In Dee's Woods, Backpacking and Hiking Trail Tales

The John Muir Trail - part 7

2020-12-08T09:08:00.003-08:00

The John Muir Trail part 7…long hot dry stretch!

There was very little of the JMT we had not hiked before in other journeys. We had criss-crossed the Sierra many times in the last 40-50 years and hiked almost all of the JMT in pieces. What came next then was a total surprise!

In our JMT journey prep, we had made no itinerary. Knowing we had plenty of time to hike the whole trail, we didn’t stress how much we hiked each day, nor about where we would end up. Figuring to hike about 8-9 miles per day…maybe less the first few days and a bit more the last days when we were stronger and our packs lighter, we just hiked each day enjoying each and every new sight, not worrying about our pace, and stopping when a spot we both like appeared in front of us.

From experience, we know the JMT has constant frequent reliable water sources. Well…most of it anyway. We found out on our next section, that water is not always completely a given, and that we don’t always get to stop when we want to for the day!

Leaving Red’s fairly early in the morning after a wonderful meal, shower and good night sleep in our new tent, we were ready to get back on the gorgeous trail! Morning took us through a very old burn area that seemed to be in a state of non recovery. There were delightful wildflowers dotted throughout. But it was obvious we were walking where once also stood large trees covering the hillside around us, and that for some reason they had not been able to make a comeback yet...hopefully soon. The burned out snags were all that was left and they left a somewhat sad picture of what had once existed there. We continued to walk in the increasingly warm sun with no trees for shade. And, no water sources appeared yet. Enjoying the volcanic change in scenery from what we had been experiencing was a delight nevertheless, and we still had plenty of water in our packs from Red’s so all was well.

Red Cones were fun to hike around and we had quite a discussion about the geology of the fun peaks. We stopped for lunch after awhile and remarked it would be nice to get to the next stream crossing marked on the map. We had wanted to lunch near a stream, but had given up finally. So, after a dry lunch, we donned packs and hiked on and went around shoulder after shoulder after shoulder of the mountains. We came to one and then another of the marked creek crossings only to find them completely dried up. We were hiking in a not so dry year so were quite puzzled, but the creeks were simply not running even so. We had anticipated water for sure at Deer Creek, but alas, completely dry. So…we kept hiking!

Red Cones

Down to our last few ounces of water, it was clear this was going to be a long day of hiking as we now could not stop til we got to water! I am not sure how many miles this day ended up being, but we were foot sore and weary and hiking slow by the time we finally heard the sounds of rushing water!

This was the only camp in the backcountry we ended up camping near other hikers. Everyone had found what we had found, that this stretch of trail was simply dried up except for this lovely oasis. Luckily we were able to stretch out a bit and not have to camp on top of each other, so we cleaned up and enjoyed a night listening to the water splashing and gurgling as it made it’s way down the little canyon we found ourselves in.

Night Four-Duck Creek

Waking up in the morning hydrated and well rested, we looked forward to the next section of our southbound journey!

The JMT part 6

2015-02-11T18:46:00.001-08:00

The John Muir Trail
A remote point to point 200 plus mile backpack spanning from Yosemite to the top of Mt Whitney (with another 11 miles from the top of Mt Whitney to the trailhead)

Early morning found us still dry thank goodness.

And the cloudless sky overhead was a great omen! Packing up after breakfast, we headed south on the JMT with only one goal in mind that day....a new tent! Within minutes we passed our first trail sign. We looked at the turn off briefly, but were not too interested in a trail that took us down to a river and out of the views. So, we didn't spend much time pondering it, but marched on by. It would not be long however before we realized we had actually passed our turnoff. The sign we had passed had not mentioned the JMT and in our single minded determination to get to Red's...we just marched right past the JMT with blinders. By the time we realized what had happened... in studying the map, we realized there were actually three parallel trails to the Minarets Road. We were actually on the PCT High Trail and no longer on the JMT. But looking closely at our topo...we realized also that it would be quite a delay to backtrack and the trail we were on would take us where we wanted to go anyway. So we stayed on the High Trail. In the end, I can't say how many actually hike the High Trail to Agnews...whether while hiking the JMT or otherwise. I am guessing most folks take the more glamorous JMT. But, our accident took us over the most amazing trail that we would probably never have set foot on if it were not for our haste. All along the High Trail you are up close to 10,000 feet, and the High Trail takes you out along along the canyon's East rim for most of it's distance. You have unencumbered far reaching views of the wilderness west, and of the Minarets and of the canyon and the JMT below. To this day my husband and I can't figure out why the High Trail is not the JMT!

So, "forced" to take in the magnificent views, we enjoyed our hike to Red's immensely and still arrived at the road in plenty of time to take one of the shuttle buses back to Mammoth before the stores closed for the night. Once we got on the bus though, we realized we were in a bit of more trouble. I had only brought a minimal amount of cash...who needs cash in the wilderness! And the shuttle was very pricey! The driver heard our predicament though and told us first of all how to get from the Mammoth lifts where her run ended, to town, and then she told us to watch for her when we came back and she would not charge us for the return trip to Red's! Trail Magic!

Once we got to the Mammoth lifts, we had a bit of wait for the shuttle to take us to town so we confronted our next conundrum...how to pay for our tent! Again, who needs credit cards in the wilderness? Our cards were not on us! We got to a pay phone...and had just enough change to call our daughter collect. Next problem unfolded very quickly....you cannot call collect to cell phones! The operator was very efficient in telling me that before she disconnected. I called the operator again and begged her not to hang up on me. This time I got one willing to listen. I explained my situation and she came up with the solution....she put us through to someone we knew who had a landline who would accept the charges and then the operator made a conference call with our nephew who had the landline and our daughter who had a credit card we could use! After some very tense moments when I feared our trip might be in jeopardy, our tent situation was solved. From previous travels I already knew the name of a store in Mammoth that sold tents. So my daughter said she would call ahead to Kittredge Sports and tell them to sell a tent to us using her credit card...YEA! Hopping on the bus to town we arrived at Kittredge post haste. Walking in the door with three days grime and our fully loaded backpacks, a clerk made a beeline for us and asked if we perhaps were there to buy a tent! My daughter had described us well it seems. Securing a new tent and thanking them profusely for their help, we hopped back on the bus up to the lifts. Ah....relief! Arriving at the lifts however, one more small hurdle...the bus driver we were waiting for never arrived! After a couple of buses came and went, we finally asked a driver about her. It seems she was gone for the day. Sigh. But, after explaining what had happened to the new driver, he told us to hop on anyway and that he'd take us down to Red's. More trail magic. The moral of the story of course is never travel without money and cards!

Arriving at Red's rather late, the restaurant was about to close for the night. We told no sob story this time however, and yet, the waitress took a long look at us then told us to have a seat that she could just fit us in! I can't say enough about how hard the folks in Mammoth and at Red's try and make JMTers have a great trip! Getting a great dinner and our resupply from the store was simply perfect, and yet our Red's experience was not over...the natural spring hot showers were simply sublime!

We blissfully settled into the campground for backpackers at Red's Meadow well fed and showered and resupplied and slept that night in our brand new lightweight, waterproof tent!

Three days and so many adventures....what else could this journey possibly hold for us??? To be continued....

The John Muir Trail part 5

2015-01-23T22:06:00.001-08:00

: Thousand Island Lake

The John Muir Trail
A remote point to point 200 plus mile backpack spanning from Yosemite to the top of Mt Whitney (with another 11 miles from the top of Mt Whitney to the trailhead)

As soon as we made our decision to hike on, the shock was replaced by determination. Originally we had planned to camp a few miles down Lyell Canyon, and save the climb to Donohue Pass for morning when we were fresh. However, the lack of tent gave us incentive to push on. Forging on all the way to the end of the flat canyon walk, we then made it part way up what was to be the next day's climb to Donohue before we called it a day. Finding a lovely little bench with a view down canyon we spread out our bags and fixed supper. We truly enjoyed the stars overhead that night...thankful for clear skies!

The next morning we powered up Donohue Pass relatively quickly as we were part way there already, and our legs were strong and fresh after a good night's sleep. Having been on Donohue Pass before, we knew what a treat that view was so we stayed for a short time enjoying the view east and south towards Mammoth Mountain...but then hurried on.

The next stretch of trail led to unremarkable Island Pass and then onto Thousand Island Lake, and from Rush Creek junction, we were on new trail! As long time hikers, we always cherish new trail and the adventures ahead as so many of our high Sierra hikes criss cross previously hiked trails. And to add to the treat of the new trail, we saw not one hiker that day on that trail. In fact, we saw not one other soul from about half way down Lyell Canyon until almost to Reds Meadow! May all on-trail hikers have as good a luck in their journeys!

: Wildflowers!

Arriving before dinner at Thousand Island Lake, we found an isolated spot a long ways above the lake...replete with a stunning view down onto the lake! And still clear skies graced us overhead! As day two came to a close, we knew we had a long day three ahead and were keeping our fingers crossed for no rain. And with no choice but to yet again lay our bags under the open skies...we took full advantage of our forced situation and once again also savored the amazing show above us to the fullest.

But still...as we lay under the stars that night savoring the stillness and quietude and display of amazing stars sprinkled with shooting stars...there was yet always that little bit of unease marking those days and nights of the gamble we were taking by hiking so far with no shelter of any kind. Would our foolishness be our undoing? Would we make it that last night before Red's Meadow and civilization and through that next long day til we could make it to shelter?

To be continued.....

The John Muir Trail Part 4

2015-01-23T22:03:00.000-08:00

The John Muir Trail
A remote point to point 200 plus mile backpack spanning from Yosemite to the top of Mt Whitney (with another 11 miles from the top of Mt Whitney to the trailhead)

: Crashed on a bench above Lyell Canyon in Yosemite

As we meandered up the rare flat section of trail that extends the length of Lyell Canyon in Yosemite, we enjoyed the morning sun's rays and quietly babbling waters sliding past us downstream traveling the opposite direction as us. Several miles passed in this idyllic fashion before I suddenly realized I no longer heard Gary's footsteps behind me and turned to see what could have stalled him. I will never forget the frozen blank look on his face. Trying urgently to get him to answer me and tell me what was the matter, it was probably only moments but seemed like minutes before he finally uttered the words "we have no tent."

I think Gary and I must have stood there staring at each other a good two minutes while we each digested what had happened to bring us miles into our JMT hike with no tent or shelter between us. We then stood spinning possible solutions to our dilemma in our minds, then mulling over our options together. A couple things were decided. First, that neither of us wanted to double back to the car and take the resulting drive to an outfitter to find a new tent, and secondly, that we had a pretty good gamble on about three days good weather due to Gary's having studied the weather intently the night before we left. We also knew for sure by now though, that between us, we had no shelter of any kind. In year's past we had always carried a tube tent, a tubular piece of plastic that is a great quick shelter once a string is passed thru it and tied to trees, that could also double as a ground sheet under tents or bags. But alas, we didn't even have our tube tent with us as in an effort to shave ounces on our ground sheet, we had opted instead for a lighter tiny piece of filmy plastic weighing only 2 ounces. Thus, we had no tent, no tarp, no ground sheet large enuf to cover us...we had absolutely nothing large enough to cover us in our bags should we be caught out in the rain!

After standing in the meadow for several minutes while each shifted our weight from foot to foot compensating for the heft of our packs without the forward motion of hiking to take our minds off them, ultimately we did indeed decide to continue on. We had allotted 5 days til our first resupply at Red's Meadow near Devil's Postpile. Not trusting the weather to hold for five full days now however, we decided if we were to gamble on making it without shelter to our first resupply, that we needed to double time it and shoot for Red's in three days!

Once making the decision to continue on, and to hike faster than before, we poured on the coals. Making it the rest of the way up Lyell Canyon, we found a lovely bench above the canyon affording us a wonderful view back down canyon to Tuolumne meadows.

: First night's camp above Lyell Canyon

Would we make it to Red's Meadow resupply in three days?

Would we make it to shelter before any storms overtook us?

To be continued....:)

My First Sleeping Bag!

2015-01-23T20:42:00.002-08:00

Christmas and I’m 4 yrs old…my brothers, 5 and 7 years older than me, get brand new flannel lined sleeping bags and I don’t get one! I cry my eyes out inconsolably. All I want is a sleeping bag like my brothers so I can sleep outside too. After awhile my mom gets a fantastic idea to solve this, and takes 2 old cotton blankets and folds them lengthwise and sews them together leaving the top couple of feet unsewed so I can get in and out. I am thrilled! My first sleeping bag! Summer comes and I am camping out in the backyard in my homemade sleeping bag under the stars with my big brothers, and they are telling me all about the constellations and how far the stars are from us…. and I discover some of life’s greatest pleasures! That was 55 years ago and I have been hiking and camping and backpacking ever since. Watch this site grow as I share the secrets that kept me happy in the backcountry: the right equipment, the places to go, the tools of the trade…with stories to entertain you as you learn!:)

The John Muir Trail - part 3

2014-07-18T21:37:00.001-07:00

: Along the John Muir Trail...

A remote point to point 200 plus mile backpack spanning from Yosemite to the top of Mt Whitney (with another 11 miles from the top of Mt Whitney to the trailhead)

I remember reading a post made by a long distance hiker one time in a backpacking forum. That long distance hiker had simply said that if you really want to hike a long distance trail, then that is what you choose to do over family, career, mortgages etc. So true of course. However, I already had family, career, mortgages etc so his advice wasn't of much help to me. But, over the years the JMT continued to beckon. And finally in 2006, there came a time in my life when I had the ability to take a few weeks off work, and so did my husband, and we knew the JMT was ours!

Preparation began in earnest weeks ahead of our trip, and as the time crept closer to our departure date, the mountain of things on our "to-do" list grew, like obtaining our wilderness permit, arranging horse care, house and pet care, paying bills, preparing and mailing food drops, but by the end, we had done it all! All except pack that is. Packing was low down on our list as we were frequent backpackers with a printed checklist and all our gear in crates so we simply needed to pull out the crates and using the checklist, pack everything in our packs that we already had preassembled. Easy as can be and we'd done it a hundred times just that way.

Our crates setting on the bed slowly got emptier and the packs got fuller. Sleeping bags at the bottom, followed by thicker clothes or tent. Fully loaded bear canister set vertically in next so it was easily accessible throughout the day. All the other clothes not being worn stuffed around the outside of the bear can to stabilize it and make it more comfy against our backs. Ditty bags checked for whatever little misc items we might need. Water bottles filled and put in their pockets etc etc etc. We were ready!

The next morning bright and early we set our packs in the car and set off for Yosemite. We had chosen a Northbound to Southbound trip starting in Yosemite and ending at Mount Whitney for the simple reason that we didn't want to start our trip with the gnarly climb up Whitney from the trailhead. Rather we wanted to wait til our packs were the lightest and our legs and lungs the strongest at the end of our trip for the climb up Whitney.

Our first day was not spent hiking however, but was instead spent doing a car shuttle and resupply drop off. Going across the Sierra Nevada over Tioga Rd through Yosemite, and down highway 395, we made a stop at Red's Meadow via the mandatory shuttle bus, and dropped off the one resupply we did not mail ahead of time. Getting back in our cars, we drove uneventfully to our JMT exit point at Whitney Portal where we left one car. We then drove back to Yosemite where we would leave the other car...hiking the 200 miles on the JMT where we would meet up with the car we had left at Whitney Portal once again.

Spending the night in Yosemite at Tuolumne Meadows gave us one much needed night to acclimate to the altitude before hiking. But, once morning's warm rays hit our faces, we were up and going. A quick breakfast, donning our packs, locking the car and off we went!

Having set aside 25 days to complete the JMT...we set off anticipating three and a half weeks of the most marvelous hiking journey ever replete with wildflowers, shooting stars, animals and animal tracks in abundance all ahead of us. And the promise also of sparkling jewel like lakes ahead, lordly mountain peaks and grandiose vistas all added to the intoxication of finally setting foot on the trail!

In many previous journeys, we already had set foot on the JMT section between Yosemite Valley and Tuolumne, and had summited Half Dome as well, so we decided this trip to start our JMT in Tuolumne, and head up Lyell Canyon for our first leg. Enjoying the warm morning sun and anticipation of weeks of like mornings hiking together, we passed the miles chit chatting and pausing occasionally to savor the river rippling by our side and enticing views of the trail ahead. It would be hours before the realization would hit us that we had made a terrible planning and preparation mistake that could jeopardize our whole journey...

To be continued....

Rattlesnake and Lost in Lost Valley

2014-06-19T21:23:00.000-07:00

Rattlesnake and Lost in Lost Valley

Lush Ventana Meadow

Rattlesnake and Lost in Lost Valley

12 mile out and back (if you can drive the Indians road to Escondido camp… if the road is closed add 3 miles extra each way) easy to moderate backpack in the Ventana Wilderness of the Los Padres National Forest

As a young teen, I had the good fortune to be able to spend a week backpacking sixty miles with a small group of friends. The five of us sweated, cried and laughed together as we explored the incredible Ventana wilderness in Coastal California and explored our own ability to hike long hard days over high peaks and through long valleys. Years later, I longed to revisit a very memorable spot I had discovered that long ago trip with my friends. My husband and kids and I spent a couple days searching for it one weekend many years ago, but had come up just short of our goal and failed in our attempt to revisit my very special spot. A year after being foiled in trying to find my Lost Valley camp in the Ventana Wilderness, we decided to once again return to the Ventana and try to reach it. Starting out later in the year than last time, we were able to access a seasonal road called the Indian’s road that had been closed the previous year. The closure of the Indians Road had added miles to our previous trip and was one reason for our previous failure to find my Lost Valley. This time we were able to drive all the way to the trailhead at Escondido camp. I took this as a good omen. Our trek to Lost Valley would be shorter by about three miles each way, so we could afford to dawdle and enjoy the trail more. The weather was spectacular. Mosquitos were scarce. This particular trail was practically void of the Ventana’s lush poison oak growths. And, I was going to go back to a camp I knew would be a very special place to share with my family. The story I relate here was written long ago not long after that trip and then forgotten….I recently came across it tucked away and forgotten on a shelf in a spare bedroom so I brushed it off and made it ready for reading…enjoy!

Decent enough trail….a little disrepair but we’ve had worse

Packs on and belts cinched, we headed on down the trail giggling and teasing each other. We were all in high spirits. The Lost Valley trail is well marked though, so we didn’t stay together long. The kids took off at a clip I couldn’t match. Oh how I remember those days of inching the kids along one foot at a time. They were long gone. Those slow snail like creatures were replaced by humans that seemed to fly up the trails on wide wings. My husband, Gary, would probably have liked to have gone off with them to explore, but to his credit he stayed behind with me. Not that I don’t hike well. I can hike all day, but at a slower steady pace…that’s me.

On the trail to Lost Valley

Finally catching up to the kids at a pass, we all sat and enjoyed a snack together before heading down the other side.

Enjoying the view at the pass….

Snack on the pass

The kids took off ahead as usual, but half way down, we were on the verge of catching up with them again. Nica and Paul were stopped, standing on the edge of the trail staring fixedly down a cliff at something we couldn’t quite see yet. As we came closer to them, I began to see what had had their interest. An enticing rock pool fed by a lovely stream lay about forty feet down the cliff just beckoning for someone to swim in it. We had plenty of time, so we all started to scramble down the hillside. Getting down to it was no easy feat. The cliff was steep, and the soil loose. But not to be denied, we all somehow managed to get to it. What a beautiful little swimming hole. The water came down from above the trail, and made it’s last twenty feet as a cascading waterfall. Then the pool itself, though made of rock, had a beautiful sandy bottom. Nica was ever the first to want to go in. And her usual tactic was a typical, “I’ll go in if you go in.” Today, she resorted to no such tactic as she was indeed the first in. But she couldn’t keep us from hearing her surprised gasp at the freezing water, so she needn’t bother trying to sucker us all in, we knew right from her expression how cold the water really was. And so it took a bit to get us all in. Gary took the plunge and was in briefly. Paul made it in up to his waist before quitting. Then I finally got my courage up enough to jump in all at once. That water took my breath away! How could a pool so shallow, on such a hot day, and set in baking rock be so cold! So much for our “warm little swimming hole.” We contented ourselves with sitting on the sides of the pool dangling our feet over the edge. We have dived into 10,000 foot elevation lakes in May and June. We have glided across waterholes of rushing rivers in the backcountry of many a state. Cold water swimming is a special treat for us and a much sought after reward for day’s end on just about every trip we go on. But, this water in the Ventana was unusually cold and we weren’t up to the challenge on this hike. We stayed and enjoyed the warm afternoon anyway. However, we just couldn’t sit and enjoy watching that beautiful pool try as we might. No, each one of us kept being lured by that perfect rock bowl with it’s crystal blue water. Just one more dip. We tried talking each other and ourselves into even just jumping in and climbing out right away. It looked soooo good that cold clear water. And the clear water tumbling in from above made it so much more enticing. Each one of us, except maybe Paul who never was tricked by the attractiveness of that pool, kept saying maybe we’d just have one more dip before we went. Just one more dunking. In the end, none of us did brave going in again. We suffered defeat that day, and eventually let that cold water chase us back up the hill and down the trail. Maybe we will go back someday for just one more dip…

Small cascade trailside

Oh well, after leaving the pool and heading down the trail a ways, I finally got my first glimpse of gorgeous green Lost Valley once again. From still a few miles up, it already caught my breath away as the large green meadow stood in relief against the surrounding forest and scrublands. The sight of the meadow from afar took pounds off my pack as I hurried on down the trail anxious to be in my beloved Lost Valley once again. Not to be denied this time, I was going to return to my favorite place in all the Ventana. I would find that favorite camp spot of my youth once again, and I would recognize it immediately as soon as I laid eyes on it! I remembered that camp as if I had just lain under those tall pines soughing in the breeze above my head just yesterday. I remembered the bed of pine needles the trees had graciously laid out for visitors. I remembered that wide shallow river crossing and it’s waters cooing and babbling on their journey downstream. And I remembered the meadow across the river that seemed to go on forever with it’s tall waving grasses and lovely wildflowers. I would be there soon!

The Ventana has some of the loveliest Lupine displays anywhere….

Another local….Yerba Santa

We kept on down the trail as it wound around and around and around the hillsides. Finally at the bottom stopping to rest a few minutes, we were close to where we had given up in our quest the last trip to this area. So, we knew this time that we still had a good mile or two yet to go. We settled our packs once again on our shoulders and hips and headed off at a fair clip and waded thru the tall grasses in the valley whilst crossing numerous creeklets along the way. This trip I would not be stopping until we got to the famed Lost Valley Creek where my long sought after camp lay. The one to two miles seemed to last forever before I knew we were for sure getting close enough for me to know we were just about really there.

Finally, at long last, we came through a grove of tall pines to what had to be my Lost Valley ahead. But, as we got closer and closer, something seemed amiss. My Lost Creek had been misplaced. It was no longer just below the camp as I remembered. In fact, it was nowhere to be found. Instead of the cool clear babbling brook of my teen years, there was a long hillock below the camp running all along one side similar to a levee. And my camp was nothing like it had been. Apparently many many backpackers and horse packers had discovered my little oasis. Hundreds of feet over the years had turned the soft pine needle bed into inches of dust. To walk around the camp was to kick up enough dust to send one into a fit of coughing. And the green luscious vegetation ringing the camp making it so private had long ago been trampled and disappeared to be replaced by yet more dust. Limbs had been broken off trees for firewood, and soot from decades of fire rings not cleaned up properly was spread everywhere. The tall trees standing so lonely now amid their dust bowl were all that was left of my lovely Lost Valley camp. Quite discouraged, I wandered around studying my valley. Apparently also, some mighty big storms had come through over the years, sending torrents of water down Lost Creek carrying an eventual mountain of dirt down with the torrents to take up residence in my valley right on the site of my lovely creek. The dirt now living where my creek once flowed rerouted my lovely babbling brook far from it’s roots. The levee, while taking some of the charm from the camp by blocking the view of the meadow and creek, at least was a creation of mother nature. But the damage caused by the backpackers and horsepackers overusing this one special spot was discouraging and inexcusable. I would remember this in later years when thinking about backpacking and camping with my own horses. My little oasis was no longer useable as the dust was too thick and there was not a single spot to lay a pad to sleep on. Tiredly we headed back up the trail looking for another suitable spot to rest our heads for the night.

