Approx route: On Caltopo
Mileage: 90 mi
Elevation gain: 24000 ft
Hey all, I managed to get out to the Sierra this year and complete my first cross-country hike. I usually don’t make trip reports beyond simple condition reports, but I think I picked a great route and and I think my photos came out nicely, and I owe it to this forum and to the excellent trip reports others have shared. I also wanted to provide my own perspective as a first-timer taking on a more ambitious trip, hopefully as inspiration for anyone looking to push their own boundaries beyond the confines of the trail corridor.
My first time out here was in August 2022 when I did the full JMT southbound, and it was such a good time that I had been planning a return trip to Kings Canyon since then. I was planning on doing the Big SEKI loop in 2023 but the high snow and road closure cancelled my plans, and over the winter leading into 2024 I started considering cross-country alternates in order to spice up the trip and avoid rehashing the JMT sections again. I was initially going to section hike the first part of the Sierra High Route from Grouse Lake Pass to the Upper Basin before heading back south. I found a great trip report here which used Cartridge Pass as an exit and then accessed 60 Lakes Basin via Basin Notch. The cross-country sections looked very reasonable, and I could fit everything into a 9 day window if I used the Colby Pass trail alternate to shorten the Big SEKI loop.
I grabbed a permit for Copper Creek TH for late July, but at the last minute my hiking partner fell ill and let me know he wasn’t able to join. I started feeling doubtful about doing cross-country for the first time all by myself, so I figured I’d just punt this trip another year. However, many of my August plans were ruined by wildfires in the Cascades. Frustrated with the prospects of sitting at home instead of being outside, I re-booked a Labor Day weekend permit for Copper Creek. I was determined to make this trip happen, even if it was a little beyond my comfort level.
I dialed in on two more alternates which would bypass more sections of the JMT I had already done. The first was adding a side trip into Gardiner Basin over 60 Lakes Col and returning via Gardiner Pass and Charlotte Lake, skipping Rae Lakes and Glen Pass entirely. This looked straightforward enough and well documented. The second was a little spicier, bypassing Pinchot Pass by going down from Cartridge Pass to the South Fork Kings River and climbing all the way back up to White Fork Pass, then crossing into the Window Peak drainage over White Fork Saddle, and descending from Window Peak Lake down to Woods Creek. Most reports I had seen were people following the White Fork all the way down to Woods Creek, or directly using Explorer Pass and skipping the White Fork drainage. The White Fork Saddle connection looked like it would give me the views of three drainages without getting me into anything class 3.
My trip now comprised of 3 distinct sections:
1. Copper Creek trail and Roper’s Sierra High Route to Cartridge Pass
2. Cartridge Pass to White Fork Saddle, Window Peak Lake, and the JMT
3. JMT to 60 Lakes Basin, Gardiner Basin, and out by way of Bubbs Creek.
Each section had plenty of bailout options in case I was running behind on time or if I wasn’t comfortable with cross-country travel. I would need to find my cross-country legs in section 1 if I had any hopes of completing section 2, and I would need to move efficiently if I wanted to tack on section 3.
Day 0 – Aug 30
I made my way down from Portland to Kings Canyon with 9 days of food in my bear can and 10 rolls of 35mm film in my backpack. A smaller digital camera would’ve made more sense to cut weight, but I hope you’ll agree from my photos that the extra bulk of film was worth it.
I had been keeping up with news about the Coffee Pot fire, but it didn’t seem like it’d be bad to the north in Kings Canyon, and the online smoke forecasts reflected that. The rest of the weather forecast looked excellent, with no likely rain for the whole week. This late in the season there would also be no mosquito pressure. I had nabbed a campsite reservation at Princess CG earlier in the week, and I pulled in close to 9pm after an exhausting 13hr drive. I didn’t feel like trying to find a FCFS campsite over Labor Day weekend and I was real glad to have a reserved spot that I could just pull into.
