Tunepite becomes Tunechuck 7/31-8/4-(linked to photos)
Posted: Tue Aug 05, 2008 2:20 pm
The long dreamed of Tunemah-Tehipite loop was nixed because of a fire burning in Tehipite. Being informed of the Tehipite closure while picking up the wilderness permit, I quickly audibled to a trip that would spend a higher proportion of time in trailless country: over 90 percent of the hiking would be off trail. My hiking partner on this one was my longtime death march buddy, Todd Ramsden of Chico. Special thanks goes out to SSSDave, who posted on the Hoffman Mtn. roadhead earlier this year (and also wrote of it last year). The original plan omitted that road end for Rancheria because this made it more convenient on the exit, but with Tehipite out of the picture we were able to exploit this fine kick off point. Here's a "short version" report: photos can be found at: http://outdoors.webshots.com/album/565151754JxRahC expect some revisions to this photo album in the near future. My battery died before Woodchuck, so I'm getting some photos from Todd (will include some much better ones of the basin east of Tunemah).
July 31. We trudged out of the Hoffman Mtn. roadend, hopping over deadfalls, doing some sidehilling and climbing over several ridges before dropping down on the Chuck Pass trail, which we consented to follow for about a mile to the pass. At the pass we diverged northward from the trail and intersected Crown Creek just below the Crown-Scepter Lake trail split before taking off toward Crown Basin over a seemingly endless series of wooded saddles. Given that we are certified "Old School" we named this long traverse the "Humpty Dance". Only at the last Humpty did we round into granite slab country that said "Welcome to the High Sierra". In spite of my ambitious pronouncements of making Blue Canyon in one day, we ended up camping in Crown Basin (about 1.5 hrs short of the destination), betrayed by somewhat inadequate conditioning. The lowest Crown Basin lake, perched up on a little shelf above the axis of the valley, and listed in Cutter as having goldens, proved to be fishless.
August 1. With the low country stuff out of the way, the true High Country trip began. We ascended past Hummingbird Lake, whose surface was dimpled with innumerable rises of small brookies. Foregoing these, we continued over the pass into upper Blue Canyon where we dropped the packs at Lake 10320+ (W of L10364) and put on daysacks to climb Finger Peak. Blue Canyon brought back many fond memories of my previous (and only) visit here with my wife in early July of 1994 on an epic off trail trip we called "Ring Around the Goddard". The wildflowers, while nice, were not on a par with the 1994 experience, when they approached the Carson Pass standard. Finger Peak had been in my peak bagging cross hairs since the 80's (OK, I'm not a totally retired peak bagger as I sometimes claim). We climbed Finger by the class 2 SE slope. The climb starts with easy slabs, then one avoids scree by sticking to bedrock and talus ribs, before coming to the climactic final 100 feet of climbing. Here the climb becomes an intricate series of big ledges. With extreme care, which we didn't bother with on the ascent, one can keep this part all class 2. Lacking patience, we threw in a few easy class 3 moves and arrived at the sensational summit block which is a genuine class 3 and helps the peak live up to its name.
Finger Peak's summit block.
Few climb this summit. We were only the second party to climb this peak this year (the first one was in late June). In spite of the Tehipite fire, we had great clear air and sightlines. To the south the Whitney Group, Great Western Divide (Brewer-Milestone AND the southern stuff with Sawtooth et al.), and the Kaweahs were clear as bell. Northward, the Ritter Range stood out with unusual clarity. After the summit photos and sign ins we exploited the scree we took such pains to avoid and sprinted down to Blue Canyon. Here I put two folding grills in my daypack and the fishing gear and headed to the lower ponds (9520+ and 9680+) of which I had heard reports of 20 inch rainbow footballs. These reports had reached my ears after the 1994 trip with my wife bringing us some degree of regret; they were the only lakes in the basin we didn't inspect then. The upper one is apparently fishless now (abundant tadpoles and aquatic insects) and the rainbows have spawned too well in the lower one, reducing the legendary size, I'd guess. These voracious, chunky, fish hit on 80 percent of my casts and ran 11 to 13 inches. I kept four of them and we had an early evening BBQ before heading back to our packs which were moved to higher ground to set up camp.