With a little investigation, we came back out to another little meadow with a nearby creek to get our water from . I was almost in tears from exhaustion and disappointment and nothing looked good to me. I felt my trip had been ruined and I was ready to head for home. Between the kids heading up the hills ahead out of sight and me lagging behind so despondently, Gary had his hands full. Gary yelled for the kids to stop, and tried unsuccessfully to reason with me. I had nothing constructive or creative to say. So, Gary made the decision on his own to stop us all in a spot we had seen a bit earlier on the edge of the meadow above the trail.

I followed Gary and the kids up to the meadow’s edge and wandered around hopelessly for a few minutes before deciding to drop my pack and join the group. After sitting a few minutes, I realized maybe this spot wasn’t so bad after all. It was definitely not my Lost Valley camp of long ago that I had dreamt of for so long, but still, it was a pretty little meadow with a few lingering wildflowers to keep us company. We settled back away from the edge of the meadow under some other lovely tall pines to enjoy.

After a bit, I decided to do some exploring with the kids. The meadow was actually larger than it first looked. Despite the disappointment in the overused camp, I enjoyed spotting several hobbled horses grazing peacefully nearby. Enjoying their company, we moved around them while circling the meadow. Once I got a good look at it, I found Gary had picked us quite a lovely little spot to spend the night after all. And we had solitude in our camp. It wouldn’t be til some time had passed before we would realize the horses had brought in a boy scout troop, but they were camped far enough away that we would neither hear nor see them even once that night. And best of all, I was out in the wilds and would be falling asleep under a roof of stars.

Resting after a long hike in….

Lucky horses having a yummy meal

Journeling in the meadow

Early evening after checking out the area, we decided to go ahead and fix some supper. Dinner was nothing memorable itself, but what happened afterwards will be fixed forever in my mind. I had heated up some extra water to wash out my dinner cup. Standing some several feet from camp swishing the water around in my cup to rinse it, I absentmindedly tossed the hot water out from my feet when I suddenly heard it. The strangest noise. It sounded like a sprinkler going round and round, the kind of sprinkler schools use that make a “tsch…tsch…tsch…tsch…” sound as the shooting water taps the sprinkler heads. In the millisecond it took me to hear the sound and realize it was nothing I had ever heard before in the backcountry of nowhere, I was already looking around for the source. As I glanced down at my feet, I spotted it. There, right at my toes, was a small rattler looking up at me. He had his head cocked sideways looking up at me, much as a puzzled dog will do when he’s trying to figure out what you are saying to him. And I could tell by the look in his eyes, that he was as startled as I. I must have just missed him with the water…or maybe not. Then almost simultaneously, we both frantically jumped back from each other, he seemed to jump back a full foot before speeding off into the brush. And I must have jumped back at least three feet while screaming “Gary” at the top of my lungs! Gary ran over in time to see his hasty retreat, but that was the last we saw of him. Needless to say, we moved our groundsheet and bags just a little further from that bush before we settled in for the night.

During the night, we thought it was mildly possible to have another visit from the little guy, but it was the horses in fact who came calling. Something got them excited at one point and they went running hell bent for leather through the meadow. Luckily we had a large boulder next to us to shy them away, and we had no other near misses that night.

Someone’s home….

In the morning, we packed up and headed out. This had just been an overnighter. I did in fact end up having the loveliest trip despite finding my Lost Valley of those long ago teen years was truly lost to me. I acquired several valuable lessons that trip. I learned the value in traveling lightly and especially camping lightly in a manner that is now popularly called “Leave No Trace” camping. I learned also something special about snakes that trip. That snakes can fear us much as we fear them…and oddly enough as a result, making me fear them less forever after in future encounters. Despite all that we learned and enjoyed of that beautiful little valley, we probably won’t head back to Lost Valley again. There are just too many other trails and too many other lovely places yet to explore. But I got some satisfaction in knowing I could at least locate special spots again years later even if changed almost beyond recognition,….and I had the realization that each visit to a special spot is only special in that moment and that you need to make each new moment special for itself.

Pulling gear out into the morning’s sun to dry….

Close up this dry appearing valley was an extravaganza of wildflowers!

Newer website

2014-01-19T20:13:00.003-08:00

Been working off and on on a different site for In Dee's Woods. Wanted to mention it here in case reading on this dark background is a problem for you. My brother says the other website is easier on his eyes so it might be on your's too!
http://ndeewoods.com/
Enjoy!

Trying to Fool A Bear...

2014-01-12T21:49:00.004-08:00

Gonna weigh in on bears and food storage awareness here.

Once again I just read a classic and oft repeated forum debate on one of my favorite backpacker sites about whether to hang food, use bear canisters or chance it. I'm not going to give advice on how you should store your food, there are plenty of successful ideas floating around already on that. But one of the ideas often mentioned is that you can use odor proof bags to fool bears, so I thought I would tell a little story about my experiences with presumably odor proof items.

I trained search and rescue dogs for many years. In the process I gained a very healthy respect for what canines can smell. Bears and dogs do belong to separate families of course, but they are in the same order, Carnivora....thus I think you will find this story interesting if you are a backpacker in bear country.

In the group I volunteered with, California Rescue Dog Association, and at the time I was involved with CARDA, our certification was based on Swiss standards which were tops in the world . Our Search and Rescue dogs had to pass several very difficult tests depending on whether they were wilderness rescue dogs, disaster rescue dogs, cadaver dogs etc. My story is about my dog, Cali, and her "article search" test. Articles are a great way to track a lost person so search and rescue dogs are trained to let their handler know whenever an article is found in a search area.

Cali and I getting instructions from the judge

On the morning of our test, Cali and I were brought out to a 4 acre field and given the parameters of the field and were told to stay outside of the test area until given our official start, at which time I could send Cali into the field and direct her search efforts...I had to stay out of the search area at all times.

The articles Cali was to find consisted of 4 items. I would begin with a "hasty search" where I would send her in to the search area and with hand and voice signals would have her hastily search the field. When the hasty search was over, I would begin a "fine search" for whatever articles she had not yet found. I would again direct her with hand and voice signals to cover the entire field searching in a very close criss cross pattern.

In preparation for the test, noone had walked in this field for a specific amount of time. The articles were metal objects sterilized by boiling the night before and then dumped in ziploc baggies without being handled to prevent scent contamination. The morning of the test, the objects were thrown out into the field prior to our arrival, only being touched by either sterile surgical gloves or the baggies they were stored in. Cali had 15 minutes to find these 4 sterilized objects in the test field.

Standing outside the test area, I whispered in Cali's ear to "go search," and let her go. Cali seemed to float over the field she was so excited to be doing her job! She ran straight out to the end of the search area as I had directed her to "go out," and suddenly while running almost full speed, she turned on her haunches and sped to the right quickly grabbing the first item and running it back to me. Giving her a "Good Girl!" and a quick pat, I sent her back out again. This time as she again sped towards the back of the test area, and before reaching the back perimeter, she turned on her haunches once again...this time to the left...and ran straight to article number two and snagging it in her jaws, made a beeline back to me. After praising her highly and quickly...the clock was ticking...I sent her out again....this time she found articles three and four almost immediately and brought them both back to me. We never even got to show the judge what wonderful language we had together, that I could direct her left and right and closer and farther...as we never got to do our "fine search." Cali had found all four sterilized items in under four minutes!

Thus, as a result of my search and rescue days with Cali, when I am backpacking I know bears know I am there. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt bears know I have food...and can probably tell exactly what kind of food I have no matter how I try to disguise it. What I use to protect my food, and why I use what I use is another story I might tell another time. But in the meantime, just know...you can't fool mother nature! Or, at least you can't fool a bear!

Search dogs on a 30 minute stay

When "off duty" Cali loved backpacking!

Dog Paw Mishaps... Tips for Hiking With Dogs

2012-09-30T22:40:00.003-07:00

Sandy enjoying one of many backpacks on trail....

Many many years ago I learned a very valuable lesson. Whatever conditioning you do...you must include your dogs too!

My family set off on an early season hike one year in the Yolla Bolly Wilderness area of Northern California. Wilderness areas are accepting of dogs, so we brought our two labrador retrievers, Sandy, and her daughter, Cali. Excited about the first hike of the season, we woke early and got to the trailhead by a decent hour. We all donned our packs, including the dogs, and set off up the trail. Our path was snow free and well trod for easy hiking...or so we thought. As the day warmed, we all slowed on the steady climb. Because of the heat, I didn't realize there might be a different reason Sandy was slowing. We got to our first creek crossing and Sandy flopped down in the water...not wanting to move when we were ready to continue on. Calling her was of no avail...a certain warning bell for all of us. I went back to where she lay and that is when I first noticed her paws. Her raw and bleeding paws, with a slab of pad sliced off on one foot made me gasp in shock! We had only gone about a mile and a half...what had happened? As we looked around at the path we'd followed, we noticed it was a bit rough, but not enough to do the damage to Sandy that we saw. Then we realized the creek itself was layed with sharp rocks. The combination of slightly rough trail, and sharp creek rocks had shredded poor Sandy's pads. Our dogs were in trouble.

There was no way we could continue our trip. And though the car was only one and a half miles back, there was no way Sandy could make it on her own...and we could not carry a 60 pound dog. I had everybody scramble through their packs to find what we could and coming up with bandanas and extra wool socks...we managed to bandage and cover her feet with a thick enough layer that she could hobble slowly back down the trail with us.

We went straight back to the car, scrapping our backpacking trip. On the way home, we spotted a turnoff for a little lake with what appeared to be a primitive car camping area ...turning off the main road we went to investigate. There wasn't much there, just the lake and a couple of picnic tables and fire rings. But, we had the place to ourselves. Lifting Sandy from the car onto her blanket on the picnic table...she enjoyed a place of royalty that night.

Once at home, I took her to my vet and here is what she said. Boots are difficult to use and hard to keep on (maybe nowadays there are more high tech ones available, but at the time there wasn't much choice). There was a chemical we could use that would toughen her pads, but chances are it would end up making them crack and defeat our purpose. Or....we could condition our dog's feet before trips while we condition ourselves. She said get them out everyday on varying types of surfaces for at least a mile daily for at least 6 weeks before a backpack trip. Dogs pads are much like our feet and can be babyskin soft if not conditioned, or can callus up like shoe leather!

I opted for the conditioning route and enjoyed many years of hiking with my dogs with no further feet mishaps...simply because I religiously conditioned their paws daily for weeks ahead of time taking them on sand, rocks, bark, gravel etc etc etc!

Stay tuned though for more doggy trail tales and tips from lessons learned the hard way....:)

Bring a Map...

2012-09-16T04:06:00.000-07:00

Well worn topo from a favorite backpack

I was recently reading a string of posts in one of my favorite hiking forums about lost hikers. I also ride volunteer mounted horse patrol at my local state park, and by far the most common help I give visitors is passing out maps and reorienting lost hikers.
You'll see from my blog tales that it took a number of trips for me to learn to read a topo map properly....I had some amusing and not so amusing mishaps on the way to learning to read a map. But, that was mostly while learning to read maps proficiently enough to hike off trail. Basic map reading is not that hard...providing you remember to bring a good map!
You can get good maps at any backpacking store worth their salt, you can order them on line, you can get them at visitor centers near the area you are planning to visit.
While you are at it...pick up a compass to go with your map. Your compass does not need to be a large expensive compass that does everything. Pick up a simple cheap compass and start using it even on day hikes!
Don't count on electronics to get you there. Batteries go dead, satellites cannot always be found when you need them. If you hike, learn to read a topographical map and compass....and have fun out there!

