Approaching the Taboose Trailhead at dawn
Day 1 – Taboose Pass Trailhead
Left Lone Pine at 5:30 am headed for the Taboose trailhead. That dirt road is more like a small boulder field and we were glad we had a high wheel-base on our rented car. Took forever to arrive but were able to hit the trail by 7 am, later than we hoped. Walking up the steadily climbing trail we marvelled at the passage from desert to scrub pines to treeline. The steep trail was generally easy to follow, and we felt it did not deserve its reputation as “one of the nasties,” at least not this August, an average snowfall year with a warm, dry summer. There was a bridge of branches across the first water crossing at about 8,100’ and having come from sea level, we decided to acclimate to the elevation and pitched our tent adjacent to Taboose Creek under a rare August Blue Moon. The starlit sky was cut around the edges by the jagged peaks of the surrounding mountains, looking like a tumble of gothic cathedrals piled on top of each other. Almost every day of this trip would be passed under startlingly clear bluebird skies, with cold nights as the season tipped into an early fall.
Indian Camp under the granite spires
Day 2 – Taboose Pass – Bench Lake
The second crossing was washed out when we passed the next morning, but we crossed a small waterfall about 30 feet upstream. We both enjoyed the route up to the pass, long stretches of fairly stable talus and scree. Around 10,000’ the trail passed through thickly rooted willow banks that channeled and contained Taboose Creek, we could hear the sound of creek rushing at almost head height as we climbed the path.
The scale of the rust-colored granite walls and pinnacle spires was enormous. The morning light exaggerated the experience as it poured in from Owens Valley casting long shadows. We crossed the Pass, observed the large tarn at the summit with snow melt still rushing through under the rocks. We arrived at Bench Lake in the afternoon and found a beautiful campsite in a small bay on the north formed by a peninsula and the lakefront overviewing Arrow Mountain. There was a steady 15-ish mph wind and the temp dropped to the upper 30’s. I was responsible for catching 3 meals during our trip and despite the wind, netted a 13” rainbow and 14” brookie.
Evening light over Bench Lake
Day 3 – Bench Lake – Cartridge Pass (CP)
The next morning we headed off for Cartridge Pass, not before a few mishaps. My toothbrush completely disintegrating in my zip lock bag. Never put sanitizer and a toothbrush together! - - S reports: continuing the leak theme, I forgot to carry on the olive oil and pesto we take for calorie dense cooking. Both leaked copiously in our ‘kitchen bag’ precipitating a thorough wash out to the delight of a multitude of large carpenter ants that frequent the shores of Bench Lake. You are forewarned! - -
At the same time, our isopropane gas suddenly stopped delivering gas which sparked thoughts of cold-soaked dinners and ice coffee on icy mornings. We set it in the sun, inverted, and it kicked back into gear. From then forward, the canister spent the evenings in our tent along with my headlamp, Lumix GM5 and InReach Mini.
Thanks to papercup’s High Sierra Topix (HST) trip report of avoiding the JMT, we headed W beyond the outlet of Bench Lake towards the nearer Arrow Mountain creek. We angled W/NW aiming for the pines. Patience is key here, as if you drop north too soon, you’ll hit the cliff systems that support Bench Lake basin. We may have gone slightly too far west, we could hear, then even see, the creek that we followed down, skirting one edge of a talus field. It was a lovely decent down to the flat meadow of the South Fork, where we startled a deer and her fawn in the morning. We crossed at a junction around an island—the water was below knee deep but still strong and we reflected on the power of the South Fork in early season. We decided to camp alongside the river, and head up early. Nice not to have the wind as we were tucked deep into the Muro Blanco protective walls.
Lake 10,863' below Cartridge Pass
Day 4 – Cartridge Pass to Lake Basin
Refreshed after a long sleep, we headed up and eventually came across a use trail, losing it a few times but eventually got to Lake 10,863' on the first bench below Cartridge Pass. I threw my line in and after several bites landed a 9” rainbow. Plenty of trout in this lake. - - S reports: this was a pristine lake in a beautiful setting. I took a swim and as we traversed the lake we saw a pristine fresh water beach and marsh system, I would gladly return and spend more time. - - We came across a bench at 11,444’ which provided an incredible panorama view looking over the South Fork to Bench lake. We regained the trail at 11,400’ and took the long traverse up to Cartridge Pass. It’s worth going a little beyond the pass itself to take in a stunning view of Lake Basin. The descent into Lake Basin was a mix of sliding on gravel and braking on granite, slow but gorgeous as we descended 700’ to Lake 11,060’ where we camped on the NE side looking up toward Vennacher Pass. The wind really picked up this day. Our InReach forecast indicated 11-15 mph with 25 mph gusts, too much to flyfish, and that night it dropped into the upper 20’s.
