R03/R01 TR: Palisades and Mt. Bago August 8-9, 2015
Posted: Tue Aug 11, 2015 10:27 pm
With my time in the Sierra running out with an upcoming move sending me to Utah, I've been maximizing my time in the range that has been my escape for 15 years. While there may be more spectacular ranges, I don't think I'll feel the same attachment to any of them but who knows?
In what may have been my last Sierra venture for a very long time, I experienced a tiny bit of everything in a short weekend. I went on well-known trails that resembled highways, went off trail with total solitude, bagged a peak, passed by lakes and streams, saw familiar places, saw new places, got redemption on a goal that evaded me on my first try, took a wrong turn that got me somewhere just as nice as my destination, and pushed myself physically to cram as much as possible. I may have even broken my personal record for distance in a weekend in an effort to see everything.
On day 1, I set off towards the north fork of Big Pine Creek to re-visit the Palisade Glacier that I had seen 15 years ago and see what it looks like after 4 years of drought when it would likely be at its iciest (no snow, just ice). Middle Palisade and Norman Clyde Peak were getting early morning sun and providing an appetizer for the views that would follow in a couple of hours, when I would reach Second Lake and the standard postcard shot of Temple Crag that everybody takes (and for good reason).
It was understandable that I saw people camping all over the place here. Pressing on with Temple Crag dominating the landscape, I went right past Third Lake and up to the turnoff for the glacier and Sam Mack Meadow. At the meadow, a sign pointed to "Trail" with a use trail continuing up the meadow. I followed the sign but the trail disappeared shortly thereafter. That's strange; I could've sworn the route I took 15 years ago went up the hillside to the left. Oh well. I proceeded up class 2 junk looking for cairns with no luck. After about 20 minutes, I gave up on finding a marked route and just went up any way that looked good. As often happens for me, I reached a point where I knew the general direction I needed to go, but there was just something about that "other area" that looked promising, so I veered off the direct course to see what was just around the corner.
Leaving my intended course brought me to a quiet little tarn with the glacial rock flour of First through Third Lakes, but without the people. This is where I had a turquoise lake below jagged peaks to myself.
Though Thunderbolt Peak was majestic, the endless sea of talus that I was looking at was most certainly not. Here comes the pain. One step at a time, I braced myself for what would surely be rock playing see-saw with me or loose gravel that would give way. Though the interminable slog inspired some colorful language on my part, the solitude and views of Mt. Winchell, Thunderbolt, and North Palisade provided some redeeming qualities for this route. It was so quiet and stark out here. It was hard to believe how crowded it was down by Second Lake when this place was so lonely and still.
Further up after a frustrating slog, I reached that point where you know the view is going to open up and you anticipate what you'll see, waiting for that moment that makes it worth it. Or, more accurately, you express more colorful language to indicate your disapproval of the fact that this was just a false summit and you have more of a slog ahead. Get this loose stuff over with already! The next little rollover provided the view of the glacier I had hoped to see with streams running down the ice, crevasses, bergshrunds, small waterfalls emptying into a lake, and toadstools of rock and ice everywhere. By the way, is there a technical term for those rocks balanced on ice? I call them toadstools given their resemblance to toadstool rock formations.
Anyway, though it was sunny over the glacier, the skies behind me were building dark clouds so I had to leave this place. I took a different route down, hoping to have more stable rock, which I did. This route even had the occasional cairn. I kept thinking, though, about how I remembered the trail taking a different route 15 years ago.
I reached the meadow where I was greeted by a guy camping before attempting to traverse from Mt. Sill to Starlight. He was curious about my route and asked if it was "better than the main trail". Wait a minute...what did he just say? What does he mean by "main trail"? The sign pointed this way, did it not? I guess it did not. After parting ways with him, I looked at the sign at the other end of the meadow. Somebody must have changed the direction of the arrow since this morning, because I could've sworn it pointed in the direction I went. On the plus side, my oversight allowed me to see that tarn so it was a blessing in disguise. Really good disguise.