2012-07-25T22:14:00.001-07:00

Somewhere Along the John Muir Trail

The John Muir Trail - Part 2

A remote point to point 200 plus mile backpack spanning from Yosemite to the top of Mt Whitney (with another 11 miles from the top of Mt Whitney to the trailhead)

I had decided to hike the John Muir Trail when I was only ten years old! "Back then," TVs were a fairly new thing, and color TVs newer still. Families would sit in an evening and watch TV together as it was still such a novelty. One night as I was sitting on our old brown couch with my legs curled under me, and my dad lounging nearby in his favorite chair, this TV show came on about hiking. I was immediately riveted. I'd been drawn to sleeping under the stars since I was four years old when I was first allowed to sleep outside in the backyard with my big brothers. As stunning scenes of snow covered peaks and lush green valleys passed in front of my eyes, the narrator told of a trail that passed through these same stunning wild areas I was seeing on the TV. Further, he said that a person could walk for over 200 miles through this wilderness and that it took a person through some of the most remote wilderness in the lower 48. A person would not pass a single road, and be traveling among America's wildest animals and see precious few people. I vowed that very night that someday I would hike this John Muir Trail! I never forgot that show, and I never forgot my dream of hiking it despite where my life's journeys took me.

At age 16, I began backpacking in earnest. With a group of five friends about the same age as I, I experienced my very first backpacking trip...only one of us had backpacked before, yet we managed 60 miles in 5 days that first trip...with no adult along to help! After that, a couple of us teens managed to hook up with a local Sierra Club group who graciously allowed us to join them. We spent a couple of days listening to our hiking elders tell very tall tales of sleeping in the snow over embers buried beneath them for warmth...they were tall tales weren't they? Then, still at 16 years, my best friend and I convinced our parents to let us spend a week in Glacier National Park all by ourselves. What interesting experiences we had that week traveling alone in the backcountry of Glacier!

Over the years, as I continued to backpack, I got lost on occasion and learned to read a topographical map very well. Then I became so proficient hiking by map and compass that I eschewed trails altogether and spent trip after trip hiking off trail. I saw animals I'd only read about in books. I saw shooting stars galore. I camped under starry skies over and over telling tall tales of my own to my kids and grandkids. I stood on peaks with views so farreaching that you could see for miles and miles....until finally, I could see mountains in every direction I had journeyed through in seasons past. Even still, throughout all these spectacular journeys, there was one I still had not taken. That dream I had made when I was ten years old still lived inside me and beckoned quietly to not be forgotten. New dreams formed....to hike the Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada, 2,650 miles. And yet another dream came to me of hiking the Continental Divide Trail Canada to Mexico ... 3,100 miles. Perhaps I would follow those hikes up with the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine. None of those dreams however surplanted my first real hiking dream...that of hiking where John Muir had traveled among the high peaks of the "Range of Light," the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range in California. The longer trails of the PCT and CDT and AT sounded wonderful....but first and foremost, I longed to hike that first trail that captured the heart and mind of that long ago ten year old sitting on that old brown couch hearing of John Muir and seeing his beloved mountains on that old TV.

And from time to time I wondered when would I ever get there!

To be continued....

A Two Hundred Mile Trek along the John Muir Trail

2012-07-18T22:12:00.001-07:00

The John Muir Trail - Part 1

A remote point to point 200 plus mile backpack spanning from Yosemite to the top of Mt Whitney (with another 11 miles from the top of Mt Whitney to the trailhead)

Meandering down the John Muir Trail at a relaxed but moderate pace knowing we were only hiking a few miles this day on mostly flat trail, we enjoyed the warm sun and first sounds of the wilderness welcoming us back. Hikers experience quite a different listening experience in the backcountry as they hike to the sounds of crickets and birds and wind soughing through the pine boughs overhead. Paralleling the Tuolumne River through Lyell Canyon, we had made it almost to the base of our first real climb this day when suddenly I realized the day’s sounds had changed dramatically….I no longer heard footsteps behind me! Turning quickly to see what had happened to Gary and expecting to see him bending down tying his shoelaces or something mundane like that, I was shocked when I saw the expression on his face. Actually, it was the lack of expression that most alarmed me. Gary stood stock still with a completely blank expression on his face. “Gary? ….Gary?.... GARY!” I tried in vain to get his attention and was starting to wonder if he was having a mini stroke or something. Finally he managed to croak out the words “we have no tent!” Seeing him come back to life was immeasurably comforting and I relaxed my tightened shoulders and back in relief. Oh good, he’s okay, some silly matter about equipment and not a medical emergency! I asked him what on earth he was talking about as I knew he carried the tent safe and sound in his pack. He always carried the tent. As he focused his attention back on me asking me if I had the tent, I realized there might be a problem here after all, albeit a minor one. I answered that I didn’t have the tent, but of course he did, right? As it turns out, as we had piled our equipment on the bed while packing, he had for some reason thought I grabbed the tent just as I thought he had. Gary was right, we were absolutely without a tent at the beginning of our three week, 200 mile trek on the John Muir Trail. Far enough from the car that neither of us wanted to turn around and go get it, nevertheless, we had to come up with some solution. Hiking for three weeks in the high Sierra backcountry far from any hotels, stores or housing with no shelter was extremely risky. One good rain and our soaked clothes in the lower temperatures of these higher elevations would most certainly ensure life threatening hypothermia would get us both! We both stood there staring at each other dumbfounded as the reality of our dangerous situation really started to sink in to me.

To Be Continued.....:)

2012-07-13T21:30:00.001-07:00

Gary and I on top of Mt Whitney....one of the few pics we have to show we really do hike together!:)

Mountain Pass

Clomp Tromp Stomp

Huff Puff Sigh

Ever higher with each step

Ever closer to the Sky

Photography and Animal Tracking Fun

2012-06-29T23:01:00.002-07:00

Wanna get some fun pics in the backcountry?
Animal tracks are always just plain fun!
Just place a pocket knife, coin etc next to your track to show size and depth!

Gray Fox track from Lake Italy region in the Sierra Nevada

Wallowing around in the mud will generally net you some great pics... I never pass a mudhole by without taking a peek!
The pic above is clearly from a "dog" or canine species and not a "cat" or feline species. Here are some tips on telling if your track is from a dog like a coyote or fox as opposed to a cat like a cougar or bobcat:

1-Canines have symmetrical prints, felines do not. ie in the "dog" print above, the toes are side by side, in a "cat," the "leading" toe or 2nd toe from inside would have been slightly higher giving the print an asymmetrical look to it.

2-Canines usually have claws out, felines often don't unless they are pouncing (click on the above pic to enlarge it and you can see the claws clearly)

3-Canines have 2 lobes (look at the very bottom of the above print), felines have 3

Wanna know how I decided this was a gray fox instead of a red fox? Gray foxes have less furry feet than a red fox so their toes show more clearly. A red fox's print would have been more fuzzy from their furry feet!

If you've got some great pics that we can all learn from like the one I took above, let me know and I'll post it, with credit to you of course...:)!

The Canyon

2012-06-17T23:20:00.003-07:00

Loop Backpack including the Southernmost section of High Sierra Route, connecting to the John Muir Trail and looping back to trailhead via Bubbs Creek Trail. Strenuous backpack of 66.6 miles total, approx 25 miles off trail, 18,009 feet elev gain (18,009 elev loss of course too)

When people start hiking off trail by map and compass, just about anything can and probably does go wrong that can possibly go wrong. By the time Gary and I decided to hike the southernmost section of the High Sierra Route, including about 25 miles off trail, we had had quite a few short sections of off trail hiking under our belts. Understandably smug in our ability to take on an undertaking of this magnitude, due to our experience, we were not prepared to be humbled quite so much by this journey. In retrospect, we can now both laugh at our audicity in feeling so over confident back then....at the time of this journey, we were quite chagrined at discovering the pitiful reality of our then compass and map reading skills.

The book, The Sierra High Route: Traversing Timberline Country is the brainchild of Steve Roper, an old time Sierra hiker that came up with the idea of paralleling the John Muir Trail. Steve had decided that the famous John Muir Trail was not quite as spectacular as it could be as it dropped from the crest of the High Sierra range and often took it's travelers in lower less spectacular areas. The High Sierra Route as proposed by Steve Roper remedied that lack and took those hardy souls capable of navigating through extended off trail travel in the mountains into higher, far less traveled, and much more phenomenal country than it's cousin, the JMT.

As I look back on the original map of this journey, I see handwriting smeared by sweat, pictures taken by the handful of backpackers who at that time had broken trail before us painstakingly researched and pasted onto the map. I see the map is creased and recreased from the many folds as we refolded the map during our journey over and over while keeping the section we were currently navigating visible thru our baggie. Almost every fold has been shredded by use allowing long gaping holes to puncture our precious guide. I also see the hours we spent poring over the contour lines picking the best way over each ridge and around each lake. I see yellow highlighter fading with time that once stared brightly back from the face of a once sparkly clean map. Our highlighted route now lying dully smudged by the high Sierra dirt soiling the surface of the map. I also see the consternation on Gary's face as we stand on the edge of a precipice looking a thousand feet down into the canyon that should have been a near vertical cliff face in front of us.

Our original map

That canyon was near the beginning of our 9 day journey and a humbling start of the many off trail miles still to be navigated in the next few days!

There are many reasons why backpackers head to the backcountry to hike. Number one I suppose is the beckoning of the beauty of the wildflowers, views and wildlife to be experienced that are really not available any other way than by donning a pack and paying your dues of blood, sweat and tears in the wilds. Another reason for extended hikes is the feeling of accomplishment of miles hiked, trails traveled and earning the knowledge that you can live for an extended period of time with nothing more than what you can carry on your back. And last but not least, is the ability to experience nature on her own terms. And not that I am anti-social, as I am not, but....that last reason to backpack is best experienced without the hordes of people you find in cities and towns. Backpackers seek lesser traveled trails for that brief period of time they have to live in nature. And, off trail is the best of that world. So, for all of the above reasons, Gary and I decided to spend the better part of a week of our 9 day backpack in Aug of 2000 off trail in the High Sierra.

The choice of the southernmost part of the High Sierra Route was obvious for us simply for the reason that we had not hiked it before. Most backpackers go to great lengths to find places to travel that they've never been to before, and Gary and I had hiked very little in the area we were about to journey. So, after making our maps at home and packing, we headed off to the Copper Creek Trailhead in Kings Canyon National Park. Our first night's camp was at Tent Meadows. There are lower and upper tent meadows, and for any backpackers reading this....you have two choices for a first night. Either you stay at Lower Tent Meadows on the way up to the Crest, I think about 4 miles, and sleep on a slope in the trees in a well used camp spot. We did share our night at Lower Tent Meadows with a huge herd of deer whose youngsters were galloping around and playing for a couple of hours nearby. Or, you climb close to 5,000 feet in one day to get up to the Crest. I've done both....I would opt for the Crest were I to do it again probably....but that is one nasty first day! If you opt for Lower Tent Meadows, you then get half the climb, and will look forward to a choice of lovely campsites for your next night....Grouse Lake, Granite Lake...or anyplace beyond.

Staying at Lower Tent Meadows, our first day was entirely on trail of course. And following Secor's book closely the next day (I had actually taped photocopies of certain pages to the back of my map), we really had no major problems finding our landmarks. Notice the use of the word major. Grin. Once the Copper Creek trail leveled out, we knew Grouse Lake would be just North of us. We went for the suggested half mile, and found no creek, no lake, no water. Maps don't lie however, so we knew the direction we had to go to find the lake. And we had to find the lake, as the "trail" we wanted would climb out of the lake bowl up a ridge....without finding that lake, we would not have the ability to take the next leg of our journey. Eyeballing a ridge and dense forest to the north of us where the lake was supposed to be, Gary suggested we climb the ridge above the trees to get a better view. Surely we'd be able to see the lake from the top of the hundred foot ridge in front of us. As we climbed, I started realizing this was a bad idea. We were getting higher and higher, and still no lake view. Gary had pulled ahead of me, and was almost out of sight. But finally, I heard his yell.... "I see water!" Once down at the lakeshore, we were quite chagrined to realize we could simply have walked through the forest and obtained the lakeshore...hindsight is always 20/20!