Day 1 – Aug 31 (10 mi, 5592 ft up, 235 ft down)
I left the campground a little later than I would’ve liked, but I really needed that full night’s worth of sleep. I had never done the drive through Kings Canyon and I wish I could’ve stopped and enjoyed it a little more, but I had a permit to pick up and an overambitious goal of State Lakes. I found a parking spot at Roads End, which was packed to capacity in the overnight lot and nearly as full in the day use area. I waited in line with everyone else picking up their Rae Lakes Labor Day weekend permits, glad to be avoiding the crowds there (I had passed through there over the holiday weekend on my JMT trip so I had already seen it at its peak). I checked with the ranger about the smoke levels and he reported no issues where I was going, which was a great sign.
My first, and only real issue of the whole trip, was something I identified right in the parking lot. I had bought some new trail runners (La Sportiva Bushido III) on sale at REI earlier in the week since they had a new wide sizing that fixed my fit issues with the older versions. It’s risky having to break in new shoes on an unfamiliar trail but I absolutely needed something with a rock plate, and they felt so good in the store I was sure breaking them in on the trail would be fine. The shoes themselves proved to be outstanding, but in the parking lot I realized that I had put on the wrong sided velcro attachment on the back of the shoe, meaning that my gaiters wouldn’t mate up at the heel and would be free to ride up. For the rest of the trip I’d have to stop to re-attach my gaiters periodically and dump out any loose rocks.
I slung on my pack and started heading up around 10am. The Copper Creek trail is a real grind to start off a trip, with some heavy switchbacks to start up to Lower Tent Meadows and some more switchbacks to round out the 5000 ft climb. It was hot, dry, and dusty, and I didn’t feel inspired to take any film pictures, only some quick phone snaps. I was climbing up pretty slow, carrying by far the most weight I had on any trip this year – 32 lbs total to start.
I hit 10200 feet and quickly found a cairn marking a use trail up towards Grouse Lake. I connected to Copper Creek and ran into an older gentleman ascending the other side of the creek, and we followed our respective banks all the way to the lake. We made a little small talk while I sat down and filtered some water.
When I stood back up, I felt immediately nauseous and tired, like I had a heavy weight pressing down on my head. I started rounding the lake along the eastern shore, but I’d slow down every time I passed by a flat spot. I finally decided I needed to stop, since I wasn’t thinking clearly with my mild altitude sickness. I set down my pack, cooked some food, and watched the stars wheel by overhead.
Day 2 – Sep 1 (13.5 mi, 3221 ft up, 3455 ft down)
I had a fitful night of sleep but woke up feeling refreshed, with no traces of altitude sickness left. Grouse Lake Pass is a great first taste of the high country, with easy slabs and grassy chutes to ascend, and those expansive views of Sequoia below. The skies stayed clear from the night before and best of all, the smoke seemed to be hanging low and far away. From here on out I was ready to shoot all the film I had brought.
The views of Granite Basin were pretty nice too.
Working my way down off of Grouse Lake pass was trickier for me than it should’ve been, but it taught me an important lesson about being decisive. I kept trying to pick the best line down visually before actually moving, but I found it was actually more efficient to just commit to a line and adjust on-the-fly. Experience helps with micronavigation but it’s a lot easier to solve a problem when it’s up close and within reach.
Goat Crest Saddle had one of my favorite views on the whole trip, with my first glimpse of the Palisades and the rest of the Cirque Crest above the upper Glacier Lake.
Roper’s description of this as the first real challenge of the High Route is a fair assessment, but now I was flowing down from granite shelf to shelf confidently and quickly.
I descended to Glacier Valley by switchbacking down the slabs to the west until I reached the floor. A quick romp through the woods and I found myself back on the State Lakes trail. I meandered past the lakes and lost the trail for a while, only stumbling upon the marked junction for the Horseshoe Lakes trail entirely by accident. A short mile later and I was back off trail.
