Intro
With Inyo the "walk-up" permit inventory 14-days out, I decided this would be a good summer to get at least one (if not more...) multi-day hike in. Typically, I'm not ready to plan out my hiking schedule in February or March, and find the chances of getting turned down for the walk-up permit I want at the ranger station too high.
A few weeks ago I did a weekend trip to Garnet Lake via the River Trail just to check my conditioning. I then snagged a permit for the following weekend for the Shadow Lake trail, ending in Tuolumne 4 days later.
Unfortunately, the Thursday before the trip I came down with an illness and ended up cancelling the trip (and emailed the Inyo reservations box to release the permit so someone else could have it).
When I made a replacement reservation, I moved to the River Trail with the first night at Garnet. When I'd been on my warm-up hike a few weeks ago the hikers who had stayed at Ediza or Iceberg that I'd encountered were complaining mightily about the mosquitos there, while Garnet was mosquito free. Why subject myself to all those bites?
Day 1 River Trail to Garnet Lake
I made a reservation on Friday for the Red's Meadow Shuttle for Saturday morning. These can be made on Mammoth's website and are pretty straightforward. There is a 7:30AM bus but it operates before the ticket office opens so this is walk up only, pay cash to the driver. There is a single 8:15AM departure, and then multiple buses every hour after that, so you reserve a one hour time slot for departure.
The 9-10 slot was "sold out" and not wanting to have to make it up from Bishop (where I'd stay on Friday night after driving from LA), park, and collect my ticket at the window in time for that 8:15 bus, I settled for the 10-11 slot. A little later than I'd prefer, but I'm not a morning person by any means and it meant I wouldn't have to rush.
I arrived at about 9:40 and was directed past the line, up to the building where the ticket office is (I hate this set up as I've already walked up the hill from the parking lot). I collected my ticket, got back in the long line signed for the "10AM-11AM departures," didn't get on a bus that left at about 9:55, but did make it on one at about 10:20. I was the only overnight backpacker on board.
After a quick trip down the road to the first stop, I managed to squeeze off of the bus (standing room only) and hit the trail.
While the River Trail isn't the most scenic of the trails leaving from Agnew Meadows, I think its fine and it has a nice, steady climb through the forest. The scramble up to Garnet Lake isn't my favorite, but its short and sweet.
I was stopped by a young backcountry ranger named Khalil before the Shadow Lake / River Trail junction. A few weeks ago, he stopped me on my way out on the Shadow Lake trail and was really laid back, asked some questions about my trip and then said "oh by the way, did you get a permit?" As I was exiting when I answered in affirmative he said "okay great have a nice day."
This time, while still friendly, he was much more direct in his questioning. Because he could see I was on the way in, he asked to see my permit, and did make a note on it that I had been stopped and inspected already. I wonder if a subsequent ranger would care or not. I've never had my permit checked by a backcountry ranger in 25 years of on again off again backpacking. I suspect because the Ranger Stations are closed to walk ups, they're worried some people will just go ahead and hike without a permit, so they've strategically placed enforcement on high traffic trails.
When I had done my "test hike" to Garnet three weeks ago I didn't see many backpackers on the River Trail. There certainly weren't any camped along it. But three weeks later, solidly into July, there was much more traffic. I did see numerous tents set up down along the river, and there were a few at the campsites where the use trail to Garnet splits off, on both sides of the creek.
When I finally made it to Garnet, I headed to the campsites on the north side of the lake where the JMT goes up and the campsites are just below. This is immediately past the peninsula where the posted maps indicate camping is allowed. There's room for about five or six tents here, though if it was fully occupied would be quite crowded. On arrival, I found three existing tents, with four people. I considered continuing up the JMT and then back down the use trail to the northwestern corner of the lake and the campsites there (which I am aware of, but have never stayed at) but it was late and I was tired so I set up here.
Quite the contrast with my late June trip where I was the only one camped here on a Saturday night.
Garnet was beautiful, as usual. My favorite spot to camp in this beautiful region.
TR: Mammoth to Tuolumne Including Lightning On Donohue Pass July 17-20
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northwesterner
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TR: Mammoth to Tuolumne Including Lightning On Donohue Pass July 17-20
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northwesterner
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Re: TR: Mammoth to Tuolumne Including Lightning On Donohue Pass July 17-20
Day 2 - Garnet Lake to south side of Donohue Pass
After a late breakfast and some nice conversation with the other campers at Garnet Lake, I headed off up the JMT north towards Ruby Lake.
While I'd done some of this trip before, the section between Garnet and Thousand Island Lake was new to me (having previously hiked a loop to Thousand Island via the Rush Creek Trailhead).
