High Sierra Topix

Northern Emigrant Trip Report June 24-28 2022

Overview

I had never before used the Kennedy Meadows trailhead (having done many trips from Crabtree,) and felt it time to see some new wilderness. Furthermore, I have become interested in the history of the Emigrant Trail for which the wilderness was named (see other topic in the history section) and wanted to see parts of the trail and terrain with my own eyes. Finally, in anticipation of tough trips later in the backpacking season I wanted to test myself with a longish loop, to see how well my recovery from two earlier surgeries was holding up.

Logistics

As with all of Emigrant, there are no reservations or quotas to worry about. I learned that the Summit Ranger station in Pinecrest now has a self-issuing kiosk for permits outside of business hours, so you can conveniently show up anytime and write yourself a permit. From Pinecrest it is about 30 minutes down the highway to Kennedy Meadows.

Kennedy Meadows is located on the Middle Fork of the Stanislaus River. Highway 108 follows the river for a ways but just as the highway gets to Kennedy Meadows it leaves the river and heads up the drainage of Deadman Creek to go over Sonora Pass—the route that was chosen just after the Civil War as a result of the failed experiments to create a route further south through the present day wilderness.

Turning off of 108 you will pass Baker Campground and then just as you get to the second campground (Deadman) you turn left and drive up the hill to the “Trailhead.” Don’t be deceived. This parking lot may be for backpackers and horse people who plan on using the trail, but it is a remote parking lot—not really the trailhead. It does have running water and a cleanish outhouse.

Once parked there, you unfortunately have to walk down the road 1 ½ miles, through the privately held areas of the Kennedy Meadows resort, and directly past its cabins and store, then up a hill past their water tank, before you come down to the meadows. PG&E owns the “meadows” as part of the Relief Dam project from 1910, and it is trying to restore the meadows, which were probably used as a staging area for building the dam. From here you continue on the road even further and past various campers and workers who have private access to get to the wilderness boundary.

In short, it has to be one of the worst designed “trailheads” I have ever used, although you can cut the pavement-walking by paying the resort to park closer in their lot.

Day 1

From the wilderness boundary at the end of Kennedy Meadows I began my climb on the converted old road, no doubt built to support dam construction. Not since walking across the dam at Hetch Hetchy and through the tunnel there have I encountered a more technology-oriented start to a trip. The trail passes over two substantial bridges—the first a truss and the second more of an angled-arch bridge high above the river gorge. To get to the second bridge the trail was blasted out of the cliffs and has an overhanging “ceiling” in a couple of spots. Waterfalls descending into the canyon become visible.

After the second bridge the trail comes to an unmarked divide. Left goes more or less straight up a series of steps, right takes a longer and more gentle route up. The left route is the path the steam-donkeys used to drag equipment up the hill. I did the left route and wished I had the energy of a steam donkey.

From here another disadvantage of this trailhead became clear. The trail climbs and climbs—and climbs much higher than the level of the reservoir it is attempting to reach. You might as well consider getting to the inlet end of Relief Reservoir as another mountain pass. The parking lot is at 6300. The trail gets to 7600 at its height above the reservoir, with the reservoir being at 7200. Sadly, it then gives up 300 of those feet as it descends to near the level of the reservoir towards its inlet end before starting to climb again from there. Not an efficient trail, to be sure.

Along the way you will see remnants of the construction equipment used to build the dam, some with dates stamped on them—1890—from the era of steam power. Oddly you never get a view of the dam from below, although you can see it from the reservoir side when the trail finally emerges high above.

When the trail comes back down to cross Grouse Creek is a good spot to replenish water—there would not be another good source until I made it all the way over the hump to Summit Creek. This is also the turnoff to good campsites along the shores of the reservoir, although I wound up bypassing them. Someone leaned a big dead log at an angle against a living tree to mark the turnoff, a couple of hundred feet after the creek.
At this point I was getting slightly discouraged. I had been walking for 3 hours and it certainly did not feel like a wilderness adventure. Further dampening spirits was the state of the trails. Nothing technically wrong with them, except they get so much heavy horse traffic that all the granite steps were covered with thick coats of pulverized sand, making them extremely slippery. In other places one walked on cobble rather than a smooth surface. Trails that take that much use from horses need a lot more maintenance, and it is clear they were not getting it.