Following along the guidebook, I started ascending the ridge towards Gray Pass. Roper describes a panoramic view of the Middle Fork above Windy Canyon, but it was just a haze in the late afternoon. I found the view of the small lake beneath Gray Pass much nicer, high above the Middle Fork trail that the Big SEKI loop would have taken me on originally.
The drop from Gray Pass looked a little intimidating at first, but I was funneled down the grassy slope towards a very beaten use trail, and by 6pm I was filling up at small lakes of South Fork Cartridge Creek.
I found a perfectly flat campsite a little further from the lakes, where I watched the cirques around me turn soft pink in the fading light. My first full day of cross-country was officially in the books, and I was feeling on top of the world.
Day 3 – Sep 2 (10.6 mi, 3566 ft up, 2940 ft down)
It was a crisp morning, but calm and windless. From higher up the lakes were like perfect mirrors.
I started slogging my way up to White Pass, following the creek coming from the tarn directly beneath White Pass instead of the sequence of lakes and ponds south as Roper suggests. I found the direct ascent to be much more expedient, a consistently steep grade with no real difficult terrain.
The jaunt over from White Pass to Red Pass was uneventful. The white slabs started off with some light scrambling, but the reddish slate was much easier going. Red Pass had a very clear use trail heading down to the Lake Basin, and I followed it to an outstanding view of Marion Lake. I had seen pictures and videos of the supposed bluest lake in the Sierra, but I was still taken aback by that deep sapphire hue.
I took a long lunch atop the lake, watching the waters shift from a deep ultramarine to a vivid azure and then to other shades in the changing light.
Enough time passed and I followed the closest grassy chute to scope out its descent. Roper has a lot of build-up for this “odious gash” but it didn’t look too scary from here, and I found yet another use trail heading down to the shore.
Turns out Marion Lake isn’t as colorful from the shores as it is from above, but it’s still a beautiful view.
I began working my way around and up to the Lake Basin. I never confidently found the old JMT, but I did locate the low saddle that would bring me into the basin proper. I then contoured around the northern end of the basin, crisscrossing lazy streams fanning over the slabs and grassy fields. Occasionally I’d run into sections of wooded slopes, but I’d just push on upwards and out of the trees, finding it much faster to navigate by sight than by bearing in the valley. By now the clouds had outnumbered the remaining patches of blue in the sky and the lakes took on a dull green shade that made for poor photography. I managed to sneak in some photos when the light shone through.
I found Cartridge Pass and the use trail heading up it, which was more like a faint line etched into the towering pile of talus and scree. I stuffed down a protein bar and charged up the steep and crumbly pass. I took long rests on the way up, hoping to catch a break in the clouds for a better view of the lakes beneath. It was worth the wait.
I reached the top of Cartridge Pass a little before 4pm. The sky cleared up again for a spectacular view of Cartridge Lake, with the sliver of Bench Lake, White Fork Pass, and Arrow Peak behind. My next day lay directly in front of me, with the challenges of the descent to the South Fork Kings River and the climb back up to White Fork Pass all in plain view. It was reminiscent of one of my favorite views on the JMT, cresting over Mather Pass and seeing the Upper Basin below with the trail towards Pinchot Pass slinking off into the woods below.
I made my way down to the lake, set up my tarp, and had an early dinner. I realized it was still light enough outside so I went for a dip in the lake before the water got too cold, and I went to bed nice and clean.
Day 4 – Sep 3 (9.9 mi, 3516 ft up, 2975 ft down)
I started packing up as the sun rose over Arrow Peak.
The Cartridge Pass trail heading down from the lake was well-defined, complete with switchbacks for good measure. I could see my planned ascent on the other side of the South Fork Kings River from here. Heading directly up to Bench Lake would be impossible, so I would need to navigate downstream along the river, find a spot to ford, and then follow the gentler incline to the lower hanging valley. The path of least resistance looked like a stream that I could trace on my map all the way down from the lakes beneath White Fork Pass.
