On our way homeward after a road trip up through the Cascades of Oregon and Washington, and then south down the west coast, we decided we would get out of the van and onto our feet in the Sierra before home. We chose the Emigrant Wilderness for its quota-free trailheads, this time Gianelli TH for the first time. Our loose goals were to see and fish new lakes and new country-- the new country being the group of lakes perched high on the north side of Granite Dome. Re. the fishing, we didn't do enough research, and still dont know if we may have missed some great fishing ops. The Pinecrest ranger station had little to offer-- just a printout of about 10 widely scattered lakes that had fish for sure. None of the lakes on our high route were on the list. We were hoping to visit and fish the 2 Lewis Lakes, and Iceland, Ridge, and Sardella Lakes too. As it turned out, the off-trail route to get up there from Upper Relief Valley was more than we'd bargained for. It is challenging trail finding, with a lot of steep cliffy bits mixed with quite a lot of lingering snowfields. We climbed about 800 feet above the valley before taking a long look at the rest of the route, and then going for a plan B.
Plan B was the simple retreat down Upper Relief Valley via the trail on the other side of the valley, making a small circle of new ground, and including the visit to Toejam and Leopold Lakes-- the former being on the "fishing list." We made that new trip work for us all; both of those lakes were wonderful playgrounds for our dogs, who swam and ran through meadows and especially snowfields. Bearzy's favorite play place is a soft snowfield, where he rolls, and digs, making happy growling sounds all the while. He chases Wolfie, and gets chased in return. They had more fun than ever, while we, by turns, admired the lake's scenery, and then cursed the difficulty of catching the smallish brookies. Leopold Lake is especially lovely, with several wooded islets and a nicely sculptured shoreline. It looks at times like a piece of one of those old scrolls of Chinese landscape painting.
We did sporadically encounter the Brook Trout, and caught enough to make two dinners there, and then dry and pack a third trout dinner to our last camp above Powell Lake. Powell Lake is another gem of a scene, with clean granite rock arching out into the water from the northern shore.
We had some luck with the wildlife, birds in particular. I got to see an Osprey circle Toejam Lake and then swoop down to ever-so-neatly grab a big Trout from the center of the lake! On two other occasions the same Osprey passed over our heads with a fish in its talons. We saw three of our favorite birds in wonderful light-- the Mountain Bluebirds, the sunset orange Western Tanagers, and one Green-tailed Towhee in the sagebrush. The views of the near volcanic peaks were very fine, and included my first close-up view of The Three Chimneys. On several of the ridges on our route, and from high points above the lakes, we had nice but distant views of the peaks of the Main Divide, plus the distinctive Clark Range.
Since over the years many of you have gotten to know Bearzy, and shown real interest in his life, I will share our burden of his death. At our last camp above Powell, we had the experience we have been dreading. 8 months ago we had been warned that he likely had less than 3 months to live. With our care and the drugs, he more than doubled that, but finally Bearzy's epileptic seizure disorder took a turn for the very worst. Instead of his miraculous resiliency post seizure, he instead took several hours instead of a few minutes to recover. Then his fourth seizure led to another after another until it just wouldn't stop. I held on to his snapping and thrashing body for 5 hours, from 10:00 pm till 3 in the morning. Thankfully, we have been told time and again that he is unconscious during these events. I was sure he was going to die, and Lizzie and I resolved ourselves to it. It seemed fitting that he would die in the mountains he so loved. Lizzie put a sleeping bag over us, and a pad under, and yet Bear somehow survived! Sadly, he was left in a much diminished state. In truth he did kind of die up there in the Sierra-- his brain was never the same-- it was as if his spirit was gone away. I planned to carry him out, and lightened my pack into Lizzie's, and set the sleeping bag on top to cushion Bear. And I did need to carry him over the snowfields, and all of the uphills, but he could stagger downhill guided by us on the leash, and thankfully, it's downhill the majority of the trail back to Gianelli. We got him out, got him home; had the difficult talk with our vet friend who gave us no real hope, and after watching his aimless staggering around our property, and listening to his sad sounds, my son and I took him into the forest and ended his life in a painless and immediate way.
Bear was a rescue who had spent his first year in a cement floored, 3 x 5' chain link cage, and we are sure we gave him a great life ever after. He was 10 and a half years old when he died. We will thank you in advance for your words or thoughts in sympathy.
Okay then, Whew! ... on to the pretty pictures:
