Pine Lake
There is no trouble getting a walk in permit, 10 are available for Pine Creek. I talk to them about a hike exiting via Whitney. They tell me there is no exit quota if you get your entry permit in a National Park and you enter in a National Park. The rules are a complex tangle and this may all have changed by the time you are reading this.
I am on the trail at 1:00 PM and by 4:00 PM I am at lower Pine Lake. This is 9900 feet and it is nice! I pass 5 people on the trail, which I think is good for an old man. I start running out of gas near Honeymoon Lake (10,400 feet), but push on to a superb campsite at 11,200+ in Granite Park by 7:30 PM. This day involved a climb from 7800 to 11200 (3400 feet). This is pretty much asking for some kind of altitude sickness issues, especially when I press on over Granite Bear Pass at 12,400 the next day.
It is nice and warm (62 degrees) in the sun, but gets quite chilly once the sun goes behind Italy Pass. The temperature quickly drops to 45 degrees. There is a nice view of Mt. Humphreys.
Nighttime low is 34 degrees. I sleep warm with my quilt and wearing 2 fleece layers up top.
I met two people camping in Granite Park and then two climbers from Rovanna right in Granite Bear Pass. A very nice day. I stroll over to the viewpoint that Roper calls "the best viewpoint in the SHR", then drop down towards Big and Little Bear Lakes. I bypass Little Bear Lake via a slot on the north, then backtrack, cross the outlet, and angle southwest towards Vee Lake. It might have been better to have gone from Ursa to Vee Lake, but this works. I drop down another slot west and north of the Vee Lake outlet to the lake below Stub Lake and pick out a good spot to camp.
It is 2:00 PM and I am already getting tired. It just might have something to do with altitude and the lack of aclimatization. I decide that I don't have enough time (yet it is 8 hours before sunset) and energy to climb Seven Gables today. In retrospect, I no doubt did have enough time, but it was probably wise to take an easy day and get used to the altitude (10,800 feet).
After an hour of resting and eating, I decide to scout out the route for tomorrow and end up climbing nearly half the way to the saddle. This sets my mind at ease if nothing else. Back to camp to rest and read. Resting and reading is difficult with hordes of mosquitos and no tent.
Small clouds and some wind. Warm night (38-40) and I slept well.
I did the climb in memory of my father, who passed away earlier this year. He was a dependable and commited husband and father. I spent some time reviewing as many old memories as I could summon up.
While setting up camp, there is a huge noise. I turn around feeling annoyed that some jet pilot is flying low through this area, but that isn't it. A big rockfall has taken place from some cliffs across the lake and I can still see dust and talus boulders in motion.
A cold night (33 degrees), but I sleep warm and well. I am sleeping on the ground without a tent using a WPB bivy sack, my JRB down quilt and my Exped downmat.
I get up, pack quickly, and get moving. It is chilly until I reach sunlight at Lake Italy. I stop for a leisurely breakfast while letting my quilt and bivy dry out in the sun. I had heard negative things about Lake Italy, but I find it pretty! I have been looking at Lake Italy on the map for 25 years, and now here I am next to it! The skies are clear and blue, but more clouds have been building each day since I started.
This trip is an experiment with a no-cook food scheme. I am not finding it a hardship at all, but liberating! However, if a companion was making coffee, no telling what would happen. My usual guideline is 1.3 pounds of food per day, but I might be able to reduce it to 1.0 to 1.2 under this regime.
The north side of Lake Italy was a pleasant stroll with a few short patches of easy talus. The climb up to Gabbot Pass goes well, and soon I am over the pass and heading down. Some large level snowfields serve as a nice freeway and the descent is straightforward. By 1:00 PM I am below Upper Mills Lake. Roper's "precipitous slope" now seems to be an excellent use trail. Gabb and Abbot are both fine peaks. Mills is obscure. Looking back from here, you wouldn't think there was a route up Gabbot Pass from upper Mills Creek.
Once I am past lower Mills Lake, I keep on the east side of the stream but lose the trail and pass two small lakes. It is important to find and stay on the trail for the drop into Second Recess. I find it again. Staying on it is tricky, but worth it. It is nice forest from lower Mills Lake on down.
Down around 9200 feet, I encounter a big section where an avalanche from the west has knocked down lots of trees. It is hard to make progress, never mind follow the trail. I make camp along beautiful Mills Creek with a nice view of Laurel Creek to the north. I stop a little early (around 6:00 PM), but there is no place to push on to that makes sense. Laurel Lake is too far.
I spend some time contemplating how much more mountaineering (and cross country solo hiking) I want to and ought to do. It may be time for another chapter of life, certainly less mountaineering. I have been up on plenty of peaks.
All that aside, where do the mosquitos go in the winter when everything is frozen for months, and how do they manage to reinfest the high country so quickly?