I quickly bottomed out on the trail and swung away from the JMT, now officially on the second section of my trail. I followed the flat river plain until I found a rocky spot to ford. At this time of the year the water was low that the river was barely calf-high at its deepest, but I still managed to wet a shoe when rock-hopping. Forest navigation is tricky but GPS made it pretty easy for me to track my progress towards the creek, and I hoooked upwards as I came nearer. Before long I was out of the trees and into a broad talus field, with the sound of running water clear to the west.
I picked my way along the rocks until the slope flattened out again, opening up to the lower hanging valley and lake at the base of Arrow Peak. On the topo map I had thought I could just head directly east from here, up to the lakes beneath White Fork Pass. The terrain looked too steep up close, and I decided to continue up the valley towards the larger lake at 10600’ so that I could switchback up instead. Scrambling up the talus here was tricky and I had to backtrack a few times from some impassable spots. Cartridge Pass and the rest of Roper’s High Route had clear signs of people passing through at critical junctions, but the only paths here were game trails, and I only found a single duck as proof anyone had passed through here.
I took a short lunch at the big lake at 10600’. This was one of the more colorful lakes I’d seen in the Sierra, shallow enough to see the reddish clays underneath the teal waters.
I followed the northern shore of the lake until I found a break in the wooded slopes above, and switchbacked up along the creeks running down from the lakes above. The game trails here were crucial, reliably leading me from creek to creek among the thick grass, and guiding me to gentle breaks in the cliffs that finally took me above the treeline to the lakes beneath White Fork Pass. I was accustomed to passes looking smaller the closer I got to them, but White Fork Pass was the opposite, seeming tougher up close. It looked like a pure scree pile that would have been right at home on a Cascade volcano. Upon closer inspection, there were some chossy bands that I didn’t really trust to be stable if I came from above them, so I decided I would gradually angle upwards towards the lowest point of the broad saddle and then send it hard to the top once I was in the clear. I knew it was going to be dry the rest of the way, so I chugged some water, filled up to 2L capacity, and hiked on.
I said goodbye to the lakes below and started heading up the scree. I clocked in my start around 2pm.
An hour and a half later, I was finally at the top. This was a miserable climb made worse by my loose gaiters. The scree would fall away under me with each step, and I hadn’t sloped upwards enough to make my final push any easier. I had to pull myself up along chossy rocks, some of which would slide away with a slight tug. I ended up kicking steps into the dirt like I was going up snow, pouring out a cupful of dirt from each of my shoes at the end.
Here I realized that Window Peak Lake was overambitious given the time. The descent looked tough and it seemed like I was in for more painful sidehilling. I was frozen in indecision whether to bail down to White Fork Creek, or to try powering on through to White Fork Saddle. I needed to scope out the descent more carefully, so I followed the broad pass further south, looking for any friendlier scree chutes I could take down. I spotted a promising path at the southernmost end of the pass, where I could distinguish another rocky band that I would need to dip below before traversing to the low saddle ahead of me. I would still need to make a decision about White Fork Saddle or White Fork Creek there, but now it was more important to get moving.
I decided I would give myself an hour to make it to the intermediate saddle. I dove down into the scree, skiing down in an exhilarating rush. I was carried along by this second wind, bounding from boulder to boulder across the talus below. I made sure to stay between 12000’ and 11800’ to stay level with the saddle.
I reached the saddle with little time to spare. From here I could make out the upper White Fork Lakes and Crater Pass due east.
White Fork Saddle looked tantalizingly close to the southwest. All I would need to do was follow the gentle slope all the way to the low saddle close to me on the horizon. If I moved at the same pace, Window Peak Lake seemed within reach.
I could make out Woods Lake far off in the distance, and I think even Sawmill Pass further back. The whole White Fork drainage was desolate, with sparse vegetation and no trees in sight, a stark contrast to the verdant Lake Basin I had just been through a day before. This openness only enhanced the remoteness.
I hit a snag closer to White Fork Saddle. I had stayed too high on my contour at 11800’, and it became clear I needed to downclimb about 80’ of talus to a chute that would take me directly to the saddle. I wasted precious time trying to break my way through, and it was already past 6pm when I had my first glimpse of the drainage over the saddle.
The Window Peak drainage was an intimidating place. It felt even more desolate than the White Fork drainage, with lingering snowfields and a chain of lakes embedded in a constrictive granite valley. I was dismayed by how far away Window Peak Lake was, and I finally knew it was out of reach for that day. Worse yet, I couldn’t make out any clear path down to the lake from here. If I went down to the lakes below and tried to follow the stream, it seemed like it would choke out on the descent. Crossing over the creek to the west side of the drainage looked out of the question, since I assumed the granite on the other side would be equally steep. I was not sure how much further I could follow the rocky eastern slope I was on, but I would need to hope for a safe route down in the morning.
I started heading down a chute towards one of the lower lakes when I heard the faint gurgle of running water beneath me in the rocks. It was just a trickle, but it was enough for me to fill up after I funneled the spring with my trowel into my water bladder. I found a moderately flat perch of grass nearby and set up a cramped camp at 11400’. Before bed, I reviewed my map to see if I could identify the best path down. A little east of the stream was a pinch in the contours, which looked like it could yield a decent gully to take down to the lake. I set an early alarm and went to sleep.
Day 5 – Sep 4 (12.72 mi, 3090 ft up, 3738 ft down)
Sure enough I found my gully, right next to the ridge separating it from the neighboring creek. The whole slope itself looked doable, but it would have been impossible to gauge from where I was the day before.
It was a quick and easy descent and I found myself at the lake shore only an hour and a half after breaking camp. I rewarded myself with another dip, feeling all my stress wash off in the cool water. Window Peak Lake is so close to the JMT corridor, but unless you looked on a map you would never know it was up here, tucked away up high and walled off from the rest of the Sierra.
The main sticking point from my research about the descent to Woods Creek was to stay east, and I followed that advice closely. I was in good spirits and knew wouldn’t be long before I was back to the JMT.
It took two hours to get down from Window Peak Lake to Woods Creek and the JMT. It’s mostly straightforward down, with a few spots to bushwhack through. Towards the bottom I crossed a nasty talus field where I broke the tip of one of my trekking poles. Thankfully it had only snapped towards the very bottom above the basket, and I was able to lower the section of the remaining pole to make up for the missing height.
I took a nice, long lunch at the Woods Creek suspension bridge before continuing on down the crowded JMT corridor. It felt a little strange seeing this many people on the trail again, but that’d be over again once I split off for Basin Notch. Halfway up to Dollar Lake, I stopped to look back at where I had just been that morning. I had remembered this exact view from two years before, but it was still surprising to think that a huge lake was hidden up there in the granite.
I breezed up the rest of the trail past Dollar Lake, before stopping a bit before Arrowhead Lake to recreate my favorite photo from the JMT two years ago.
Basin Notch was quick to find. There’s a very solid use trail heading up to the top, though there’s not anywhere better to go among the cliffs.
Sixty Lakes Basin was lovely. I caught up to the single trail winding through it, exploring to the north until the trail vanished before backtracking south. The Rae Lakes impress with their sheer size and their stunning views of Mount Rixford and company, but I much preferred the quiet intimacy of these smaller, secluded lakes.
I found a campsite with a great view of the backside of Fin Dome and ended my day a little earlier than usual. My relaxation was cut short by a nosebleed that I battled for over an hour. I bring a little bit of a petroleum jelly with me on dry trips just for this, and normally it does the trick, but this time it failed to stem the bleeding. I believe the dryness, altitude, and accumulated trail dust were all aggravating factors, and my only relief was to clog up the offending nostril with a wad of toilet paper before going to sleep.
