High Sierra Topix

As I read the post on where to go for a late October trip, instead of hijacking the thread, I thought it may be useful for those considering backpacking the next few weeks if we described some of our late season trips that ended up with challenging conditions. The one below is a 35-mile/5-day trip taken in 2006, initially planned to loop from Sonora Pass (ended up changing the route). Having backpacked and climbed extensively in the Pacific NW, Canadian Rockies and Wyoming Rockies, I had dealt with similar conditions before. Flexibility was also integral to prevent a bad outcome. You really need to pre-plan several bail-out routes and bring the maps needed. This was not the worst condition I have been caught in, but pretty typical of lates season storms.

If others have similar stories, it would be informative to see how you dealt with late season surprises. If you have already written a trip report, just put the link here.


10/08/06: TH to Fremont Lake trail junction, 6.7 miles, 1630 feet gain

It is tempting to try to squeeze one more trip out of the season in the high country and in 2006 I had planned on a loop from Sonora Pass. The weather the week before was unsettled. However, the day before I left a clearing trend was forecast.

I headed to Sonora Pass, hoping to eat an early lunch at the Dardanelles store but it was closed for the season. As I pulled out of the parking area a PCT backpacker was hitch hiking. I told him I was stopping at the Kennedy Meadows lodge for something to eat. He was in no hurry to get to his car on the pass having completed the section of the PCT north of Sonora Pass. We had a pleasant lunch and he picked up the tab; I like those kinds of hitchhikers!

As we drove up the hill it was apparent that there was more snow on the PCT south than I had anticipated. When I stepped out to lift the hatch back, the icy blast sent me back into my warm car. I debated and decided that I would rather do the loop backwards starting at Leavitt Meadow. I was worried about parking my car on the pass in case the weather closed the road and about camping on the high ridge in the cold wind.

I drove to the campground and discovered the trailhead parking was moved up the road, so I drove back and parked. It was so cold so left the cotton shirt behind and remained in my light wool underwear. With the bear canister and tent I had to take my medium sized internal frame pack for the trip. I was stretching the life from my old Vasque Talus shoes by gluing the loose toe rand back on. I was prepared for light snow, but not winter. I had gaiters and my heftier Cloudveil snow pants and shell jacket, extra weight that I would not regret.

Although cold, once I crossed the bridge and started hiking, I quickly became overheated regretted leaving my cotton shirt behind. I passed a few day-hikers as the trail skirted the south side of the meadow with the aspens a brilliant yellow. Known for mosquitoes, the meadow now did not have a bug in sight. I was trying to out-run the late season darkness so set a steady pace with few rest stops. The pack was heavy, and my shoulders and hips ached. I wore a blaze orange wind jacket hoping that this would differentiate me from deer as it was the last weekend of hunting season! The trail was in good shape and although I made good time, darkness comes early in mid-October. I did not go as far as I had hoped and camped on the east side of the creek at the Fremont Lake trail junction.

The sun went down it was instantly frigid. I quickly set up my tent and then gathered firewood for dinner. I only had a medium fuel canister and planned on using fires a few nights. With a fire pit and plentiful dead wood, this was a perfect campsite. The recent snow precluded a one-match fire. As I peered down at a pile of dead matches, I was glad that I am compulsive about taking hundreds of matches on all trips. The warmth took the chill off, but I regretted getting my titanium pot sooty the first night out. I am a clean-freak and sooty pots mean sooty hands which mean sooty face and everything. I quickly ate, dove into my 5-degree sleeping bag and zipped up the fly on my little MSR Micro-Zoid tent. Long late season evenings are quite boring when alone, but I am too much of a minimalist to take enough batteries to read at night.


10/09/06: Fremont Lake trail junction to Snow Lake, 9.8 miles, 2250 feet gain

It froze at night. I got up at dawn, went to the creek for water and used the stove for breakfast. I quickly packed up with cold fingers. I was mighty happy when I left the shady thick forest and broke into the sunshine at Lower Piute Meadow. I could hear voices across the river but never saw anyone. They sounded like a hunting party. I took a break and shed clothing when a couple came up the trail. They were going to do a loop and coming back out by way of Thompson Canyon. They were experienced and had done the route before. We leapfrogged each other most of the morning. When I reached the trail junction to Dorothy Lake, I detoured downstream and crossed on logs to avoid wading.

