Pictures & maps to be added at a later date.
This is a memory journal to record a measure of the events, joy, beauty and friendship renewal of this trip.
This trip really began, as they mostly do, way back in winter. I (Pete) put out a call to the list of usual backpacking friends and family, offering several potential trips and dates. Friend and Mentor Dick from NM responded, we set the dates, and the airline tickets purchased. I printed Maps, updated the web site with pictures of the trailhead and nearby mountains. A third potential hiker had to bow out.
Dick arrived at SFO the evening before, tired from two days of consulting and hasty packing, but anxious to get on the trail. He had checked his loaded pack through in plastic bags sealed with duct tape--no problems. That evening, we got a fishing license for Dick, and as it turned out, a critical 2nd large gasoline bottle for my Whisperlight stove, and also critical a new (to us, anyway) iodine water purification system--it contains two bottles, one with iodine and one with a tablet which removes the iodine after it has done its purification, leaving good tasting water! Finally, we got a mosquito net for Dick. This also turned out to be important.
Using my checklist (excel, elsewhere on this site) We cast out duplicates, but kept some 'luxury' items (the 'backpacker oven' being the most interesting). The Sierra in summer can be hiked without a tent, but we decided to take one just incase (which turned out to be well worth it because of the bugs and FROST). Our packs were pushing 55 lbs when food and water were added--much too heavy, but we ate well. (My packs next trip will NOT be th\is heavy.)
After dinner and a last night in a soft bed we loaded up and drove the 4+ hours down the CA Central Valley, into the Sierra Foothills to Vermilion Valley Resort (wonderful place--nice owners Butch & Peggy Wiggs--hiker friendly, good food, ice cream, etc.) After a short wait we boarded for a 20 minute boat ride across deep-blue-large-fish Lake Thomas Edison to the trail head the start of our path for some 30 miles (with side trips) over the next 6 days, returning to the Vermilion Resort at the end, but without the boat ride. The earlier part of the trip was on the John Muir and Pacific Crest National Trail. Even with this attraction we saw few other hikers.
Since we arrived at the trailhead at about 5pm Thursday, we walked only a couple of miles (up) before discovering a nice campsite nestled in the trees alongside a fast falling creek (Cold Creek). While I set up kitchen and tent, dick set up trout for dinner--to go with the steak and salad we had "trucked" in for first night. I learned from Dick that Salad in nitrogen pack bags keeps for at least two days on the trail, and doesn't weigh much either. We discovered that our dried onions had remained at home, sigh. We topped off the night with some decaf--unfortunately, we had already hung our bear bag and closed the bear proof canister, so we placed the coffee in its baggie on boughs of a spruce outside of camp. We forgot it the next morning...no more decaf this trip.
Next morning, that would be Friday, we slept until 8 to greet the sun, we had an excellent breakfast of bacon (new kind of pre-cooked, in bag variety--quite good), and some not-so-good powdered egg/jalapino omelet (we learned how to make pretty good scrambled eggs out of the stuff on another day. We began our climb towards Silver Pass, nearly 3000 feet up. After a couple of hours, we stopped at an appealing stream site (probably Pocket Meadow) with a flat granite base. Dicks quiet "Pete, look at the bear" directed my view to the other side of the stream, about 30 feet away. An impressively large, very black bear was regarding us with an unworried stare. I bent over for my camera, and when I straightened up, he was already moving quickly through the campsite on his side of the river. Got a couple of pics, but nothing like the memory of him standing, staring at us. We arrived uneventfully at the upper end of a large meadow a couple of miles below Silver Pass...another great campsite with good cooking rocks, fireplace, plentiful wood, and a small wide waterfall almost on a level with the camp 30 feet away. Very nice. I left my pack and walked a mile or two to the base of the switch backs to the pass, at Silver Pass Lake. Dick sacrificed and fly fished for our nightly dinner trout (brookies), which we supplemented with some dried dinner or other. Each night we had Lipton Chicken Noodle dried soup as an appetizer, which I highly recommend. The last night we added some water packed canned chicken--it was GREAT, and almost enough for a meal. Someone had washed their dishes in the stream, and the small waterfall had concentrated at least a cup of wild-rice-looking gunk into a fissure in the stream. Distressing, after SO much emphasis about not doing this has been made.
Next morning (Saturday) after the usual camp cleaning and packing (and after sleeping until the sun was up, again), we set off for Silver Pass. I had boot problems (ok, foot problems) and Dick went on ahead. Due to poor pack arrangement in my new pack, I had to take everything out to get the tape and scissors, eating up 25 minutes. We were going to meet at the base of the switch backs, at Silver Pass Lake, for lunch. But our styles are different. He doesn't want to climb after eating lunch, and I don't want to climb without food in me. So wires crossed. I sat at the bottom of the switch backs eating lunch, figuring he was fishing somewhere around the lake. He was actually half way up the switch backs, which I examined and somehow missed seeing him. After lunch, I decided that he must have gone ahead, and two southbound hikers confirmed that he was over the pass. As I came over, I was greeted by Dick stretched out comfortably on a bed size granite slab, ready to move on after waiting more than half an hour. The view, as are many High Sierra views, is not describable. As I write, I'm seeing it clearly in mind's eye. White granite escarpments, no vegetation, to the south. Sparsely spread spruce and jewel lakes to the north and on each side. Papoose Lake, deep and blue below. So we walked for an hour or so, leaving the JMT and PCT to settle on what was, I think, the most beautiful and perfect campsite of the trip. It was at about 10,200 feet on a flat piece of grassy indentation which bent in a gentle slope down to the Lake of the Lone Indian, 20 feet below. To the East was a stream draining from Papoose Lake, creating a pleasant stream background sound, and providing a source of water. We looked out over the lake to a V shaped draw disclosing the mountain range (Ansil Adams Wilderness) to the North. At dusk, when our valley was nearly dark, this V would light up with slanting rays of sun coming up an unseen valley. Our kitchen was next to a 15 ft high semi-rectangular bolder that had broken off, leaving an overhang, or ceiling above, and the remains of the fractured boulder below, on which we placed our stove. The boulder would heat up during the day, giving us some radiant heat after the sun settled west. Here we stayed for two nights. Dick tried to pump water through my filter, and we discovered that the main push rod was broken off--no filtered water for the rest of the trip! As mentioned above, the iodine kit so fortuitously purchased the night before departure saved the day, along with the 2.5 gallon collapsible containers.
In addition to our daily ration of brook trout, supplemented by rainbows from a day hike to Grassy Lake to the Northwest, we had our oven baked cornbread...supplemented with bacon bits and egg powder. Too good to believe. The smell, even in the wide outdoors and breeze set off hunger pangs. And all the while this gorgeous view. Late the second afternoon Dick set off to clean the fish, but he returned quickly, assessing that the stream was as warm as it would get (my guess between 40 an 45 degrees) and that we needed a bath. It's amazing how good it felt to be clean after a three days of sweating over passes with too heavy packs, but the water was *cold*. Dick caught a rare California Golden Trout in the stream above Grassy Lake on our day hike, and I caught a rainbow "pushing" 12 inches out of the lake. We saw the only deer of the trip on this same walk up the west wall Lone Indian Lake valley and down into the Grassy Lake basin.
Our departure from Lone Indian to Graveyard Meadows/Lakes on Monday morning was via Gooddale Pass, another near 11,000 foot pass. But the route there, via a shoot from the Grassy Lake trail was exciting. There was solid snow (packed to ice) and we had to climb it. The foot prints of others had melted and refrozen leaving only dimples. Thankfully, my trekking poles divided between us, provided good anchors for each step. We did NOT like this part. But I remember breaking up over the ridge at the top into a patch of wildflowers. The sun was just right and they shimmered on a light breeze. Flowers were everywhere in the High Sierra, providing pleasure to each part of the journey. At the top of Gooddale Pass, by standing on the top of the highest boulder, I was able to reach Cindy by cellphone--but with only 1/2 of a signal bar showing. Still we could talk. Dick was not so lucky. His call to Jan was one way...he could talk, and we thought that she could hear. Dick started down towards Graveyard Meadows, and I followed shortly, only to see him standing in the trail a few dozen feet down. He had discovered a large, soft leather bag, containing the valuables (wallet, cellphone, binocs, keys, etc.) of a fellow who, it turned out, had been a "dude" on a pack train. The satchel had fallen off. We couldn't decide whether to leave it or to bring it down. I decided that I could carry it (about 25 extra pounds!) down...until I carried it 10 feet. We reduced the weight by stacking candy, beernuts and the like, as well as some blue plastic thing, a knife sharpener and assorted other heavy-but-not-too-valuables. Now the pack weight 15 or so pounds, and Dick tied it onto mine, as I mumbled to myself: "I can do this, I can do this" as a mantra of conviction, for 5 or 6 switch backs down. Then, a loan rider appeared on the flat below. We weighted...and, yes, he was looking for the bag! Sadly, the "blue plastic thing" I'd left above was part of the starter system of the owner's truck, so the wrangler had to climb up to the pass (that is, his horse did). But before he realized it, he'd exclaimed: "let me buy you a beer," and reached back into his saddle bag producing two Bud Lites...I immediately opened mine (picture to prove it) and Dick carefully stuck his in MY pack for later (but he did share it that evening!).
We settled into a nice campsite at the top of Graveyard Meadows that evening, with a great flat tent site and huge logs onto which we added our cooking area by lashing two logs between the big ones. The mosquitoes were pretty bad here, as we'd dropped down to 9000+ feet. I was beginning to be bothered by the fact that we'd used an entire bottle of 100% DEET, so decided to try the long sleeve and long pant nylon clothing with head net and gloves (fingers cut out). I've often wondered if Mosquitoes would bite through the relatively thing feeling nylon, and whether I'd overheat without short pants/sleeves. I didn't overheat, and the mosquitoes didn't bite through. The headnet takes a bit of getting used to, but I'll not go without it again. And sadly, I'm back to long pants and shirts for buggy season trips. Graveyard Meadows sports a larger stream, and LOTS of brookies. Dick caught most of dinner, then lent me his fly rod to get the rest-- which was lots of fun. The next day we day hiked up to Graveyard Lakes (a few hundred feet up and about 1 1/2 miles from our camp. Beautiful lakes (3), but only 6-7 inch fish. One had rainbows, the others brookies. The rainbows were obviously (to me anyway) stockers. I caught one didn't know it was on it fought so little.
Our hike out was long, hot and dusty, about 6 miles. We enjoyed refreshments at Vermilion Valley Resort, and drove the 4 hours home, for glorious, long showers, and great steaks, salad etc. prepared by Cindy! What a trip.
Pete 8/1/99