Day 6 – Sep 5 (10.18 mi, 2225 ft up, 3400 ft down)
I started late on the trail, feeling particularly unrushed with Sixty Lakes Col so close. This was going to be my only off-trail pass on the day, and I assumed that once I reconnected to the Gardiner Basin trail I’d be moving faster again.
Before splitting off to Sixty Lakes Col, I ran into another cross-country hiker on the trail who was heading towards Rae Col. He had come up from Basin Notch earlier in the morning and we exchanged route information. He had been in the Sierra for several weeks already, exploring all over SEKI in a massive cross-country loop. I had a pretty moderate pack size compared to most folks I had seen on the trail but his looked practically like a daypack. Even his food was minimal, basically a huge stack of McDoubles in a small bear can. It was inspiring stuff. He showed me a video of his white-knuckle descent down King Col and I felt better about striking that pass from consideration.
The beta on the HST pass discussion for the Col was particularly useful, especially regarding the cliff bypass around Lake 3304. I went to the west shore as advised and immediately found the use trail as described. I found it easy to follow the cairns to avoid the cliffs.
After the lake it was a straight shot up on ramps of slabs, leading to a small talus pile and lingering snowpatch beneath the pass that I made short work of.
The other side of Sixty Lakes Col was breathtaking, a barren moonscape save for two massive deep blue lakes. I had read that the northern shore of the biggest Upper Gardiner lake was easier, so I headed down that way. Getting down from the Col was a confusing affair, I knew better than to head directly down into the talus but there was no real obvious path heading north along the upper ridge. I managed to make it work with some switchbacking along the slabs, but I took great care to make every move reversible to avoid cliffing myself out.
Near the big lake, it seemed like either shore would work. The northern shore looked like it had some tricky talus to start with, but from here I could see some cliffs on the southern shore that would force me upwards.
I followed the north shore and found it shockingly easy. The talus was very stable and the natural path through the field was broad and obvious. I encountered no cliffbands and only departed the shore closer to the west end of the lake to intercept the supposed terminus of the Gardiner Basin trail, according to my map. I was already mentally ready to bid cross-country travel farewell, but it should come as no surprise to the experienced reader that there was no real Gardiner Basin trail to be found. However, I could at least follow the dotted-line path on my GPS watch to track which side of Gardiner Creek I would need to stay on during my descent. Eventually I would drop to about 9000’ and then swing south up to a big lake at 9600’.
The lower lakes were some of my favorite on the whole trip, lush in comparison to the austere upper Gardiner lakes.
This smaller lake looked perfect as a campsite, and I could see how nice the sunrise on Mount Gardiner would’ve been from there. But it’s not my style to stop hiking at 2pm.
Gardiner Basin is trickier below treeline. It’s still smooth hiking and the terrain is rolling, but it’s more wooded and confusing to navigate. The GPS watch and trail markings on my map proved indispensable. I started finding some ducks and cairns lower, but around 9400’ and lower it seemed like there were two separate paths people had been using. On one hand I could follow the trail on the map, crossing Gardiner Creek a few times before dropping to 9000’ and then heading back up. On the other hand, I saw some cairns that looked like they contoured along the valley at 9200’, bypassing the creek crossings completely. I could then sidehill my way over back to where the trail would have me start climbing up. I opted for this contour since following the creek through the brush was maddening.
The way up to the Lake 2906 was steep! I wasn’t sure if I should just sidehill over to where the trail would’ve been, but based on the topo map a sidelong ascent was going to a similar grade of incline. It wasn’t a pretty climb, and I had to grab onto tree roots and embedded boulders to hoist my way up, but it ultimately went. It felt just as tiring as some of the other cross-country passes I had done earlier in the week, and I just about collapsed into camp around 6pm.
