Wednesday, September 7, 2016 - Back to Yosemite Valley

Although the evening was warm, morning was back to its cold old tricks. We started the 2000’ climb out of Virginia Canyon with fleece and puffy coats on.  500’ up the slope to Soldier Lake the morning sun’s rays caught us.  We were soon stripping off layers, back to our daily uniform of shorts and a light shirt.

Soldier Lake is nestled in a glacial cirque.  The last 500’ of climbing to its shores is over remarkable, solid slabs of granite. The glacial polish glistened in the low morning sun as we worked our way across this tilted, massive, granite counter top.

We tested the waters of Soldier Lake for fish, but came away skunked. This was our last lake of the route. We packed our telescoping poles away and began the 300’ climb to Stanton Pass. 

Stanton Pass is the last pass with a headwall.  We found getting up over it a bit troublesome as vertical stretches of granite repelled us, forcing us to negotiate ledges and ramps to reach the pass. At one point, I grabbed a solid looking, ottoman sized boulder for a handhold and pulled it off the mountain and into my lap.  Luckily, my feet were well situated and I was able to bear its weight while I considered how to escape its crushing weight. With no one below, I rotated my thighs and hips, dumping the boulder off my lap and over an eight foot precipice.

The descent of the north side traverses to the left, and although imposing looking, we easily descended the headwall to the requisite boulder field below. This field was shorter than most, and soon we were rounding the ridge that defines the cirque of Stanton Pass and dropping into the broad U-shaped glacial valley of Spiller Creek. Two miles and 600 vertical feet up this valley of low ground cover lay our last pass of the route, Horse Creek Pass. From below this pass seems broad and rounded, but upon entering it we found it rocky, deeply V shaped and full of boulders.

The descent from Horse Creek Pass to Twin Lakes took a few hours. There is a severe “use” trail to follow. Staying on it allowed us to descend without contending with the 6 ft high willow snarling the valley. We picked up the forest service trail coming out of Twin Lakes a couple miles up from the lakes and followed it to the Mono Resort located at the end of the trail.

Our plan was to walk through the resort, stopping for a quick snack at the store and then park ourselves outside the resort, extend our thumbs, and hitch a ride to Bridgeport.  From there, we assumed we could easily hitch a ride from Bridgeport to Lee Vining along highway 395, and from there catch a ride up to Tuolumne Meadows. What we failed to consider is Mono Resort is at the end of a dead end road. This camping area has a checkout time of 11:00am. We arrived outside the gates at 3:00pm.  After an hour, only three cars had left the resort. The possibility of catching a ride was looking slim.

There is no cell service in the area.  We decided to abandon our territory on the side of the road and reenter the resort compound to avail ourselves of their pay phones, call Barb in Yosemite Valley, and have her come get us. We wasted $3.00 in quarters attempting to reach Barb. Our pay phone skills were rusty.

We were presented with a problem. Cell service in the Valley is spotty. The chance of Sally or Barb picking up during one of our calls was near zero.  If we left a message with the pay phone number to call us back at, we couldn’t leave the phone to try hitching a ride.  We decided to call Jeff.  We knew he would pick up. We would have him try to get a hold of the ladies every 10 minutes while Craig and I continued to try for a ride.  

Our communication plan put into operation, we walked back toward the resort entrance. As we did, I noticed a big yellow school bus dropping a child off at one of the resort residences.  As he passed by us, I called up to the driver, asking if he could give us a ride to Bridgeport. Getting to Bridgeport was paramount.  Once there, we were on a main road and felt sure to get a ride the rest of the way. He yelled back, “I’m a school bus.  I can’t give rides!” and drove away.  When he was about 50 feet away, the brake lights came on and I saw his arm extending from his window, waving us forward. He leaned out the window and said, “Come on, get on board.  I don’t have any kids and I can drop you at the old hospital site on the outskirts of town.”

We scrambled up the stairs like first graders anxious to get to school to see our friends and we were off. We enjoyed getting to know the driver, a man in his mid to late 30s as we traveled the 15 miles to Bridgeport, feeling fancy in our cool school bus ride.

Once we were dropped off, we walked the two blocks to 395 and decided to walk to the far end of town to catch a ride as people left the town. Along the way, we stopped at a gas station to use the bathroom. This necessitated us buying a few items, as the restroom was for customers only and guarded by a stern looking 60’s something woman. I chatted her up while Craig was in the bathroom and she softened her demeanor when she discovered that although we were filthy and stinky from 25 days on the trail, we were okay company.

Twenty minutes later, as we were walking in front of the pumps on our way back to the edge of town. A man in his mid-thirties was just finishing his fill-up.  We got to talking and soon discovered he was a climbing guide driving to Mt. Whitney to lead a climb.  He said his van was too stuffed with gear to afford us room for a ride, wished us well and went in to settle with the attendant we had just left.

We were just reaching the outskirts of town, getting mentally prepared for the hundreds of rejections we were expecting to encounter before someone stopped to give us a ride, when he passed us and pulled to the shoulder a 100’ ahead.  

We jogged up to his van.  He said he rearranged his gear and now had room.  We thanked him and loaded in, Craig and the packs in the back seat, me in the front.  

We had a delightful drive to Lee Vining, discussing climbing, guiding and other topics.  He dropped us at the intersection of 395 and 120.  We walked up the hill past the Mobil and set up hitch hiking shop, camp three. As we walked up the hill we noticed a dirty, red, Dodge van on the shoulder about 100 yards away.  It looked abandoned, so we ignored it and began our thumb exercises. 

Craig had grabbed a couple of pieces of charcoal from the fire pit last night to use as Magic Markers to make a sign on his Tyvek. We carefully, and neatly, scribed “Yosemite”, then draped the sign over a trekking pole to hold it rigid and settled into a litany of rejections as the cars sped past.  After about 45 minutes, we heard a voice behind us.  A young man, mid 20’s in age, had run down from the derelict van and was offering us a ride.  We walked back to his van. It turned out to be surprisingly nice under the layers of dust and dirt, although upon entering it we were assaulted with the smell of marijuana. I introduced us, and he said his name was Chris. 

As we pulled away, he told us he was sitting on the shoulder checking emails and texting before going into the park, the land of sketchy cell service, at best. We told Chris we needed to get to Tuolumne. From there Barb would pick us up, or we could ride the shuttle to Olmsted Point and hike the 10 miles to the Valley. Chris was headed to the Valley.  We gleefully agreed to accompany him the whole way.