Water in the backcountry is generally a welcome sight, but when your navigation depends on finding it, it is downright exhilarating! Excited about navigating our first hurdle, and enjoying a light snack at Grouse, nevertheless, we bemoaned the fact that we hadn't climbed all the way to it the first day and spent our first night there. That was the seed that was planted encouraging us to later climb all 5,000 feet in one day in a later trip! Ultimately though, we congratulated ourselves on a job well done in finding this hidden lake...and our route out. For, the next leg of the route would take us straight up the lake bowl to the North side of the Lake to the top of 11,320 ft Grouse Lake Pass or Grouse Lake Saddle. Picking our way fairly easily up and around chunks of granite to the top of the pass took awhile, but we finally allowed ourselves the luxury of stopping for a leisurely lunch in the sun once on top. Taking in the outstanding views, we saw a series of three tiny tarns west of the pass, most definately a great place to stop for our next night. So we made our way to the tarns and had lovely views back down canyon onto unvisited Granite Basin, a sneak preview of a spot we'd visit in a later trip.

Dee atop Goat Crest

In the early morning sun, we regained our route, and were soon at the top of Goat Crest Pass. Then started the downhill work. Sounds a little odd to call downhill climbing work, but as any off route hiker knows, those steep talus fields can be agonizinly slow and hard on the "brake" muscles!

Dee Down climbing from Goat Crest in a heavier pack than she'd have in a few days, and certainly heavier than she'd use in later trips! Off trail hiking makes you want to shed those pounds!

Towards the bottom though, the "climbing" got much easier and we "strolled" down to Glacier Lake.

Gary strolling down to Glacier Lake

Glacier Lake was lovely with a nice sandy beach to explore and enjoy....snack time again.

Glacier Lake is the quintessential "High Mountain Lake"...notice the distant peaks just slightly higher than the lake level!

Being so early in the day though, we couldn't justify staying a night there so we begrudgingly left the beach and headed on down valley There was one point at which the guide book had said to veer a certain direction. Looking impassable, we chose to veer the other way. We ended up doing some pretty serious bushwhacking and learned to follow Steve Roper's advice! Finally though, passing another of the Glacier Lakes, we obtained lower Glacier Valley at about 9,900 feet and found ourselves in the trees, and for a couple short miles actually walking a real trail again briefly!

Sauntering on a trail was a pleasant diversion from our off trail boulder hopping, bushwhacking and steep ups and downs. We strolled to and around first State Lakes, and then trailless once again, made our way to Horseshoe Lakes which were quite easy to find.

From Horseshoe Lakes our real navigation began in earnest. The previous off trail was just a warm up. From Horseshoe Lakes we'd be going over 4 passes with no trail, Gray, White, Red and Cartridge Passes and be exploring miles of drainages and basins and lakes on our way back to any signs of civilization. Thus, it was rather disconcerting as we hiked away from Horseshoe Lakes presumably to hike up a 1,000 foot cliff face, that we could see no cliffs in front of us through the trees. However, there was no mistaking we were at Horseshoe Lakes....their shapes so distinctive on our map, that they might as well have had a trail sign by them. So, we just kept going in the direction our compass and directions said to go and took it on faith that the cliff would present itself sooner or later. We did do some climbing....about 300 feet up a gentle slope. But, not the vertical cliff face we searched for. Both of us were starting to get more than a little concerned, for when you are off trail you depend heavily on landmarks like cliff faces to let you know you are going the right way. Finally though, late afternoon was upon us, meaning we had traveled the necessary distance to have gone beyond the cliff face, and we had advanced as high as we could go. Standing on a barren lonely plateau with far reaching views in almost every direction, it was clearly obvious something was quite wrong! Standing on the edge of a steep precipice, suddenly it hit me! I started laughing... and to this day don't know how I managed to get the words out to tell Gary what I had done. For it was I who had researched and planned the route and studied the map so closely and knew the cliff should have been where we stood. When Gary came and stood next to me, looking at me quizzically, I pointed at the map, and then pointed down at our feet. For far below us directly under our feet, was the missing 1,000 cliff. We stood with our toes pointed over a 1,000 foot precipitous drop off into Windy Canyon. My cliff face was 1,000 foot vertical drop, not a 1,000 foot climb up! Those squiggly contour lines do not tell all. We learned that day that you must look at the tiny little elevation numbers to know whether those lines are taking you up or down! Both Gary and I were quite chagrined as he had studied the map as frequently as I had all that afternoon while we searched to find our way. As it turned out though, following compass alone, at least we had correctly found ourselves on Windy Ridge exactly where we needed to be! Finding a lovely little tarn on that ridgetop, we pulled out our gear and enjoyed a wonderful camp and an unobstructed starry sky that night.

Camp atop Windy Pass

Many fellow backpackers wouldn't dream of sleeping outside without their tent. Gary and I relish sleeping sans tent. There is nothing quite like the gentle night breezes soughing across your face, or waking up in the middle of the night cozy and warm while snuggled in your fluffy down bags as you watch the meteors streak across the night sky. In fact, most folks don't realize just how many shooting stars streak over their heads undetected every single night. On an average, while in the high country of the mountains with no city lights to damage the view, we probably see a shooting star every 2-3 minutes all night long! Sleeping outside under a starry sky is half the wilderness experience for me. Unless it's raining or it's early season and the mosquitos are driving us mad, we sleep out under the wide open night sky enjoying the thick blanketing of stars normally not visible in town.

Come morning, well rested after a cozy night on Windy Ridge...which had just enough wind to lightly blow the mosquitos away...we packed up and headed towards our next landmark. For that is how one hikes off trail, from landmark to landmark. And, we soaked in some lovely views as we made our way the length of the ridge.

We took turns guessing at which way we'd be making our way down from the ridge. As it turns out, neither of us were correct as the landscape herded us into a narrow hidden defile next to the cliffs we had been flanking. As we oohed and ahed over the ingenuity of those who had passed before us, we were astounded at what they had accomplished. For in 1935 the Sierra Club had brought about 100 people this way along with enough stock to supply those folks on one of the largest backcountry expeditions of the Sierra Nevada the Sierra Club ever accomplished. Only by traveling in their "footsteps" can one truly appreciate the magnitude of their feat. Once off the easy traveling Windy Ridge, there were times when Gary had to lend me a hand, and even take my pack and boost it up before I could get up an occasional little cliff face. And being an owner of a very agile horse, yet I cannot imagine getting my horse down some of the huge skirts of granite several feet high those early travelers got their stock down and up. These early travelers had to spend extra time laboriously building sections of trail to safely get their stock through. The care and patience and creativity they had to have had to travel where we were traveling was mind boggling to us. And a couple of times we benefited from tiny pieces of trail still existing that they had engineered back in 1935.

Soon off of Windy Ridge though, we worked our way down to the South Fork of Cartridge Creek. A sample of some of the material I found about this area's traveling: "The route drops down into the South Fork of Cartridge Creek. Follow the stream up until a small lake about 10,500 is reached. From here, veer left up to a series of smaller lakes under Marion Peak." That sounds so easy from the comfort of home. Once you are "out there" however, reality is much different. Every few minutes as you climb with sweat forming under your hat brow and formimg rivulets down the sides of your face, you wonder how far you are to climb. Was that little mosquito pond you passed 10 minutes ago the pond the previous hiker was talking about? If you have an altimeter, are you calculating the inevitable errors of your altimeter correctly? My husband's altimeter seems to lose or gain 60 or 80 feet every thousand feet. At each landmark you find, your spirits are buoyed immeasurably. You are found! Then as you make your way to the next landmark, doubts assail you unmercifully. Just one or two in the beginning...."hey, can I look at the map again real quick?" Then if you don't find your next landmark as soon as you thought you should the doubts start crescendoing upon you. Until finally, one or both of you calls a halt to regroup and really restudy the map. We did however successfully find that pond at 10,500 feet this trip and climb up a rocky gully past a series of tarns enroute to Gray Pass. The hiking was relatively easy for quite some time as we climbed from granite bench to granite bench. Eventually we did come to Gray Pass and enjoyed the wonderful views and exhilarating feeling of knowing exactly where we were!

Looking back at Gray Pass....obvious Gray Mountains!

Dee quite tired from not eating enough!

Our next landmark, White Pass, would cause us no little consternation however! Traveling from one pass to the next, sounded so easy at home. Go over a pass, walk down to the valley on the other side and climb up to the next pass. However, by the time we had passed over Gray Pass and taken the stroll down into the basin at the foot of Marion Peak....we realized there were a couple of obvious saddles ...and to be honest, we weren't one hundred percent certain we were even actually looking at Marion Peak! Gary was still going strong, I had not eaten enough and was flagging quite a bit. When you are backpacking, it is very wise to carry snacks handy in an easily

accessible pocket and actually eat a bit every 90 minutes or so to keep up your pace! I had not done that and was mentally, emotionally and physically drained! Worried about our navigation and getting lost on top of being tired and hungry was a bad combination. As I was rapidly approaching meltdown status, Gary had me take off my pack, sit at the bottom of the basin studying my map....and eat! Meanwhile, he left his pack with me and was actually fresh enough to take off at a jog up to the top of what we possibly thought was the correct pass for a quick look around. The country around us being above treeline was quite wide open and so I could see him most of the time we were separated. All but when he was at the top of the pass...and had stepped to the far side of it. Each minute Gary was out of sight at that point was like an hour. When we separate in the backcountry, I am always quite concerned. By the time he came back in sight though, I had eaten enough to replenish my energy....and studied the map enough to be pretty sure the peak at my feet that rose high above my head was indeed Marion Peak. And by the time Gary returned he was able to confirm my map study. He had indeed actually climbed White Pass and verified we were on the right path. My rest was extended while Gary had his lunch, and then off we went to climb our next pass that day.

Gary checking out the route ...

Red Point with Red Pass on the right shoulder of the Point

Once on top of White Pass, our next goal, Red Pass, was all too obvious as it would lie just south of the Red Peak in this picture. Elated at spotting Red Point and thinking it would be an easy stroll to the pass....off we went. And, the going was relatively easy. Walking on loose but gentle granite slabs and benches, we moved pretty quickly. One mishap occurred in that section that I have paid for dearly in later years though. We had come upon a granite shelf that necessitated we go over the top of it, rather than around. A pretty good vertical drop off at the edge of the granite block convinced us climbing over the top of it was the wiser and only choice really. So, Gary climbed up first. I was a little slower, placing my feet so as to be able to have enough leverage to give myself a boost up. Nevertheless, the ledge was just high enough that I just could not quite get myself up on the shelf without either taking off my pack and shoving it up ahead of me, or getting help from Gary. Gary was ready to help, so I stretched out my arm for him to grab. He grabbed and pulled, but our timing was off and because I was not quite ready to boost myself up at the same time that he pulled my arm, he very nearly dislocated my shoulder. In years since, we have never done that maneuver again without a verbal "one, two, three, go!" But, I squeezed the tears of pain away and kept walking.

Red Pass finally in view, still an hour's walk away....

Dee standing at the pass, notice the Granite in the background and the red metamorphic rock of Red Pass

On the East side of Red Pass, notice Marion Lake just popping to view to the right of Gary's feet mid picture.

Piece of trail bottom foreground

On the East side of Red Pass enroute to Marion Lake, we were pleasantly surprised to find pieces of old trail guiding the way. This country was so lightly traveled when we first hiked it, that we presumed these little bits of trail were left over from the 1935 Sierra Club expedition rather than being "use trail" sections.

By now, the day was aging and thoughts of camp started popping up. We had one last hurdle to jump before being able to take our packs off for the night however. The dreaded Marion Lake chutes! Actually, since we hadn't been there yet, we didn't really dread them yet. We would in future trips though. Looking at the picture above, you can see Marion Lake mid picture, and see the lake is in a granite bowl with steep sides. As you approach Marion, it becomes more and more obvious that the side of the lake you are approaching presents nothing more than a sheer vertical drop of 50-100 feet into the lake! Almost. The steep granite skirt on the side of the lake we were approaching does however have several fingers lined with tiny talus and powder which you can see in the picture below. The instructions I remember finding, say to take the far left chute. Further, the instructions claim that the chute is not obvious and to go to the last obvious chute on the left, and then look for one more. In neither that trip, nor the following trip a few years later did we ever find "the easier" left chute. Taking what we thought was the correct left chute, Gary started down first and my heart was in my throat as I took the first tentative steps behind him. For at the top you are truly taking it on faith that the route is passable as all you see when you take those first steps is near vertical sand with water at the bottom! In fact, the reality is not much different from that! It is however, passable. From time to time I started sliding, but was able to halt my slides. And at one point as I slid into Gary I thought we were both goners, but he was able to both halt my slide and keep his feet. And, by the time we neared the bottom, we found we could actually bushwack around the granite chunk of cliff on our left and finally obtain the shoreline!

