Continuation of trip report
Posted: Sun Jan 24, 2010 10:24 pm
Last summer I continued a thread started by markskor on July 28 in this forum. It was a tr about a trip in which markskor, tehipitetom and I met up for a few days of shared backcountry experience. I ended my account as we crossed the divide between the Red and Gray Peak Forks of the Merced. So after several months I think I'll start to complete my side of the adventure.
Finally we reached the outlet stream of the lakes and tarns to the e. of Adair and refilled our empty tanks. I briefly fished the unnamed lake and Mark and Tom continued on to Adair. As the late one I barely got my tent set up before the first thunderstorm of the trip struck. During dinner we noticed and Tom and I snapped shots of a spectacular sunset on the Cathedral Range. Mark and I caught enough goldens for dinner for the 3 of us and Tom added an excellent pasta. (of course we had frozen daiquiris too)
Down the Gray Peak Fork we headed the next day. The going was relatively easy until we reached about 8800. Then the difficulty lay in which route to take. Head down to the slabs and Obelisk Lake outlet stream and then try and hook up with the route described on an internet site we had all reviewed or head up through some trees just N. of the last steep rock outcropping n.e. of the lake. We opted for the latter and again Mark and Tom pushed me to the top. I did feel a little insulted when trying to impose my own switchbacks and the easiest gradient possible Mark requested I take a less steep approach! Honestly I was doing my best and had just been congratulating myself on doing a good job of minimizing the effects of a steep slope, large rocks, and lots of brush. Some people! We survived the trip and made our destination at a reasonable hour, a little later than we hoped but not bad. We had a great campsite, Tom graciously took a water bottle around the lake to a low laying snowfield and for the 4th night in a row Mark and I had a frozen drink for cocktail hour! The next morning was kind of sad because we were breaking up. The Three Amigos, The Three Stooges, the 3 ??? Tom was off the earliest while Mark and I took our time. We would have it easy—all down hill to the Merced. Well it was all down hill but not easy for old farts. Though generously rotund Mark is much more adept at steep rock than I am so a couple of times he had to wait as I eased myself down. Near the bottom we actually found the old cavalry trail. When we reached the river we were only slightly worse for the wear—Mark with a broken pole and me with a bloody leg from a rock that I mistakenly assumed would move aside as I walked past. At the river Mark generously offered to buy me dinner at the High Sierra Camp but the being irascible old fart that I am I was not in the mood to eat with a bunch of strangers. When we couldn’t find a satisfactory crossing of the river we said our goodbys and Mark headed down toward Merced lake and I headed up toward Washburn lake. The crossing log we both rejected a few minutes earlier looked fine and worked fine when I returned to it. Across the river looked like an old burn with logs crossed like pickup sticks of my childhood but there was lush grass and an incredible display of wild flowers (see Mavericks and Tehipite Tom’s flower photos in their TRs and they were all here). After negotiating the maze I hit the trail and proceeded to meet at least 30 people with day packs scattered along the trail, returning to the High Sierra Camp. Met 1 person, as I recall his name was Chris, from SLO who has been hiking in the Clark Range for 40 years—never goes anywhere else! Somehow I missed the campsite suggested by Mark (I think there was someone already there, anyhow) so I walked the length of Washburn lake and camped about 5 minutes past the lake. After setting up camp I returned to the lake caught dinner, got rinsed off, and returned to the camp.
To be continued
Finally we reached the outlet stream of the lakes and tarns to the e. of Adair and refilled our empty tanks. I briefly fished the unnamed lake and Mark and Tom continued on to Adair. As the late one I barely got my tent set up before the first thunderstorm of the trip struck. During dinner we noticed and Tom and I snapped shots of a spectacular sunset on the Cathedral Range. Mark and I caught enough goldens for dinner for the 3 of us and Tom added an excellent pasta. (of course we had frozen daiquiris too)
Down the Gray Peak Fork we headed the next day. The going was relatively easy until we reached about 8800. Then the difficulty lay in which route to take. Head down to the slabs and Obelisk Lake outlet stream and then try and hook up with the route described on an internet site we had all reviewed or head up through some trees just N. of the last steep rock outcropping n.e. of the lake. We opted for the latter and again Mark and Tom pushed me to the top. I did feel a little insulted when trying to impose my own switchbacks and the easiest gradient possible Mark requested I take a less steep approach! Honestly I was doing my best and had just been congratulating myself on doing a good job of minimizing the effects of a steep slope, large rocks, and lots of brush. Some people! We survived the trip and made our destination at a reasonable hour, a little later than we hoped but not bad. We had a great campsite, Tom graciously took a water bottle around the lake to a low laying snowfield and for the 4th night in a row Mark and I had a frozen drink for cocktail hour! The next morning was kind of sad because we were breaking up. The Three Amigos, The Three Stooges, the 3 ??? Tom was off the earliest while Mark and I took our time. We would have it easy—all down hill to the Merced. Well it was all down hill but not easy for old farts. Though generously rotund Mark is much more adept at steep rock than I am so a couple of times he had to wait as I eased myself down. Near the bottom we actually found the old cavalry trail. When we reached the river we were only slightly worse for the wear—Mark with a broken pole and me with a bloody leg from a rock that I mistakenly assumed would move aside as I walked past. At the river Mark generously offered to buy me dinner at the High Sierra Camp but the being irascible old fart that I am I was not in the mood to eat with a bunch of strangers. When we couldn’t find a satisfactory crossing of the river we said our goodbys and Mark headed down toward Merced lake and I headed up toward Washburn lake. The crossing log we both rejected a few minutes earlier looked fine and worked fine when I returned to it. Across the river looked like an old burn with logs crossed like pickup sticks of my childhood but there was lush grass and an incredible display of wild flowers (see Mavericks and Tehipite Tom’s flower photos in their TRs and they were all here). After negotiating the maze I hit the trail and proceeded to meet at least 30 people with day packs scattered along the trail, returning to the High Sierra Camp. Met 1 person, as I recall his name was Chris, from SLO who has been hiking in the Clark Range for 40 years—never goes anywhere else! Somehow I missed the campsite suggested by Mark (I think there was someone already there, anyhow) so I walked the length of Washburn lake and camped about 5 minutes past the lake. After setting up camp I returned to the lake caught dinner, got rinsed off, and returned to the camp.
To be continued