Chris is a dirtbag rock climber.  The van we were riding in is his home. He was returning to the Valley to join some friends in a climb on the west side of El Cap. He was hoping to catchup with them at the base of the wall after dark tonight, or jug up a couple of fixed lines to their camp somewhere on the wall. He helps run a marijuana farm west of Tahoe, accounting for his income. We found his driving was fast!  Of all the passes, boulder fields, stream crossings, etc of the SHR, this was our most dangerous 2 hours.  But, we survived, and made a new friend as we discussed climbing and weed.

We arrived in the Valley a little after dark. Chris was headed for El Cap bridge. Craig had texted Barb to meet us at the bridge, but neglected to say which bridge in his first text. Luckily, the second one specifying El Cap Bridge got through. Chris’ climbing buddies were sorting gear at the bridge when we arrived. We chatted a few minutes, met a man our age preparing for a wall climb, describing to us how his truck and camper caught on fire three times getting to the Valley. Providence was smiling on us.  Sally and Barb arrived just as we were getting uncomfortable with the verbal assault we were receiving. Their arrival was our deliverance and we scooted away to the van parked 100 yards down the road on the shoulder.

And so, the high route adventure came to an end in a most glorious way.  I thoroughly enjoy hitch hiking.  I have met very kind, quirky, and interesting people with every ride I have received. Nearly every ride is from a member of the hiking/climbing community. They know best the need of a ride back to a car or to a trailhead as they have been in the situation before.  They can see through the filth of multiple days of trail dirt to the energized soul hiding within.

This is my third summer in retirement.  The first saw us doing the national parks of the desert southwest (2013). The second, the PCT (2014). 2015 was riding the length of the Rhine River, Switzerland to the Netherlands.  This year, the Sierra High Route and a couple weeks in Yosemite Valley. Now, I cannot imagine a summer slipping by without an out-of-the-car-on-our-feet-or-bike-adventure. We are talking about a complete PCT or CDT next year, or Italy and a ride down the Elbe or Danube river. We have a winter to plan and dream.

Tuesday, September 6, 2016 - Two Pass Day

Getting up and ready to walk has become rote.  It takes us about 45 minutes to cook and eat breakfast, pack and start walking, meaning we are on the road by 7:00 am most days.  Today was one of those.  Today, we climbed up the east ridge of Mt. Conness, then dropped down the other side to a series of small lakes left in pockets in the bedrock granite after the last ice age, then traversed a bit and headed up over Sky Pilot Pass, named for its airy altitude and the flowers that populate its slopes, the blue Sky Pilot.

Climbing the south side of Conness’s east ridge is straight forward, just a walk up through rocks, willows, meadows and boulders. Reaching the top can bring a shock, because the north side is a vertical cliff for 300-400 feet, followed with 300-400 feet of steep talus.  Luckily, by turning west and climbing another 300 vertical feet a rounded ridge running north presents itself, giving easy walking down to the valleys on the north side.

We tried our luck fishing in the lakes on the north side of the east ridge of Mt. Conness, but with not even a bite. We packed our poles and headed up for Sky Pilot Pass.  My memory is of a nasty scree slope up to the top and a nasty scree slope down the other side.The key word here is nasty. 

The climb up the south side was as I remembered, nasty scree.  But, it went quick and we soon topped out.  The north side provided two choices for the descent.  In 2010, we turned east out of the notch that is the pass and worked our way down some talus that was memorable for its nastiness.  This year, I noticed a well trod “use” trail going west and decided to explore it as an alternative way of getting off the pass.  Once we had descended 30 vertical feet I knew this what not a good decision. We found ourselves in loose, unstable dirt and talus that formed mini landslides with each foot placement.  It was steep! With me below Craig on the slope, we zig zagged our way down, mindful to avoid getting directly below Craig due to the copious rockfall. One hundred and fifty vertical feet of this stuff was more than enough to endure, and thankfully, it ended, depositing us on a snowfield.

The notch that is Sky Pilot Pass is situated where white granitic rock meets dark metamorphic rock. The valley that stretches north from the pass is composed of white rock on the west side and black on the east, meeting in the exact bottom of this v-shaped, narrow gully. It stretches on for a mile or so in this way. The color is not the only remarkable aspect to this stretch of the high route. It is a boulder strewn valley, testing the endurance of our knees as we hop from rock to rock as we descend to Shepherd Lake, searching for dirt to descend in a sea of boulders.

Shepherd Lake is above tree line. Except for a few white bark pines on the north shore, it is surrounded by a small margin of meadow in the sea of boulders. We took shelter from the punishing wind amongst the pines, spread our sleeping pads and lay down for an afternoon nap.

After an hour, we continued our descent, picking our way carefully down the slope, avoiding the swaths of entangling willow bushes that lined the bottom of the draw. Soon, we were in a forest of tall lodgepole pines, walking through waist deep grasses and spent lupines.

Finally, we hit the bottom of Virginia Canyon, marked by Virginia Creek. We stumbled onto a horseman’s camp, marked by big fire pits and sawn tree logs for stools. The weather was warmer than it had been for a few days and we enjoyed relaxing in the afternoon sun without being bundled in down. 

I quickly picked a place to lay my sleeping pad and started to relax. After a few minutes flat on my back staring up at the sky I began to notice how many dead trees were standing in the campsite, including one leaning over the top of me. I reconsidered my bedsite, and moved to a place out of danger.

I handed Craig my iPhone about dark, along with my earbuds, and he enjoyed the movie “Fury” as the darkness descended and the stars fought with the light of the moon to show themselves. Our last glorious night of the high route.

Monday, September 5, 2016 - The Beginning of the End

“Be glad it happened, not sad it's ending.”

This morning we started the last leg of this adventure.  We packed four days of food, but I think we will do this last part in three days. We are up and out by 6:45 am after Craig has a breakfast of oatmeal and almonds and I eat my ReNola, a nut based granola.  Yummy!  