There was a great view of Garnet Lake from the top of the climb over the north side of the lake.
Ruby Lake was smaller than expected. I wouldn't expect a lake this small to be named on a map! Emerald Lake is better sized, but with the trail on the west side of the lake, didn't have the dramatic backdrop of some of the more popular lakes in the region. I made good time getting to Thousand Island Lake. But as I approached, I noted the weather was changing. What had started out as a bright sunny day had suddenly clouded up, and the humidity increased markedly. This should have been an ominous sign for the next two days of the trip, but I assumed the weather would pass quickly and the typical hot Sierra summer weather would reappear.
I love Thousand Island Lake - but so does everyone else. I find the campsites to be the most overused I've ever seen in the backcounty, and its generally just too crowded all the time to enjoy too much. I stopped for about twenty minutes along the lake shore, filtered some water for the climb to Island Pass, and headed out.
Island Pass, as usual, has some gorgeous views. I'd like to camp up there some time, but needed to cover more ground on this trip.
As I descended the north side of Island Pass toward the junction with the Rush Creek Trail and Waugh Lake it began to rain.
I'm a good eagle scout from the Pacific Northwest, so I pulled out my rain gear and kept moving. Unfortunately, I couldn't find my pack cover (in the northwest I would have it easily accessible in a top pocket, but in the Sierra it was just "in the pack somewhere").
Finally, at the junction with the Rush Creek Trail, the rain was hard enough I really needed to find that pack cover. I pulled everything out and finally found it buried underneath my bear vault. Ugh.
Luckily, though, while digging through my bag I encountered three hikers from the prior day on the River Trail. They'd camped someone down along the river just south of the junction to Garnet. We talked quite a bit at that junction, as they wanted to check out Altha Lake. On this day, they'd packed day packs and had headed north on the River Trail, across Agnew Pass, down to Gem Lake, and along Waugh Lake (featuring water!) to where I met them. They were going to continue via Island Pass to Thousand Island and then back down to their campsites. Sounds like a nice dayhike with a basecamp!
I continued through the rain past the Davis Lakes junction. By the time I arrived at the Marie Lakes junction, I was tired and thinking it was a good time to find a place for the night. There were a couple great campsites just north of the junction, on the right side of the trail, but they were fully occupied by other backpackers trying to stay out of the rain.
And so I continued. At least the views got better and better.
Finally, the rain let up and about a mile below Donohue Pass, just about 0.5 mi before where the trail makes a left turn and begins switchbacking up, I spotted a very small campsite, just off the trail, big enough for a one man tent.
I walked past it a bit, thinking maybe I'd try to cross the Pass that night. But I was too tired, it was already past 6PM, and I just didn't think I should push it.
So I headed back down the trail, found my campsite, and squeezed my tent into the small space.
After a late breakfast and some nice conversation with the other campers at Garnet Lake, I headed off up the JMT north towards Ruby Lake.
While I'd done some of this trip before, the section between Garnet and Thousand Island Lake was new to me (having previously hiked a loop to Thousand Island via the Rush Creek Trailhead).
There was a great view of Garnet Lake from the top of the climb over the north side of the lake.
Ruby Lake was smaller than expected. I wouldn't expect a lake this small to be named on a map! Emerald Lake is better sized, but with the trail on the west side of the lake, didn't have the dramatic backdrop of some of the more popular lakes in the region. I made good time getting to Thousand Island Lake. But as I approached, I noted the weather was changing. What had started out as a bright sunny day had suddenly clouded up, and the humidity increased markedly. This should have been an ominous sign for the next two days of the trip, but I assumed the weather would pass quickly and the typical hot Sierra summer weather would reappear.
I love Thousand Island Lake - but so does everyone else. I find the campsites to be the most overused I've ever seen in the backcounty, and its generally just too crowded all the time to enjoy too much. I stopped for about twenty minutes along the lake shore, filtered some water for the climb to Island Pass, and headed out.
Island Pass, as usual, has some gorgeous views. I'd like to camp up there some time, but needed to cover more ground on this trip.
As I descended the north side of Island Pass toward the junction with the Rush Creek Trail and Waugh Lake it began to rain.
I'm a good eagle scout from the Pacific Northwest, so I pulled out my rain gear and kept moving. Unfortunately, I couldn't find my pack cover (in the northwest I would have it easily accessible in a top pocket, but in the Sierra it was just "in the pack somewhere").
Finally, at the junction with the Rush Creek Trail, the rain was hard enough I really needed to find that pack cover. I pulled everything out and finally found it buried underneath my bear vault. Ugh.
Luckily, though, while digging through my bag I encountered three hikers from the prior day on the River Trail. They'd camped someone down along the river just south of the junction to Garnet. We talked quite a bit at that junction, as they wanted to check out Altha Lake. On this day, they'd packed day packs and had headed north on the River Trail, across Agnew Pass, down to Gem Lake, and along Waugh Lake (featuring water!) to where I met them. They were going to continue via Island Pass to Thousand Island and then back down to their campsites. Sounds like a nice dayhike with a basecamp!
I continued through the rain past the Davis Lakes junction. By the time I arrived at the Marie Lakes junction, I was tired and thinking it was a good time to find a place for the night. There were a couple great campsites just north of the junction, on the right side of the trail, but they were fully occupied by other backpackers trying to stay out of the rain.
And so I continued. At least the views got better and better.
Finally, the rain let up and about a mile below Donohue Pass, just about 0.5 mi before where the trail makes a left turn and begins switchbacking up, I spotted a very small campsite, just off the trail, big enough for a one man tent.
I walked past it a bit, thinking maybe I'd try to cross the Pass that night. But I was too tired, it was already past 6PM, and I just didn't think I should push it.
So I headed back down the trail, found my campsite, and squeezed my tent into the small space.
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Last edited by northwesterner on Thu Jul 22, 2021 12:15 am, edited 1 time in total.
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northwesterner
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Re: TR: Mammoth to Tuolumne Including Lightning On Donohue Pass July 17-20
Day 3: Donohue Pass and a Lightning Storm
I slept well in my site just below Donohue Pass. Unfortunately, as I may have mentioned, I'm not much of a morning person. Not only does this mean I don't want to get up in the morning, but I'm also extremely slow at breaking down my campsite.
At least I was close to the Pass and could get the hardest part of the day out of the way, first thing.
When I left my campsite, I looked up at the sky. Still overcast, but there had been little to no rain overnight (my tent was dry). There was one small patch of dark clouds to the west, but nothing worse than what had produced the rain yesterday. I didn't think anything of it.
I hit the trail about 9:45AM.
The views of the valley below while climbing the pass just kept getting better and better.
On my way up the pass, every hiker coming down told me that cell service was available at the top.
Not one mentioned anything about the impending weather.
I summited at about 10:45. I dropped my pack and took a moment to take in the views. The clouds were getting darker, and were particularly dark when looking down the Lyell Canyon.
But I walked over to where a couple other backpackers were standing, a little higher, using their phones, and took mine out of airplane mode, uploaded a selfie from the pass to the socials, and sent a text to my folks that I was still on schedule and would check in again tomorrow when I was done.
Just as I pressed send, a loud boom of thunder rang out in the distance. I knew that an exposed mountain pass at 11k feet above the tree line was not where I wanted to be.
I scurried down to my pack, slung it on my back and headed down the Lyell Canyon side. I quickly began descending the pass as the booms of thunder rang out, becoming more frequent. Then the wind started blowing. A few hundred feet down the pass I came across a man in his 50s or 60s with a gray beard, setting up a camera on a tripod, looking straight down Lyell Canyon. I nodded as I hustled past - he replied with "here it comes."
I was hoping I would be down and into the treeline before then.
Unfortunately, as that was not to be, as I began to be pelted by hail.
The weather looking down Lyell Canyon and over towards Lyell Glacier was becoming increasingly ominous. Just above the lake that is below the Lyell Glacier (where you go down, cross the lake, and switch back up the otherside of the valley before the trail begins descending again) the weather became too much. I was probably about 45 minutes down from the Pass, so this would have been around 11:40AM.
Lightning was flashing all around me. The hail was alternating with rain, and wind was blowing it all over the place. I had my rain jacket and pack cover on, but had not had time to stop and pull on my rain pants.
Below me was the crossing of the lake at the bottom of the tree-less valley, where I would have been the tallest object around. The weather was horrible, some of the worst I'd experienced. I did not think it was safe to continue.
So I pulled off the trail, into a low grove of small trees where I would get some protection from the weather.
It has been a long time since I've had wilderness lightning training. I knew I didn't necessarily want to be standing next to a tree, but didn't want to be standing in the open, either. These were the smallest trees around, and they were on a slightly lower bench on the descent to the lake than the rest of the trees.
A few minutes later, a woman - a PCT through hiker - saw me and decided that ducking in with me was the best choice.
Neither of us wanted to be where we were, but we didn't want to be out in that weather either.
The lightning flashes became more numerous. The booms echoed down Lyell Canyon. We had our packs off and were trying to stay a distance from the trees, but still close enough to get a break from the heavy downpour and the wind.
