My High Sierra Loop, Aug 27 - Sept 1, 2016
Posted: Mon Jul 24, 2017 9:16 pm
Part 1
I reached the end of the JMT at the summit of Whitney and an end to the longest backpacking trip of my life on August 3, 2015. By August 4, 2015, I was yearning to return to the trail. I was in the best shape of my life, mentally and physically. To paraphrase John Muir, I had spent nearly two weeks in the woods and washed my spirit clean. There were difficult times, physically and mentally; but mostly there was wonder and awe and appreciation for the beauty all around me. The beauty of the Sierras and the people I met while travelling through them had renewed my spirit, and I wanted to return right then and there. But, I knew that I couldn’t.
I was able to get in a few weekend backpacking trips up in the Trinity Alps before the snow began to fall, but while enjoyable, they could not match the beauty and the grandeur of the Sierra. That winter I began searching for other hikes through the Sierra. I wasn’t ready for the off-trail Sierra High Route, but the High Sierra Trail looked like a good start to another memorable fortnight in the Sierra.
I poured over the topo maps on CalTopo, and over the winter came up with three potential loops starting from Crescent Meadow. Now, just to get a permit. The antiquated fax reservation system that SEKI was using was thwarting my plans. Every time I tried to fax an application to the ranger station, it got spit back at me with the disheartening phrase, “transmission failed”. I eventually gave up hope on my High Sierra Loop and moved to plan B a trip through Humphrey’s Basin with plenty of easy off-trail to ease me into the world of off-trail travel. I entered my itinerary for Humphrey’s basin and received confirmation later that day that it had been accepted and processed. Then that evening, I received an email confirming that my proposed itinerary for SEKI had also been accepted and processed despite all of the busy signals and failed transmissions. I had a decision to make, which hike would I take. The answer was obvious, I’ll do both! After a day off to resupply, clean up, and drive from the west side of the Sierra to the east side, I would pick up my permit and spend my second week in Humphrey’s Basin.
On August 27, 2016, I left home for Lodgepole Visitor’s Center to pick up my permit and start my High Sierra Trail Loop. Okay, so I slept in a little and didn’t leave home until 7:30 AM, but it shouldn’t take me more than 7 hours to drive to Lodgepole even with a few quick stops along the way. I had no problems getting in the park, no wait at all. About 10 miles into my drive through the park to Lodgepole I got stuck behind a slow moving tour bus. Still no problem, I’ll make it to Lodgepole by 2:30 or shortly after. Then as we slowly drew to within 2 miles of Lodgepole, I could see cars stopped and a ranger standing in the road with a Stop sign. Cars began making U-turns and heading back the other way. After I made my way to the front, the ranger told me that there had been a fatal accident and that the road (the General’s Highway) had been closed and would remain closed for another 2 hours or more. It was 2:30, and while I was unsure of when the Lodgepole Visitor’s Center closed, I figured a 2-hour delay would mean no permit for me.
I made the u-turn and returned to Wuksachi Lodge, a short ways back up the road from the accident. Over the short drive to Wuksachi I formulated a plan to hike to Lodgepole. In the parking lot, I got out the park map provided to me upon entry and saw that there was indeed a trail between Wuksachi and Lodgepole that looked like it was only about 2.5 miles. I can do that in an hour! So, I went over my gear one last time, changed my clothes, hoisted my pack onto my shoulders, and left for Lodgepole on foot. I wasn’t letting anything keep me from the Sierra, least of all something like a closed road.
I got to the trailhead at 3:00 PM and saw that it was actually 3.1 miles. I put the pedal to the metal and hit the trail running (ok, a moderately fast walk). I was cruising despite the extra weight of a bear canister full with seven days of food and 2 pints of beer chillin’ in my pack. Less than one hour later, I stepped onto the paved road running through the Lodgepole Campground, and at 4:07 I stepped up to the Wilderness Desk at the Lodgepole Visitor’s Center … the closed Wilderness Desk. I asked the ranger packing up if the desk was closed – just to be sure – and she confirmed that the desk was closed and that officially it closes at 3:30. She listened to my plight and confirmed that the road had just reopened. Taking pity on me, she smiled and said, we can take care of the paperwork while the computer reboots. Thanks again Leeann, the best ranger I have ever met.
Two park busses and one transfer later, I arrived at the Crescent Meadows trailhead at 5:10 PM. I needed to really get movin’ if I wanted to camp at the Mehrten Creek crossing that night. After a moderate 20 minute climb, the trail crested over a ridge and the forest fell away revealing a deep canyon below me and granite peaks all around. I enjoyed the view and a short break as I snapped pictures that won’t impart more than the faintest sense of the view I was enjoying at the moment, but taking pictures is a requirement of backpacking in the Sierra isn’t it? As the forest around me started to darken, I realized that I wasn’t making it to Mehrten Creek before darkness and started to look for the camp sites that the ranger mentioned were near Panther Creek, as well as the creek itself as my water was dwindling. Shortly after filtering 2L of water at a small creek crossing, I spied a flat spot about 80 feet below the trail and scrambled down to it. Flat enough and just enough room for my tarp. I didn’t feel like cooking and just finished off the few snacks I had in the hip belt of my pack along with the two pints of beer (need carbs while hiking, you know). The views were somewhat screened by the trees, but I was able to enjoy a sliver of the night sky as the stars came out and I drifted asleep underneath my bug netting, my tarp tied back for minimum cover and maximum views and ventilation.
Day two began as the first rays of sun lit the sky, and I burrowed under my down quilt. But, I knew that I was already behind the schedule I gave to the Ranger back at Lodgepole, and I needed to catch up if I was going to make it back to Lodgepole before I ran out of food. I decide to skip a hot breakfast in favor of a quicker start. As it turned out, I had camped only a mile or so short of the Mehrten Creek crossing, and I was basically back on schedule after crossing the creek a little before 8 AM on my way to Bearpaw Meadow, a back country resort of sorts.
Upon arriving at Bearpaw Meadow I stopped to enjoy the expansive views and a second breakfast of some trail mix. As I continued up to Hamilton Lake, where I planned to take a longer break for lunch and a bath, I came across some fellow travelers at the bridge crossing the Kaweah River. Four guys and a girl were headed the same way as me and planned to camp near the Big Arroyo Patrol Cabin same as me. Two others were on their way out after 4 days in the Sierra. Everybody was in high spirits, and we passed around wishes for continued health and enjoyment of the beauty around us.
Middle Hamilton Lake is about 12 miles from where I camped the night before, and I began to really drag, my progress up the trail reduced to a slow plod. I had left behind the group of young adults at a stream crossing that offered a wilderness shower in the form of a small water fall and ledge just above a steep drop-off of several hundred feet to the canyon floor below. I knew that I needed food, but I had already gone through the snacks that I had packed into my hip belt and couldn’t afford to eat anymore before lunch as there aren’t a lot of stores available for resupply, and the fast food up there is too fast for me to catch.