August 2. I can't think of a better way of celebrating a birthday (49). OK, I can. If my wife was with me on this trip, as she was on all of my best trips from 1988-2000 (won't leave the kids with anyone to do one of these). We donned our daypacks again and headed over gap 11046 into the Alpine Creek drainage, then through the low saddle to big, sapphire blue Tunemah Lake. The lake looks lifeless, but I knew better thanks to a thread on this board earlier this year. On cast no. 8, I hooked a fish which I later (see below) estimated to be in the 18-20 inch range; this fish quickly unhooked itself. The entire time at the lake, I saw no rises and saw but one fish and had one other strike. Ten uneventful casts after losing the big one, a huge rainbow cruiser chugged slowly by in front of me in about 2 feet of water. I had just changed lures and I stared motionless, for I couldn't very well cast to a fish 6 feet in front of me. After it had moved to about 30 feet away, I cast to a point some 50 feet in front of it. The singing cast spooked the fish and it took off into the depths. Apparently, it soon recovered its bravery, for after a few seconds of retrieving, it ripped into my lure. This 19-inch hook-jawed rainbow was consumed for brunch with olive oil and teriyaki sauce; we had hiked over with our stove and cooking pot.
19" rainbow from Tunemah L.
Not wanting to injure anymore of the apparently sparse population in the lake, I quit fishing after a total of some 25 casts. We then hiked downstream into one of the nicest alpine paradises I've ever visited. This wondrous basin has incredibly wild eastern views to Goddard Creek canyon, Enchanted Gorge and the Black Divide. The immediate surroundings are both rugged and intimate.
Basin east of Tunemah Lake viewed from the Tunemah outlet.
All of the lakes are teeming with rainbows that run to about 13 inches. After blissful wandering and releasing many fish, we reluctantly left, given we wanted to get back to our camp in time to move it to Hummingbird Lake. I must return this place someday, hopefully with my wife and kids. At Hummingbird, I "verified" the stunted nature of the brookies therein. In three casts, I released 3 skinny 8 inch brookies.
August 3. Descending to Crown Basin we then made a very nice ridge climb on slabs before dropping down on Maxson Basin and traversing to Maxson Lake. In the old DFG Angler's Guide it says "brook trout in good condition. Occasional air plants of fingerlings required to sustain" "Good condition" was an old code term for BIG. The assessment of spawning potential, however, was sadly short. The lake is now overpopulated with small brookies. After releasing three 8-9" fish in 5 casts I decided not to delay our hike to the Center of the Fishing Universe. We had a little snack of rosemary and olive oil Triscuits and pepper jack and headed over the next ridge, made a descending traverse over shoulder and arrived at Scepter Lake. This lake, which surrendered loads of 12-15 inch rainbows to me last year was bypassed, which should tell you something. I fished from 2-3 pm at Crown Lake and encountered the usual: I caught 3 brookies of 12, 13, 18 inches and 2 rainbows of 12 and 15 inches. The 18-incher was kept for an afternoon BBQ.
18"brookie from Crown L.
After finishing eating we packed up and headed for Woodchuck Lake, leaving Crown at about 4 pm. We followed very little of the annoyingly inefficient trail (those who've hiked in this area know what I mean) and arrived at the lake at about 530 pm. After pitching camp, I decided to see which lake was really the star of Woochuck Country. The jury is still out. After a few casts I hooked into a fish that was clearly stronger than the 18-incher at Crown. A long ocean fish style battle brought the behemoth into the shallows. It was a brookie that was 20 inches or perhaps a bit more. Unfortunately, it somehow flopped off the hook just as I prepared to beach it. No matter, I eventually caught 4 more fat brookies, all in the 16-17 inch class. Another fellow at the lake, patriarch (3 generations of guys) of the ONLY group of folks we met on the entire trip caught a 10 inch golden, verifying their presence that I had been so dubious about--I suppose DFG air drops golden fingerlings, most of which end up as vitamin supplements for the giant brookies. The evening was very clear, for we could see clearly see the lights of Fresno from our camp (ie individual lights, not just a dull glow).
August 4. We started hiking with more off trail fun, scrambling down to Marsh Lake. The fish residents in this lake were apparently not yet awake. I had one strike and a 15-inch trailer (probably a rainbow); a 15-inch fish didn't look so impressive anymore. Chimney Lake's fish population appeared more numerous and lively and I ended the fishing portion of the trip by releasing a half dozen rainbows running to about 13 inches. Leaving the lake, we begrudgingly followed the trail for less than mile ("backwards", actually, which tells you something about the trails here) then took off for 100 percent off trail hiking to close out the trip in high style. This is the best trip of 5 days or less I've ever done. I will have a hard (but entertaining) time trying to equal or top this.
July 31. We trudged out of the Hoffman Mtn. roadend, hopping over deadfalls, doing some sidehilling and climbing over several ridges before dropping down on the Chuck Pass trail, which we consented to follow for about a mile to the pass. At the pass we diverged northward from the trail and intersected Crown Creek just below the Crown-Scepter Lake trail split before taking off toward Crown Basin over a seemingly endless series of wooded saddles. Given that we are certified "Old School" we named this long traverse the "Humpty Dance". Only at the last Humpty did we round into granite slab country that said "Welcome to the High Sierra". In spite of my ambitious pronouncements of making Blue Canyon in one day, we ended up camping in Crown Basin (about 1.5 hrs short of the destination), betrayed by somewhat inadequate conditioning. The lowest Crown Basin lake, perched up on a little shelf above the axis of the valley, and listed in Cutter as having goldens, proved to be fishless.
August 1. With the low country stuff out of the way, the true High Country trip began. We ascended past Hummingbird Lake, whose surface was dimpled with innumerable rises of small brookies. Foregoing these, we continued over the pass into upper Blue Canyon where we dropped the packs at Lake 10320+ (W of L10364) and put on daysacks to climb Finger Peak. Blue Canyon brought back many fond memories of my previous (and only) visit here with my wife in early July of 1994 on an epic off trail trip we called "Ring Around the Goddard". The wildflowers, while nice, were not on a par with the 1994 experience, when they approached the Carson Pass standard. Finger Peak had been in my peak bagging cross hairs since the 80's (OK, I'm not a totally retired peak bagger as I sometimes claim). We climbed Finger by the class 2 SE slope. The climb starts with easy slabs, then one avoids scree by sticking to bedrock and talus ribs, before coming to the climactic final 100 feet of climbing. Here the climb becomes an intricate series of big ledges. With extreme care, which we didn't bother with on the ascent, one can keep this part all class 2. Lacking patience, we threw in a few easy class 3 moves and arrived at the sensational summit block which is a genuine class 3 and helps the peak live up to its name.
Finger Peak's summit block.
Few climb this summit. We were only the second party to climb this peak this year (the first one was in late June). In spite of the Tehipite fire, we had great clear air and sightlines. To the south the Whitney Group, Great Western Divide (Brewer-Milestone AND the southern stuff with Sawtooth et al.), and the Kaweahs were clear as bell. Northward, the Ritter Range stood out with unusual clarity. After the summit photos and sign ins we exploited the scree we took such pains to avoid and sprinted down to Blue Canyon. Here I put two folding grills in my daypack and the fishing gear and headed to the lower ponds (9520+ and 9680+) of which I had heard reports of 20 inch rainbow footballs. These reports had reached my ears after the 1994 trip with my wife bringing us some degree of regret; they were the only lakes in the basin we didn't inspect then. The upper one is apparently fishless now (abundant tadpoles and aquatic insects) and the rainbows have spawned too well in the lower one, reducing the legendary size, I'd guess. These voracious, chunky, fish hit on 80 percent of my casts and ran 11 to 13 inches. I kept four of them and we had an early evening BBQ before heading back to our packs which were moved to higher ground to set up camp.