Counting the the delay between the lightning and the thunder, I was trying to get a sense if the storm was getting closer or moving further away.
It seemed to be doing both. Lighting was coming out of the clouds all around us. Some near, and some further down the valley.
We were also joined by two late teen boys. They were waiting for their aunt and uncle, behind them, also descending the pass. They took shelter under the trees just slightly uphill from us. They couldn't continue in this weather, either.
Soon the flashes were getting awfully close. Myself and the PCT hiker ducked down, on our knees, then squatting, then eventually down on the ground. (Alright, I know now, home and able to research such things, that you should squat, not lay, but it's been 20+ years since I've had lightning instruction and all I could remember was to make yourself small against the ground.)
At one moment it seemed as if the storm was letting up and we both got up in from the ground and looked at each other. At that moment a flash of lightning - the kind so close you see x-ray vision - followed by immediate thunder occurred. I shouted "get down" and we both hit the deck.
This continued for close to an hour. We were wet, cold, and in awe of the weather around us.
I've been backpacking on and off since I was 12. I've been to a lot of places, in a lot of conditions, and I've never experienced anything like this.
Probably about 45 minutes into our stay in the trees, we were back up standing when two JMT through hikers came down. We asked if they wanted to stop - they said no - they didn't think it was better to stay with us than to keep moving and just get down lower, and so they kept going.
The small stream that had been running down the hillside to the lake at the bottom was now swollen. The crossing was right at our level, and the two guys couldn't cross there. They backtracked a little up the steps to a higher point, crossed, and came back down the hill on the other side. This was an important clue for later.
About five minutes after that the aunt and uncle of the two boys appeared. They were shaken - they'd come down in the midst of all the lightning strikes, but they were safe.
Suddenly, the frequency of the lightning strikes started to decrease. The booms of the thunder were getting further apart. I started to say "if these keep getting further apart for ten minutes - consistently - we need to go."
I know that you hear "you need to wait one hour after the last strike" but considering where we'd been for the last hour, we needed to take an opportunity to get moving, get warm, and get down into the forest.
The ten minutes passed, the clouds were thinning up, and the boys left with their aunt and uncle. Then myself and the PCT hiker grabbed our bags and emerged from the small grove of trees.
When we got out to trail we came across more hikers. Two groups - three Asian-Americans hiking together, about eight women (JMT hikers) who were traveling together.
They were stuck at the stream crossing. It had swollen from a stream you wouldn't even think about to one a foot deep and five feet wide. It was impassable.
I tried talk to members of the two groups. No one was saying anything. Eyes were wide - they'd come down the pass during the worst of the lightning storm, bolts flashing all around them.
We couldn't cross here. So I shouted to the PCT hiker I'd spent the last hour with "okay I think we need to go up" and led her back up the steps to the next flat spot. The water was raging here too. The group of Asian-Americans followed us, as did a couple of the women. I could see a path across the water, but we'd have to jump twice. At least the ground was flat, and you could get a running start.
And so off I went. One running jump (with my 35lb pack, soaked like a drowned rat), and then another. I shouted encouragement and the PCT hiker followed me, then the Asian group. Down the hillside we went, passing a couple of the women still trying to figure out how to use the normal crossing. I told them to go up and that you'll have to jump twice - jump once and jump again, but you can get across.
Soon we were at the lake. The stream crossings down here were totally washed out, but we were able to, again, jump across an alternate.
The lake crossing at the bottom of the canyon has a number of strategically placed rocks near the outflow. Some of these were now submerged. Again, I led the way (somehow) and made it across, shouting instructions back at my PCT friend and the Asian group.
As we headed back up the switchbacks on the otherside of the canyon above the lake, I was climbing so fast that I found myself nearly hyperventilating - gasping for air. I hadn't realized it, but running on pure adrenaline and trying to get out of that situation, I was moving much faster than I would ever take that kind of climb; I was moving faster than my lungs could handle.
Down below, all of the river and stream crossings were swollen and awful. Submerged rocks, submerged logs. Trusting that when you place your boot on a rock you can see 4" below the surface it'll grab on and you'll hold steady.
At one wide spot in the river, there is a series of rocks to cross the outflow just before the river drops nearly 6' in a waterfall. I'm sure normally crossing here was no big deal, but on this day the water was rushing past and some of the rocks were submerged. While I did study the crossing for a minute, over it I went. I don't know that I'd do that on a normal day.
At least blue skies were peaking through.
The PCT hiker and I continued down, eventually meeting up with the two JMT guys who had passed us in the worst of the storm. They were taking a break and were friendly, and we hiked with them the rest of the day down the canyon.