There were a lot of people in the backpackers campground last night, and most are up and moving by the time we walk down the hill and out to the highway, heading east. For the first mile or so we are back on the horse highway, ankle deep in dust.  But, right before the Tuolumne High Sierra Camp we cross the river and where the horses turn right to go to Vogelsang, we turn left and head up the trail that parallels the highway towards Gaylor Lakes.  It was super cold at the backpacker’s campground, but now that we have climbed a little out of the meadow, the temperature is warming and we remove fleece and hats. We cross the highway, angling northeast on the trail, although the trail will end soon and we will walk across the meadows above lower Gaylor Lakes to the upper Gaylor Lakes. At one point I drift too far left and get us snarled in the willows that line the area around a now dry stream bed, but a correction to the right and we are back in open meadow. The sun is bright, the sky blue, not a cloud in the sky as we pickup the trail to upper Gaylor Lakes that comes from Tioga Pass. As we walk by the first Gaylor Lake we decide to answer the question of this trip, “I wonder if there are any fish in that lake?”

It only took about 20-30 minutes to land 4 10-11 inch Golden Trout for dinner.  A retired man named Phil stopped to chat while we were fishing.  Kind man from Grass Valley up by Tahoe out for a few days of day hiking.

After cleaning them, we sat down for lunch.  Up the hill after lunch we came upon the “Great Sierra Silver Mine” left over from late last century, a collection of rock walls that used to support timber frame roofs and mine shafts.  We headed north, traversing downward toward Green Treble Lake for the night. 

When we arrived at the lake we rested for a few minutes, then Craig went down for a swim.  I joined him a few minutes later and washed my legs, soaked my feet and generally cleaned up a bit.

Fish, rice and chicken for dinner.  The stars were particularly bright tonight, which is saying something, because they are amazing every night.

With the distance we made today, we will finish the day after tomorrow, a bittersweet thought.  Living out here is so amazing, yet my left knee is constantly swollen from the rock hopping and negotiating the terrain. It is not painful, but it does let me know it is being pushed to its limit.  My right ankle and foot are still kind of gimpy, collapsing every once in a while.  So far, not at a critical time. 

It has been 22 days.  Amazing. Beautiful. Challenging. Awe inspiring. All good things must end, or so “they” say.  Why is that?

Sunday, September 4, 2016 - Wow! Is it Cold!

When we were in Mammoth, we had seen in the weather forecasts that there was a cooling trend predicted. They had also said it would be cloudy on Saturday and they had nailed that. This morning we woke to very cold temperatures- the kind that inspire you to stay in your sleeping bag, indefinitely. We did not have a thermometer, but there was no ice in our water bottle so we assumed it was 33°. 

We had decided last night to just eat Pro Bars for breakfast and forego cooking because we were anxious to get moving quickly, as today was the day we would hike into Tuolumne Meadows with its grill and store full of food. 

Once up, packed and moving we began to see frost on the vegetation in the meadows and ice on the margins of streams. Our first goal was to cross over  10,800' Vogelsang Pass, then drop down to the Vogelsang High Sierra Camp. Today is a total on-trail day. 

We bested Vogelsang Pass just as the rising sun hit it. Dropping down from the pass puts you in the cirque that contains Vogelsang Lake. We rounded the lake, crossed the outlet, and headed toward the High Sierra Camp. As we did, I knew Half Dome would come into view, and with it, cell service. It was still quite early, 7:30 am, so we sent a few texts, checked the weather and downloaded emails, then headed for the high camp. 

Craig had not been to any of the six high camps, so we stopped in, used the composting toilets and wandered into the dining room, hoping we could buy a few candy bars, but none of the staff were present. We left the dining room and prepared our packs to leave. 

It has been a while since I hiked the trail down from Vogelsang, the Rafferty Creek Trail. I knew I detested it, but as the memories fade, so do the details. It did not take but ten minutes on this seven mile long travesty of a trail to remind me why I so dislike it. You see, this is the trail the pack trains use to haul all the bedding, food, propane and other items to the Vogelsang High Sierra Camp. These daily pack trains (we saw four-six mule trains going up today as we came down) churn and grind the dirt and rock of the trail into fine dust, loosen and knock rocks onto the trail (the lead horse is actually on the trail, the string of mules behind wander as far afield as there leads will let them) and poop all over the trail. Hiking down the trail means ankle deep dust, dodging rocks from fist sized to five gallon bucket sized and stepping on and around their excrement. I had forgotten these details until my ten minutes had elapsed. Then, I had to endure the next three hours as we descended the trail. Oh, did I mention the "trail" is six to eight feet wide and in some places a ditch 3 feet deep? After the first mile it is on the bottom of a wide valley with no views. Enough said.  It is not a pleasant trail. 

We got to the Tuolumne Campground about 12:30 pm and found ranger Brian in the booth at the entrance to the campground. We spent a few minutes catching up, then hiked to the store. 2 Bananas, a bag of Chili Cheese Fritos, an Ice Cream Sandwich, 3 Gatoraides, a hamburger from the grill, a brownie and a bag of mini Oreos quenched my hunger. 

While in the store, I asked the cashier if Ron was going to open the Post Office (it is Sunday of Labor Day Weekend). He said yes and wandered into the back of the this tent building to summon Ron.  Ron asked if I was just picking up a box and if I had ID. My answer to both questions were “yes”.  He unlocked the small room that is dedicated to the post office and emerged with my resupply box.

Craig and I relaxed on the picnic tables in the sun to the west of the store.  The sun was warm, but a cold wind was blowing strongly from the west.  The adjacent bathroom building helped block the wind, but it was still a fleece-on afternoon. 

Craig walked up to the backcountry permit office to retrieve his resupply box that Barb and Sally had put in a bear box as they drove back to the Valley from Mammoth the week before.  Once he returned we sorted food for the last four days of our trip and put what we needed in our bear canisters.  It was nice to have plenty of room in the canisters after cramming them full for the previous sections of the trip.  Four days of food is not much.

We were loath to walk to the backpackers campground. It is in the shade and we were fearful it would be colder than the sun soaked area near the store. Once we got there, we found the wind to be nearly nonexistent in the trees and the comfort level about the same.

We erected the tarp, hoping it would help keep the chill off a little. We spread our ground tarps on the dusty ground, hoping they would keep us isolated from the clingy dirt that is typical of an overused camping area and settled in for the night.

Saturday, September 3, 2016 - No Fish

Both Craig and I were awake at 5:45. The morning sunrise over the jagged Minarets promised to be spectacular. The nice thing was, we didn't need to even get out of our bags to see it. Craig got his stoves going for breakfast while I ate granola and milk as the sky brightened, then burst into color behind the Minarets. We were on our way by a few minutes after 6:30 am. 