From here to Dorothy Lake it was mostly uphill through forests with the views improving as I gained elevation. Before I reached Dorothy Lake snow from the previous storm covered the ground. My original plan of going cross-country to Mary Lake would not work with ice and snow on the talus. When I reached Dorothy Lake, a storm was obviously brewing. I decided to go over Bond Pass and camp at Snow Lake, thus intersecting my originally planned route on the PCT from Sonora Pass. The snow got deeper and the weather more threatening. I was disappointed that the north side was neither scenic nor pristine. In fact, an old mine with rusting junk litter the shores of the lake.

As much as I wanted to continue the safe choice was to camp at Snow Lake. I stumbled upon a hunter’s camp complete with a huge woodpile, fire pit, grill and boxes of gear (which I did not look into). It was beginning to snow, so I squatted on their site and used their wood building a nice warm fire while watching numerous ducks on the small pond formed by the lake outlet. I threw some wood and kindling in one of my large trash compacter plastic bags. As the snow began to fall harder, I cooked an early dinner and settled into my tent for a long night.

And what a night it was! A full-blown thunderstorm with lightning was embedded in a heavy snowstorm dropping several inches of a mix of hail, gropel and fluffy snow. Several surges of storm swept through during the night. I was awake all night beating snow off my tent since it is not designed to sluff snow. A short reprieve at four in the morning allowed me some sleep. Another wave blew through at dawn. It continued all morning. Fast moving black clouds swirled above, with a storm hitting first to the east and then to the west near Emigrant Lake.


10/10/06: Snow Lake to Cascade Creek, 4.5 miles, 450 feet gain

I pondered what to do now. Head lower to Jack Main Canyon where I could get out of the snow? But rain did not sound any more inviting. Besides, I was concerned about getting stuck having to bail out the west side to Hetch Hetchy with my car on the east side. The only reasonable choice was to play it safe and backtrack over Dorothy Pass. I was keenly depressed. I packed up, put on nearly all my clothing, zipped up my gaiters and headed back in light fluffy snow. It remained well below freezing, which was actually fortunate since my shoes were not waterproof. Several times I found myself in the thick of a brief storm. The wind never let up and it was too cold to stop so I just kept on walking. I reached Cascade Creek, just before the Leavitt Meadow- PCT trail junction in light snow.

I cleared off about 2 inches of snow to the dry forest duff below and set up my tent, gathered water and hopped into my tent. It was only 1PM in the afternoon. I was now in survival mode as snow continued and it never got above freezing. As I hunkered down and stayed dry, I wished I had someone to talk to, however, was glad that I did not have to feel guilty about making someone else suffer. If the weather cleared, I could still go out to Sonora Pass and hitch back to my car to salvage a little of my route. I cooked dinner sticking my head out the tent and uncomfortably ate inside without being able to sit up. Darkness fell and, if nothing else, I would get lots of sleep. This night the snow as light enough that I did not need to continually beat if off the tent.

10/11/06: Cascade Creek to below Fremont Lake, 6.0 miles, 510 feet gain

The next morning conditions were basically the same; overcast with light snow. I again cooked in the tent and the snow gradually let up. I packed up deciding to salvage a bit out of all this. I would take the PCT to Upper Long Lake, then if clear could head north on the PCT to Sonora Pass and hitch back to my car. Otherwise, I could drop back to Leavitt Creek and go out the same trail I had come in.

The snow had not covered the trail much, so it was easy to follow. Trees were totally covered so it was quite beautiful walking through this winter wonderland. Abundant wildlife tracks crossed the trail over the snow. When I got to Upper Long Lake, I spotted bear tracks and what I thought were cat tracks headed down the trial, so I split off left and went on the north side of Lower Long Lake and Chain Lakes. Shortly after lunch I ran into a hunter’s tracks. He was going entirely the wrong direction away from all the deer tracks I had seen earlier! I felt like an observer of the hunt, floating above in the clouds. Soon my human "Big-Foot" took off and I again was alone in the snowy wilderness. It is funny that when hiking alone, I almost made a companion out of footprints while speculating on who would fit into those tracks.

I probably was having too much fun with the tracks because I thought I missed my trail as I walked towards Fremont Lake. What a time to get lost! It was just my typical lack of confidence. I stopped when the sun finally peaked out and spent an hour drying the tent, sleeping bag and clothing and studied the map. I was within a quarter mile of the Fremont Lake and mighty relieved when I saw it within minutes. There was no dry ground, so I headed downhill to camp on a nice sunny bench about 200 feet above Leavitt Creek and enjoyed a wonderful afternoon soaking up rays. By late afternoon it had cleared completely. I explored the benches on the north side of the creek finding even better campsites up higher with splendid views of all the new snow on Tower Peak. I remained in my lower spot. After a warm meal on the last of my fuel, the sun set and the shadows fell on my site. I slithered into my sun-warmed bag and studied maps until dark.