There were very few hikers going up. The ones we did see asked if we were at the pass for the storm ("yes"). They indicated it had been awful in Lyell Canyon too - very loud and very wet. I suspect most people decided to shelter in place and not attempt the pass that afternoon if they had been coming up.
The aunt and uncle and the two teen boys were just ahead of us. They stopped to take advantage of the sun and had all their gear spread out just past the first, big, footbridge. Water was raging under the bridge. If the rain had continued for another hour, I'd be concerned about a washout.
The Lyell Fork was swollen everywhere, and as the day went on the sky darkened, but the hard rains never returned.
Passing 8 miles for the day, I started to slip behind my hiking partners. I was tired, and my body was sore. Just past the junction to Ireland Lake, I encountered a man in what seemed to be a large campsite. He indicated that yes, there was room there, but if it rained hard again, most of it had flooded out earlier in the day and wouldn't be suitable.
It turned out this man was JMT expert John Ladd. He had taken a rest day because of the weather forecast (that I wasn't aware of) and rode the storm out from that campsite. He helped me find a spot on the other side of the trail. I got my tent set up - it was about 7:30PM.
I was tired and taking a few minutes to lay down before dinner seemed like a good idea.
Before I knew it, I woke up and it was nearly dark. A little past 9:30. I got up, moved all my snacks into my bear vault, covered the pack for the night and crawled back into bed. Despite having hiked nearly 9 miles that day, I went to bed without dinner, absolutely exhausted.
I slept well in my site just below Donohue Pass. Unfortunately, as I may have mentioned, I'm not much of a morning person. Not only does this mean I don't want to get up in the morning, but I'm also extremely slow at breaking down my campsite.
At least I was close to the Pass and could get the hardest part of the day out of the way, first thing.
When I left my campsite, I looked up at the sky. Still overcast, but there had been little to no rain overnight (my tent was dry). There was one small patch of dark clouds to the west, but nothing worse than what had produced the rain yesterday. I didn't think anything of it.
I hit the trail about 9:45AM.
The views of the valley below while climbing the pass just kept getting better and better.
On my way up the pass, every hiker coming down told me that cell service was available at the top.
Not one mentioned anything about the impending weather.
I summited at about 10:45. I dropped my pack and took a moment to take in the views. The clouds were getting darker, and were particularly dark when looking down the Lyell Canyon.
But I walked over to where a couple other backpackers were standing, a little higher, using their phones, and took mine out of airplane mode, uploaded a selfie from the pass to the socials, and sent a text to my folks that I was still on schedule and would check in again tomorrow when I was done.
Just as I pressed send, a loud boom of thunder rang out in the distance. I knew that an exposed mountain pass at 11k feet above the tree line was not where I wanted to be.
I scurried down to my pack, slung it on my back and headed down the Lyell Canyon side. I quickly began descending the pass as the booms of thunder rang out, becoming more frequent. Then the wind started blowing. A few hundred feet down the pass I came across a man in his 50s or 60s with a gray beard, setting up a camera on a tripod, looking straight down Lyell Canyon. I nodded as I hustled past - he replied with "here it comes."
I was hoping I would be down and into the treeline before then.
Unfortunately, as that was not to be, as I began to be pelted by hail.
The weather looking down Lyell Canyon and over towards Lyell Glacier was becoming increasingly ominous. Just above the lake that is below the Lyell Glacier (where you go down, cross the lake, and switch back up the otherside of the valley before the trail begins descending again) the weather became too much. I was probably about 45 minutes down from the Pass, so this would have been around 11:40AM.
Lightning was flashing all around me. The hail was alternating with rain, and wind was blowing it all over the place. I had my rain jacket and pack cover on, but had not had time to stop and pull on my rain pants.
Below me was the crossing of the lake at the bottom of the tree-less valley, where I would have been the tallest object around. The weather was horrible, some of the worst I'd experienced. I did not think it was safe to continue.
So I pulled off the trail, into a low grove of small trees where I would get some protection from the weather.
It has been a long time since I've had wilderness lightning training. I knew I didn't necessarily want to be standing next to a tree, but didn't want to be standing in the open, either. These were the smallest trees around, and they were on a slightly lower bench on the descent to the lake than the rest of the trees.
A few minutes later, a woman - a PCT through hiker - saw me and decided that ducking in with me was the best choice.
Neither of us wanted to be where we were, but we didn't want to be out in that weather either.
The lightning flashes became more numerous. The booms echoed down Lyell Canyon. We had our packs off and were trying to stay a distance from the trees, but still close enough to get a break from the heavy downpour and the wind.