Overlooking Lake Basin from Cartridge Pass
Day 5 – Lake Basin
We decided to take in Lake Basin for another day at a lower and hopefully more shielded spot. We stopped at Lake 11,053’ which was green and more hospitable than the austere upper lakes and it was alive with trout. I landed two nice 11” and 10” rainbows on the SE shore not too far from the outlet. But the wind didn’t let up. I realized that the only way to get my line into the lake was to pull it up high into the wind and let it carry the fly out 30-40’. We continued down to a nearby Lake 10,820’. Didn’t have any luck fishing there but between the continuing wind and chop on the lake I wasn’t surprised. Sat down instead to sketch the southern edge of the basin in the low evening light, moments that slows everything down as you enter a different time zone, a geologic deep time, offering a different way of experiencing the mountains. Despite cool evening temps and later a howling wind, we managed to stay quite comfortable in our tent with extra layers.
Lake 10,823' in Lake Basin looking South
Day 6 – Lake Basin to Dumbbell Basin
At dawn we were treated to a squall which came and went quickly, leaving our tent, packs, and the ground covered in hail. We crossed a beautiful marsh with trickling streams and grasses as we headed for Dumbbell Pass. We stopped at a tarn at 11,112’ that was a perfect rest station where we got water and snacks. The traverse up grassy slopes to Dumbbell Pass had amazing views looking back over Lake Basin. Marion Lake was distinct in a deep vermillion blue! - - S reports: it’s actually more of an Ultramarine or Indanthrone blue, two colors that happen to be in my watercolor kit. - - We crossed the pass and soon encountered a long, steeply pitched snowbank. S attempted to kick in heel holds for plunge steps to avoid the talus but the freezing nights had produced a thick layer of ice. In 2023, a historically high snow year, we had brought Petz Leopard crampons, which were put to good use. This trip we had no traction devices, so we proceeded gingerly across the snow field and made our way down along its western edge. We descended to cross west at roughly 10,400’ and began to wrap around trying to find a way down, aligning ourselves with the “elephant trunk” on the NW side of the large lower Dumbbell Lake. We found a gully filled with unappealing refrigerator sized talus, so we simply continued to traverse down NW, necessitating a few somewhat sketchy downclimbs and steep traverses to arrive at the bottom into a patch of snow. From there it was an easy descent the remaining 150’. We found a great camp site at Lake 10,866’ nested in the SW corner. The lake was teaming with trout, in the 6-8” range, although I was able to land a 10” rainbow blind casting from the lake’s stunning granite peninsula. This was the second night where I was responsible for contributing protein to our menu, in this case a tasty Pad Thai Noodle and trout dinner. Our reward for getting down off that pass!
Clouds creep in over Lake 10,866' toward Observation Peak
Day 7 – Dumbbell Basin
Dumbbell Basin is special, it feels so remote and untouched and we realized that we had not seen another person since the top of Taboose Pass 5 days prior. We decided to stay an extra night to explore a little. The winds had calmed down by now so we headed up to the Fish Shaped Lake at 10,995’ to sketch, fish, and go swimming. There’s a meadow at the far N end that is cut through by a snaking inlet stream, terminating in a sandy beach with mossy shores turning a deep autumn brown. We spent time on the N side and pulled in two 14’ rainbows, real fighters that I released. We both dove in and swam off a low rock, my first “bath” in days, albeit in very cold water. No need to towel off, you dry off in minutes because of the radiant rocks and brilliant sun. We headed back for our second night, mentally preparing for Cataract Creek Pass (CCP), which we both had read about in collecting beta through cameronm’s HST trip report and a 9/1/22 post on movingmountains.press.
View over Dumbbell Basin from Cataract Creek Pass
Day 8 – Dumbbell Basin to Amphitheater Basin
The wind had significantly calmed down by now which made getting up in the middle of the night a lot more inviting. Forgot to mention that my 10-year-old Thermarest pad had started losing air Day 2 which required reinflating it every 2 1/12 hours. I was paid off in stars, millions of them, that were now much easier to see with the waning moon, still bright enough to illuminate the alpine floor. After a great "No Cook" breakfast (oatmeal cookie with almond butter) with a generous mug of coffee, we were off, past the Fish Shaped Lake and up to CCP. We talked about bagging Observation Peak at 12,369’ –– but instead settled for the smaller peak below it at 11,800’ that had dizzying views north down Cataract Creek toward Deer Meadow and beyond to Bishop Pass and Dusy Basin, where we were last year. Though we have been in Kings Canyon many times, its moment like these that give you pause, when you look out 5-10 miles into the beyond and begin to recognize these massive granite formations as familiar features, not from photos or videos, but from a lived spatial experience. It brings on a sense of belonging, of becoming a part of our shared public lands.
