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I have a couple primary motivations when planning backpacking routes: cross-country travel to explore areas I haven't seen before, and visiting lakes that afford the opportunity to fish for larger than average trout. Often I end up choosing one priority over the other, so a lot of my trips are either repeat visits to places I already know, or forays into new territory where the fishing is either underwhelming or a question mark. But sometimes I get lucky and manage to scratch both itches at the same time. And on this loop, I also experienced more solitude than on any similar-length trip I've taken in the past. Over 8 days, I only encountered two groups of three backpackers apiece.
Tuesday, Sep. 10
The most direct route to Blackcap Basin/Bench Valley is from Courtright Reservoir, but I had reasons to want to route through Woodchuck Country that had nothing to do with efficiency. So I started out from the "High Rancheria" trailhead instead. (High Rancheria is the dirt road-end that allows one to save 400 feet of climbing and 1.25 miles of hiking over the typical Rancheria trailhead, in exchange for 15 more minutes of navigating a bumpy dirt road and some deft maneuvering to avoid scratches on your paint job.) I began backpacking as a teenager in this west slope country east of Fresno where I grew up, so trotting off into the densely forested west slope felt like returning home.
My pack was decidedly not light -- I was laden with 8 days of food plus assorted treats (a can of Sierra Nevada hazy IPA, leftover pad see ew from dinner the night before, a couple of barbeque pork buns from Oakland Chinatown). Given that it was now the shoulder season of mid-September, I had also packed my heavier 10 degree REI Magma sleeping bag and an additional synthetic insulated jacket for extra warmth. But I was in pretty good conditioning after my previous 14 days in the Sierra just a few weeks prior, so I made good time as I trudged steadily up the dusty trail.
After passing through Round Corral Meadow, I headed east to take a more direct path to intersect the trail leading up to Chuck Pass. Once I had arrived at the pass, I departed the trail again to head due east, rounding the corner and then traversing north, where I maintained elevation as I made my way through mixed forest and talus to Crown Lake.
Thanks to these shortcuts, I made it from the trailhead to Crown Lake in 3 hours and 45 minutes despite driving up from the Bay Area that morning and not arriving at the trailhead until 11am. This gave me ample time to fish in the afternoon and get situated in camp before it got dark.
Wednesday, Sep. 11
The night was chilly, and I awoke to ice in my water bottle the next morning. After packing up camp, I fished for a few hours and then headed out around 11am. I traversed east above marshy Scepter Lake and aimed for the low, unnamed pass southeast of Scepter Pass. The west side of this pass had a gentle gradient, and in less than an hour I was on top of the saddle peering over the other side.
The east side of the pass was steeper, but I kept to the right as I descended to the north and found a straightforward path down, eventually linking up with the trail along the NF Kings River just before it crossed the outlet creek from Maxson Basin (dry at this time of year). I spent the next two hours on trail, climbing higher until I reached the meadow below Portal Lake.
I enjoyed watching little rainbow trout flit in and out amongst the shadows cast on the meandering creek. On one of the grassy banks, I spied a cluster of scaly hedgehog mushrooms so I grabbed them to add to my dinner that night.
From there it was just a short walk up to Portal Lake itself, an attractive small lake. I stopped there to fish for a bit and plan my ascent route up the headwall above the lake to Midway. I heard voices from hikers as I fished, and soon spotted them partway up the wall as they descended.
I chatted with the hikers briefly before I began my own ascent. They told me that they had packed in on horses from Courtright, and had attempted to climb up to Midway but ended up turning back because they ran out of time and energy. These were the first people I'd seen so far -- they would turn out to be one of only two groups I'd see during all 8 days.
I sized up the wall and picked my line as the folks I had just met hung around to watch. I veered northeast first up gentle slabs from Portal, then turned and climbed up the dry creek bed of the outlet from Midway due south, hugging the cliff wall to climber's left. There was a decent use trail here for parts of the climb, but it was still a solid class 2 ascent and I ended up making a few brief class 3 moves.
It was steep but short, and soon I was at the top. Waving goodbye to the folks down below, I continued on past Midway (stopping briefly to fish) and found a campsite below the outlet of Cathedral. I stashed my can of beer in the nearby creek, set up camp, and then headed out to fish the lake until sunset.
After returning to camp, I enjoyed my stream-cold beer along with a rehydrated burrito bowl as the setting sun treated me to a stunning display of alpenglow on the nearby amphitheater of peaks. It felt good to be back in the High Sierra.