Marion Lake Chutes, Red Pass on the far top right

Marion Lake was not too shabby a camp for the night and we enjoyed exploring the area. Any tips for future hikers to the area, I probably would not camp there again. The only places to camp were just too close to the shoreline....and beautiful Lake Basin is just a hop, skip and a jump away anyway.

First glimpse of Lake Basin

In the morning, we gleaned our first look at Lake Basin. We had seen Lake Basin on maps for years....but had never ventured there. Lake Basin is stunning. Early season wildflower displays must be simply stunning....nevertheless, even in August we felt we were still strolling through paradise! We took our time strolling through this lovely basin. Enjoying the many lakes dotting the landscape under the deep blue sky. We spied the route we'd be taking if we were to continue on the High Sierra Route North. Alas, that would be for another trip....we needed to loop back south and begin our journey back to the trailhead. Still several days of backcountry ahead of us though, and the rest of our off trail navigation ahead of us, Gary and I were discussing just where exactly we should be headed in Lake Basin to access Cartridge Pass. Deep in discussion, neither one of us at first noticed the movement across the Basin. Not sure which of us saw it first, nevertheless we both stopped and stared....what was coming towards us? A few long seconds passed before we realized it was another human! Having not seen a human in several days now, it took us quite by surprise! Another hardy hiker was picking his way in our direction. We would not pass close enough to say hi to him as we would be farther up valley by the time he made his way to our present location, and I'm not sure either of us wanted to! Normally backpackers are quite friendly and neighborly types. As you wander down a trail and pass another backpacker, you are sure to ask about the trail ahead and answer the same questions to the hiker going in the direction you just came from. Here in Lake Basin though, after having had the wilderness to ourselves for days, it was actually quite an intrusion to find another hiker in "our" valley. I am sure the other hiker felt the same as he never lifted his head to gaze at us much less lift an arm to wave. We all just simply quietly passed as ships in the night enroute to our respective destinations. Gary and I have since been back to Lake Basin, in fact we have hiked this section of the High Sierra Route again, and I am sorry to say word had gotten out and we maybe encountered 25-30 people taking this same journey. I am glad that so many are able to enjoy the wilds as we do, but it most definately is a different journey when you travel to high, wild places that not too many others have discovered yet, and I'm glad we got to experience it when spotting one single person was a huge surprise!

V Lake. Red Pass on back right is where we came from

Distances are deceiving....notice Gary strolling along at the base of the cliffs!

As we made our way to the highest lake in the Basin, our first glimpses of the cliffs Cartridge Pass were to go over gave us both not a little trepidation for what we were about to attempt!

Appearing very steep, our first glimpses of Cartridge were nervewracking!

But, as neared the base of the cliffs, the pass appeared more and more doable. Heights in the backcountry always appear steeper from a distance! However, two words still could not be minimized on this steep several hundred foot climb...."loose rock." No other way to find out though how doable it was, than simply by doing it. So we proceeded to the base of the cliffs.

The finer looking talus lines in the cliffs across the water is Cartridge Pass

Once we reached the base of the climb, I realized I needed to eat. At the bottom of a steep climb however, is not when you want to fill what will turn to a chunk of lead in your stomache during a workout. So, I satisfied myself with a couple of pieces of dried fruit to sustain me for the climb. As we started out, I quickly realized this was not a climb I wanted to look down on. Being afraid of heights means you can climb anything as long as you don't look down! And though Cartridge is not really what you would call "exposed," meaning you are not in danger of falling off the cliff face if you lean the wrong way, nevertheless, the climb is quite steep. My characteristic way of dealing with steep climbs is to scramble up as fast as I can. So, I just put my legs in gear and started climbing. Gary took up the rear in an effort to give me a false sense of security, bless his heart. Moving very rapidly, I just wanted to get it over with. No enjoying the views til I am safe on the top. But a pleasant surprise presented itself on this climb in the form of a nice little flat bench midway up the cliff!

Tired after a fast scramble up the pass, Dee rests on a little bench half way up Cartridge

Having made "the halfway bench," the rest of the climb is less steep and less exposed and much more relaxing! From the top of Cartridge Pass we had wonderful views back on Lake Basin as well as views south to Arrow Peak, Bench Lake and across towards Pinchot Pass on the John Muir Trail.

Dee on Cartridge. Bench Lake mid left, Arrow Peak behind Dee

Heading down Cartridge Pass we were once again reminded of the old Sierra Clubbers, and old time sheepherders as well, while we followed in their footsteps down an old narrow spotty piece of trail! The bits of trail were quite welcome even if they were steep and not very well engineered. This old trail managed to get a lot of pioneering folk down the steep canyon walls to the South Fork of the Kings River. This old forgotten trail also served Native Americans well as evidenced by the obsidian chips and arrowheads Gary and I found back on our journey. We left them where we found them so if any of my readers happens on to them also, please leave them for the next lucky hiker! In fact on this trip we found two spots where the Piutes had camped and made arrowheads while hunting or gathering or doing whatever else the backcountry afforded them on their journeys. Both the Piutes and the Mono Indians frequented the High Sierra and would meet in the Sierra to trade things like Salt for Obsidian.

Our next leg would take us down to the South Fork of the Kings River from which we would follow it's wandering path out to the John Muir Trail and find ourselves traveling a well marked route again. However, we were allowed one last backcountry slice of heaven to enjoy while off trail. A little lake part way down from Cartridge that we like to call Dee's lake. In otherwards, it has no name on a map. I am sure every off trail adventurer has special names for nameless lakes they find ....we have one for my daughter too, that she found for us one trip...but that's another story for later! Coming upon this particular lake, we realized how little time in the real backcountry we had left. Soon we'd be joining the hordes on the John Muir Trail. As we'd discover in the next couple of days though, there aren't that many out on the John Muir Highway either as it's frequently called...in reality we would see only a couple of folks on our way back to our car. We didn't know that at the time though and wanted to savor what true solitude we had left, so we actually took a half day off and set up camp a few hours before we normally would. Good choice on our part as this lovely little lake had just enough views to help us thoroughly enjoy the afternoon taking a cold water dip, reading and exploring. At night we had the most absolute flat spot to sleep on....ah heaven!

View of last lake before dropping down to the river, we followed the left shore and got to the outlet shown mid left of pic, and dropped off the edge of the world...and down about 1,200 ft to the river

Not too shabby a place to spend our last "off trail" night.

Lovely hillside of Bigelow's Sneezeweed

In the morning light, we packed up and headed on down to the South Fork of the Kings River. As we dropped off the cliff, we initially shared the trail with magnificent fields of Bigelow's Sneezeweed. Then the "trail" got hot, dusty and steep as we crisscrossed down multiple switchbacks in the hillside. As it turns out, we had a bit longer than we thought til we hit trail. Not only did we have more elevation drop to negotiate getting down to the river, but once at the river, we encountered the dreaded talus fields. Any backpacker with any miles on their feet knows the term "talus field." Talus is large chunks of granite piled high and wide, oh my. Hopping from boulder to boulder, balancing on the balls of your feet, grabbing with your hands and hoisting yourself over huge boulders and slabs of granite, pack and all for hours at a time is not exactly fun. Well, in the beginning it is, but when you go for loooonnnngggg stretches of talus....then get through the dreaded field and in a few minute start another one....it's a lot of work. Getting from where you hit the river til you get out to the John Muir Trail gives you lots of practice on talus fields as you hit several large ones! Finally though, we came through the last talus field and were meandering through lightly forested flattish terrain following a faint use trail, when suddenly in front of me my path was blocked! Oh no, did I go the wrong way? I looked up quickly trying to puzzle out what someone was obviously trying to tell me, and realized the message was not for me...it was for travelers on the John Muir Trail, trying to keep them on the JMT and not sidetracked onto the "trail" I was on! Hallelujah! After over 25 miles of off trail travel, getting slightly lost at least once, climbing terrain fit only for a mountain goat at least once, misreading my topo map at least once and sliding almost out of control on steep loose scree while being somewhere I probably shouldn't have been at least once....we were back on a real marked trail!

See the faint use trail mid pic and the blockade keeping folks from sidetracking accidentally

The rest of our trip was thankfully anticlimactic. It was wonderful being back on a marked trail. Not having to navigate constantly and search for landmarks and check map and compass every few minutes was incredibly relaxing. Of the 3-4 days we had left to hike, we enjoyed amazing views most every foot of the way back, extravagant pockets of wildflowers, and lovely well engineered maintained trails. No more routefinding mishaps, no more sliding down steep chutes trying not to fling off into space and drop into a lake pack and all, no more meltdowns caused by hunger and exhaustion, no more endless talus fields to wear us out. What we had instead was an incredible feeling of exhilaration for accomplishing all that we accomplished and a few days more to unwind and enjoy the comforts of trail hiking while still in the wilderness before we had to face the real challenges of being back in the rat race of traffic and deadlines.

Gary drinking in the view

Camping in a windbreak with fabulous views facing out

Storm brewing that gave us a great show!

A real trail to follow....

Dee on Pinchot, happy to beat the storm over the pass

Looking back at Pinchot and happy to be lower down

Views every step of the way back

A well engineered trail....with a suspension bridge!

Hope you enjoyed reading this tale as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Next story....

2012-06-14T23:00:00.000-07:00

Gosh I'm having fun with this new story coming up! The story is two thirds done. The photos are two thirds done being scanned and ready to be uploaded into the story. As I walk the steps we took all over again and look at the high country scenery we so enjoyed, the stunning beauty of this magnificent spot just beckons me back! I'll be taking you along very shortly. Here's a sneak preview of the country I'll be taking you through soon! (click on any photos on my blog to enlarge them!)

Looking South towards Pinchot Pass

2012-05-29T15:22:00.000-07:00

High Sierra Route Sunset (Pic from my next story to be posted soon!)

Bag Nights

Laying atop a tall mountain gazing up at the stars

Hearing breezes and night sounds near and far

The day has been hard and though quite long

I feel fulfilled and fear nothing wrong

Thoughts wander back to dainty flowers underfoot

And how carefully I wove thru them avoiding each with my boot

And about the steep trail leading up to the pass

Then over the top, views disappearing woefully fast

The dip in the lake, the clouds overhead

All these thoughts fly by while I’m snuggled in bed

The eves gentle breezes sough across my cool face

Thoughts becoming wispy, becoming spotty as lace

All the days exertions of body and mind

Finally allow me to slowly, slowly unwind

And before I even know it, I’ve drifted far far away

Slumbering peacefully on til the sun’s rays overhead announce the new day.

The Bear Facts!

2012-05-11T21:16:00.000-07:00

El Capitan Yosemite National Park

It's August 1997, and I've signed up for a three day seminar in Yosemite National Park titled "The Bear Facts." By the end of the three days, I will realize a better title might have been "72 Hours in the Life of a Bear Biologist." Julie and Kate have decided to put this seminar on for the first time to bravely introduce a handful of lucky people to a closer look than most people get at Yosemite's black bears, and the policies used to "manage" them.

Fitting I should come across this guy in Mammoth just b4 the seminar

We get to learn exactly where these valley bears sleep and eat... in some instances mere feet from where the millions of annual visitors travel. We learn how they are tracked and measured and their unique history as Yosemite Valley bears. We get a real feel for what it's like being a bear biologist trying to keep these bears alive... and the valley visitors safe. By day we get our special education and "behind the scenes" hikes. By night we set a bear trap in hopes of getting a real intimate look at a darted sleeping bear.

At the end of the seminar, the bottom line for me is, I'm really glad we didn't catch a bear after all! Looking at the empty unsprung trap, I first stood there feeling a little deflated that I wouldn't get the chance to have my hands on one of North America's most magnificent creatures. I wouldn't get to measure, weigh and smell the musky fur of a sleeping black bear, Ursus Americanus. I wouldn't get to pull open his mouth with my hands and see his huge teeth and feel his gums (although we did get to handle skins and skulls). I wouldn't get to stretch his powerful limbs and feel his gigantic pads. But now I realize, I also wouldn't be bringing that one tricked and trapped bear one step closer to being killed. For that's why they trap the bears in the first place in Yosemite National Park...to see which ones have successfully adapted to human habituations, and euthanize the chronic offenders.