Counting the the delay between the lightning and the thunder, I was trying to get a sense if the storm was getting closer or moving further away.
It seemed to be doing both. Lighting was coming out of the clouds all around us. Some near, and some further down the valley.
We were also joined by two late teen boys. They were waiting for their aunt and uncle, behind them, also descending the pass. They took shelter under the trees just slightly uphill from us. They couldn't continue in this weather, either.
Soon the flashes were getting awfully close. Myself and the PCT hiker ducked down, on our knees, then squatting, then eventually down on the ground. (Alright, I know now, home and able to research such things, that you should squat, not lay, but it's been 20+ years since I've had lightning instruction and all I could remember was to make yourself small against the ground.)
At one moment it seemed as if the storm was letting up and we both got up in from the ground and looked at each other. At that moment a flash of lightning - the kind so close you see x-ray vision - followed by immediate thunder occurred. I shouted "get down" and we both hit the deck.
This continued for close to an hour. We were wet, cold, and in awe of the weather around us.
I've been backpacking on and off since I was 12. I've been to a lot of places, in a lot of conditions, and I've never experienced anything like this.
Probably about 45 minutes into our stay in the trees, we were back up standing when two JMT through hikers came down. We asked if they wanted to stop - they said no - they didn't think it was better to stay with us than to keep moving and just get down lower, and so they kept going.
The small stream that had been running down the hillside to the lake at the bottom was now swollen. The crossing was right at our level, and the two guys couldn't cross there. They backtracked a little up the steps to a higher point, crossed, and came back down the hill on the other side. This was an important clue for later.
About five minutes after that the aunt and uncle of the two boys appeared. They were shaken - they'd come down in the midst of all the lightning strikes, but they were safe.
Suddenly, the frequency of the lightning strikes started to decrease. The booms of the thunder were getting further apart. I started to say "if these keep getting further apart for ten minutes - consistently - we need to go."
I know that you hear "you need to wait one hour after the last strike" but considering where we'd been for the last hour, we needed to take an opportunity to get moving, get warm, and get down into the forest.
The ten minutes passed, the clouds were thinning up, and the boys left with their aunt and uncle. Then myself and the PCT hiker grabbed our bags and emerged from the small grove of trees.
When we got out to trail we came across more hikers. Two groups - three Asian-Americans hiking together, about eight women (JMT hikers) who were traveling together.
They were stuck at the stream crossing. It had swollen from a stream you wouldn't even think about to one a foot deep and five feet wide. It was impassable.
I tried talk to members of the two groups. No one was saying anything. Eyes were wide - they'd come down the pass during the worst of the lightning storm, bolts flashing all around them.
We couldn't cross here. So I shouted to the PCT hiker I'd spent the last hour with "okay I think we need to go up" and led her back up the steps to the next flat spot. The water was raging here too. The group of Asian-Americans followed us, as did a couple of the women. I could see a path across the water, but we'd have to jump twice. At least the ground was flat, and you could get a running start.
And so off I went. One running jump (with my 35lb pack, soaked like a drowned rat), and then another. I shouted encouragement and the PCT hiker followed me, then the Asian group. Down the hillside we went, passing a couple of the women still trying to figure out how to use the normal crossing. I told them to go up and that you'll have to jump twice - jump once and jump again, but you can get across.
Soon we were at the lake. The stream crossings down here were totally washed out, but we were able to, again, jump across an alternate.
The lake crossing at the bottom of the canyon has a number of strategically placed rocks near the outflow. Some of these were now submerged. Again, I led the way (somehow) and made it across, shouting instructions back at my PCT friend and the Asian group.
As we headed back up the switchbacks on the otherside of the canyon above the lake, I was climbing so fast that I found myself nearly hyperventilating - gasping for air. I hadn't realized it, but running on pure adrenaline and trying to get out of that situation, I was moving much faster than I would ever take that kind of climb; I was moving faster than my lungs could handle.
Down below, all of the river and stream crossings were swollen and awful. Submerged rocks, submerged logs. Trusting that when you place your boot on a rock you can see 4" below the surface it'll grab on and you'll hold steady.
At one wide spot in the river, there is a series of rocks to cross the outflow just before the river drops nearly 6' in a waterfall. I'm sure normally crossing here was no big deal, but on this day the water was rushing past and some of the rocks were submerged. While I did study the crossing for a minute, over it I went. I don't know that I'd do that on a normal day.
At least blue skies were peaking through.
The PCT hiker and I continued down, eventually meeting up with the two JMT guys who had passed us in the worst of the storm. They were taking a break and were friendly, and we hiked with them the rest of the day down the canyon.