We approached Martin's tent. He was awake and staring out the side door at the sunrise as we approached. He commented on our early departure. We explained it is what we do and we would see him later in the day when he passed us. 

We made Blue Lake Pass by 7:25 am, amazed to see so many clouds in the sky this early in the morning. As we crossed over the pass, we left the Ansel Adams Wilderness and entered Yosemite National Park. A slight wind and cool temperatures inspired us to begin descending the north side of the pass. Once off the steep head wall, we began a  two mile walk across a high mountain plateau dotted with trees, awash with wildflower a gone to seed at this late date, boulders, heathers and granitic slabs. At the far edge of this broad flat expanse was the Isberg Pass trail. Once we picked it up, we would be on trail the next 18 miles to Tuolumne Meadows. 

When we reached the far edge the ground began to drop off. The trail was below us on the side of the hill. We checked the map and GPS and continued down the hill, scanning for the trail. We avoided rocky areas and stuck to sandy soils. We might miss the trail in the rocky areas. We dropped below the elevation the trail was at. This began to worry us a bit. Did we miss the trail?  Not possible!  We contemplated retracing our steps to look for it,but realized that was not rational. We would have seen it had we crossed it. We continued down hill and in a few minutes came upon it. As we had descended I had kept us traversing to the right, putting us on the brink of the drop into the Lyell Fork of the Merced River. When we hit the trail, we turned right onto it and immediately began descending the 900' down to the river. 

There are no lakes on this section of the route.  This gave us no excuses to stop, so we just motored along the trail, surprised Martin had not caught us yet.  From past experience hiking in this area of the park I had found anytime you can see Half Dome, you will have cell service. There are no cell towers on the top of Half Dome, so it doesn't really make sense, but most of the time it is true. After about eight miles the trail drops down to Lewis Creek. Just as it drops over the brink to begin its descent, Half Dome is visible. I switched my phone off airplane mode and sure enough, cell service. I called Sally, but the signal was so weak that I could hear her but she could not hear me. I sent a few texts instead. 

Craig and I stopped for lunch in this area to take advantage of the service, such as it is. As we ate, the signal drifted in and out. We were able to make a few contacts, read some texts and glance at some emails. 

After lunch we continued down to Lewis Creek then up the trail toward Vogelsang Pass. After a few miles we agreed it was time to stop and set up camp. We found a wonderful campsite and were soon laying around recouperating and relaxing, although the temperatures were cold and a breeze made it seem colder still. There were clouds in the sky and we debated as to whether to set up the tarp. We decided to sleep out, as it appeared the clouds we thinning. We made about 12 miles this day. Amazing what can happen when you don't stop at every lake to fish!

Friday, September 2, 2016 - Exhausted

We woke in our cozy stand of Lodgepole Pines at the usual time, 6:00 am. We were on our way by 7:00 am. The solitude of our campsite was shattered when we walked 50' and looked over a shelf to see a tent pitched, 50' below where we had spent the night. Up to this point, we had assumed we had the place to ourselves. It ruined that sense of remoteness. 

Someone had tried to mine in this area sometime in the distant past. There was a few pieces of machinery lying around and a notch blasted in the side of a cliff with tailings below. We found the remnants of the trail they had built to get their mules up to the site, and followed it down through a cleft in the cliff wall. We traversed at the base of the cliff towards the first of the Twin Island Lakes. As we were on the west side of the range, all was still in shadow, a nice cool time to move. 

Twin Island Lakes are two lakes about two hundred yards a part, the second, or western most, 100 vertical feet higher. We clambered over solid ribs of glacial smoothed and striated bedrock, wound between them on carpets of heather and soon were at the eastern most lake, about mid-lake. We dropped to lake level after trying to traverse west up high and getting cliffed out. Once down at the lake level we did whatever always do, fish. We caught four as we moved along the shoreline. All we beautiful Rainbow Trout. We cleaned them right there and slid them into our ziplock bag dedicated to fish, the "fish bag". 

We climbed up to the other lake and repeated the process, pulling in another four fish. With those cleaned and bagged, we began the cross country route that would culminate with us in Bench Canyon, a beautiful, U-shaped, glacier carved valley that Ansel Adams called his favorite. 

We rounded the ridge, turning from south to west, then traversed diagonally upward for about a mile to 10,200' and a small lake. Both of us were struggling today. Tired. Lethargic. Every step a push. Was it the two big previous days?  Left over fatigue from the 17 mile day to see Sally in Mammoth Lakes? Being 62?whaterver the cause, we made lots of excuses to stop during the day. This time, the lake seemed to be crying out for someone to swim in it. We obliged. 

By now it was lunch time. We both were eating burrito wraps with cheese. But, with eight trout in my pack it seemed logical to fry a few up and have fish tacos. They were delicious. 

With no further excuses to delay us, we started off again. The route took us uphill to the north, then west. Being adverse to too much uphill today, we turned west too soon and began descending not into Bench Canyon, but into the North fork of the San Jochin River. We caught our error before we had lost too much elevation, and traversed upward 300' to the top of the dark bluff. From here we could look down into Bench Canyon, with its lazy stream ambling over solid slabs of granite on the bottom of the broad U-shaped valley, it's Lodgepole Pine groves and its abundant meadows. We dropped the 400' into the canyon, dropped our packs and lay down on the smooth granite slabs, listening to the soft babble of the steam nearby. After our break, we struggled up the valley, wheezing and puffing as we once again cleared the 10,000' mark. We were tempted by a few comfy looking camping opportunities, but knew we wanted to make it to Blue Lakes at 10,500', the glacial tarns at the head of the valley, just below the head wall and the pass. We struggled up the last few hundred feet to the lake, then quickly unfurled our sleeping pads and lay down, hoping to gather some strength. It was 2:55 pm. 

After an hour, Craig grabbed his fishing pole to see if there were any fish. I wrote in my blog, maintaining my horizontal position. The sun was warm with a cool wind blowing, but I was low enough to the ground that the wind missed me, mostly. 

