We met after work and drove up in the evening. Once we’d been on the road for a few hours, in the central valley, I got a call from the wife. Oh man I knew something was wrong! Judging by her forlorn voice I’d really screwed up-- it seems this time I had forgotten a key stuff sack filled with a good portion of my clothes in it. Whoops! I admit I have a history of this sort of problem. The year before I managed to forget my rain jacket and parka. I spent some cold nights under Mt Conness! In any case, we managed to stop at REI and I replaced a lot of the gear I missed, but got badly hosed in the process. Later, I was kicking myself because I stopped at Costco the day after we got back and they had every item I needed, for cents on the dollar. Oh well, support your local store etc.
The first night we car-camped in Mammoth Lakes, right at the edge of the road in a site next to the one of the camp bathrooms where we thought we wouldn’t disturb anyone sneaking in late. The next morning we grabbed a permit at the fancy ranger station (wow). Not many options were left so we settled on Anona Lake. We had a last good greasy breakfast, said goodbye to flush toilets, then headed up to the resort and caught the shuttle. I’ve never been very far past Devil’s Postpile, so I was very excited to see what this area had to offer.
The Shuttle ride was extremely convenient, and added a lot of flexibility to our route as far as where we could end up finishing. I had a new trail partner who I’d never backpacked with, and wanted to stay off trail for a good bit but never further than a long day’s hike from help. This part of the Sierra was about perfect for that sort of trip. I would do it again with kids, staying on trail and lowering the mileages. The new guy turned out to be a natural, but now I realize that wasn’t much of a surprise. He is one of those annoyingly athletic dudes who is automatically good at everything he tries. Mountain biking? Killing it on his first trip out. Frisbee Golf? Nails long drives. Excellent snowboarder. Hits homers all day in softball. Add backpacking and gruelling hikes to the list.
We were dropped off at the shuttle stop nearest the Postpile and caught the end of a talk given by a young ranger to a group of backpackers. I showed them my approximate map and he scoffed a little and pointed to a few passes he didn’t think were doable. Then one of the more outgoing backpackers told us our days were “WAAAAY TOOO LONG, BRO”. I love this stuff, and appreciate rangers, don’t get me wrong. But I’d already scouted out everything on the HST map so I felt pretty confident. We did get to mock the poor ranger (not to his face) and the packer-bro for the rest of the trip, picking up the “waaay too long” refrain every time we looked at the map.
Day one we followed the trail out of postpile and then turned westward before we hit the Granite Staircase. The scenery was pretty meh at first. I remembered coming to the postpile area during a wetter year and before the wind storm hit. Wow, what a difference. I guess a hurricane level storm blew up this canyon a few years back. The damage was pretty impressive, big trees knocked over everywhere and somehow the creeksides seemed less verdant. Once we made the turn around Fern Lake things got a lot more interesting though. That’s when you leave sort of generic Sierra scenery for the Minaret-area geology and biome.
It’s hard to describe with my writing skills, but the Minarets have a totally different feel than other areas I’ve hiked such as SEKI or the Yosemite backcountry or Emigrant. The lakes are smaller, the trees are often bonzai in quality. Instead of granite domes and glacier-polished faces, the peaks are often these conglomerate rock pilings that look like stone drip castles. Anona lake was a great place to start, the weather was beautiful and we took a brief dip in her frigid waters and then tentatively cast a few dry flies out with no luck. I had brought some of the more expensive and heavy Thai dehydrated dinners for the first night. Stuff that wouldn’t have fit so well in the bear can, and they were a delicious first meal. We camped just north of the lake, first time I got to try my MLD mid and it felt palatial compared to old my bivy/poncho tarp combo.
Day two we woke up early and headed straight north past Gertrude Lake, encountering one of the easier passes our young ranger had told us didn’t exist/was impassable. In hindsight, he probably didn’t want to come looking for us later, hence the discouraging words. We headed East after we hit the trail leading up to Holcomb and joined the main thoroughfare. Once in the forest we followed a shallow creek full of trout, were we stopped to practice our stream technique on the little guys and then explored a small ruined cabin. Afterwards we took the highway north towards Beck lakes, stopping for more fun at Superior, where the murky water yielded surprisingly large trouts I would probably never want to eat.
Our first “real pass” beckoned after and we tore our way up south side of Nancy without much difficulty, stopping for flatbread and goat cheese on the crest of the saddle. This yielded a really amazing view north towards the Minarets and Ritter. The north side proved to be a lot more tricky (theme there) and once down we prodded our way through a marshy area and up Dead Horse Pass. The scenery really became amazing thereafter, with afternoon light hitting the peaks while we skirted the plateau connecting Deadhorse to Minaret lake. We stopped at Minaret for a quick swim and a little more fishing and then when the wind came up, we retreaded south to a campsite above the lake and well past 200’. Plenty of easy illegal sites beckoned, but we slept warm and dry in our little hideout above the lake. That night we saw a good deal of shooting stars, and I decided to cowboy camp outside my ‘mid since it looked so nice out.