Thrilled to learn what it's like being a park employee, and spending several days in the park with a couple of them learning from their vast experience was fulfilling enough.

I have taken several classes in Yosemite such as The Bear Facts and Birds of Prey and Animal Tracking. Classes are offered through the Yosemite Conservancy. http://www.yosemiteconservancy.org/
Go to events then click on the calendar at the bottom of the page to find something you too might enjoy!

Learning about radio collars and a whole lot more....

Checking the bear trap

Smearing peanut butter on the bag full of goodies to lure the bear into the trap

A type of owl not often spotted in the Valley...just outside our ranger's house

Evidence on a car window

Wonder what goodies were left for a bear in this car parked in the wilderness area parking lot

The Grave

2012-05-04T23:27:00.000-07:00

Sequoia National Park Backpack, Mineral King, Sawtooth Trailhead.
Just under 50 miles (plus whatever miles traveled in 9 Lakes Basin)
Mostly on trail...except 9 Lakes Basin & Sawtooth Pass "use trail"

Chased out of Nine Lakes Basin for the second time in two days due to thunder and lightning just seemed like an ill omen for this trip. However, Gary and I just don't seem to get the message sometimes....:) If you are the kind of person who likes to be "out there" in the weather, energized by elements totally out of your control, hiking by topographical map and compass....getting by on only what you can carry on your back for shelter, food and clothing ...well, you just don't always take the hint that maybe you should be turning around, retreating and throwing in the towel. I'm almost always glad I didn't throw in the towel...as in this trip that took us all over but where we wanted to go!

Nine Lakes Basin beckoned to us for some time before we actually planned a trip there. Seemed like an easy adventure...on trail most of the trip. Arriving at 9 Lakes Basin in a couple of days whereupon we would meander happily off trail up the canyon oohing and ahing over each of the gorgeous 9 lakes we explored. I envisioned sunny skies and green grasses dotting the lovely flat approaches to each lake, and an idyllic relaxing lunch by a charming lake each day. I'd be taking pictures to later look back on, while Gary sat quietly reading his book. Premade mental images don't always pan out though....

Sunny trail out of Sawtooth towards Timber Gap

And so, after driving 25 twisting and turning miles on the narrow Mineral King road, we donned our packs and set out from the Mineral King trailhead at 7,800 feet in Sequoia National Park on a lovely sunny day in August of 1999. Our first night's destination would be over beautiful Timber Gap and on towards Pinto Lake.

The first few miles actually turned out to be quite hot, and more than we bargained for. An uphill unrelenting climb of 2.2 miles took us from the Sawtooth parking area at 7,800 feet, to Timber Gap at 9,400 feet. That amount of elevation gain is not that much really...unless you are in intense heat. Ah, the shade of Timber Gap was just perfect for a quick snack and to rest our hot tired feet! And, as you can see from the picture, just as we reached Timber Gap, the hot sun gave up it's battle to foglike clouds. Never anywhere else we have hiked have we experienced such swiftly changing elements! Each trip to Mineral King has astounded us....foglike clouds can roll in and roll out every few minutes with a rapidity that is just amazing! You just have to have your camera at the ready to capture any of it!

Clouds rolling over Timber Gap

Once on Timber Gap, we began a mostly shallow descent to Cliff Creek Crossing at roughly 7,000 feet. At one point we walked a very interesting knife edge section of trail with dropoffs on either side of our narrow footpath. From Timber Gap to Cliff Creek is mostly a treed walk, but don't let that fool you, this is quite an interesting walk. Once across Cliff Creek, we began climbing once again in what could be a grueling 4,560 foot climb up to Black Rock Pass at 11,600 feet. However, we put down roots for the night near tiny little Pinto Lake and spread out our gear under the stars enjoying Mineral King's amazing weather displays. If you've spent any time on the Coast in the fog....imagine the Coastal Fog rolling right up a hill at you...then 10 minutes later simply disappating and leaving you with a silky black sky overhead blanketed with stars. Then....ten minutes later watching the fog roll right back in and over the top of you! Words cannot describe the beauty of this phenomena that I have seen nowhere else like I have in Mineral King.

Near Pinto Lake on the approach to Black Rock Pass

Hiking thru fields of lovely "Bigelow's Sneezeweed"

The next morning, refreshed and energized by a sound sleep under the stars, we packed up and headed out once more for unknown territory. Most backpackers go to great lengths seeking out new trails they've never traveled, and this was one such trip for us. After a mile or so, we reached Black Rock Pass, and stayed a bit to savor views in all directions. However, the trail soon called, so off we went before long and in a short day's hike stopped at Five Lakes Basin for the night. Five Lakes Basin is home to one of a handful of backcountry ranger huts in the Sequoia Kings Canyon backcountry. However, the ranger was out on patrol and the hut locked up, so we had the lake we chose all to ourselves for the night. Perfect! Solitude is one of the sparkling gems of backcountry travel and we feel quite lucky when we find it!

A thick blanket of clouds had rolled in....

After another idyllic night in the wilderness, we finally were close enough to strike out in the morning for Nine Lakes Basin! In fact, a little after noon we were strolling up to the first lake in the Basin. Above treeline though, I started to get concerned about the weather during lunch. We huddled down next to a huge boulder for our lunch, and by the time we were done with lunch it was clearly obvious we were going to be chased out of the basin. A thick wall of clouds had rolled in and drops were starting to fall as the crack of thunder could be heard in the distance. From the first lake at about 10,400 feet, the basin is above treeline with the exception of a small grove of Foxtail Pines standing just a few hundred yards east of the first lake. Foxtail pines are thought to possibly be among the oldest trees in the Sierra, just behind the famous Bristlecone Pines. Being basically above treeline near these sparse Foxtails, it is most definately not where one wants to be when hearing the crack of thunder rolling in. So, we grudgingly packed up lunch and headed back down the Big Arroyo Canyon to find a thicker grove of sheltering trees to sit out the storm.

A break in the storm allowed for a quick shot of camp

Interestingly enough, we hiked in and out of sun on the way back down. And, we had enough time to set up a hasty camp once we found a cozy spot in the trees to feel safe waiting out the storm. As it turned out though, this would be camp for the night, and we would not be headed back up to Nine Lakes that day. The storm raged for hours! Luckily, Gary and I had each brought books and we whiled away the hours absorbed in our books....in between gasping over the cracks of thunder coming closer! After spending these long hours in our bivy sacks, this trip might have been the beginning of the end of our bivy camping however. Bivy sacks are like waterproof envelopes that you slide over your sleeping bags. And a good bivy will have a hoop overhead to keep the fabric off your face. You stay nice and dry....but there is only room for one person in each bivy so talking to your partner is muffled by each of your little "mini tents." We have long since gone back to tents and are much happier.

Eventually, the storm passed and we were able to open our bivies and enjoy the night sky at least. In the morning we packed up and wandered back up canyon again to Nine Lakes Basin. With an eye on the distant clouds, we decided not to take the morning sun for granted, and we packed our little lightweight silnylon daypack, stashed our packs behind some rocks and scurried up into the Basin. Oh what a lovely spot we found! Each lake a gem, each section of Basin between the lakes a wonder to explore in and of itself. We could indeed have spent days enjoying this amazing spot. We moseyed from lake to lake oohing and ahing over the deep turquoise blue of the largest lakes just as I had envisioned, and delighted in the easy travel up the canyon that we had all to ourselves. Once again though, the weather would chase us out. Clouds moved rapidly in, and as we decided to head back to our packs we heard the first clap of thunder in the distance. Making a hasty retreat once again, we vowed to come back and spend more time here...it would not be this trip however.

Clouds rolling in over Nine Lake Basin

Taking a last look back at enshrouded Nine Lakes Basin

Taking a last look back up at Nine Lakes Basin afforded us no views as the clouds had socked in the Basin solidly. Knowing this was goodbye for this trip, we headed yet one more time back down canyon towards the safety of the trees. It being clearly obvious to us that we were destined to put further exploration of Nine Lakes Basin off to another trip, we pushed off rapidly down canyon not even bothering to try and stay close to the Basin as we had the day before. Again, once we got a little lower, we had some intermittent sun, but eventually we got caught in the storm with dark wet clouds sending a clear message that we better find a place to berth and batten down the hatches for the night! Not wanting to be in sparse tree cover, we headed off trail into the forest to the right of us...to the left was a raging creek crossing and sloping terrain that would present no good safe camp spots. As the rain started falling I got a little frantic and started looking for any spot flat enough to throw down our tarp and bivies. We had played long enough in Nine Lakes Basin that the daylight was fast leaving us as well, and so without looking around much at our surroundings, but simply spotting a flat spot to sleep on, we unfurled our tarp and quickly set up camp and dove into our bags. It was late enough, that at least this night we would not spend too many extra hours in our bivies. But, all night the storm did rage, thunder clapped, lightning thrust fiery arms here and there in the wilderness around us.

Taking pics here and there...

Come morning though...the sun was once again shining and everything was fresh and crisp and clear. We lazed around a bit, letting the warm morning sun dry our gear. Gary did indeed get a chance to read a bit, and I got to take my camera and enjoy a chance to take portraits of the freshly watered flowers dotting the forest floor. As I wandered, I took pics here and there and really focused on my macro or close up shots. Thus, I wasn't particularly looking at my general surroundings as I crept from flower to flower. Suddenly though my eyes roved over something I just couldn't make sense of. A pile of rocks in the loose duff of the forest floor. But not just a big pile of rocks.,...a flat pile of rocks....no, not a flat pile of rocks... but a layer of rocks. I stopped looking for flowers and let my camera filled hand drop to my side. As I cocked my head sideways trying to figure out just what I was looking at, I gasped, and yelled for Gary to come look! He came and puzzled much as I had....cocking his head and looking quizzically for a few moments before exclaiming .... A GRAVE!"

The Grave

My photo does not do justice to what we found that day in the Big Arroyo Canyon of Mineral King. The rocks were exactly a rectangle about six feet by four feet. They had been brought from the creek bed a few hundred yards away and purposely placed here to lie through the ages far from their birthing place. The soil that held this bed of rocks had sunk about 8 inches so it almost appeared to look like someone had dug a shallow resting spot for the rocks and then placed them in the rectangular hole dug for them. However, on closer inspection...it was clearly obvious, they had once been piled on top of the fertile forest floor and gradually little by little, and year by year, had sunk to their current level...that of being almost level with the forest floor. There was no mistaking what we were looking at. A very long time ago, someone had buried a friend or loved one, or maybe just an acquaintance, or maybe an enemy here! And through the years, the body had decomposed, lowering the rocks bit by bit until they no longer rested on top of the land, but nestled down into the surrounding soil. I would later talk to a friend who had been a backcountry ranger of Sequoia-Kings Canyon for several seasons. She told me the story of two sheepherders who used to live in the nearby Big Arroyo of Mineral King. One died of an illness and the other had buried him in a known grave near their cabin. Noone really knew what happened to the shepherd left behind that had buried the first...and neither do we really, but I am guessing I know exactly where he was buried. By whom he was buried, and what befell him will probably always be a mystery however.

Dee just plain having fun!

The rest of our trip was anticlimatic. No raging storms, no sleeping near old graves. However, we explored closely this incredible area on our hike out. Hiking past the old cabin in the Big Arroyo, we followed the river down and eventually turned West and hiked up beautiful Lost Canyon. Climbing up to lonely and austere Columbine Lake we spent another lovely night in the wilderness before going over Sawtooth Pass. The trail over Sawtooth Pass is an unmaintained unofficial trail, thus not well engineered, nor is it marked. The trail over the pass is however, fairly easy to follow as it is well used. Once over the top though, the fun really begins. The sandy west side of the pass leading back to the trailhead gets quite deep and steep. At one point Gary and I were running and pushing off into giant leaps downward, feeling much like we were on the low gravity of the moon! Each step was a huge springing step down the hill. Yes, I did catapult myself into a huge slide at one point...landing ignominiously on my bum! However, it was just too much fun and I sprang back up and took some more giant leaps! Sawtooth's deep sand provides great cushion for falls. And for the first time on our entire trip on this last day, we finally saw other hikers. As we careened past them on our downhill slolam course, Gary and I remarked quietly how lucky we were to be going downhill in that deep sand and not trying to slog up through it. We have since been back to Sawtooth Pass....but never uphill on the sandy west side!