There were very few hikers going up. The ones we did see asked if we were at the pass for the storm ("yes"). They indicated it had been awful in Lyell Canyon too - very loud and very wet. I suspect most people decided to shelter in place and not attempt the pass that afternoon if they had been coming up.
The aunt and uncle and the two teen boys were just ahead of us. They stopped to take advantage of the sun and had all their gear spread out just past the first, big, footbridge. Water was raging under the bridge. If the rain had continued for another hour, I'd be concerned about a washout.
The Lyell Fork was swollen everywhere, and as the day went on the sky darkened, but the hard rains never returned.
Passing 8 miles for the day, I started to slip behind my hiking partners. I was tired, and my body was sore. Just past the junction to Ireland Lake, I encountered a man in what seemed to be a large campsite. He indicated that yes, there was room there, but if it rained hard again, most of it had flooded out earlier in the day and wouldn't be suitable.
It turned out this man was JMT expert John Ladd. He had taken a rest day because of the weather forecast (that I wasn't aware of) and rode the storm out from that campsite. He helped me find a spot on the other side of the trail. I got my tent set up - it was about 7:30PM.
I was tired and taking a few minutes to lay down before dinner seemed like a good idea.
Before I knew it, I woke up and it was nearly dark. A little past 9:30. I got up, moved all my snacks into my bear vault, covered the pack for the night and crawled back into bed. Despite having hiked nearly 9 miles that day, I went to bed without dinner, absolutely exhausted.
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northwesterner
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Re: TR: Mammoth to Tuolumne Including Lightning On Donohue Pass July 17-20
Day 4 - Out to Tuolumne
I woke up. Late. It had rained a little in the night, but my tent had stayed dry. Luckily I knew I didn't have far to go and it was all flat. John came over to visit for a bit. He mentioned that the group of Asian American hikers immediately behind me had gone by about an hour earlier and he'd stopped them to chat. They told him that lighting was coming down within 100 yards of them as they came down Donohue Pass.
While I was cooking breakfast, I heard John chatting with some women. I walked over to the trail, and it was the group that had been coming down the pass in the heart of the storm the prior day. They all recognized me and we spent some time talking about our experience.
I hiked just behind them most of the way out.
And what a beautiful day it was. The clouds had cleared, but the summer heat had not returned. The hike out Lyell Canyon was beautiful and I savored every minute of it.
Finally, I arrived at the Tuolumne General Store, about 2:30. My new friend, the PCT hiker I'd huddled with under those trees was there, sitting at a picnic bench writing postcards. She popped up right away to greet me when I walked in.
Off to the restroom I went, and then to the grill for some real food for lunch.
As I ate my lunch, the aunt, uncle and two teenage boys appeared. A few minutes later, the big group of women hikers also showed up to eat.
We had half the tables under the trees by the bus stop, occupied by the people who were caught in the lightning storm at Donohue Pass. It was pretty incredible.
Sadly for me, the 4:15 YARTS back to Mammoth showed up on time, and I split from the rest of the hikers, most of whom were continuing on. Epilogue
A few months ago, I read a new book by Michael Easter - The Comfort Crisis. He's an outdoors writer now teaching at UNLV. In it, he hypothesizes that the developed world, with all of our comforts and advances has left us with high rates of depression, anxiety, obesity, etc. He goes through a variety of research into human performance, and how we face and handle stress. The conclusion is that it is important to face mental and physical challenges, on some kind of semi-regular basis, so you can test yourself and learn not only what a real challenge or stressor is, but what you can handle as a person.
Of course, I didn't need a book to tell me this. One of the reasons I enjoy hiking is it develops my independence, self reliance, and gives me physical fitness goals I need to achieve in the off-season.
I knew that this 32 mile, 4-day hike would be a challenge for me. I have thoughts of doing the Rae Lakes Loop or something similar later this summer and wanted something to benchmark my fitness.
I just had no idea what a challenge this hike would be and what mother nature would throw at me. I'll be thinking about this one for a long time.
I woke up. Late. It had rained a little in the night, but my tent had stayed dry. Luckily I knew I didn't have far to go and it was all flat. John came over to visit for a bit. He mentioned that the group of Asian American hikers immediately behind me had gone by about an hour earlier and he'd stopped them to chat. They told him that lighting was coming down within 100 yards of them as they came down Donohue Pass.
While I was cooking breakfast, I heard John chatting with some women. I walked over to the trail, and it was the group that had been coming down the pass in the heart of the storm the prior day. They all recognized me and we spent some time talking about our experience.
I hiked just behind them most of the way out.
And what a beautiful day it was. The clouds had cleared, but the summer heat had not returned. The hike out Lyell Canyon was beautiful and I savored every minute of it.
Finally, I arrived at the Tuolumne General Store, about 2:30. My new friend, the PCT hiker I'd huddled with under those trees was there, sitting at a picnic bench writing postcards. She popped up right away to greet me when I walked in.
Off to the restroom I went, and then to the grill for some real food for lunch.
As I ate my lunch, the aunt, uncle and two teenage boys appeared. A few minutes later, the big group of women hikers also showed up to eat.
We had half the tables under the trees by the bus stop, occupied by the people who were caught in the lightning storm at Donohue Pass. It was pretty incredible.
Sadly for me, the 4:15 YARTS back to Mammoth showed up on time, and I split from the rest of the hikers, most of whom were continuing on. Epilogue
A few months ago, I read a new book by Michael Easter - The Comfort Crisis. He's an outdoors writer now teaching at UNLV. In it, he hypothesizes that the developed world, with all of our comforts and advances has left us with high rates of depression, anxiety, obesity, etc. He goes through a variety of research into human performance, and how we face and handle stress. The conclusion is that it is important to face mental and physical challenges, on some kind of semi-regular basis, so you can test yourself and learn not only what a real challenge or stressor is, but what you can handle as a person.
Of course, I didn't need a book to tell me this. One of the reasons I enjoy hiking is it develops my independence, self reliance, and gives me physical fitness goals I need to achieve in the off-season.
I knew that this 32 mile, 4-day hike would be a challenge for me. I have thoughts of doing the Rae Lakes Loop or something similar later this summer and wanted something to benchmark my fitness.
I just had no idea what a challenge this hike would be and what mother nature would throw at me. I'll be thinking about this one for a long time.
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The Other Tom
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Re: TR: Mammoth to Tuolumne Including Lightning On Donohue Pass July 17-20
Great report and photos! Thanks for the write up. I love that area and it brought back memories.
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SSSdave
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Re: TR: Mammoth to Tuolumne Including Lightning On Donohue Pass July 17-20
Good to read backcountry rangers are out in the field. Obviously they are finding higher numbers of groups without permits so are interested in understanding how bad it has become.
It is easy to locate camps at Garnet or TI well away from any others. Those are huge landscapes in which the trail zones are just a minor areas so one just needs to bother moving well away from trails and lake edges. Over decades I've camped at both several times always out of shouting distance of others. Also doing so will remove one from where bears are certain to make their nightly raiding hunts.
Ruby Lake is named because it is right on the famous JMT as well as being quite beautiful with its rusty metasedimentary rock amid shores with red fir, mountain hemlock, and Labrador tea.
Please read this older thorough lightning thread, especially the links. Yeah as I've related elsewhere, many visitors have a poor simplistic understanding of lightning and thunderstorms. If you hike enough as I have, you may experience even more violent and dangerous storms. The common wisdom that all High Sierra storms are modest is simply ignorant.
viewtopic.php?f=35&t=8001&hilit=lightning
It is easy to locate camps at Garnet or TI well away from any others. Those are huge landscapes in which the trail zones are just a minor areas so one just needs to bother moving well away from trails and lake edges. Over decades I've camped at both several times always out of shouting distance of others. Also doing so will remove one from where bears are certain to make their nightly raiding hunts.
Ruby Lake is named because it is right on the famous JMT as well as being quite beautiful with its rusty metasedimentary rock amid shores with red fir, mountain hemlock, and Labrador tea.
Please read this older thorough lightning thread, especially the links. Yeah as I've related elsewhere, many visitors have a poor simplistic understanding of lightning and thunderstorms. If you hike enough as I have, you may experience even more violent and dangerous storms. The common wisdom that all High Sierra storms are modest is simply ignorant.
viewtopic.php?f=35&t=8001&hilit=lightning
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wildhiker
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Re: TR: Mammoth to Tuolumne Including Lightning On Donohue Pass July 17-20
Thank you for your very interesting and honest trip report. The storm you experienced is not one I would like to be in! In fact, I don't think I have ever been stuck in a high exposed area in such a bad lightning storm in my 50 years of Sierra hiking. Glad you and all the other hikers made it out okay - now you have a great story to tell!
-Phil
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sekihiker
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Re: TR: Mammoth to Tuolumne Including Lightning On Donohue Pass July 17-20
Thanks for the detailed report and the great photos. Rainy trips are always interesting.
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brownbat
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Re: TR: Mammoth to Tuolumne Including Lightning On Donohue Pass July 17-20
Amazing how quickly those storms come in and leave isn´t it? I love a good thunderstorm but of course prefer to experience it when not exposed on a pass 
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