Day three we breakfasted early (so we thought) and checked the map to decide on a route for the day. We decided to follow my original plan to try and make Garnet even though it seemed “way too long man”. The West side of minaret lake was wet and still had a lot of wildflowers in mid-august, which was a real treat. The hike up to Cecil was uneventful except for passing a couple of alpinists with heavy gear who had already summited one of the Minarets by the time we had had coffee, breakfast and barely gotten one mile! Cecile to Iceberg was my first big whiff. I had the descent marked wrong on my map and we ended up following a steep couloir full of packed ice and loose rock for an unenjoyable 30 minutes. Eventually we reached the main trail skirting Iceberg lake and headed north. Looking back I think we descended east of the good path. On our way we spied some epic looking salmon-sized trout basking in the sun, but they were about 80’ down a talus slope and we had a long day still planned. Once we hit the north end of the valley and the grass came back it felt a bit like a dream. The little spillway between Iceberg and Ediza is full of beautiful little gardens and swimming holes. We saw a old grumpy looking trout napping at the bottom of one of these pools and decided to have a snack and float some wet flies past him. I must have hit the poor guy on the nose a half dozen times without a hint of interest. Then my buddy, ever the overachiever, managed to snag him on a little lure.
Ediza was a gorgeous little lake, but a lot of campers there and we realized the weekend was approaching fast. We did pass some foreign hikers with what looked like Walmart gear on their backs, heading up to Minaret lake and it was my turn to be the “waay too long” bro… I pointed out other options. We followed the outlet creek below Ediza before turning off trail near an old and very ominous mine. Here my meager route-finding skills were put to the test and I can’t say I instilled much confidence as I winded my way up the valleyside towards Nydiver, but kept encountering 30 foot walls! Finally after descending a bit (something I’m too slow to do, and would keep me out of trouble if I did more!) we caught the right path to Nydiver, over some streaked rocks. The series of lakes is pretty, but in a sterile, alkaline sort of way. It’s a great juxtaposition after the bounding life of the Ediza lake valley to reach the plateau and encounter these shallow, crystal clear lakes, with Banner and Ritter looming behind.
Whitebark pass was a little steep on the North side but nothing too hairy. Garnet lake is visually stunning and seemingly gigantic after the little toy lakes of the valley’s to the south. With more people rolling into the area on a Saturday night, we chose the west end for a campsite just as rain clouds rolled in and gave the area a good soaking. We explored the north edge of the lake before dinner, encountering a few more ponds devoid of fish but rippling with tadpoles. The topography of Garnet is unlike Ediza or Minaret. It’s a lot more open and small hemlocks spread out over the windswept rocks. I hit a strange low point before dinner (probably hypoglycemia) and felt suddenly homesick and sad the trip was ending at the same time. I took some time for myself and just sat for awhile and contemplated things. I really wish I could spend more time in the mountains. A few minutes later it had passed, but even a year later I look back on that afternoon and remember the weird melancholy that hit me all the sudden. That’s one of the things I like about being outdoors, the clarity.
That night the clouds kept dumping on us and my new ‘mid held up quite well. I had brought some painters plastic tarp for a ground cloth and my site selection was good enough I didn’t sleep in any puddles. The next morning we headed east to join the big highway again, linking up with the JMT and lots of excited people bound for Yosemite or Reds. We never saw any trout on the west end of Garnet, but the east side had so many it was hard not to hit them casting. They were skittish though and my buddy and I both only managed to catch a single decent sized one using his lure.
Descending from Garnet to the Shadow Creek trail was steeper than we expected. My buddy and I were feeling a little sore after the past three days, but our young upstart was practically skipping as he blew down the trail. Sheesh. Next time I will probably sneak a couple rocks into his pack after the first day. More storm clouds blew in while we descended and we heard thunder several times as we passed other groups just heading in.
We caught the shuttle at the top of the loop and headed back with some casual looking tourists who were less than excited to be near our unwashed stanky selves. It always seems like the first few days are the most offensive when backpacking, like you reach some sort of stink plateau, perhaps after day 4, and then things equalize. Or maybe you just stop noticing?
We had showers in town and the requisite burgers and IPAs. All in all, it was probably my favorite trip we’ve done so far. A little short, but nothing beats the magic of the lakes and valleys between Garnet and Anona. Can’t wait to go back.