I am up early and on down to Mono Creek. I was somewhat worried about this crossing. The crossing is on a log that requires some courage. Then it is a short ways on the trail up Mono Creek to the Laurel Lake trail (which is easy to find). I am dragging on a steep warm brushy climb. I stop for breakfast and some Accelerade -- what a difference! Gotta pay attention to your nutritional needs. I am sold on Accelerade for these trips (I have since switched to Hammer Perpetuem).
The trail levels out (we are now up in a hanging valley) and wanders through a beautiful area below Laurel Lake. From the lake it is a pleasant climb (but further than it looks) to Bighorn Pass. Everything in the Sierra is further than it looks!
The crossing from Bighorn Pass to Shout of Relief Pass was straightforward enough. I had expected a hell of talus, but with some intelligent routefinding there was very little.
High clouds and cirrus. Sometimes you are in the sun and hot, then you are in the shadow and it is breezy and cool. Finding Cotton lake is not so straightforward. It is west around the point of a ridge in a complex and beautiful area. There are many granite hills and small pretty lakes.
Izaak Walton lake is nice, but a lot of work getting down to. Below it is steep tricky terrain. In retrospect, looking at the map, if I had this to do again, I would make my way to Tully Lake rather than Cotton Lake, and then find a way from Tully Lake north to the trail. This area is spectacular though and worth wandering around in and exploring. However, I could do without the rough terrain near Izaak Walton Lake.
Here is a trick in complex rocky terrain. Get low and then stand high and watch for parallax clues. This was helpful in the Bighorn Pass to Shout of Relief Pass crossing as it revealed a hidden ridge. God be with you.
Once I am on the McGee Pass trail, I fairly fly! The contrast between a good (albeit steep) trail and rough off trail travel is pretty dramatic. I am moving fast and hardly breathing hard. I make camp above Tully Lake, once again in the mouth of a hanging valley.
Temperatures drop to near 35 degrees.
Red Slate Mountain is something! There is lots of metamorphic rock in this area. Metamorphic rock makes a distinctive porcelain like "clink clink" when you walk over piles of it.
Travel on the SHR is very different from trail hiking where you just chug along. On the High Route there is always a new surpise and something unexpected. A steep section you didn't expect, a talus field, a snow patch. You are always on your toes and looking for the best (and correct) way.
Off I go on the trail to McGee Pass with my gear dryed out. There is a light morning haze due to moisture in the air. Soon enough I am over the top and on my way down. I meet a guy out for the day to climb Red Slate Mountain and a couple headed for Tully Hole. These are the first people I have seen in nearly 72 hours!
I pass frozen upper McGee Lake and begin admiring lower McGee Lake. I also begin contemplating the crest I need to cross. I am worried. The likely spots all have snow in them. I will need God's favor to find a way without undue risk. I tell myself I am not going to risk anything beyond the advertised class 2-3 to get over historic Hopkins Pass. I remind myself that possibilities often reveal themselves only as you get closer. If things get ugly, I'll just hike down McGee Creek and hitchike to my truck. Or something of the sort.
After I eat lunch near lower McGee Lake, I notice a trail heading up towards the frozen lakes I cannot see, but know are there from the map. My original ideas were different, and I am tempted to dismiss the trail as just going to those lakes. But I follow it.
It does take me to those lakes, and from there I can see a clear path. when I launch in to tackle the talus, lo and behold, I discover an old trail. It switchbacks all the way up. There was once a fine trail up and over Hopkins Pass and this side is actually in pretty good shape. It is every bit as good as the Pine Creek side of Italy Pass or Lamarck Col.
It is a pleasant stroll down from the pass through nice country. I find the trail soon enough -- deeply rutted from horse use. Two deep ruts side by side and a trail of turds showing they are at work developing a third rut. I get to Mono Creek with sore knees and stop for something to eat. I am over and over again mistaking my need for fuel for exhaustion!
Now it is up the Mono Creek trail and looking for a campsite. I pass the trail (and sign) to Pioneer Basin and tell myself this might be worth a trip someday, probably hiking in over Mono Pass. I am glad to find a great campsite at 10500 feet just as it is starting to get dark. It is sort of unexpected in the midst of switchbacks and steep climbing. It turns out it is essentially at the top of this group of switchbacks, just before the trail crosses Golden Creek. I thought I had escaped the mosquitos, but a few find me.
Over Mono Pass and down into Rock Creek I go. I meet a girl carrying a brutal looking pack and make some comments about ultralight backpacking. She shrugs it off with the comment, "but I want my comfort". I ponder this and decide that it is really a question of when and where you want your comfort. Do you want it on the trail (like I do) or at your camp? Every person decides on a balance between pack weight and camp comfort. I like a certain amount of comfort at camp, that is why I carry an Exped downmat instead of a cut in half closed cell foam pad. This encounter has stayed with me over the years, though I imagine she has long forgotten it.