Even in late August, a snow cornice, which hadn’t been visible from Dumbbell Pass, covered Cataract Creek Pass. We were able to drop into the draw on the northern side and down climb the chute. From there we worked around a snow field and descended to the flatter green area, where snow melt ran under the rocks. We thought we’d simply continue NE traversing along the top of the bench to get down to the creek. But directly N was a major cliff-out and we wanted to avoid the talus blocks along the shore of Amphitheater Lake. We elected to make a NE traverse across large blocks of talus followed by numerous stepped ledges running N-S, each dropping down 20’ to the next. I found this to be one of the most challenging places on our trip to find the right way out because each ledge cliffed-out. We just kept trying one after the other until we found a narrow keyhole to down climb at the far northern end of the ridge that allowed us to traverse west a bit and drop 150’ down through a series of small ledges to the small water body near the outlet. I still believe this was the only way off!
The plan was to get to one of the upper lakes in Amphitheater Basin but it was afternoon already so we camped out at Lake 10,965’, right above Amphitheater Lake. There was something desolate and foreign about this landscape, lots of dried out mud-cracked pools scattered with round basketball-sized boulders that we hopped across. A few pools were partially filled with water and large tadpoles darted back and forth startled by our presence. We found a beautiful camp site and noticed a gill net bridging a narrow in the lake. Two monitors floated on the surface and a lot of green algae covered the lake bottom. There was something dystopic about the scene, unsettling after what we had experience over the previous days. Upper Amphitheatre was an epicenter of a SEKI and NPS restoration project to bring back the Mountain Yellow-legged frogs that predated the stocking of lakes.
Campsite at Amphitheater Basin looking toward Upper Basin Crossing
Day 9 – Upper Basin Crossing (UBC)
Today was a big day, with some trepidation we approached Upper Basin Crossing. We also made the decision to stretch our food supply and add a day to our trip so we could visit Striped Lakes, just above the Taboose Pass trail, on our way back. We made it to the 2 upper Amphitheater Lakes directly below the pass to fill our water bottles in the streams that weaved their way through mossy alpine meadows.
As we walked, I noticed several Mountain Yellow-legged frogs, one jumped on my glove and sat on my thumb for several minutes, eventually springing off into the grass. It was at this moment I felt the restoration project was paying off. I love to fish and am humbled by the habitats that support them, so although I support this restoration effort, it’s a mistake to use “piscicides” like rotenone to restore these native habitats. Using manual approaches like gill-netting makes a lot more sense. And if it’s limited to remote places lake Amphitheater Basin, even better, since we may learn something about how species and natural resources can coexist, a question we need to confront sooner rather than later. After all, how many people visit this basin each year? I’d guess only a few dozen if that. Here’s a link https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source= ... 37K787mNKx for anyone interested in learning more about the project.
We had studied the very few reports of UBC on HST and received super helpful beta from cgundersen and a recent HST report from papercup. To attain the pass, there’s a choice of going up a system of ledges and ramps to the south of the pass or going straight up a 50-degree granite ramp. We benefitted from some fortunate on-site navigation. We ascended between the upper Amphitheater Lakes through the alpine marsh and up a series of stone and grass slopes that lead us high into the boulder field. We discovered an almost indiscernible “path” in the middle of the bounder field of slightly smaller sized and stable boulders that curved upwards to the W and then traversed S a bit. We were able to up climb these slowly with hand and foot holds. Near the top, the “path” dissolved, and we had to ascend W again across a sketchy section of loose dirt and pebbles then climb a short section of large talus to gain the granite ramp. This is a folded plane condition, created by immense forces of geology where granite ‘wall’ and ‘floor’ pitch up at a very steep angle. We stowed our poles at an awkward spot and proceed to go up the remaining 100’ or so using hand and leg holds moving upward along several vein cracks in the ramp. At first we thought this would be an unconventional crawl move, but the overall granite pitch was steep enough to make this an up-climb! - - S reports: while we may have set a record for the slowest ascent of UBC of any HST community member, it’s this community that sets you up for success. A good reading of the bounder field helps and there was a steady zen like quality to the climbing effort required, and crossing west to east is key to the enjoyment of this pass. Of the passes in our trip, UBC might have been one of my favorites, or maybe I was just feeling exhilarated to have made it in one piece. - -
We gained the 12,224’ pass, standing in awe over the vastness of the Upper Basin. There’s something about passes that never tire. It’s such a powerful, almost euphoric feeling stepping through one basin, like a giant door deep into time. Can’t get enough of it! We were pretty mentally whipped by this time, so we made our way down to 3 very small tarn-sized lakes at 11,286’ to crash out, teaming with tiny 3’’ trout that were jumping 5-at-a-time out of the water to catch insects. By now the night temperatures had mellowed to the mid-40’s and high fifties during the day, delicious.