In fact, the Kennedy Meadows to Sheep Camp route seems to be the bread-and-butter for the horse packers. I encountered two large pack trains coming down from Sheep Camp on my way up, along with a few hikers walking out from their horse-packer assisted time there. One told me he and a large group had been packed in to Sheep Camp, set up with tents large enough to stand in, had all their fresh food and “cocktails” provided, and stayed for 8 days with a resupply—the ice in the ice chests will only last so long. It is a different style of enjoying the wilderness—perhaps I will do something like it when I am no longer able to walk that far unassisted, but it had no appeal for me now. I was not going to get to Sheep Camp on my first day. I remember WD posting that she persevered that long and somewhat regretted it. Instead, I stopped right where the trail finally came down to Summit Creek. There are an number of serviceable campsites there, and if you are willing to ford the creek there are larger granite shelves for a much greater variety of sites one could choose. The water was swift and mostly calf deep. Being exhausted, I just took the first camp I came too, though later I saw the superior alternatives.

Day 2

As per my early-bird proclivities, I was up before dawn, did my normal chores and was packed up and hiking at 6. All the way up Summit Creek canyon I marveled at how that first group got 13 wagons, each drawn by 4 mules, through the place. How close to the current hiking trail did they go? There were a few places I thought looked likely, but many more that I thought looked impossible.

The day began with walk across a hillside riven with deep flood gullies that frequently took out the trail and forced diversions. Then it was a marvelous climb through granite until the trail popped over a rise and the expanse of Sheep Camp suddenly came into view. What a massive expanse of packed earth—certainly sufficient to house all those horsepackers I met, although it was abandoned now. I enjoyed my gradual climb up through Lunch Meadow, passing by the intersection with the trail south to Mosquito Pass and the direct route to Emigrant Lake. The terrain opens up considerably, and the contrast between the granite to the south of Summit Creek and the eroded basalt to the north of the creek was stark—a meandering stream and green meadows separating the two. I had not seen such a stark contrast since the Trinity Alps. By the time the trail crossed Summit Creek, it was no more than a rivulet I stepped across. By that point I was within 400 feet of Brown Bear Pass. Swinging away from the stream, the trail went up a furiously steep, switchback-free stretch before getting on a single long switchback over the summit. There was still snow in the ravine to the west of the trail, but none on it.

Once in the pass my plans changed. I had made good time, and hoped to saunter across Emigrant Meadow and get as far as Snow Lake. But as I stared across the meadow at the looming Grizzly Peak, I saw that the weather to the east was radically different. Nothing but blue skies up to the pass, but in the east there were black clouds and rain. After watching for a few minutes, it seemed to be getting closer. The last thing I wanted was to be caught in a storm in the pass or down in the completely exposed meadow. I started forward hoping to make it across the meadow to a slightly more protected space before the storm hit—I was moving toward the storm in order to seek shelter! As I scurried down from the pass I did continue to marvel that the wagons came over at this point. I guess there is a lot that 52 mules can do. Try as I might, I just could not visualize it.

As it turns out, I made it across the meadow and found a rise protected by some rocks and trees near the intersection, and had my tent half way up when the rain started. I managed to complete the set up and brought my pack into the tent with me when the rain turned to sleet and then hail. It continued for several hours. Until about 4 that afternoon I hoped the weather would improve, I could take down the tent, and continue on, but as the hours dwindled away I eventually decided the distance gained by packing a wet tent was simply not worth it, and so I stayed put. It did clear up, and it gave me a chance to admire a truly impressive meadow. The bunch grasses and the herbs were verdant—I had never seen such a vast green landscape in the middle of a mountain range. That night, at 9400 feet and after a cleansing rain storm, the sky was a giant sparkling jewel. I was awakened once during the night by the unmistakable yipping of coyotes, who were probably hunting in the meadows for small animals. At 4:30am the planetary alignment was in spectacular clear view.