I also meet a lady named "Lee" and her husband. We talk plants. They are academic types getting in shape prior to a plant workshop in two weeks near someplace called "Horseshoe Meadow". She says the book by "Taylor and Weeden" is under revision (plant nomenclature is always under revision if not revolution, so there is no surprise there. They may not have learned anything new, but they almost certainly have renamed everything). She recommends the following two websites.
These are "sister sites" hosted at UC Berkeley.
I am definitely reentering civilization, for better or for worse. Rock Creek is quite a shock after several days alone in the wilderness. I am sharing the area with literally hundreds of people. I find myself behind two nice ladies, and one of them says to the other, "Step aside Susan, and let John Muir go past." It all seems weird and surreal. Dozens of people at each lake. Dogs and girls in tanktops. A broad trail leads to Chickenfoot Lake. Once I get up near Gem Lakes, things start seeming right again. The trailhead is at 10255 and the first lakes are at 10500, so this is extremely easy access to the high country, probably the easiest access other than Tioga Pass. This is worthy of note if I am ever in the mood for a lazy trip. A person could hike up to Gem Lakes or Treasure Lakes or points beyond, make camp after a short hike and spend days looking at plants. Something to remember when I get old and dilapidated.
I stop and eat near Gem Lakes then up to Morgan Pass at 11155. This is an old mine road, and there is lots of mining activity from the pass all the way down to the trailhead at 7800 feet. A lot of it is kind of a mess frankly, but interesting. A person ought to reflect that this is or was North Americas biggest tungsten mine and provided the filaments for zillions of light bulbs, as well as other uses (such as special steels). The upper lake is barren, but lower Morgan Lake is nice. If a person was keen to camp at the lower lake, they would probably find it a lot easier to approach from Rock Creek than to hike up from Pine Creek, and perhaps more scenic. There is lots of mine activity up a side canyon at 11000 feet. The next workings are at 9600. All the hiking now is down a road. By 6:45 PM I am back at the truck.
I set up my cot in the back of my truck and spend a nice night there.
This trip was done open air camping (i.e. "cowboy style") with a bivy sack. I almost certainly also carried a small tarp to cover my head if it should have rained. The bivy sack weighs an even pound. With the mini-tarp, we are talking 1.5 pounds. These days (2019) I am using a small one man tent (a Nemo Hornet) which weighs an even 2 pounds. It adds warmth, reliable weather protection, and something not to be scoffed at in the Sierra: mosquito protection. A lot of benefit for a little extra weight. The benefits of cowboy camping are that you can use some small sites where it would be difficult or impossible to set up even a small tent. Also there is something to be said for laying under the stars in the open air.
I will also note that I was lucky with weather in some of my early Sierra trips, like this one. My rain parka was minimal and in a real storm, that bivy with a small tarp would have been questionable.
This trip was an experiment with no cook eating. I carried crackers, cheese, nuts, and such. In lieu of coffee, I had caffeine pills. This worked out just fine, and was liberating in some ways. It saves both time and the weight of a stove, fuel, and cook gear. The question is whether it did a good job of keeping me fueled up. Would I have felt stronger and had more energy with a more "normal" food regime. Quite probably. I have recognized more and more that a lot of fatigue on long hikes is related to hunger rather than physical exhaustion. Besides that, there is nothing better than a cup of hot coffee in the morning. Just adding an alcohol stove to a no-cook scheme would add just a little weight and afford the luxury of coffee.
My trip diary has lots of introspection (not transcribed here) about my declining physical condition as I am getting older. I ask whether I should be doing long remote solo trips and whether I should continue to be doing mountaineering. I am writing these notes 7 years later (in 2019) and have made my peace with some of these things. My compulsion to climb peaks has faded. I don't feel bad about that at all. I have done a good deal of that and enjoyed it and am content to move on to other things. Aging is unavoidable and it is good to be asking questions about what it is sensible and responsible to do. The thing to do is to stay in shape and adjust to a slower pace. It won't do to pound joints like you could do as a young man. However, with an adjusted pace, those joints will do fine -- you just have to live with the distance you can cover in a day of daylight.
These photos were taken with my Panasonic LX3 point and shoot. I capture raw files and make adjustments using Lightroom. Looking at this images 7 years later after using other cameras, I am frankly quite impressed. The trick with the LX3 is not to use an ISO above 100. These photos where shot at ISO 80 and yield decent 1600 pixel wide images. If you try shooting at say ISO 400, you will be extremely disappointed.
I am much happier these days using my Sony A6000 mirrorless, but these photos really are pretty good.
Tom's hiking pages / tom@mmto.org