Upper Basin Pass overlooking Amphitheater Basin with CCP beyond
Day 10 – Upper Basin to Striped Lakes
We hit the JMT within the first 30 minutes of setting out and ran into a lone bearded hiker, dipping his water bottle into the creek running alongside, the first human we had seen in 10 days. I asked him where he was coming from and he asked back, “today or in life?” I must admit it was nice to be on a trail! But we weren’t looking forward to the 1,200’ descent to the JMT at the South Fork crossing and hike back up 1,000’ to the turn-off for Striped Lakes. So, we decided to make the forest traverse and work our way across the 10,400’ elevation until we hit the JMT switchbacks well above the South Fork. Easier said than done walking at a 30-degree slope for an hour and a half! But that singular view looking straight down the barrel of the Muro Blanco from the creek midway was worth the effort. We hit high on the JMT switchbacks as planned and continued upwards until we got to the Taboose trail which we took for a couple of miles until we were roughly 400’ directly below Striped Lakes. It was already 3pm and we were pretty tired having been in what S calls my “death march” mode for the past couple of hours, so we refueled and scrambled up ledges to the lower Striped Lakes finding a beautiful campsite with a SW view as the sun set. We went down to the lake where S took a swim in late afternoon light. This would be the last opportunity to provide fish for dinner and with a steady wind at my back was able to land a beautiful 12” rainbow which we had over our mushroom risotto.
Campsite over Striped Lakes looking West
Day 11 – Taboose Pass to Indian Camp
We spent the next morning exploring the lakes, swimming briefly, watercoloring and fishing, leaving at noon for Taboose Pass. This setting was so beautiful, a small basin at 11,400' with 3 lakes surrounded by towering peaks, the highest being Striped Mountain with its unique striations of white marble veins running across its face. As we traversed our way back down to the Taboose trail we were so glad to have this chance to experience a bit of this small high-perched basin. A new energy kicked in as we approached Taboose Pass, that sense of accomplishment, respect, and gratefulness that we made it back safe and sound. I put out my arms like wings as we descended, with views of Owens Valley 6,000’ below, and momentarily took flight. It was Friday and we had already seen several hikers arriving for the Labor Day weekend. We decided to spend the night at the second creek crossing (AKA Indian Camp) again and get an early start our last day so we could have breakfast at Alabama Hills Cafe in Lone Pine.
Something curious happened that evening. When we got in the tent, I had left my Salomon boots in the vestibule with my 12-day old Darned Touch socks draped over them since by then they were pretty “ripe”. In the middle of the night S woke me up and said “there’s something moving out there.” I heard the clear clinking of rocks as an animal walked over them—I think we were too high for deer and it definitely sounded smaller than a bear. With my headlamp on, I noticed that both of my socks had disappeared. Even worse, one of my boots was missing! I got out of the tent and noticed that it had been dragged away 4 feet from the tent. Had I waited any longer I would have been descending the final 5,500’ in my sleeping socks! In the morning, I discovered my OR gloves, which I had loosely stuffed in my pack, also disappeared. A hoarder on the loose with a den no doubt lined with a cosey tapestry of missing woolens. Has anyone lost shoes or socks at Indian Camp?
Striped Lakes outlet with Mt Ruskin, Staghorn and Vennacher Needle beyond
Day 12 – Taboose Pass Trailhead
We headed down at 7am retracing the switchbacks and long traverses we had covered twelve days prior. For some reason the descent seemed much longer and more draining in the rising desert heat. A young man forewarned us that a rattlesnake was hanging around a mile past the Taboose Creek bridge, but we didn’t notice anything. We finally got to the car by 11 am, took an hour to carefully drive down the dirt road to US 395, and were sitting down to bacon and eggs and a BLT by 1 pm. It would take several days to make the adjustment back to reality, back to the noise of the ‘modern world’. But in spite of being physically pretty tired and mentally drained, we know that soon after reality sets in, we’ll be making new plans to return to the Sierra, this place of missing socks and miracles.
Owens Valley and Red Mountain Cinder Cone
