golden Bear Lake, we call it quits and decide to camp. Once I get into a tent and get wet clothes off I am doing fine. Sleeping gear is dry, so I sleep warm.
A side note. It takes a second almost identical experience in a hailstorm on a second trip later this year to convince me that my rain shell needs to be replaced. I end up replacing my old bargain shell (with the polyurethane inner coating flaking off), with a fancy Arcteryx Alpha FL that I am eager to put to the test. I will note that rain pants might be the luxury item, but I have gotten good service out of a black trashbag with the bottom cut open. Step into this big tube and either tuck it into your pants or rig a drawstring and you have a "rain skirt" that keeps you dry to just below your knees -- and costs almost nothing. Be sure and have some dry socks that you can change into!
Sam heads up with me part way, then I am on my own climbing a steep but reasonable chute. As always, it is considerably more work than it looks. In essence it is mountaineering, hard class 2, but without getting to the top of a peak. I learn later that getting to University Pass is the hardest part of climbing University Peak, and if I had wanted to, I could have headed up from 12800 to 13632 and been on top. Something for next time, though I don't really expect there to be a next time on this pass.
Before noon I am in the pass and the north side looks free of snow! It looks like this is going to work out well, but the talus down to Robinson Lake looks like a nightmare. It isn't. I get my "talus legs" and actually enjoy moving through the talus. At Robinson Lake, there is a bona fide trail that heads down to Onion Valley and by 2:00 PM I am at my truck. Unbelievable! Especially since an exit via Kearsarge Pass was going to be a long day or even a day and a half if a storm held me back. This choice turns out to be a fantastic short cut, but not something to recommend to the general trail hiker.
I turn on my Cell phone and brace myself for re-entry into what we call our "normal world". I find out that my son Paul has been seriously injured in a climbing accident. He has already been in and out of the hospital and is at home stable. He hit his head and they say he would be dead for sure if he hadn't been wearing a helmet. As it is, he has a cerebral hematoma and it was just under the size where they would have cut into his skull to avoid issues.
I drive to near Randsburg and decide that I am getting too tired to safely push farther. Dinner is a can of stew cooked on the tailgate of the truck. It is windy, but once the sun sets, the wind dies down and temperatures drop to make for a reasonable night. I now carry a light blanket, which is ideal for sleeping at higher elevations in the desert during summer months.
What I did do was to GLUE the screw into the camera. I used outdoor rated wood glue, which seems to be working fine, and which I might be able to break loose someday should I want or need to, which seems unlikely. If you have one of these rigs, keep an eye on that screw and keep it tight.
This was a 30 percent snow year. Consider this and how much snow there was on Longley Pass blocking our passage. Imagine what it might be like in July of a big snow year. Also consider Tyndall Creek, which I did encounter in a big snow year (2011). At that time, a huge fallen tree provided a bridge, but without it, a crossing would be life endangering.
My starting pack weight was 29 pounds 12 ounces. Sam was carrying 36 pounds and 1 ounce. I had almost 2 pounds of food left over at the end of the trip.
I could have left the umbrella at home, and would gladly trade it for a quality rain shell (I have one now). I also would have liked to have sleeping socks, ramen or even dinners for breakfast, and hot chocolate for the evenings. I was not missing anything vital (except perhaps a good rain shell).
Both of these are huge heavy reference books, not field guides. The Yosemite book weighs over 8 pounds, and who would be crazy enough to endanger such a beautiful thing by taking it outdoors? The Seki book has line drawings, the Yosemite book has spectacular color drawings along with careful descriptions as well as location information.
Thanks to Laura for making me aware of the Yosemite book!
Tom's hiking pages / tom@mmto.org