Having never been to any of the lakes above Third Lake, I figured now was my chance, even if only for a few minutes. So back at the junction, I went towards Fourth Lake not expecting much. Aside from a huge group of loud people fishing (doesn't that scare fish?), I was happily surprised as it was prettier than I expected, especially when the trail climbed above it to look out at the Palisades. Glad I took the little detour. At this point, I was getting tired and daylight was on the downslope. Back to the car.
The next day I was planning to take it easy and hike to Meysan Lake, which I'd been curious about for a very long time. However, I woke up in the Alabama Hills feeling much better than I anticipated. This, combined with having a friend camping at Rae Lakes (parked at Onion Valley) and having failed a Mt. Bago attempt due to weather a few weeks ago, made me change plans and go into "on-a-mission-mode" to bag Mt. Bago. I didn't stop much as I had my eyes on the prize and had just been on this trail a few weeks ago. It's amazing how much faster you get places when you don't take your camera out every 30 seconds. It was uneventful all the way to Charlotte Lake, except for the odd woman who decided to drop her pants and pee in full view right next to one of the most crowded trails in the Eastern Sierra just as I was walking by. At least she was 100 feet from water I guess.
At the base of Mt. Bago, I readied myself for victory as the weather was on my side this time. After passing more bucks in 10 minutes than I'd seen in years (please don't ram me with antlers) while alone (nobody would find my body), I made it to the open area where the slog would begin, though nowhere near as bad as the moraines around the glacier. At this point, I saw other people and followed their route to the top, where the first thing I caught a glimpse of was Charlotte Dome with the Rough Fire dominating the background.
Though the smoke was seeping into our area, it didn't really ruin the views, which were as beautiful as advertised. After spending just under an hour taking it all in, I knew I had to get back. Back in "on-a-mission-mode", I got back to the car in about 4 and a half hours and waited for my friend and his girlfriend to make it back from Rae Lakes, at which point we caravanned to Lone Pine and some calorie-replenishing pizza before heading back to SoCal. Bye bye Sierra. Hope I get to see you again in the near future, maybe even before I move (doubt it but you never know).
In what may have been my last Sierra venture for a very long time, I experienced a tiny bit of everything in a short weekend. I went on well-known trails that resembled highways, went off trail with total solitude, bagged a peak, passed by lakes and streams, saw familiar places, saw new places, got redemption on a goal that evaded me on my first try, took a wrong turn that got me somewhere just as nice as my destination, and pushed myself physically to cram as much as possible. I may have even broken my personal record for distance in a weekend in an effort to see everything.
On day 1, I set off towards the north fork of Big Pine Creek to re-visit the Palisade Glacier that I had seen 15 years ago and see what it looks like after 4 years of drought when it would likely be at its iciest (no snow, just ice). Middle Palisade and Norman Clyde Peak were getting early morning sun and providing an appetizer for the views that would follow in a couple of hours, when I would reach Second Lake and the standard postcard shot of Temple Crag that everybody takes (and for good reason).
It was understandable that I saw people camping all over the place here. Pressing on with Temple Crag dominating the landscape, I went right past Third Lake and up to the turnoff for the glacier and Sam Mack Meadow. At the meadow, a sign pointed to "Trail" with a use trail continuing up the meadow. I followed the sign but the trail disappeared shortly thereafter. That's strange; I could've sworn the route I took 15 years ago went up the hillside to the left. Oh well. I proceeded up class 2 junk looking for cairns with no luck. After about 20 minutes, I gave up on finding a marked route and just went up any way that looked good. As often happens for me, I reached a point where I knew the general direction I needed to go, but there was just something about that "other area" that looked promising, so I veered off the direct course to see what was just around the corner.
Leaving my intended course brought me to a quiet little tarn with the glacial rock flour of First through Third Lakes, but without the people. This is where I had a turquoise lake below jagged peaks to myself.
Though Thunderbolt Peak was majestic, the endless sea of talus that I was looking at was most certainly not. Here comes the pain. One step at a time, I braced myself for what would surely be rock playing see-saw with me or loose gravel that would give way. Though the interminable slog inspired some colorful language on my part, the solitude and views of Mt. Winchell, Thunderbolt, and North Palisade provided some redeeming qualities for this route. It was so quiet and stark out here. It was hard to believe how crowded it was down by Second Lake when this place was so lonely and still.
Further up after a frustrating slog, I reached that point where you know the view is going to open up and you anticipate what you'll see, waiting for that moment that makes it worth it. Or, more accurately, you express more colorful language to indicate your disapproval of the fact that this was just a false summit and you have more of a slog ahead. Get this loose stuff over with already! The next little rollover provided the view of the glacier I had hoped to see with streams running down the ice, crevasses, bergshrunds, small waterfalls emptying into a lake, and toadstools of rock and ice everywhere. By the way, is there a technical term for those rocks balanced on ice? I call them toadstools given their resemblance to toadstool rock formations.
Anyway, though it was sunny over the glacier, the skies behind me were building dark clouds so I had to leave this place. I took a different route down, hoping to have more stable rock, which I did. This route even had the occasional cairn. I kept thinking, though, about how I remembered the trail taking a different route 15 years ago.
I reached the meadow where I was greeted by a guy camping before attempting to traverse from Mt. Sill to Starlight. He was curious about my route and asked if it was "better than the main trail". Wait a minute...what did he just say? What does he mean by "main trail"? The sign pointed this way, did it not? I guess it did not. After parting ways with him, I looked at the sign at the other end of the meadow. Somebody must have changed the direction of the arrow since this morning, because I could've sworn it pointed in the direction I went. On the plus side, my oversight allowed me to see that tarn so it was a blessing in disguise. Really good disguise.
Having never been to any of the lakes above Third Lake, I figured now was my chance, even if only for a few minutes. So back at the junction, I went towards Fourth Lake not expecting much. Aside from a huge group of loud people fishing (doesn't that scare fish?), I was happily surprised as it was prettier than I expected, especially when the trail climbed above it to look out at the Palisades. Glad I took the little detour. At this point, I was getting tired and daylight was on the downslope. Back to the car.
The next day I was planning to take it easy and hike to Meysan Lake, which I'd been curious about for a very long time. However, I woke up in the Alabama Hills feeling much better than I anticipated. This, combined with having a friend camping at Rae Lakes (parked at Onion Valley) and having failed a Mt. Bago attempt due to weather a few weeks ago, made me change plans and go into "on-a-mission-mode" to bag Mt. Bago. I didn't stop much as I had my eyes on the prize and had just been on this trail a few weeks ago. It's amazing how much faster you get places when you don't take your camera out every 30 seconds. It was uneventful all the way to Charlotte Lake, except for the odd woman who decided to drop her pants and pee in full view right next to one of the most crowded trails in the Eastern Sierra just as I was walking by. At least she was 100 feet from water I guess.
At the base of Mt. Bago, I readied myself for victory as the weather was on my side this time. After passing more bucks in 10 minutes than I'd seen in years (please don't ram me with antlers) while alone (nobody would find my body), I made it to the open area where the slog would begin, though nowhere near as bad as the moraines around the glacier. At this point, I saw other people and followed their route to the top, where the first thing I caught a glimpse of was Charlotte Dome with the Rough Fire dominating the background.
Though the smoke was seeping into our area, it didn't really ruin the views, which were as beautiful as advertised. After spending just under an hour taking it all in, I knew I had to get back. Back in "on-a-mission-mode", I got back to the car in about 4 and a half hours and waited for my friend and his girlfriend to make it back from Rae Lakes, at which point we caravanned to Lone Pine and some calorie-replenishing pizza before heading back to SoCal. Bye bye Sierra. Hope I get to see you again in the near future, maybe even before I move (doubt it but you never know).