10/12/06: Below Fremont Lake to Leavitt Meadow TH, 7.0 miles, 830 feet gain

Over the night, thick hoarfrost built on my tent! By morning my water bottles had frozen, and my site now lay in morning shade. I was in no hurry. I dozed and procrastinated, getting up closer to noon than dawn! It took an hour to dry out everything. I then waded across the creek and headed back down the trail. This time I could move slower and enjoy the views more. I reached my car late afternoon in splendid weather. As it turned out, I would have been safe to stay in and complete my trip. Yet I tend to be conservative; the Donner party keeps coming to my mind when I get in these late-season situations.

What a great report, Daisy. Thanks again for all of your posts. We've done a couple of trips later in the seaons, but we're always quite conservative when it comes to the weather. If it looks like snow, we'll bail. I'm heading up to do another trip later this week, and then some trail work next week, but so far, the weather for those seems to be pretty darn perfect. Fingers crossed.

I went over Pyra-Queen col (E to W) when 6" of new snow had just fallen. It was the first week of Oct. I raced down as the sun was setting - terrified the layer would turn to ice when the shadows reached it. If you live through idiot moves like that they become your most memorable mountain moments.

Two trips to share:

The first was a mid October trip to Lake Ruwau, just off the Bishop Pass Trail, out of South Lake.
The weather forecast was daytime in the 40s and nights at freezing, but it also stated a 30% possibility of a significant storm, dropping night temps into the low teens. There were five in the group. I was the only one who brought sufficient layers and sleep gear for the anticipated weather. The rest brought 30 degree bags and insufficient layers to be comfortable in the low 30s. One brought a small dog that mostly lived indoors, and is not accustomed to broken, rocky terrain under paw. The dog was a trooper, but by the time we made the 3 mile walk it was apparent doggie's paws were beat up. I was the only one with a stove that would function properly near freezing; the others had over canister isobutene stoves. The group made it through dinner, then everyone except me made a beeline to their tents and bags. So much for companionship!

The next day the weather over the Sierra Crest was looking poor, with substantial cloud formations getting thicker and darker by the hour. There was a light dusting of graupel snow around my sleeping bag. Everyone else had a lousy sleep, for obvious reasons, and were incredulous I slept comfortably, out in the open. Their stoves could barely get out the first cups of coffee, so we all used mine to cook breakfast. Doggie was definitely not enjoying the weather or the rocky terrain. We decided to scale back the first day activities, to topping Chocolate Peak, which loomed 600'+ higher over our camp. While en route I noted the progression of the weather, and pointed it out to the group. I also queried how they fared last night. Not so great was the consensus. We were back in camp 90 minutes later. The clouds now were dropping below the Sierra Crest, and a stratified lenticular cloud formation was forming above Chocolate Mountain. At this point I hypothetically broached to the group the issue of abandoning the trip. No one thought this was necessary. I pointed out to them my weather observations, and the worst case scenario the forecast predicted, and that their gear was not adequate for a best case scenario, let alone the first big storm of the season, AND we had only one functioning stove for 5 people. I let them refute my POV, and after another 20 minutes of the weather further deteriorating, I declared we are bugging out. Period. Whine whine whine! I had no intention of getting stuck in a predicament with a bunch of weekend warriors in over their waders. I even pulled the sympathy card for doggie, who was now shivering and visibly distressed, shaming them back to their senses. So down we went.

We had lunch in Bishop. By the time we got to town the weather had obscured most of the mountains, now capped by towering, multilayered lenticular formations. Everything was dark and foreboding, west of 395. The guy with the dog sheepishly acknowledged bugging out was the right call. The group nodded in agreement. (I no longer felt like I was the only adult in the crowd.) Dog owner is a pilot, so knows his clouds. Then adds, "I am glad I drove, I was considering flying up for the trip. I would of had to leave my plane under these circumstances". How he lived into his forties is a miracle!

It rained going south on 395 & 14 until we passed the Kennedy Meadows Junction. It ended up snowing at elevation for three days. I never went camping with flyboy again. I did encounter him on several social functions, as we shared a mutual friend who also went on this trip. I later surmised flyboy was a narcissist, which explains the thought processes that lead to him going very unprepared, and dragging his poor dog along. The other folks I have known for years. Their lack of adequate preparation I can only sum up as: who listens to me anyway? Sigh...