Craig returned with stories of big fish. He said he had landed an 11" Rainbow, but released it due to the six fish I already had in the fish bag. I thought more fish was better. After a half an hour, we both returned to the lake. We caught fish, but most were 8-9". We threw them back. Finally, I hooked into something big!  How big? I could make this a great fish story, but suffice it to say, he broke my line. That was my bad, I had the drag too tight. After tying on a new swivel and lure, I tried to catch the fish that stole my gear. In the process I hooked a 12" Golden Trout.  

It was now 6:30 pm, so we wandered back to camp and began frying our eight fish. It took the better part of an hour to get them cooked, but what a great supplement to our dinner. 

While I was finishing up some Alfredo noodles just before dark, a man suddenly appeared in our camping area. He had been high tailing it the canyon to get to this lake for the night. His name was Martin. He was from Switzerland. He had come Minaret Lake, covering in one day that which had taken us two. He headed for the other end of the lake to camp and we settled in for the night. 

It was a little disappointing to be caught by someone moving that much faster than us, but then again, we had spent time fishing every lake we had come to, not just racing through this incredible wilderness. I slept well. 

Thursday, September 1, 2016 - Cliffed Out

Deadhorse lake was less than half a mile away and only 200' above us. It met the profile of a lake that might contain big fish. Isolated. Rarely visited. 

We were up at 6:15 am, a quick breakfast, then up to the lake. Lots of fish. All small. We ended up with six guppies that swallowed the hook so far we couldn't release them. We strolled back to camp, put the fish in our "fish bag" (a gallon sized ziplock) and stowed them in my pack. 

We quickly reached Minaret Lake. Craig's lure had gotten hooked in his pack. While he extricated it, I hooked 5 fish in 7 casts, keeping one.  By the time he was ready, the fish had disappeared. 

We climbed up to Cecile Lake. Here we met two kids that had been climbing. While out for the day the wind had blown their tent into the lake, shredding it in the process. Some kind soul had pulled it from the lake, along with their sleeping bags and other gear in the tent and had laid it out to dry with rocks on them to keep them from blowing away again. 

We descended to Iceberg Lake, then down close to Ediza before we started the climb up toward Nydiver Lakes. We stopped in the shade of a thicket of Lodgepole Pines beside a cascading stream for lunch before we began the 1000'+ climb to Whitebark Pass above Nydiver Lakes. 

The route traverses above Garnet Lake and Thousand Island Lake, crossing two passes to do so.

It was now decision time. Do we continue on, climbing over 11,200' Glacier Pass and camp on the west side of the range, or save the climb for morning and camp on the east side of the pass. It was nearly 3:30 pm, and although we had said just yesterday that stopping by 3:30 pm was our goal, we decided to climb over the pass to the west side, a nice sunset being our motivation. Climbing the pass was straightforward, just a lot of meadow climbing and boulder hopping. However, descending the west side is tricky and magnificent. Two lakes, Catherine and an unnamed smaller one sit right at the pass. The pass lies at the foot of spectacular mountains Ritter and Banner, both 13,000+ footers. The route follows the outlet of Catherine that flows into the other lake that then begins a series of cascades over glacial scoured and polished granitic bedrock. Pockets of flowers and grasses are tucked in next to waterfalls and swift courses of the stream as it tumbles downward into the North Fork of the San Jochin River valley, 4000' below. The tricky part is two cliffs, one 300' high and one 500' high that the stream cascades over, yet leaves no place for a traveler to descend. You have to traverse way to the right, like a quarter to half mile before you come to an angling valley that delivers you to the base of the cliffs. We missed the angling valley and ended up down climbing two very large and very steep cliffs. Both had ample hand and footholds so that even with our full packs we felt secure, but looking down the two hundred foot cliff and descending it made for a fun and exciting route. 

By the time we reached the bottom and worked our way through the meadows down to a cozy stand of Lodgepole pines it was well after 6:00 pm and we were beat. I had remembered this place from 2010 and thought it would be an awesome place to camp, right next to the rushing stream, tucked into the trees. 

We fried up our fish from the morning catch, cooked dinner and did our nightly chores and were soon fast asleep. 

Wednesday, August 31, 2016 - Nancy is a B*tch

Our goal for the day is Minaret Lake. There is a trail that goes right to it. But, the high route takes a circuitous route up, first eight miles of trail to Superior Lake and then up and over Nancy Pass followed by a long declining traverse into a thick stand of Red Fir then up to the lake. I remember Nancy Pass as unenjoyable from 2010. Today we decided she is a downright b*tch. 

I started the day excited to be on the trail to Lake Superior. I had finished a book this year call "Stopping the Road", a story about the national effort to build the freeway system in the late 50s and early 60 that created the interstate system we have today and the fight to stop I-70 from piercing the heart of the Sierra.  Interstate 70 out of Baltimore was to continue through Salt Lake City and through the heart of the Sierra, right through the town of Mammoth down to Fresno. A battle ensued. Many did not want the road cutting the JMT, the longest trail in the US not cut by a road at 220 miles. They saw the Sierra wilderness as a resource all its own and the town of Mammoth Lakes did not want to become a roadside town on an noisy interstate. Plus, the road would be closed by snow six to eight months a year due to its two 9000' passes.  The commercial interests of the Central Valley of California saw a way to move there products to a wider market. The battle continued, swinging back and forth until then Governor Ronald Reagan working with the Nixon administration stopped the road. To make sure it was never built the Ansel Adams Wilderness Area was created, closing the corridor the road might have taken. To add dramatic flair to the deed, Governor Reagan, along with an entourage of aides, reporters and security personnel rode on horseback up the same trail Craig and I were on today, to Summit Meadows, about 10 miles in and overlooking the area the road would defile and announced the dismissal of the road. That is why, to this day, the JMT is so beloved, not just for the scenery, but for its remoteness. 

I remembered this section of trail as hot, so I advised Craig we rise early and get as far as we could before the heat of the day. We rose at 5:45 am, in the early morning light, quietly packed, then ate the circular Almond Bear Claw pastry we had brought with us from Schat's Bakery in Mammoth. 

The trail out of the Reds Meadow campground goes through Devils Postpile National Monument. Craig and I took the high trail on top of the basaltic columns so he could see their glacial polished surfaces. Devils Postpile is "just" another example of basaltic columns, except, after the columns were formed, a glacier ran across the tops and sheared them off level and ground them glassy smooth. Walking on the top is like walking on a giant polished floor of hexagonal basalt. It is pretty unique. 

We got on our trail, the Summit Meadows Trail, and followed it for 8 miles, to Superior Lake. My fears of a hot climb were unfounded, clouds flew in front of the sun, driven by a fierce wind we were buffetted by on the ground. 

We sat down at the lake for lunch. Above us loomed Nancy Pass, at the top of a steep slope of fine grained boulders, willow, sage brush, white pines and scree. 

We finished lunch and started up. It was only about 900 vertical feet up, but every step is earned, some twice, due to sliding back down on the scree. 

On top of the pass a great view to the north reveals the jagged range known as the Minarets. Directly below us, the slope fell away vertically, a slope made of crumbling rock and loose talus punctuated by solid rock ribs running down the slope. 

We wound down one of the ribs, finding a route off it onto the talus. We then traversed downward and northwest in the direction of Minaret Lake, still hidden by the namesake pinnacle blocking our view, The Minaret. The talus was loose, the rock ribs hid small cliffs that forced us up or down, and the slope went on for what seemed like forever. 

We finally reached the end of the talus traverse only to fight 6' high willow bushes lining the stream beds. A short climb up a slope dotted with magnificent red firs and we dropped into a small flat bowl with a dancing stream and some lakelets. We were reading the map to ascertain where we went next, when it struck me, "What's the hurry?  Why not just stay here?"  Craig agreed. We both were soon unpacking and relaxing. Craig explored the bowl while I vegged. Upon his return, I did a little exploring myself, and found cell service from Mammoth. While out and about the sun dipped below the peaks to the west of our camp. We decided to move to the other side of the bowl, hoping to get more sun. For our effort, we gained about ten minutes. 

Pooped, we lay in our sleeping bags, cooked dinner and relaxed. We thought about climbing up to Deadhorse Lake just above us, a half mile and 200' up, to try the fishing there, but we decided to postpone that adventure until first thing in the morning. Our total distance for the day was ten miles, eight on trail and two up and over Nancy Pass. The last two were a b*tch. 

Tuesday, August 30, 2016 - Chores

Much as I'd like to call today a zero day, it had too many chores to earn that title. I must admit, I was bone weary in the morning from the 17 mile romp of the day before. After a morning shower (what luxury!) we met the Craig and Barb and went to the lobby for breakfast. Back to the rooms to organize food for the next leg of the high route, from Mammoth to Tuolumne Meadows. Since Craig had given me food to get me through the second leg (because they forgot to bring my food from Sally's campsite to the food drop) we were not sure if he had enough. Sorting through his supplies we discovered he had ample rations to finish the third and fourth legs. Sally had mailed my resupply box of food from Yosemite Valley, maps and fuel (Yikes!! She didn't realize I had alcohol fuel in my resupply box when she mailed it) to the Mammoth Post Office and had picked up there while Craig and I hiked out yesterday. I was all set with food. 

We checked out of the hotel and drove to the laundromat to wash our hiking clothes. First washing, other than hand washing on the trail, in two weeks. While the clothes washed, Craig and I tried to anticipate everything I would need to do the front brakes on the van. The front pads failed on Sally's drive back from dropping us off at Road's End. She made it to the Valley, but the shop told her not to drive it after they diagnosed the problem. I had rotors, pads, wheel bearings and King nuts shipped from Van-Cafe to Sally in the Valley. I bought bearing grease, brake fluid, brake cleaner, etc at the local auto parts stores in Mammoth and put them in Barb's van so I would have them in the Valley when I finished the high route and could redo the VW brakes. Trips to both thrift stores for missing or improved gear rounded out the early afternoon. 

We treated the Oens to dinner at the Base Camp Cafe in Mammoth, then stopped at Vons for food and Schats bakery for goodies. Finally, it was time to part. We drove to the ski resort where Sally and Barb dropped Craig and I at the bus depot. The only way to get to Reds Meadow, the start point of the next section of the high route, from Mammoth, is by bus. The road down to Reds is only one lane for a few miles so the Forest Service instituted a bus only service due to traffic issues. 

We boarded the bus and Sally and Barb headed back to Yosemite Valley. We exited the bus at stop eight, walked the quarter mile to the campground and slept in the group site set aside for backpackers. We shared the site with about 10 other parties, all JMT hikers. Tomorrow, we are back on route. 

Monday, August 29, 2016 - Mammoth

After talking to our wives on the phone from our ledge at Bighorn Pass last night,  Craig and I decided sleeping next to them would be preferable to sleeping next to each other. The question was, could we make it to Mammoth, where they were, in a day?

Sally got to Mammoth last night, Sunday night, about 9:30 pm and had to catch the bus back to Yosemite Valley at 8:00 am Tuesday morning. If I was going to get the chance to see her, I would have to get to Mammoth today, Monday. We studied our maps and estimated the distance to Mammoth. We had about 4 miles of cross country work to do. After that we had a mile of trail down Fish Creek until it intersected the John Muir Trail, then six miles of the JMT from Tullys Hole to Duck Lake. Then it got sketchy. We did not have a way of finding the distance from the JMT-Duck Lake intersection to the Duck Lake trailhead. By comparing known distances on the map to this unknown, we figured it to be an additional six to eight miles. Total miles to cover: 16 or 18 miles. No problem! I did 20's two years ago on the PCT, and we just had a zero day the day before yesterday. We can do this!! 

Motivated, we were up at 5:45 am. A hot breakfast of rice, a variety of nuts, milk and nutmeg, courtesy of Dave and we were off. First order of business was a boulder and slab upward traverse of the basin between Buckhorn Pass and Shout of Relief Pass. The guide book said it would take about an hour. We did it in 40 minutes. There was a lot of ups and downs to avoid cliffs and work around other obstacles, but we were now ready to descend from Shout of Relief Pass. There was scree, boulders, slabs, meadows-the usual, and soon we were traversing around the end of the ridge, heading for Izzak Walton Lake. 

At the lake, we decided to take a break and fish. We moved down the side of the lake, south to north, fishing with our packs on. We caught four, placed them in the designated fish bag, and after 45 minutes, began the mile and a half cross country run down to the Fish Lake trail. Our estimate was pretty good, as the GPS clocked us at four miles to the trail. Once on the trail we could move faster and soon hit the JMT. We had a 900' climb out of Tullys Hole up to Virginia Lake over a distance of two miles. We had lunch at Virginia Lake, then continued on. We made the Duck Lake/JMT intersection by 3:00 pm. We climbed up the 300 or so feet to Duck Lake then began the traversing climb up to Duck Pass at the far end of the lake. 

We were getting a little concerned. I was sure we would have cell service during the day due to our proximity to Mammoth Mountain ski resort. Granted, it was only 4 or 5 miles away, the the intervening ridges blocked the signal. I had told Sally we would contact them during the day to let her know if our progress. Here it was 3:30 pm and we had not had signal all day. It made me realize what a fortunate fluke Bighorn Pass really is. 

As soon as we crossed into Duck Pass, at about 4:00 pm, we could see the ski lifts of Mammoth Mountain and our phones lit up with four bars of service. We quickly called Sally and Barb to apprise them of our situation. We didn't know how long the trail from Duck Pass to the trail head was, but we guessed six miles. It was 4:00 pm, so we told them 6:00 pm was a good time to plan on. We figured we would have cell service all the way down the trail and could let them know if our eta changed. We also had the ladies get hotel rooms in Mammoth for the night. I had not had a shower for 18 days and figured Sally might be repulsed by my odor. 

With the cell service I also got a text from Mike Morgan, a friend and fellow teacher (retired like me) of 30+ years. His 39 year son, Jake, and Jake's daughter, Helen, had been at the Lewis County Fair 11 days ago, enjoying a day of play when an unattended horse, harnessed to a carriage, spooked and ran down the midway, trampling Jake and Helen. Both were air lifted to Harbor View Hospital in Seattle and put in Critical Care. This had been eleven days ago. Mike texted me to let me know they were in the hospital with Jake and if I called I could talk to him. I did, and we had a good conversation as I hustled down the trail to my rendezvous with Sally. 

Along the way, we passed a group camping just off the trail. We asked how far it was to the trailhead. They said two miles, a welcome number!  I texted Sally to let her know we would be at the trailhead in 45 minutes. 

Our timing was perfect. They drove into the parking lot just as we exited the trail. We drove to the hotel. Our room was a "PCT" grade $70 room, small, funky and cheap. But, it did have a shower!!  After cleaning up, Sally gave me some of her clothes to wear and we walked down to Craig and Barb's room. I looked ridiculous, and Barb loaned me some of Craig's clean clothes out of their van. 

We walked to dinner at Sloccum's, then retired for the night. It was great to see Sally!! 

Craig and I were right-it was better sleeping next to our wives than each other. 

Sunday, August 28, 2016 - Anniversary Day

Thirty nine years ago today, Sally and I were married. Today, I am in the middle of the Sierra, off trail. Sally is in Yosemite Valley, probably only about 30 or 40 air miles away, but with the intervening terrain, she might as well be on the moon. Since we parted 14 days ago, on August 14, I have had no cell signal, no service. I have not talked to her, or anyone else, nor had news from the outside world. 

In 2010, when we did this route, we were surprised to get cell service on an out of the way, minor pass, in the middle of nowhere called Buckhorn Pass at 11,200'. Seeing as this is our anniversary, I would like to talk to Sally, so Craig and I made Buckhorn Pass our goal for the day. To get there from our zero day camp at Italy Lake, we will have to climb over 12,400' Gabbott Pass, descend the Mills Creek drainage down to Mono Creek at 8400', climb back to 10,200' Laurel Lake then ascend 1000' of near vertical heather fields to the pass. Is she worth it? Absolutely!!  The big question is, was the cell signal six years ago a fluke?  Will it still be there today?

The power of a zero day showed true again. Both Craig and I were revitalized as we left camp at 6:45 am this morning. We motored the two miles and 1200' up to Gabot Pass. We tried for cell service at the pass, hoping the Mammoth Mountain towers would extend this far. No dice. 

The descent from Gabot Pass is typical, steep head wall for a few hundred vertical feet, boulder field for the next couple hundred vertical feet and then scattered meadows with interspersed boulder fields and slabs for the next few hundred vertical feet. This time the drop took us well below tree line, and soon we were fighting willow brush and tree branches. The valley falls steeply from 10,500' to 9,500' as one hanging glacial valley intersects the main channel of another glacial valley. This main valley is called the Second Recess. Quite a few people must travel this route, because we were able to follow "use" trails most of the way. Once on the floor of the Second Recess we picked up the trail and followed it two miles to Mono Creek at elevation 8,400'. From Lake Italy to Mono Creek is about 7 miles. We met a total of eight people on this portion of the day's journey. It was the last people we saw for the day. 

After we found a log on which to cross Mono Creek, we headed up hill and east on the Mono Creek trail for a mile to the Laurel Lake trail. 

The first mile of this trail climbs 1000'. It must have been made before the invention of switchbacks because it went straight up the hill; a very steep route. The nice thing about a trail this steep is you get to the destination, the top, quite quickly. 

Once up the 1000' feet, the trail quickly peters out and we were cross country traveling again. A major avalanche must have occurred in recent years, bowling over trees, creating a pickup sticks scenerio to walk through. We reached the end of the valley where Laurel Lake lies about 3:30 pm. Buckhorn Pass is directly above the lake, a low spot on the side ridge. We knew there would be no water on the ridge, but we wanted to camp up there so we could get cell service for the evening; if it still existed up there. We resolved to cook an early dinner by the lake, go for a swim, then load our water bottles up and head for the ridge top. 

The lake was delightfully not freezing. To say it was warm would be untrue; let's just say it was "refreshing".

After dinner, we worked our way up the 1000' to the ridge top pass. All the way up I was thinking how awesome it will be to talk to Sally, Andy, Jeff, friends and to find out what had been happening in the world. But, I was also preparing myself for the disappointment of arriving at our airy campsite to find "No Service" showing in the upper left corner of my iPhone screen. Another minor concern was the availability of two small, flat places for us to camp. I could not remember the nature of the ridge and whether it has a flat area or only boulder fields. 

We crested the ridge and saw plenty of flat ground to sleep on. We dropped our packs, pulled out our iPhones, switched off airplane mode and waited . . .  Searching . . . Searching. Bingo!! 3 bars of service and 4G data connection too. We looked north toward Mammoth and west toward the Central Valley of California and wondered where this signal came from. Who cares!?!  We have service. Let's call people. 

Bing. Bing. Bing. 120 emails filled my in box. 25 texts show up. 8 voice mails arrive before I can make a call. 

For the next four hours I was on the phone. Craig was more restrained and talked for a couple hours. 

Barb told us Sally was riding the YARTS bus from the Valley to Mammoth Mountain. She was planning to hang with Barb on her days off. I tried calling her multiple times, but I found out later she had switched to Airplane mode to save her battery on the bus ride. She finally called about 9:15 pm and we talked until 10:30 pm, the latest I have stayed up on this trip by at least an hour and a half. 

Between our phone calls, Craig and I found a wide sandy shelf bounded by a cliff on the east side and a thicket of white pines on the west side. It was on the west side of the ridge, the side the cell signal was on. What a luxury!  To lie snuggled in bed at 11,200' on an exposed shelf on an exposed ridge beneath a sky filled with stars and talk to Sally!

When we finally hung up, I began plotting the distance and route to make a dash for Mammoth tomorrow to celebrate our anniversary in person. I figured it to be about 16-18 miles, with the first four miles cross country. A long way, but doable. Glad we took that zero day yesterday. 

Saturday, August 27, 2016 - Zero Day

I'm tired. No trying to hide it. Fatigued. Drained. It's been 13 days of constant motion and I'm pooped. Yesterday, I fell twice. I could blame it on shoes, or slippery rocks, or some other outside influence, but the truth is I was tired and making mistakes. Today is a zero day. I planned to lay on my back here at Italy Lake and watch the day go by, and that is exactly what Craig and I did. 

I'd start out and say we got up and cooked breakfast, but I did not. I rolled over, lit my stove, made oatmeal, ate it, and rolled back on my posterior and lay there. 

Sometime around 10:00am I did drag my sorry butt out of bed, emptied the bigger of the two bear cans I was carrying of its food, filled it with all my clothes, and staggered to the lake shore. There I employed the bear can as a washing machine and washed all my clothes. Craig did the same. Then we erected a clothes line and hung them to dry. Then it was back to my Z-Pad for more zombie time. 

Maybe an hour later, I got up, staggered back to the lake and went for a refreshing swim. The lake was cold, but not shrink all your body parts ice cold. With the sun shining directly down on the tarp, and no shade at treeless 11,200,' it was very warm under the tarp. The swim felt good. That pretty much sums up my activity for the day. Oh!  I did inventory my food and found I had a few extra dinners, so I cooked one for lunch, and then I cooked one for dinner hours later, but in between, I just rested. 

Craig was quite a bit more ambitious. He walked the lake's shoreline, did a little exploring and spent more time out from under the tarp than I did. 

I learned on the PCT two years ago the power of a zero day and how much it can revitalize a person, so I was making the most of this revitalization. I was confident the slothness of today would transform into the energy of tomorrow. 

Friday, August 25, 2016 - Bear Lakes

Pop Tarts for breakfast make for a quick departure. We woke at 6:15 and were walking by 6:45 am. Our first task was to climb thru Fearher Pass, about as perfect a pass as can be imagined. To get to the pass we needed to ascend the slope by the waterfall inlet to Merriam Lake, then traces two basins, one with two small lakes and the other with LaSalle Lake, then gain another 500' as we climb up through the pass. We were in shadow until just a few hundred feet below the pass, making nice, cool walking and climbing. 

At the pass we decided to have second breakfast, this one of scrambled eggs, cheese and tortillas. We found a low wall of granite to hunker down behind, lit a stove and scrambled the powdered egg mix Andy had given to us yesterday afternoon. Stuffed inside a burrito with cheese, nothing better!

We cleaned up our mess and started the descent down the head wall and into Bear Lakes Basin. This basin is amazing for the number of lakes, their positions at various elevations and the surrounding scenery. Plus, they are all named around a bear theme, "Black Bear Lake", "Teddy Bear Lake", "Ursa Lake", "White Bear Lake", "Bear Paw Lake", "Brown Bear Lake" and more. The first lake we ran into after the mile descent from Feather Pass was Bear Paw Lake. We dipped our lines into it, and although we could see fish, they were not interested. From Bear Paw Lake we ascended 400' to nearby Black Bear Lake, stripped down and skinny dipped into its cold water. Then it was up another 180' to White Bear Lake, hanging on the cliffs, tucked in between rock walls. A short distance from White Bear Lake is a very steep 800' descent into Brown Bear and adjoining Teddy Bear lake. This descent is tricky, weaving in between cliffs, across slabs and scree while avoiding thickets of willow, all precariously perched on this long steep slope. We mad a few wrong turns and had to climb back up short distances to find a route, but soon we were down. We stopped by the lakes to eat a snack. We had not eaten since our egg burrito at 9:30 am and it was now nearing 1:00 pm. A pro bar and some almonds were consumed while we discussed our options, either stay here or move forward to halfway down Lake Italy a mile and a half away. With plenty of time left in the day, we kept going a soon were walking the shores of mile and a half long Lake Italy. The lake is at 11,202'. There is no vegetation except low grass and flowers, with an occasional White Bark Pine thrown in. The wind was blowing strongly from the west and the lake runs east-west making it difficult to find a place to camp out of the wind. Also, the north shore we were traversing is rock lined and rises steeply from the waters edge with only a few level places wide enough to afford a place to camp. In spite of the inhospitable terrain, we found a delightful shelf about 20' above the water up against a rock wall and pitched our tarp for the night. First priority is fishing, and although small again, we caught 5 for dinner, two fry pans full.

Tomorrow is a zero day. I can feel the fatigue of 13 days in a row of hiking over this rugged terrain. Today, I fell twice, partly due to the fatigue and partly due to the tread on the soles of my shoes being nearly all worn off. A day of rest won't fix the shoes, (I have a new pair at the next food resupply in Mammoth in five days) but it should revitalize my body. I plan to lay under the tarp all day and rest, eat, watch movies, listen to music and catch up on this blog. Oh, I hope to wash my clothes in the morning, using my bear can as a washing machine and swim in the lake if the clouds stay away. Speaking of weather, we have been in a pattern the last four days of absolutely clear, cloudless mornings, followed by puffy clouds beginning to form about 10:00 am which coalesce into masses of clouds by 2:00 pm that result in nearly complete overcast by 5:00 pm and sometimes rain in the early evenings, or as a few days ago, thunderstorms with lightning, thunder and sheets of rain and hail. What happened to sunny California?