Thursday, Sep. 12
I packed up early Thursday morning and was off a bit after 8am. This was my day to explore Blackcap Basin en route to Goddard, and I didn't want to waste a minute. I traversed over to Chapel Lake first, then skirted north to Pearl Lake.
I fished up the long west shore of Pearl before hopping over to Division Lake, then climbed a bit further north before dropping to Bighorn Lake and angling northeast to Ambition Lake.
This was a beautiful area and I could have spent days continuing to explore, but even wilder country beckoned so I clambered up the steep slope north of Ambition to Valor Lake. From there I continued higher, angling first north and then turning east traversing the granite slabs until I was atop Valor Pass.
The east side of Valor Pass dropped straight down and looked impossibly steep. However, both the topo map and reports I had read beforehand indicated that I should walk farther to the south along the ridge before descending. My visual inspection from atop the pass corroborated that this would be the easiest way down.
I traversed the ridge south until I was about 50 feet higher than the low point, then found a place where I could begin to drop. This was technically a class 3 downclimb in a few places and in one spot I had to gently toss my fishing rods over first before I could shimmy down a small chimney, but I was able to leave my pack on during these moves.
Soon I had dropped to less-steep terrain and could walk the rest of the way down the remaining 600 feet to the southeast shore of vast Martha Lake.
I've been wanting to visit Martha Lake for over 15 years, so actually being here felt surreal. I picked my way along the talus shore on the west side of the lake, fishing along the way, and made camp in an outcropping of boulders on the otherwise flat/barren northwest side of the lake. I spent the rest of the day fishing and enjoying being at one of the legends of Goddard country.
Friday, Sep. 13
I decided to take a layover day because I was at a beautiful remote lake deep in the wilderness, so why not?
I fished around the lake in the morning, then returned to camp for lunch. In the afternoon, I set out again to revisit a few spots from earlier in the day.
After a final evening fishing session, I settled in for the night and enjoyed a picturesque sunset while scarfing down chili mac for dinner.
Saturday, Sep. 14
I fished again in the morning, then packed up and headed west over the boulder fields below Martha's outlet. Today I was headed over to Bench Valley. The route up to Confusion Pass is straightforward class 2 when following the obvious ascent line from the east: I climbed up the gentler slopes to the west first before angling north and following the long bench before continuing north up to the pass.
I skirted around Confusion Lake past the north outlet (one of the few Sierra lakes located atop a pass with outlets draining both to the east and to the west), and Gunsight Pass appeared to the west. Climbing to the top of Gunsight Pass from the east side was simple (mostly class 1 walking).
After walking past the little tarn at the top of Gunsight Pass, I surveyed the boulder field stretching out before me. Hopping down this talus didn't seem fun, so I kept scanning and soon spied a better route to climber's right -- a path through mixed slabs and grass and some talus along the north side of the drainage. This turned out to be a good move and I avoided a lot of tedious talus as I entered Bench Valley.
I passed by the Bullet Lake complex and then descended to Holster, Wah Hoo, and Six Shooter lakes, fishing along the way. I passed above Schoolmarm and thought about dropping 50 more feet to check out the fishing, but then decided against it and instead turned south toward the Twin Buck Lakes. I made my way to the western of the two lakes and set up camp there.
Wedged between sloping granite slabs lined with trees, West Twin Buck Lake looked like it belonged more in the northern Sierra than in Bench Valley -- even its name seemed to fit better in the Emigrant or Northern Yosemite than here. But despite its incongruous appearance, I enjoyed my solitude at this little lake.
Sunday, Sep. 15
After packing up camp in the morning, I descended down to Roman Four Lake and picked up the trail at Horsehead Lake. I passed by little Colt Lake and then continued on the trail down past Guest Lake and the McGuire Lakes. After leaving the McGuires, I began the steep descent down to the NF Kings River.
The trail through Bench Valley is lightly traveled, but I managed to stick with it until it made its final descent down into the valley below. According to my map, the trail should have traversed southeast along the canyon wall down to the NF Kings River, joining that trail upstream of Big Maxson Meadow and the junction to Halfmoon Lake and Crown Pass. However, I somehow got off the trail and veered west instead of southeast, following ducks that marked a sporadic use trail. I figured I'd get to my destination just as quickly this way so I continued following the use trail and descended along Fall Creek until I reached the NF Kings trail a half mile downstream of the junction to Halfmoon Lake.