With muted joy I finally reached Middle Hamilton Lake a little after 1:00 and found a gently sloping rock surface leading into the lake. After taking off my pack, I decided to take care of washing some clothes and myself in the invitingly clear waters of Hamilton Lake before the other hikers caught up to me. After washing off the trail dust and putting on my other set of clothes, I settled down to making some backpacker nachos for lunch. The others began trickling in as I made lunch, the last arriving as I was cleaning my lunch dishes (my cup and spoon). I spent the next hour laying in some shade and drinking a liter of water flavored with Zip Fizz, a fizzy, flavored electrolyte mix. Finally, I decided that I better pack up and leave, or I might take root and join the trees clinging to the rocky shores of the lake. The tall leader of the small group of friends wore a cowboy hat, and in my own mind I dubbed him Tex. (I’m horrible with names in general and had forgotten their real names by that evening.) I passed up Tex and the lone woman of the group shortly after leaving Hamilton Lake, and we began leap frogging up the trail, first one and then the other taking the lead but never getting more than a few hundred yards in front, passing the baton of leadership as the previous leader slowed. We worked our way upward and onward on a trail scratched out of the side of the mountain. We passed through the “famous” tunnel that replaced a long gone bridge. It was a bit anti-climactic; I somehow expected more. Shortly after, I paused for a break and pointed out the location of Precipice Lake to Tex and the woman. I caught my second wind, maybe the nachos were kicking in, but for whatever reason I started pulling away from Tex and the woman. Upon arrival at Precipice Lake I was about 2 hours behind my planned pace, but I try not to worry about schedules and such while I’m out hiking. Schedules are something for the “real” world; they do not belong out here, the true world. As long as I have water, a place to lay my head, and food, what does it matter what day it is or whether or not I’ve made it to some relatively arbitrary place on a map? I carry my bedroom, entertainment center, and kitchen on my back. Wherever I decide to pitch my tent is home. It’s a lesson that I thought I had learned in 2015 on the JMT the first day out of Muir Trail Ranch, the wilderness is there to feed me and recharge me. I cannot rush that infusion of energy or pour out my frustrations to be swallowed by the trail and the trees around me according to some schedule. Yet, every time I have gone into the wilderness since the JMT, I cannot seem to throw off the chains of a schedule and the need to keep to it. I’m working on it though.
At Precipice Lake the lake and the lighting didn’t lend themselves to pictures. Water was raining down on the opposite side of the lake as snow clinging to the walls above melted, creating a small, very localized downpour. The water was crystal clear, and I made myself stop and relax while filling my water bottles and rinsing out my socks in the lake outlet … in that order. Within 15 minutes Tex and the woman who seemed to be his wife arrived, followed shortly after by two other members of the group. I learned there are six of them total, two of whom are dealing with aches and pains (blisters I presume, though I didn’t ask). Tex announced that he was starting a new tradition as he stripped down to nothing but his cowboy hat and waded into the crystal clear, ice-cold water of Precipice Lake. One of the other guys didn’t need much convincing and joined him in the tradition, while the cameraman of the group got his camera, so he could snap a picture “to send into REI”. The woman joined them as well and told the camera man to hurry up and snap the picture, then commented about how weird it was to be standing naked in an alpine lake next to her brother. I can’t disagree with that. I hope REI enjoys the shot of three moons setting just above the surface of Precipice Lake. I was nearly packed up when they first entered the lake and finished packing and got on my way while they were drying off and trying to get some circulation going again. The sun was getting low, and I knew that I didn’t have more than a couple of hours left in the day for hiking. Obviously none of us was making it to the Big Arroyo Patrol Cabin, not before dark anyway.
About 30 minutes of easy hiking later, I reached Kaweah Gap and one of the most breathtaking views I have ever seen was spread out before me, the Big Arroyo. A huge half pipe filled with giant trees that looked like blades of grass stretched out below me, a small stream meandering down the middle with bare rock mountains rising on either side. I snapped a few pics with the light of the setting sun illuminating the mountains on the eastern side; dark shadows spreading out from the mountains on the west and creeping across the bottom of the arroyo. It was unlike anything I have ever seen before. A feeling of awe, wonder, peace, and maybe a little fear crept over me. I am so small, and it couldn’t have been more obvious than in that moment. It was a quick trip down to the Arroyo, and the trail began winding first alongside then away from the creek. I was looking for a good place to stop, to call home for the night, and finally came across the right place for me, for that night. Dinner was more backpacker nachos, and Tex, the first of the sweet (or was it sweating?) six, passed by just as I began dinner. He said that he planned to continue to the next good camping spot and to please pass it along to the others behind him. I wished him well until we would certainly meet again the next day. I passed along Tex’s message to the others as they passed my camp after him. One remarked that I had a nice camping spot, probably because his spot was further down the trail, further than he wanted to go that day. It was another beautiful night, with wide open skies filled with stars, more than you can possibly comprehend if you live down in the valley with all of the city lights and “atmosphere” separating you from the much more enlightening lights of the night sky. I put in 18 miles, and it felt wonderful.
(To be continued)
I reached the end of the JMT at the summit of Whitney and an end to the longest backpacking trip of my life on August 3, 2015. By August 4, 2015, I was yearning to return to the trail. I was in the best shape of my life, mentally and physically. To paraphrase John Muir, I had spent nearly two weeks in the woods and washed my spirit clean. There were difficult times, physically and mentally; but mostly there was wonder and awe and appreciation for the beauty all around me. The beauty of the Sierras and the people I met while travelling through them had renewed my spirit, and I wanted to return right then and there. But, I knew that I couldn’t.
I was able to get in a few weekend backpacking trips up in the Trinity Alps before the snow began to fall, but while enjoyable, they could not match the beauty and the grandeur of the Sierra. That winter I began searching for other hikes through the Sierra. I wasn’t ready for the off-trail Sierra High Route, but the High Sierra Trail looked like a good start to another memorable fortnight in the Sierra.
I poured over the topo maps on CalTopo, and over the winter came up with three potential loops starting from Crescent Meadow. Now, just to get a permit. The antiquated fax reservation system that SEKI was using was thwarting my plans. Every time I tried to fax an application to the ranger station, it got spit back at me with the disheartening phrase, “transmission failed”. I eventually gave up hope on my High Sierra Loop and moved to plan B a trip through Humphrey’s Basin with plenty of easy off-trail to ease me into the world of off-trail travel. I entered my itinerary for Humphrey’s basin and received confirmation later that day that it had been accepted and processed. Then that evening, I received an email confirming that my proposed itinerary for SEKI had also been accepted and processed despite all of the busy signals and failed transmissions. I had a decision to make, which hike would I take. The answer was obvious, I’ll do both! After a day off to resupply, clean up, and drive from the west side of the Sierra to the east side, I would pick up my permit and spend my second week in Humphrey’s Basin.
On August 27, 2016, I left home for Lodgepole Visitor’s Center to pick up my permit and start my High Sierra Trail Loop. Okay, so I slept in a little and didn’t leave home until 7:30 AM, but it shouldn’t take me more than 7 hours to drive to Lodgepole even with a few quick stops along the way. I had no problems getting in the park, no wait at all. About 10 miles into my drive through the park to Lodgepole I got stuck behind a slow moving tour bus. Still no problem, I’ll make it to Lodgepole by 2:30 or shortly after. Then as we slowly drew to within 2 miles of Lodgepole, I could see cars stopped and a ranger standing in the road with a Stop sign. Cars began making U-turns and heading back the other way. After I made my way to the front, the ranger told me that there had been a fatal accident and that the road (the General’s Highway) had been closed and would remain closed for another 2 hours or more. It was 2:30, and while I was unsure of when the Lodgepole Visitor’s Center closed, I figured a 2-hour delay would mean no permit for me.
I made the u-turn and returned to Wuksachi Lodge, a short ways back up the road from the accident. Over the short drive to Wuksachi I formulated a plan to hike to Lodgepole. In the parking lot, I got out the park map provided to me upon entry and saw that there was indeed a trail between Wuksachi and Lodgepole that looked like it was only about 2.5 miles. I can do that in an hour! So, I went over my gear one last time, changed my clothes, hoisted my pack onto my shoulders, and left for Lodgepole on foot. I wasn’t letting anything keep me from the Sierra, least of all something like a closed road.
I got to the trailhead at 3:00 PM and saw that it was actually 3.1 miles. I put the pedal to the metal and hit the trail running (ok, a moderately fast walk). I was cruising despite the extra weight of a bear canister full with seven days of food and 2 pints of beer chillin’ in my pack. Less than one hour later, I stepped onto the paved road running through the Lodgepole Campground, and at 4:07 I stepped up to the Wilderness Desk at the Lodgepole Visitor’s Center … the closed Wilderness Desk. I asked the ranger packing up if the desk was closed – just to be sure – and she confirmed that the desk was closed and that officially it closes at 3:30. She listened to my plight and confirmed that the road had just reopened. Taking pity on me, she smiled and said, we can take care of the paperwork while the computer reboots. Thanks again Leeann, the best ranger I have ever met.
Two park busses and one transfer later, I arrived at the Crescent Meadows trailhead at 5:10 PM. I needed to really get movin’ if I wanted to camp at the Mehrten Creek crossing that night. After a moderate 20 minute climb, the trail crested over a ridge and the forest fell away revealing a deep canyon below me and granite peaks all around. I enjoyed the view and a short break as I snapped pictures that won’t impart more than the faintest sense of the view I was enjoying at the moment, but taking pictures is a requirement of backpacking in the Sierra isn’t it? As the forest around me started to darken, I realized that I wasn’t making it to Mehrten Creek before darkness and started to look for the camp sites that the ranger mentioned were near Panther Creek, as well as the creek itself as my water was dwindling. Shortly after filtering 2L of water at a small creek crossing, I spied a flat spot about 80 feet below the trail and scrambled down to it. Flat enough and just enough room for my tarp. I didn’t feel like cooking and just finished off the few snacks I had in the hip belt of my pack along with the two pints of beer (need carbs while hiking, you know). The views were somewhat screened by the trees, but I was able to enjoy a sliver of the night sky as the stars came out and I drifted asleep underneath my bug netting, my tarp tied back for minimum cover and maximum views and ventilation.
Day two began as the first rays of sun lit the sky, and I burrowed under my down quilt. But, I knew that I was already behind the schedule I gave to the Ranger back at Lodgepole, and I needed to catch up if I was going to make it back to Lodgepole before I ran out of food. I decide to skip a hot breakfast in favor of a quicker start. As it turned out, I had camped only a mile or so short of the Mehrten Creek crossing, and I was basically back on schedule after crossing the creek a little before 8 AM on my way to Bearpaw Meadow, a back country resort of sorts.
Upon arriving at Bearpaw Meadow I stopped to enjoy the expansive views and a second breakfast of some trail mix. As I continued up to Hamilton Lake, where I planned to take a longer break for lunch and a bath, I came across some fellow travelers at the bridge crossing the Kaweah River. Four guys and a girl were headed the same way as me and planned to camp near the Big Arroyo Patrol Cabin same as me. Two others were on their way out after 4 days in the Sierra. Everybody was in high spirits, and we passed around wishes for continued health and enjoyment of the beauty around us.
Middle Hamilton Lake is about 12 miles from where I camped the night before, and I began to really drag, my progress up the trail reduced to a slow plod. I had left behind the group of young adults at a stream crossing that offered a wilderness shower in the form of a small water fall and ledge just above a steep drop-off of several hundred feet to the canyon floor below. I knew that I needed food, but I had already gone through the snacks that I had packed into my hip belt and couldn’t afford to eat anymore before lunch as there aren’t a lot of stores available for resupply, and the fast food up there is too fast for me to catch.
With muted joy I finally reached Middle Hamilton Lake a little after 1:00 and found a gently sloping rock surface leading into the lake. After taking off my pack, I decided to take care of washing some clothes and myself in the invitingly clear waters of Hamilton Lake before the other hikers caught up to me. After washing off the trail dust and putting on my other set of clothes, I settled down to making some backpacker nachos for lunch. The others began trickling in as I made lunch, the last arriving as I was cleaning my lunch dishes (my cup and spoon). I spent the next hour laying in some shade and drinking a liter of water flavored with Zip Fizz, a fizzy, flavored electrolyte mix. Finally, I decided that I better pack up and leave, or I might take root and join the trees clinging to the rocky shores of the lake. The tall leader of the small group of friends wore a cowboy hat, and in my own mind I dubbed him Tex. (I’m horrible with names in general and had forgotten their real names by that evening.) I passed up Tex and the lone woman of the group shortly after leaving Hamilton Lake, and we began leap frogging up the trail, first one and then the other taking the lead but never getting more than a few hundred yards in front, passing the baton of leadership as the previous leader slowed. We worked our way upward and onward on a trail scratched out of the side of the mountain. We passed through the “famous” tunnel that replaced a long gone bridge. It was a bit anti-climactic; I somehow expected more. Shortly after, I paused for a break and pointed out the location of Precipice Lake to Tex and the woman. I caught my second wind, maybe the nachos were kicking in, but for whatever reason I started pulling away from Tex and the woman. Upon arrival at Precipice Lake I was about 2 hours behind my planned pace, but I try not to worry about schedules and such while I’m out hiking. Schedules are something for the “real” world; they do not belong out here, the true world. As long as I have water, a place to lay my head, and food, what does it matter what day it is or whether or not I’ve made it to some relatively arbitrary place on a map? I carry my bedroom, entertainment center, and kitchen on my back. Wherever I decide to pitch my tent is home. It’s a lesson that I thought I had learned in 2015 on the JMT the first day out of Muir Trail Ranch, the wilderness is there to feed me and recharge me. I cannot rush that infusion of energy or pour out my frustrations to be swallowed by the trail and the trees around me according to some schedule. Yet, every time I have gone into the wilderness since the JMT, I cannot seem to throw off the chains of a schedule and the need to keep to it. I’m working on it though.
At Precipice Lake the lake and the lighting didn’t lend themselves to pictures. Water was raining down on the opposite side of the lake as snow clinging to the walls above melted, creating a small, very localized downpour. The water was crystal clear, and I made myself stop and relax while filling my water bottles and rinsing out my socks in the lake outlet … in that order. Within 15 minutes Tex and the woman who seemed to be his wife arrived, followed shortly after by two other members of the group. I learned there are six of them total, two of whom are dealing with aches and pains (blisters I presume, though I didn’t ask). Tex announced that he was starting a new tradition as he stripped down to nothing but his cowboy hat and waded into the crystal clear, ice-cold water of Precipice Lake. One of the other guys didn’t need much convincing and joined him in the tradition, while the cameraman of the group got his camera, so he could snap a picture “to send into REI”. The woman joined them as well and told the camera man to hurry up and snap the picture, then commented about how weird it was to be standing naked in an alpine lake next to her brother. I can’t disagree with that. I hope REI enjoys the shot of three moons setting just above the surface of Precipice Lake. I was nearly packed up when they first entered the lake and finished packing and got on my way while they were drying off and trying to get some circulation going again. The sun was getting low, and I knew that I didn’t have more than a couple of hours left in the day for hiking. Obviously none of us was making it to the Big Arroyo Patrol Cabin, not before dark anyway.
About 30 minutes of easy hiking later, I reached Kaweah Gap and one of the most breathtaking views I have ever seen was spread out before me, the Big Arroyo. A huge half pipe filled with giant trees that looked like blades of grass stretched out below me, a small stream meandering down the middle with bare rock mountains rising on either side. I snapped a few pics with the light of the setting sun illuminating the mountains on the eastern side; dark shadows spreading out from the mountains on the west and creeping across the bottom of the arroyo. It was unlike anything I have ever seen before. A feeling of awe, wonder, peace, and maybe a little fear crept over me. I am so small, and it couldn’t have been more obvious than in that moment. It was a quick trip down to the Arroyo, and the trail began winding first alongside then away from the creek. I was looking for a good place to stop, to call home for the night, and finally came across the right place for me, for that night. Dinner was more backpacker nachos, and Tex, the first of the sweet (or was it sweating?) six, passed by just as I began dinner. He said that he planned to continue to the next good camping spot and to please pass it along to the others behind him. I wished him well until we would certainly meet again the next day. I passed along Tex’s message to the others as they passed my camp after him. One remarked that I had a nice camping spot, probably because his spot was further down the trail, further than he wanted to go that day. It was another beautiful night, with wide open skies filled with stars, more than you can possibly comprehend if you live down in the valley with all of the city lights and “atmosphere” separating you from the much more enlightening lights of the night sky. I put in 18 miles, and it felt wonderful.
(To be continued)