Day 7 – Sep 6 (19.14 mi, 3390 ft up, 6694 ft down)
The lake was really splendid in the morning, and I washed my feet in the cool water. I debated a swim, but decided against it. I was over a day ahead of my planned itinerary and a Saturday finish was in sight if I pushed hard.
The Gardiner Basin trail was much easier to follow from this lake, with plenty of cairns to mark the way along the obvious use trail. I followed the string of smaller lakes up with little difficulty.
I could spot Gardiner Pass off in the distance, a low saddle on the ridge ahead of me. As I headed towards the pass, I found a growing number of cairns marking the way all the way to the base, leading me to a legitimate trail that switchbacked up the steep face. I did not mind the help for this last real climb of my trip.
By now, clouds had started to really settle in overhead, and the light had turned flat and unremarkable. It had been a perfectly great week of weather so far, but these clouds had a dark underside that threatened thunderstorms. I took very few photos for the rest of the trip, now focused on getting at least to Charlotte Lake before any rain.
Getting down from Gardiner Pass was fun, soft and sandy enough to ski down until the large blowdown section. I cut west through the blowdown and found myself in a maze of trees, which was disorientating to navigate. I can’t recall too much about this section other than sticking southwest until I found a clearing. From there, I found a trail that followed the flank of this broad slope west, leading me through some painful manzanita thickets to Charlotte Creek and eventually to Charlotte Lake.
I stopped by the Charlotte Lake ranger station on the way out to see if there was a posted weather forecast, and I actually found the ranger herself. She had an up-to-date forecast for thunderstorms later that evening, which came as no surprise. I checked with her about how far along the Bubbs Creek trail I could legally camp – Sphinx Creek was the answer.
I was back on the JMT at 3pm. I figured now was finally the time to take it easy back on the trail, but a distant peal of thunder soon gave way to rain as I hurried down to Lower Vidette Meadow. I kept up a furious pace long after the rain stopped and arrived to the empty campsites by the Avalanche Trail cutoff a little before 7pm. Bubbs Creek was a pleasant trail with splendid views of the steep canyon walls all around, but I was all about passing by hikers and crushing those miles. Oh, and outrunning those unshakeable black gnats – I wore my headnet the rest of the way after inhaling one accidentally.
Day 8 – Sep 7 (4.07 mi, 88 ft up, 1239 ft down)
I took one last picture on the way out, savoring this last view before I would be below treeline for good.
It was a brief hour back to the car, and then back heading home. I stopped by Costco on the way back up and grabbed 2 chicken bakes and a cookie, and that was all I needed for the 13-hour drive back home.
Final thoughts
I had an excellent trip under great weather and executed my itinerary with very few issues. September is a fantastic time to be in the Sierra, with no mosquitoes, little snow, and ample daylight. The Coffee Pot fire ultimately wasn't an issue. I came back home with nearly two full days of extra food, but I don’t regret finishing earlier. It’s not my style to “stop and smell the roses” when hiking solo, I prefer to be on the move especially during the later parts of the day when the light is nicest. There were plenty of nice places for a good layover day if I had company.
I brought a map and compass on this trip in addition to my phone and GPS watch, and I really enjoyed the experience. The compass was an aspirational purchase that finally saw use out here, and although I never relied on it for critical navigation, it was a good way to take bearings and confirm topographic features. I would definitely bring it again on a long cross-country route.
I believe I picked a great route for a beginning cross-country hiker, with no forced class 3 and only moderate class 2. However, if I had the experience I have now, I would have considered two additional alternates. The first would be to extend the Lake Basin section by heading north to Dumbbell Pass, crossing over to Amphitheater Lake, and then exiting via Upper Basin Crossing, which would’ve allowed for a visit to Bench Lake before picking up the rest of the loop. The second would be to use the East Gardiner Pass to bypass most of the confusing Gardiner Basin trail. I’m still fine with not considering Explorer Pass and King Col, the former bypasses some real beauty in the White Fork drainage and the latter is outside of my risk tolerance.
Thanks for reading