Day 3

After much thought, I decided to cut down somewhat on my ambitious loop plans to go over to Snow-Bigelow-Black Bear-Twin and instead began a somewhat smaller loop by going Middle Emigrant-Emigrant-Buck. I was concerned that if the afternoon rain showers continued I would not have enough hours of hiking to do the larger circuit, and doing a shorter circuit would give me a cushion. As it turned out, the weather was perfect from that point on—but I can’t say I regret the change. I loved seeing Emigrant Lake, and the parts I missed will form the nucleus of a future trip. Starting at 6, I followed what can be described as an intermittent boot-path south towards Middle Emigrant lake.
Most of these lakes have huge meadows and then marshes on their inlet side, and Middle Emigrant was no exception. It also produced the thickest bloom of insect life I have seen in many years. Not only mosquitoes but grey clouds of other insects that make a head net a requirement for breathing. This made it difficult for me to even get shots off with the camera, and certainly diminished my appreciation for what might otherwise be a scenic lake.

The trail becomes exceptionally sketchy in the stretch between Middle Emigrant and Blackbird Lake. The meadows overgrow it in many places and the traffic is too sparse to keep a beaten path. Still, I knew where I needed to go, and only checked the gps a couple of times to correct my errors. I do remember thinking that it was much easier route finding on my way down than it would have been trying to find the route on the way up—as is usually the case due to the ability to look further ahead for clues.

After getting to a large well-maintained trail at Blackbird Lake (after a crazy intersection in which the Middle Emigrant trail departs by walking across a 45 degree angle boulder top) the hiking was easy, if not as much fun. The trail switchbacked down into the Emigrant Lake basin. It comes in at the inlet end, and crossed the meadow and a wide gravelly ford of the North Fork of Cherry Creek before coming to the intersection with the more commonly-used Mosquito Pass trail-- whose other end I had passed yesterday. I resupplied water from the inlet stream and had lunch.

Then began the two mile hike along the northern shore of Emigrant Lake. The trail was well engineered and maintained here, but getting around lakes always involves some ups and downs. At times the trail was well above waterline, at one point it was within six inches of waterline. But what a lake! Surly one of the largest high Sierra lakes I have seen—on par with Thousand Island, Garnet, or Charlotte. With polished granite ramps descending into it on the south shore, cliffs on the north shore, forest interspersed with verdant grasses and stone—and open sight lines. The highlight of the trip for me. And to think I almost missed it if I had held to the longer circuit.

After the trail squeezes around the cliffs on the NW shore it takes off slightly uphill and departs from the lake before plunging down a very long set of forested, uninteresting switchbacks to get to the meadows above Buck Lake. Before it does that though, both the USGS maps and my GPS indicated an intersection with another trail that continues along the shoreline and departs the lake at its outlet, heading down to Cow Meadow Lake. But I never saw that trail or that intersection, and considering that the whole wilderness has recently been re-signed with fresh posts marking each intersection, I wonder what the explanation is? Map Builder overlay on Cal Topo no longer shows this trail—is it now completely gone?

After trudging endlessly down the view-less switchbacks, I was pleased to come into a long string of meadows above Buck Lakes. The inlet stream gets slow, wide, and deep, and as I passed it I could stare down into the clear water and see dozens of fish. This must be an angler’s paradise.

I had been to Buck Lakes once before on a dayhike from Deer Lake, but at the time the connector stream between Upper Buck and Lower Buck was a torrent and I could not cross. This time I was pleased to be able to wade across in ankle deep water, and discovered that many of the better campsites were on the far side. I set up, enjoyed dinner, and admired the sublime view of the huge wall of granite across the lake.

Day 4

I began my fourth day with a dayhike south to see Lower Buck Lake at dawn. I found a pond along the way more beautiful than the lake. While Upper Buck Lake is natural, Lower Buck Lake is another one created by Leighton’s dams, with the dead tree stumps in the water to prove it. It has its angles, but most of the Leighton lakes are long and narrow as his checkdams backed the water up in stream canyons, drowning trees along the way.

Returning to camp, I was packed up and heading toward Deer Lake by 9. Now I was on some familiar trail—but only for a way. The climb to Deer Lake is steep but not far. I passed the turnoff to Wood Lake, and the trail looked even worse than when I did it about a decade ago. The Deer-Wood “trail” was then mostly unmaintained, and this time, right at the intersection, there was an old blowdown of trees over it.

Deer Lake is hard to see from the trail at the eastern half, and having camped there a few nights years ago, I did not make the effort to thrash over to its shore again. I turned north to continue my loop back to Kennedy Meadows, with Wire Lakes being my destination for today. This trail was well maintained, with a lot of fresh rockwork since the last time I dayhiked part of it a decade ago. Then I lost it in a couple of places, but today it was among the best trails of the trip. Amazing what some trail maintenance can do!

At 8700 the trail comes to a small unnamed lake. This is a real gem—as far as I got on my previous dayhike years ago. I stopped for pictures and lunch. For its size, one of the prettier lakes on the trip. Why no name? I continued ahead. Coming up to me from behind strode a distinguished looking white-bearded gentlemen with an ultralight pack setup. We chatted and I discovered he was my namesake, and he has read High Sierra Topix, and he seemed very experienced. He was making excellent time and heading to Toejam Lake that day, having just toured many of the cross country lakes south of Buck Meadow Creek. I encouraged him to submit a trip report, and he indicated he had a big trip in the South Sierra later this summer that “might be worthy of it.” I hope we hear from him!

Soon thereafter I came to two junctions in rapid succession—first the turnoff for Long Lake, then just barely out of sight of it the next junction---the turnoff for Wire Lakes. I headed up to Wire Lakes. The access trail had some deadfall and one faint section, but was fairly easy to follow.

I am not sure what I was expecting from Wire Lakes. I had not carefully looked at the maps and had heard some negative things about them, so I was not particularly excited. It was just that this was the last reasonable lake on the circuit before heading off to Upper Relief, Lower Relief, Relief Reservoir, and out to Kennedy Meadows. But I was pleasantly surprised. I had not realized that the trail brings you in to the highest of the three lakes, and what seemed to me a fairly pretty one. I met two people on the way out who recommended camping at the far (outlet) end and dayhiking down to the other two lakes.

I took their advice, and found a camp on a peninsula at the SW corner, with views looking back over the lake. Tent pads were scarce there, but most of the expansive camps along the NW shore have been posted as off limits for restoration. I thought the lake was lovely—not perhaps at the level of Upper Buck or Emigrant, but far prettier than my expectations.

I got camp set up early in the afternoon, and decided to do my dayhike to see the other lakes. Getting down to the second lake was a fun exercise in some micro route finding. There is a lovely pond about halfway, and you need to go to its east rather than its west to avoid getting micro cliffed out. After the pond you need to cross back to the west to avoid a marsh. I did and headed across granite to emerge well above the second lake at its midway point. It reminded me a lot of Lower Buck—a long narrow lake in a stream gorge, and I presume that it is another of Leighton’s reservoirs—though I never saw the checkdam. At this point it was getting late in the afternoon, and getting to the third lake required going around one end or the other of the second lake—and I did not think I had the time to reconnoiter a route and get back in time for my usual dinner hour. It is a shame—I am sure others here will say more—because that last lake is the biggest of the three and looks like it might be natural and quite interesting.

When I got back to camp my satellite device had a message from my wife about an imminent (but not unexpected) death in her extended family. She rarely contacts me when I am out, so I knew she could use some emotional support. I resolved I would try to get home the next day, even though the plan would normally be for two more days.

Day 5

I was not sure if I could get all the way to Kennedy Meadows from Wire Lakes on my surgically repaired ankle and knee in one day, but I thought I would give it a try. If it got unsafe and I became wobbly, I would just stop, perhaps at Relief Reservoir.

From Wire Lakes until Upper Relief Valley was some of the dullest hiking I have done. Salt Lick Meadows was a spot of green, but otherwise it was just a trudge through lodgepole forests, slight ups and downs. The trail from Salt Lick to Upper Relief is a “cutoff” that is much less well maintained than the other trails. It also went through a very mosquito infested area filled with stagnant ponds both marked and unmarked on the map. Definitely just a place to get through and not tarry.

Upper Relief Meadow, however, was beautiful and it appears somewhat dramatically as the trail comes around an outcropping. It was verdant green with its own sparkling blue ponds to the east of the trail. It was also exceptionally easy hiking—with the trail flat or slightly downhill. I was making excellent time.

Toward the end of the meadow the trail departs from Relief Creek and plunges down an alternate drainage. This was at times quite steep and I was reminded again of something that was to plague me much of the rest of the way—the multiple stone steps and granite slabs were covered with sand and gravel kicked up by the pack trains. Stepping on granite is secure, and stepping on sand or gravel is fine, but the combination was like walking on ball bearings, and in many spots I had to take extra care with foot placement. Fortunately I never fell, though there were a few slips that I arrested with my poles.

Again I marveled at how they got wagons through here, but the scenery was becoming increasingly like a western movie as I hit the contorted basalt and sage country. Coming into Lower Relief Valley—where the wagons were stuck while they sent for rescue—brought me into what looked like a different climate zone. While Upper Relief was verdant, Lower Relief alternated between impenetrable willows near the creek and sage further away. It was here that I had a good look across the creek and saw the granite expanse that rises up to Iceland Lake and Granite Dome.

Leaving Lower Relief Valley, the trail clings high to the side of a steep canyon with first little Relief Creek and then big Summit Creek far below. At the crossing of Summit creek (described in the stream crossings section) I collected more water, picked my way through the downed trees and flood damage, crossed the creek, searched for and found the trail, and headed out. I was unpleasantly surprised to discover a steep uphill to get from the crossing back up to the junction where I had begun the candy part of the lollipop.

From here I was retracing my steps. It was the middle of a warm afternoon, I had already been hiking for 8 hours, and I needed to take frequent breaks. My last rest was under some trees in Kennedy Meadows itself, before I had to walk the two miles down the road to get back to the parking lot. Even during the trudge around the reservoir, however, I was buoyed by gusts of mountain air and glimpses of sparkling water below.

I make it to my car at 4:30, having hiked fairly constantly for 10 ½ hours, and made the four hour drive home uneventfully.

Reflections:

I am very happy I did this trip. It showed me some very different territory. This was a meadow-palooza trip! Never have I seen so many large, healthy, green meadows. It was enriched by a sense of history of the place and wonderment about how the emigrants completed their trek. It was interesting geologically, seeing the interface between granite and basalt landscapes, and how different they appear. It put me in the perfect place to see the planetary alignment. And it showed me one of the prettier lakes in the Sierra (Emigrant) and took me back to one of my old favorites (Upper Buck.)

That said, I probably will not go back to Kennedy Meadows again. The placement of the parking, the long trek down a road, the slippery chewed-up trails, and the up-and-down elevations just to get “to the good stuff” is a price to pay, and I doubt I will be willing to pay it a second time. Instead, I need to figure out alternative routes into Emigrant to see what I have so far missed.

For your next visit i would suggest starting at the Gianelli trailhead. Lots of options from there. And on that next visit i hope you`ll return to the wire lakes and get out to the third, because it is a lovely spot, great campsites and eveything.

Thank you for the TR. Nice report to a area that I have been to a lot. Too bad you couldn't have gone to Snow-Bigelow-Upper Twin. I really enjoy that area.

Texan

Great trip report. There are endless routes to take in Emigrant, and you came up with a good one. The bug life you encountered is pretty typical for early season hikes there. Keeps the amateurs away!

I have a different view of horses on wilderness trails. Emigrant Wilderness has a history of horse use and is one of the few places left in the Sierra that is "horse-friendly". I am perfectly fine with that. Those who dislike horse use have plenty of other places to go. The "down" side is that horses do impact trails more than backpackers; the "up" side is that they keep a lot of trails open whereas without horse use the trails would likely become overgrown, particularly when public agencies lace budgets to maintain trails. There, of course, are some "bad" outfitters just like there are some "bad" backpackers. But most outfitters follow the rules, keep their camps clean and those I have met have been very polite and friendly.