The second trip was not a late, shoulder season event; rather an early, spring shoulder season trip. Temperamental weather is still a factor, however.

Three of us planned to hike the Hurd Peak traverse out of South Lake, departing via the Bishop Pass trail to Margaret Lake, then over the pass east of Lake 11175, and return via the Treasure Lakes trail. The weather forecast was for near freezing, but did not call for a storm. The trail was free of snow all the way to Long Lake. Margaret Lake had about 24" of snow; fortunately some of the shoreline was ice free. Shortly after arriving at Margaret Lake one member of our party complained of altitude sickness, and within an hour was completely overcome with symptoms. We proceeded to heat water and administer fluids and carbs, and get him warm as possible while stomping tent platforms out of the snow and otherwise establishing camp. Our friend's condition continued to decline. We passed him the pipe, which brought miraculous relief, albeit he then became lackadaisical, and dozed, comfortably numb.

The next day our AMS victim was feeling somewhat better. The plan called for us to scale the pass and hang out at one of the Treasure Lakes. One in our party chose ignore my planning advice, and didn't bring crampons. The other had gear that did not fit his boots, and neither brought an axe. We made a most feeble attempt on the pass; it became clear neither had any intention of traveling over inclined, hard pack, snow terrain. Their indolence was my queue; we were staying on this side of the pass, no mater what, so we succumbed to gravity pulling us back down, to re-establish our camp. Sigh...

In the afternoon a mild weather front came over the Sierra Crest, limiting visibility to a couple of hundred yards, dropping a wet snow. My friends again ignored my advice, and later realized they could not locate gear they left out in the open in random places around camp. At least we had my stove and kitchen wares. Dinner was uneventful, it continued to snow into the evening. We dug a bench into a snow bank and passed the time under a camp light until we enjoyed all we could stand. The night added 18" of snow on the ground all the way back to the parking lot. This meant walking a route over snow that had no solid base, making each footstep an opportunity to turn an ankle, or worse. It was very slow going, the expected one hour walk turned into over three hours of tedious feeling our way down the trail. At least no one got hurt.

So this trip confronted us with three circumstances: My friend was stricken with AMS, which sapped his enthusiasm; both of my fellow campers were not properly equipped, and wasted considerable time searching for gear buried under the snow; and a weather event significantly complicated what otherwise would be a sundry walk back to the car

What both of these trips share is poor preparation by participants (bad), and choosing venues close to the trailhead, should conditions warrant a hasty retreat (good).

Ed

A dear freind of mine points out that bad trips are almost never the result of a single bad decision, but rather a serious of poor decisions, each one leading to worse scenarios...

Ed, your trips above are great examples of how this happens!

I used to lead trips for CMC (California Mountaineering Club). Leading organized groups has some liability so I felt it necessary to insist on proper gear and experience. I even checked gear at the trailhead and if they lack essential gear, they did not go. That said, I always brought some extra gear of my own to loan to if needed. It is a bit harder to do that to a group of friends, yet I am really picky about others I backpack with and tell them upfront what I expect. There is also the issue of too much gear. An overly slow member of a group can really become a hazard if the weather turns bad. If they have proven that they can carry the heavier load without slowing down the group, it is less of an issue.

Shoulder season and winter simply make what would be discomfort in summer, life-threatening.

In case you did not pick up the reference in my trip report, be sure you know if it is hunting season and wear bright clothing and have some bright colors on your pack.

viewtopic.php?f=37&t=8537&p=62199&hilit ... onn#p62198

RIP Quentinc

On a november trip into the san jacinto wilderness, weather on the first day was sunny and 70, and that was the forecast for the weekend.

I awoke sometime early in the night to the sound of the most outrageous wind I have ever heard....only it wasnt on us...but just above us. It sounded like a freight train but was calm as could be on the ground. Was quite odd.

Then later I awoke again to a storm upon us. High winds and snow. I had a 40 degree bag. Tent was destroyed, but was cold, but doable warmth wise. Morning came and the storm had passed and we hiked out. Came upon a boy scout troop of young boys and they looked pretty rattled. We were only a couple hours from the car and the storm had passed so it wasnt a big deal. Luck.

Another time on an Oct trip in a trailess east side canyon, we could not find our camp before nightfall and has to sleep out in the elements. Luckily I brought all my clothing on the day hike and was cold but ok. Weather was quite warm. But that again was just by sheer luck...that could have gone badly.

A late October trip I believe in 2009 to Coyote Flats above Bishop with a friend for a long weekend starting Friday with a drive up to the trailhead under the power lines. The weather forecast seemed okay with a 20% chance of precipitation. As we drove up the mountain the road was clear of snow and the stream crossings were low.
We got to Funnel Lake and spent 3 hrs getting unstuck from being high sided on a refrigerator size rock that neither of us saw until my friend drove off the end of it.(We were afraid of being embarrassed if someone saw it hung up) I was afraid one of us could get pinned underneath the truck but close precise communications and jack placement made it uneventful. We then made it across to the place we wanted to make camp sheltered amongst the trees and immediately struck out to fish Rocky Bottom Lake as we wasted time getting unstuck. I was fishing on an exposed peninsula and commented there was steam coming off the lake behind my friend. My eyelets and line were freezing up and decided to call it quits on the fishing as there was now fog coming off the lake behind my friend. It was getting colder, clouds rolling in and starting to spit ice pellets as we made our way back to Funnel Lake and camp.
I started a fire that the flames were about 4' tall. It felt warm and not hot from 2' away. My friend went to the truck and the thermometer said 16* it was probably 50 when we got there. We took out the table and started to prepare dinner. Each of us was looking at each other as it started to snow more heavily and stick on the grass waiting for the other to "tapout". I don't remember who did but we threw the loose equipment into the bed of the truck as we were concerned he would have to go down the hill about 75' to the shore without sliding into the lake on the slick snowy grass and make a right turn along the shore. He crept ever so slowly. By the time we got to the far side of the lake and the rock garden part to the airstrip the snow was blowing sideways and dark was about 30 mins away. I know all the trails very well; he drove as I navigated calling turns before we approached them. There was about 6-8 inched of snow on the trail and was difficult to follow as the visibility was probably 50' in the headlights. Made it into Bishop about 7.(a normally 2hr drive took 3-1/2hrs into Bishop) Had pizza and drove back to L.A. where we binge watched Bear Grylls and Survivorman all Saturday.
Would have been fine as we had good bags, shelter and plenty of food but would have been stuck there about 3-4 days before we could get out. It would make us overdue and the wife would panic. Skills affirmed, we were prepared and would have been fine if there was a means of communicating we were going to be late and things were fine. (pre Inreach days) less-prepared we would have suffered for at least the night and most of the next morning in the bitter cold and would have to wait for the snow to melt to drive on out.

Approx. October 8, 2009 or 2010, two of us parked our car at Agnew Meadows and headed out for a 3-day loop to Thousand Island and Ediza Lakes. Forecast said sun and 0% chance of precip all 3 days. First day was sunny and fine.

Next afternoon, we could sense a storm buildup. That second night, at Garnet Lake, it snowed heavily.

Next morning, it was still snowing. We bailed down the trail that directly connects Garnet Lake to the River Trail. That is a narrow, not-heavily- traveled trail. We lost the trail. [All alternative escape routes using the heavier, easier to navigate JMT would have required us to gain elevation before descending; that too seemed like a bad idea in the ongoing storm.] We had to zigzag cross-country down into the River Trail. Rocks were slick with snow. Gloves were not up to the task. Made it to the River Trial and back to my car OK.

It was not too fun driving my passenger car - with no snow tires or chains - up that Minaret Pass Road back into Mammoth. The minute we got into Mammoth, we were told that it was extremely lucky that anyone had plowed the road for us at all. Some muckity-muck stuck in Reds Meadow had managed to strongarm the city into plowing the road. Otherwise, we were told, the whole lot of us - anyone stuck at Agnew, Reds, anywhere else in that valley - would likely have had to wait out the snowmelt for 2-4 days and then drive out at our own risk. No plow.

It happened to end well for us. However:
1. "Zero percent chance of precip" forecast is worth nothing. Beyond Day 1. Especially in the fall. I have seen significant snow MANY times in the fall with a 0% precip forecast - by Day 2 or 3!
2. Are you confident you can navigate out if your trail is covered in snow and there are no tracks?
3. If it snows and no one comes to plow the road, can you drive out? Are you sure of that? What is the distance and highest altitude of the drive out? How likely will the road be plowed? How likely is it that the road will be pretty dangerous even if plowed? Are you prepared to camp out next to your car for a few days to wait it out?
4. Good winter gloves. Shoes with good traction. Gaiters. Tire chains. Don't bring your flimsiest tent. etc.