After a quick walk to the trail junction, I crossed the NF Kings (just a trickle at this time of year) and began climbing up to Halfmoon Lake. This trail looked like it received even less use than the trail through Bench Valley, and felt interminable going owing to all the switchbacks and the gentle grade. On the way I stumbled across a small patch of porcini and picked them to add to my dinner that night. I stopped for a brief lunch break at pretty Halfmoon Lake, then continued up and over Crown Pass to Crown Lake where I camped for the night.
Halfmoon Lake:
Monday, Sep. 16
I had another layover day scheduled at Crown Lake for fishing purposes. I woke up to a very cold morning, so I stayed in my sleeping bag longer than usual. Once I got up and made coffee, I was surprised that it still remained below freezing. I put on all of my layers before I headed out to the lake to fish.
While fishing, I watched steam rise off the lake's surface and get blown across the water by a stiff wind. Ice formed in the guides of my fishing rods, and I hoped it would warm up once the sun hit the water.
However, even after the sun rose it still felt just as cold. Clouds filled the horizon, and to my mild surprise it began snowing around noon. I took a lunch break back at camp until it stopped snowing an hour later, and I headed back out to fish.
By mid-afternoon the temperature was still below freezing and I had lost a lot of my motivation to fish. I went back to camp and lounged in the warmth of my tent with snacks and my Kindle to serve as a diversion.
In the late afternoon I made a last attempt to fish through the cold and wind, but again ice formed in my guides. I eventually called it quits at 6pm to eat dinner and dive back into the warmth of my tent.
Tuesday, Sep. 17
Tuesday dawned a bit warmer than Monday, so after packing up camp I fished some more in the morning. But soon it was time to head out, retracing my steps from Day 1 back to the trailhead. I was in a pretty dour mood due to the frigid weather from Monday, but the offtrail shortcuts on the hike out cheered me up.
That is, until I realized my Handy Pak Insta Net had fallen out of its pocket in my backpack somewhere between the Crown outlet and Round Corral Meadow! I noticed it was missing when I was most of the way through the meadow, so I backtracked and retraced my steps hoping it might have fallen out when I bent over to check out some porcini along the trail.
Alas, it wasn't on that trailed stretch and I knew there was little chance I'd be able to find it if it had fallen out of my pack on one of the off-trail stretches. So if anyone takes this route in the future, be on the lookout for my net!
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I was fortunate to experience some great fishing on this trip. I visited 25 lakes over the 8 days and nearly all of them had trout. I fished about half of them (the other half that I skipped over had plentiful brookies and rainbows that were on the smaller side). Here's a sampling:
At a few lakes I was lucky to happen across some larger rainbows, brookies, and goldens:
And at one lake in particular, I tied into a handful of the largest goldens I've ever encountered. In the late afternoon one day, one of my lure retrieves was met by a vicious strike by a monstrously strong fish which went aerial several times after it hit. I realized mid-fight that my drag was too loose, so I kept reeling furiously and it didn't seem to do anything. Finally I got it close to shore, but when I made a move to net it the fish came off the hook and slipped away. I could see it clearly though -- a high backed golden that looked 16-18".
I was still mad at myself for fumbling the finish, when four casts later nearly the same thing happened: another huge hit, another set of drag-screaming runs and aerial leaps, but this time I had tightened my drag and was able to get it to shore and to my net more efficiently. A trio of backpackers passed by while I was battling this golden, and one came over to check it out. "My God," he exclaimed. "That's a huge fish!"
At another point, I discovered that several goldens of various sizes were cruising back and forth beneath a rocky outcropping jutting above the shore. However, they were picky and would ignore lures completely, and gave only cursory glances to multiple combinations of flies I tossed out. Finally I tied on a wooly bugger with a hare's ear nymph dropper, and a split shot halfway between the two to get the flies down far enough in the water column. Among the dozen or so cruisers, there were a few different size classes and so I tried to target fish in the largest category.
I tried for half an hour before I finally got the flies in the water with the right location and timing. The flies had sunk the 5-6 feet so they were right in the cruising lane of one of the biggest goldens, and although it ignored the streamer (as it had already done a couple of times before) this time the dropper must have been in the precise location to catch its eye. It turned to intercept. Standing on my rock ten feet above the water, I held my breath as I waited for what felt like an eternity to set the hook. This felt like watching giant Desolation browns rise up to inspect a fly -- will they or won't they take it? This time, the golden did inhale the dropper, I set the hook, and luckily it didn't fight nearly as hard as the ones that hit my lures or I think it'd have broken me off.
I like to do battle with younger, stronger fish in their prime. I'll show you one of these sorts of fish that I fought in the waters of Blackcap Basin:
