High Sierra Topix

At the time I did this trip, I had not joined HST. I think I may have eventually posted this without photos. I thought re-posting with photos (from later trips) would be a nice diversion from Covid19 worries. This was my try at UL although with my traditional gear it was more an exercise in minimalism. After deleting the bear canister, wading shoes, 35mm camera, one day’s food and using a bivy instead of tent I could fit it in my 35L climbing day pack by tying the food sack to the top for the first few days.

Day 1: South Lake to Barrett Lakes. A few miles up the trail, I could not remember if I had eaten the banana bought. Was it in my car? Anxiety that a bear would rip open my car was soon replaced by paranoia of being busted for not having a bear canister. I left my worries as I departed from the trail at Bishop Pass heading towards Thunderbolt Pass, a route I had done for several climbs in the past. I arrived at Barrett Lake with time to spare for a refreshing bath before an impending storm. I slipped into my bivy, cooked supper and read as it misted. A few other groups were camped at the lake but I kept to myself as the Palisades glowed in orange alpenglow. As typical on my first night of any trip, I slept little, so was thankful for a great meteor shower displayed in the clear night skies.

Day 2: Barrett Lakes to Below Mather Pass. Having used Potluck pass when I climbed Mt. Sill I knew to stay high as I traveled “against the grain” of the natural southwest running grassy gullies. From the top of the pass, I was in all new terrain! I picked my way down cliff bands, jumped into an ugly gully, circled the southwest shore of Lake 3,559 (I despise metric maps!) and soon reached the outlet where I was confused by the route description. I followed obvious ledges up and left, encountering a few class 3 spots, topping out a bit too high and east of Cirque Pass. Thankfully, easy slabs descended from the pass. As the sky blackened and thunder clapped in the distance, I abandoned the idea of going down the “exposed 3rd class slabs” mentioned in guides. Instead I traversed east along the 3,400-meter contour, up a narrow grassy slot and down to a 10-foot chimney, carefully lowering my pack. Reaching a large grassy area adjacent to the creek that drained from Chimney Pass I sat out an intense lightening storm. When it passed, I continued downward on steep grassy gullies, relieved to reach the trail at the outlet of Palisade Lake. The sky really let loose as I walked two miles up the PCT, passing folks seeking shelter under their ponchos. Below Mather Pass, I abandoned the idea of going over, instead heading towards the large lake to the northwest. After briefly taking cover in the bivy on the way, I eventually arrived at the lakeshore and quickly cooked dinner as another storm hit. Miraculously, all cleared to a most impressive sunset with a glowing pink sky, the Palisades awash in alpenglow mirrored in the lake. If only I had brought a camera! This ended an anxiety ridden, strenuous, drippy day. The hummocky grass was surprisingly comfortable and I slept well in my little nest.

Day 3: Over Mather Pass to Lakes Basin. I boulder hopped on several terminal moraines to intersect the PCT at the 3,500-meter level. The sky to the south was already black. Once over the pass I had to decide to either head into the storm to base camp in hopes to climb Split Mountain, or head west over Frozen Lake Pass attempting to out run the storm? Not being a particularly patient person, I chose the latter. The meadows were all soggy, so I stayed high past many lakes, then dropped down to the small round lake and started up a loose, steep moraine with refrigerator sized talus. It was frightening, particularly since I had just read about the fellow in Utah who had to cut off his arm after he got caught by a shifting boulder. “Frozen Lake” was not frozen, nor was there snow in the gully; I clawed my way upward in the dirt with my ice axe, reaching the top expecting the worst to be over, disappointed by the slow tedious decent. Once down, travel southwest through a hanging valley was beautiful with several lakes, meadows and sandy slopes. The storm chased me to the isthmus between the two upper lakes below Cartridge Pass where I jumped in the lake for my daily bath in the dying rays of the sun, then zipped up inside my bivy for another storm. When the storm passed, I more careful read the map to discover I needed to descend the valley a bit. I packed up and headed down the lower Lake Basin drainage through breathtaking scenery of Cirque Crest’s north facing cliffs. On the north shore of Lake 10,632, I walk into the camp of three people who had been out for about 30 days! They offered me some fish! I filled my collapsible water bottles and walked up to a nice flat grassy meadow with a great view of the impressive buttress directly east of Marion Lake, far enough from the other camp to give them privacy. After a particularly tasty dinner, it was getting dark and starting to lightly rain so I zipped into my body bag.
Day 4: Lakes Basin to Dumbbell Lakes. At dawn my hand felt the cold, slippery coating of ice on my bivy as I unzipped. After breakfast, I indecisively headed to Marion Lake on a faint trail, missing the cutoff and descending about 200 feet down Cartridge Creek before I discovered my mistake. I backtracked, crossed the creek and picked up the use trail to the lake. Although beautiful, I was more intrigued by the Dumbbell Lakes so headed back upstream, then directly north up easy but steep terrain reaching the pass in a building storm. The ugly loose moraine on the north side was a surprise! I used small snow covered gullies wherever possible and was thankful for my ice axe. A long traverse left on an obvious ledge system ended in tricky class 3 slabs above the lower Dumbbell Lake. I was thankful for my small pack and sticky rubber approach shoes. The north side of Dumbbell Pass is NOT trivial. Once down, I realized I had the entire basin to myself- awesome as well as scary. I circled the lake on the north and scrambled up the rocky rib between the two main valleys and descend to a small grassy promontory on the north shores of uppermost Dumbbell Lake. I again managed to jump into the lake just before another storm hit. Snuggled in the bivy, a ray of sunshine shone on me as the sky blackened all around with lightening strikes marching closer and closer! One-thousand-one, one-thousand-two, BANG! I zipped up as heavy hail fell and soon was covered with half-foot “drifts”. The sky quickly cleared and I move camp to a better location, a sandy flat spot perched on the cliffs that dropped to the lower lake. I now could catch the morning light as well as the amazing sunset and view of the distant Middle Fork of the Kings River to the northwest and the impressive north face of Peak 12,882 to the southeast. Getting gear into this location for the grade V 5.10,A1 on this north wall must have been quite a feat. It was another frosty but clear night.

Day 5: Dumbbell Lakes to below Cartridge Pass. I awoke to sunshine, dried out gear and cooked breakfast. While wandering around the slabs, I found a cairn that marked a good class-3 route directly down the cliffs back to the lower lake where I crossed the outlet and headed to Dumbbell Pass, this time up a gully east of the tricky slabs that I came down. I then retraced my route back to the pass. The small lake at 11,100 feet on the south side of the pass has several nice camping spots. I continued to traverse grassy ledges and talus, heading for the uppermost lake below Cartridge Pass. I spooked several deer as I crossed lush meadows, through sparse timber and over small creeks. Clouds again were building when I found a nice spot under a lone scrub tree. Spotting a better tree a short distance away, I ran over to check it out, only to trip and fall flat on my face! As I assessed the damage, the remoteness of my location hit home. In the aftermath, I walked more carefully. Tired of hunkering in a bivy, I made a complex shelter using my rain jacket, under the thick canopy of a tree. For all the effort, only a few drops fell! Soon bored, I washed socks and checked out the impossible looking Cartridge Pass. I thankfully found a good trail. I had high hopes of bagging Mt. Ruskin on the way over the pass the next day.

Day 6: Below Cartridge Pass to Striped Mountain Lakes. My hopes of a climb were dashed when clouds built as early as 8:00 AM. I was surprised at how easy the old trail was to follow. Prior to building of Mather Pass, Cartridge Pass was the main pack trail. The trick therefore, was to only go where a horse would and look for signs old rockwork. I reached the lake about a mile below the pass when I again ran into the same folks I had met near Marion Lake. They had an arranged ride to pick them up at Taboose trailhead and I could ride with them to Bishop. We parted with plans to meet on Taboose Pass that evening. I headed down numerous switchbacks on a well marked but steep trail until I reached the South Fork of the Kings River, then skirted three talus fans staying close to the river. I finally picked up the PCT and thought I might have a chance at Split Mountain. As the weather deteriorated, I came to my senses and turned around going cross-country towards Taboose Pass. I stopped at the small pond below the pass to contemplate. Balancing an arranged ride versus the lake basin below Striped Mountain, I impulsively chose the latter. As a solo traveler, you can be as stupid as you want and nobody knows the better. After setting up on the north shore of Lake 3,471, I did not like the windy and lumpy spot. I dumped my sleeping bag into the bivy and hauled it in my arms uphill, looking like some bag-lady. I again established camp in a sheltered spot on the high ridge above the upper lake and cooked dinner. Taking an after dinner walk to Lake 3,538, I found the absolutely perfect campsite! Again I scooped up camp in my arms and moved. All in all, I spent nearly 2 hours finding the perfect campsite -but what a site! I slept on a lush grassy bed, next to a beautiful babbling stream and could lean against a perfectly smooth perfectly angled white granite slab and barely had to turn my head to take in a perfect view. One could not ask for more (except perhaps for a better dinner since I was down to eating all the little left over bits and pieces).
Day 7: Striped Mountain Lakes to short of Taboose Campground. After a perfect night, I awoke to a frosty morning. One not so perfect aspect of my perfect campsite was that it was in the morning shadow. I again picked up my camp in my arms and moved across the creek, where in the sunshine, I spread everything out, washed my hair, basked in the early morning light and ate the last ounces of oatmeal. By mid-morning all was dry. Part way to the pass I came across a perfect pond for a bath. As I jumped in, thousands of tadpoles in various states of transformation skittered in fear. As I sun-bathed on the smooth slabs the frogs reclaimed their territory. Here, I realized that life was sublime and that I really did not give a damned if I had missed my ride! As I expected, Taboose Pass was empty. Descending, the awesome scenery just kept going and the canyon greener than expected. Approaching my planned campsite, I could swear I could smell bear! I kept on trucking. It seemed like I would never get to the trailhead and when I arrived, it was scorching, deserted and crawling with ants! I contemplated camping in the pickup bed of a parked truck but the corrugated bed liner and stench changed my mind. I failed to bring a map so had no idea of how far the campground was. I could see the highway; it did not seem that far. I cooked the last of my food and headed down the dusty road, collapsible water jugs in each arm like twin infants, for the long, mosquito infested and exhausting walk – a real death march! I could see the semi-trucks on the highway, but they never seemed to get closer! Darkness fell as I stumbled into a dirty, mosquito-infested day use area near the creek. I sweated, zipped in my bivy, through a miserable night in stark contrast to my perfect campsite the previous night. My feet were totally trashed from the 17-mile, 7,000-foot descent walk back to civilization.
Day 8: Hitching back to my car. At dawn I realized I was within a quarter mile of the lush Taboose campground! Several elderly folks in trailers were up and I inquired if anyone were going to town. One couple offered me coffee, biscuits and gravy! Ironically, they were grandparents of the fellow who was picking up the folks I had planned on walking out with, who when reaching Taboose Pass after 30 days in the mountains, decided to hoof it out that very night! Before I could taste a biscuit, a truck with two elderly fishermen and their poodle were headed for Bishop. I threw in my pack and squeezed into the jump seat. I declined their offer for breakfast, instead walked to the Forest Service office where I sat outside the door with my little sign saying “South Lake”. Within 10 minutes a fellow said he would take me to the North Lake junction. There, I immediately got a ride with another elderly gentleman, with a poodle! What is it with elderly gentlemen and poodles! As we approached my car, sitting on the top was the sun-baked banana that caused my anxiety. The car started. After picking up the rest of my food stored in the bear box, I headed down the road feeling it was my duty to pick up a poor Brit hitching. He apparently was not the type to take baths, so I cranked all windows open. After dropping off my rank guest at the Forest Service office, I finally got to soak in a real bathtub in a great little motel in Bishop! Life is sublime.

"He apparently was not the type to take baths, so I cranked all windows open."

Some called him a vagabond.
Some called him a vagrant.
But they all knew when he was around
Because he was so fragrant.

Describes Markskor's feet on my last trip with him. He took his boots off finally after the trip while in the back seat of my truck.
Windows wide open for the hour trip to get him home. Speed limit was ignored for a bit as well.

A nice TR..

Great trip report... one of the great cross country hiking areas in the Sierras. I hesitate to use hitchhiking as a methodology myself for fear that it may not happen, so I always force myself into loop trips when solo. Maybe I should give it a try. I also pick up hitchhikers..only when backpacking though.
Good diversion read!

I have not been up the Taboose trail since the fire. I am not sure if all the lush brush in the photos above is now burned. Taboose trailhead is not the best place to hitch from. You could go days without anyone else coming out. The walk to the highway is not that bad (5 miles) except that I did it after coming all the way down from Striped Mountain Lakes. Since I was totally out of food, waiting around was not a good option. It was the first time I had been to the trailhead and finding the right road was tricky - no signs and confusing side roads; I just guessed.

I rarely stand in the road to hitch. I find people in campgrounds and at trailhead parking and ask around. With the bus service now from Bishop you no longer need to hitch back up to South Lake, which is great.

Thanks for sharing this trip report WD! It makes me miss the mountains that much more. I can't wait to get back. I'm looking forward to visiting the area between Mather and Sawmill this summer and might try Arrow Peak. I'm also heading to ID for a north to south hike of the Sawtooths. WD, you're quite well traveled (to put it mildly) have you been out to Idaho much? Not that there is much reason to leave the Sierra though... :-)

I wonder how many people read these reports, like me, and just get this joyous feeling of following the journey along on a topo in my head (or on a screen)! Thanks, WD.