August 2. I can't think of a better way of celebrating a birthday (49). OK, I can. If my wife was with me on this trip, as she was on all of my best trips from 1988-2000 (won't leave the kids with anyone to do one of these). We donned our daypacks again and headed over gap 11046 into the Alpine Creek drainage, then through the low saddle to big, sapphire blue Tunemah Lake. The lake looks lifeless, but I knew better thanks to a thread on this board earlier this year. On cast no. 8, I hooked a fish which I later (see below) estimated to be in the 18-20 inch range; this fish quickly unhooked itself. The entire time at the lake, I saw no rises and saw but one fish and had one other strike. Ten uneventful casts after losing the big one, a huge rainbow cruiser chugged slowly by in front of me in about 2 feet of water. I had just changed lures and I stared motionless, for I couldn't very well cast to a fish 6 feet in front of me. After it had moved to about 30 feet away, I cast to a point some 50 feet in front of it. The singing cast spooked the fish and it took off into the depths. Apparently, it soon recovered its bravery, for after a few seconds of retrieving, it ripped into my lure. This 19-inch hook-jawed rainbow was consumed for brunch with olive oil and teriyaki sauce; we had hiked over with our stove and cooking pot.
19" rainbow from Tunemah L.
Not wanting to injure anymore of the apparently sparse population in the lake, I quit fishing after a total of some 25 casts. We then hiked downstream into one of the nicest alpine paradises I've ever visited. This wondrous basin has incredibly wild eastern views to Goddard Creek canyon, Enchanted Gorge and the Black Divide. The immediate surroundings are both rugged and intimate.
Basin east of Tunemah Lake viewed from the Tunemah outlet.
All of the lakes are teeming with rainbows that run to about 13 inches. After blissful wandering and releasing many fish, we reluctantly left, given we wanted to get back to our camp in time to move it to Hummingbird Lake. I must return this place someday, hopefully with my wife and kids. At Hummingbird, I "verified" the stunted nature of the brookies therein. In three casts, I released 3 skinny 8 inch brookies.
August 3. Descending to Crown Basin we then made a very nice ridge climb on slabs before dropping down on Maxson Basin and traversing to Maxson Lake. In the old DFG Angler's Guide it says "brook trout in good condition. Occasional air plants of fingerlings required to sustain" "Good condition" was an old code term for BIG. The assessment of spawning potential, however, was sadly short. The lake is now overpopulated with small brookies. After releasing three 8-9" fish in 5 casts I decided not to delay our hike to the Center of the Fishing Universe. We had a little snack of rosemary and olive oil Triscuits and pepper jack and headed over the next ridge, made a descending traverse over shoulder and arrived at Scepter Lake. This lake, which surrendered loads of 12-15 inch rainbows to me last year was bypassed, which should tell you something. I fished from 2-3 pm at Crown Lake and encountered the usual: I caught 3 brookies of 12, 13, 18 inches and 2 rainbows of 12 and 15 inches. The 18-incher was kept for an afternoon BBQ.
18"brookie from Crown L.
After finishing eating we packed up and headed for Woodchuck Lake, leaving Crown at about 4 pm. We followed very little of the annoyingly inefficient trail (those who've hiked in this area know what I mean) and arrived at the lake at about 530 pm. After pitching camp, I decided to see which lake was really the star of Woochuck Country. The jury is still out. After a few casts I hooked into a fish that was clearly stronger than the 18-incher at Crown. A long ocean fish style battle brought the behemoth into the shallows. It was a brookie that was 20 inches or perhaps a bit more. Unfortunately, it somehow flopped off the hook just as I prepared to beach it. No matter, I eventually caught 4 more fat brookies, all in the 16-17 inch class. Another fellow at the lake, patriarch (3 generations of guys) of the ONLY group of folks we met on the entire trip caught a 10 inch golden, verifying their presence that I had been so dubious about--I suppose DFG air drops golden fingerlings, most of which end up as vitamin supplements for the giant brookies. The evening was very clear, for we could see clearly see the lights of Fresno from our camp (ie individual lights, not just a dull glow).
August 4. We started hiking with more off trail fun, scrambling down to Marsh Lake. The fish residents in this lake were apparently not yet awake. I had one strike and a 15-inch trailer (probably a rainbow); a 15-inch fish didn't look so impressive anymore. Chimney Lake's fish population appeared more numerous and lively and I ended the fishing portion of the trip by releasing a half dozen rainbows running to about 13 inches. Leaving the lake, we begrudgingly followed the trail for less than mile ("backwards", actually, which tells you something about the trails here) then took off for 100 percent off trail hiking to close out the trip in high style. This is the best trip of 5 days or less I've ever done. I will have a hard (but entertaining) time trying to equal or top this.