We have returned to Mineral King many times to hike over the years. A close friend first told me about this area and that it was her favorite. It has steadily risen in rank each trip to become one of mine. Go explore Mineral King and find the most fascinating weather in the Sierra, wonderful wildflowers, perhaps a grave or two....and maybe it will become one of your favorites too.

Hard to get lost in the Sierra Nevada with landmarks like Sawtooth Peak guiding you...

Looking up towards Columbine Basin

Gary playing in Columbine Lake

We always manage to find the most amazing flat spots...

View from Sawtooth Pass "trail." Notice on the top left, the dark brown smooth sloping but flat mountain. The smooth surface is typical of the older non glaciated sections of the High Sierra peaks. At one time in distant geological history, before ice and weather etched the peaks, the Sierra was formed of rolling hills. The one you see in the top left being a piece of what was once one of the rolling hills representative of the original Sierra peaks.

Dee on Sawtooth Pass, Mineral King, Sequoia

Dee on the top of the steep Sawtooth Descent...still on fairly hardpack sand...

Gary negotiating the steep westside of Sawtooth Pass

Dominating Sawtooth Peak from the Westside

End of the Trail.

My Photos

2012-05-04T17:34:00.001-07:00

Almost here....my next story. Someone asked me today if the pictures I post are from the trips I talk about, or borrowed from another trip, or taken from somewhere else. So, the answer is yes, the pictures you see in each story belong to that story! I have loved to take pictures as long as I can remember and while so many are in paper form and not digital, they simply need to be scanned and voile! So, shortly you will see a new story upon these pages...photos are already scanned and being inserted....and from that trip!

Injured in the Backcountry, or "The Curse of McGee!"

2012-04-04T10:49:00.000-07:00

John Muir Wilderness Backpack
Just under 50 mile moderate 5 day backpack with an approximately 2 mile section of off trail travel.

"OW! #@*&a;!!!!!"
Upon hearing his oath, I spun and quickly surveyed Gary to see what injury he had incurred. Asking him if he was okay, and quickly assessing him head to toe, I was instantly relieved not to see blood spurting out, or bones sticking up anywhere. Gary had slipped down a steep little section of creek bank on slick wet granite while filling his water bottles, but seemed perfectly fine. I complacently turned back to what I was doing ... I wouldn't be so complacent later.

Ever wonder if you got "way out there" and got hurt, what you would do? How resourceful would you be? How would you get out of there? Well, we got to find out one backpack trip in Aug of 2005. Off trail in the John Muir Wilderness of California, Gary tore the meniscus on the inside of his left knee. For those who have been unlucky enough to do this, it can be an excruciating and incapacitating injury.

A meniscus tear is a common knee injury. The meniscus is a rubbery, C-shaped disc that cushions your knee. Each knee has two menisci (plural of meniscus) one at the outer edge of the knee and one at the inner edge. The menisci keep your knee steady by balancing your weight across the knee. A torn meniscus can prevent your knee from working right. And a meniscus injury is definately not one you want to have happen in the backcountry of the High Sierra, miles from your car and civilization.

Most trips for us are begun on the west side of the Sierra. Not for any other reason than that the drive to a trailhead is much shorter for us since we live west of the Sierra. However, simply because we usually do start on the westside, this trip we decided to take a much longer jaunt in the car over to the eastside so that we could journey up trailheads we had never explored. After studying my maps exhaustively, I presented three potential trips to Gary to look over and decide upon. And he picked the one that was my first choice as well. We were all set. By the night before we left, maps were made on my computer with our trip highlighted in yellow. We packed all our food, repackaging everything in baggies so as to fit more supplies in less space per usual. Checklists were checked and double checked because if you suddenly remember twenty miles down the trail that you forgot something like TP or your toothbrush, there is no running over to your local 7-11. You just do without!

And, we had a dusy of a trip planned! The first day would be on trail, then the next day in the area of Big McGee Lake, we would detour around the lake and make our way up a cliff face that would potentially have a very old use trail to help us navigate...and if not, then map and compass would be our guides. Once on top of the cliff, we planned on camping for the night, then heading down into Hopkins Lake Basin...a lovely spot in the Sierra we had seen a few pics of and gazed at on the map countless times but had never been to. From Hopkins Lake Basin, we had a very high mileage trip planned that would take us on and off the John Muir Trail as we explored various basins and lakes traveling in a big giant loop North and then East back to our car. All told, our trip would be close to 100 miles. Best laid plans...

We actually were able to leave town the night before after packing. And we got as far as the middle of crossing the Sierra Nevada Mountains before making a late hasty car camp. Early in the morning we had our last civilized breakfast, donned our packs in the trailhead parking lot and taking one last look in the car to make sure we left absolutely nothing in the car that had any scent to attract bears, we locked up and headed up the trail.

We shared the trailhead with a pack station called McGee Creek Pack Station, thus we followed a well made and marked trail for the first part of the morning. Many backpackers bemoan having to share the trails with horsepackers as horses turn the dirt to fine dust that coats everything as you hike, but, horse packers also spare nothing in clearing trails leaving beautifully maintained clear trails to hike on. So, we enjoyed an easily navigated trail all the way to our first lake, Steelhead lake. Here we doffed our packs and set up camp for the evening on a tiny little bluff above the lake... far enough to get us the required few hundred feet from the lakeshore...a requirement standard in most parks and national forests made in an effort to leave the fragile lakeshore ecosystem intact and enjoyable for all those who follow...and high enough off the lake to get us a bit of late afternoon sun. That first night was not the most spectacular campsite as I prefer wide open views, but, we had the place to ourselves which created quite an idyllic spot to unwind. First night camps are often not the best, as it can take a day or so to reach the true high country, but anytime out in the backcountry by yourselves is always quite special!

In the morning sun, we dried our gear which is usually a little wet from dew, and headed on up the trail again. I don't remember this piece of trail having a whole lot of uphill...but there must have been some as I remember being very grateful for a nice granite bench midmorning to drop my pack on and slowly sink down for a rest! Before long though we had reached our jumping off spot ...Big McGee Lake. We wound our way slowly around the north shore, stopping frequently to try and guess where we'd be climbing up the wall on the opposite side.

Somewhere on the left wall, we'd be climbing over...

It often seems so impossible, that there is actually a way to get up to the top when you are looking at what appears to be quite vertical cliffs. Somehow though, as you get closer, the cliffs soften and start appearing less steep, and eventually your route presents itself as quite doable. We were however in suspense quite some time as we had to get around Big McGee and then another smaller tiny little lake just up canyon from Big McGee before we could find our path.

Big McGee Lake

Eventually though, we were around the water and bending our necks back staring up at the top of the cliffs. Then, as luck would have it, we actually managed to find a bit of the old use trail to start us off. So we started climbing. Old "use trails" are not nearly so nicely engineered as latter day trails that have been dynamited and engineered exquisitely. No, use trails are just that...used spots in the terrain.

A bit of old use trail on Hopkin's Pass

Signs of another traveler in McGee...

One person...perhaps an early native american...or maybe an animal, explored their way up a cliff or mountain. Then another person perhaps followed that first person's occasional footprints. And eventually, there is a bit of a worn path where fragile alpine plants give up the battle, and rocks get kicked out of the way, and dirt packs down by years of being stomped on. There often is not much tell tale sign of the path except intermittent dirt patches well packed down while often there is a fairly decent albeit narrow dirt trail to show you the way. The trail we found on this day's journey was somewhere in the middle. There were obvious worn pieces of path...and then spots where we ran out of trail, like a game trail petering out, causing us to stop and scratch our heads as we looked high and low to see if we somehow wandered off the trail or if it was still up ahead and we just needed to locate it. And not being an engineered trail with long switchbacks to save your legs, this trail was steep with narrow short switchbacks necessitating we rest our burning calve and thigh muscles frequently. All the while, we both kept silent watch on a steep overhead cornice that we were just hoping upon hope would not block our path with an impassable sheer vertical block of ice right at the top!

Hopkin's Pass Cornice, looked more passable the closer we got

Finally though we got right up to the bottom edge of the cornice and Lo and Behold....a final switchback taking us off to the side of the cornice and over the top of Hopkins Pass! YEA! Once on top we dropped our packs to enjoy the fruits of our labors and savor the view and some well deserved snacks!

Dee (top) and Gary (bottom) enjoying the well desrved view!

It was once we headed down off south side of the saddle we were on that we started following the creek Gary was destined to meet. Passing Upper Hopkins Lakes, the saddle fed into a wide shallow bowl with Hopkins Creek running roughly down the middle. Stopping to fill our water bottles, depleted after the climb...is when Gary slipped on the slick granite and tore his knee. It would only be after we got home to a Dr that we would realize the extent of the damage. But, the pain and swelling let us know right away that something was amiss, and we used our bandanas to create a makeshift support wrap. Erroneously figuring a good night's sleep would fix his knee right up, we searched for a camping spot for the night. Lower Hopkins Lake had been our destination, however, the downhill hike to the lake was out of the question, so we found another idyllic little spot at the edge of the trees and enjoyed our view of the lovely meadows around us. In the morning, Gary's knee was no better. Darn! Now faced with a decision...we tossed around our options. First off, we could turn around and go back the way we came. Problem was, though we had actually come up a pretty nice use trail, it was a steep climb with a little bit of negotiating. Also...no backpacker likes to backtrack! And...no backpacker likes to jettison a trip. I would have supported Gary in whatever decision he made though, but he chose to continue. Like I said, we had no idea his knee was as damaged as it was til much later, or we might have chosen a different option. We just kept thinking his knee would improve "the next day." So, we looked at our maps and weighed the trail options. Our original trail of 100+ miles, partially off trail, was OUT! However, there were shorter versions of our trip available that would keep us now on maintained trails. So, we packed up and headed off down to intersect the Mono Creek Trail...and from there, to hike on out to the John Muir Trail. As we hiked on, our days were slow now, as Gary was very careful not to twist or turn his knee. Nights, his knee was propped carefully on his extra clothes. Every morning his knee was wrapped with bandanas. And, after breakfast and packing, Gary hobbled down the trail with walking stick in hand to lean on. Creek crossings were extremely problematic as slick stones present challenges for non handicapped hikers. But, we managed to make headway. Once on the John Muir Trail we made better time and hiked steadily north ignoring all side trails. Bemoaning our inability of doing any off trail exploration or side trips, yet still we were thrilled to be in the High Sierra Backcountry! We enjoyed Pocket Meadow and a favorite secret campsite just south of Silver Pass

Dee enjoying our secret spot south of Silver Pass

and camping near the John Muir Trail before dropping down towards Tully Hole, a deep grassy seemingly enclosed bowl. We were amazed not to run into any other hikers for days. After oohing and ahing over a huge wasp nest on the trail,

Wasp "Paper" Nest

we continued down the trail and entered Tully Hole. Tully Hole and Horse Heaven pastures evoke images of trappers and native americans spending long ago summer days using the Tully for conditioning their stock. Letting them graze on the tall sweet grasses as they set their traps, made arrowheads from obsidian flints and sat around campfires laughing and telling tall tales. As it turns out, Tully Hole is not the enclosed bowl it first appears to be, it actually has three trail accesses...the John Muir Trail South and the John Muir Trail north....and the route we took out to the East and McGee pass. The next section of trail was clearly seldom traveled, and in the next couple of days as we headed East towards McGee pass, we would wonder why not! A more diversified terrain you won't find in the Sierra. More solitude you won't find. And we were priviledged to travel by extremely beautiful lakes, meadows and plateaus on our journey back out of the backcountry.

Climbing out of Tully Hole we climbed from 9,500 feet at Tully Hole to elev to 11,900 feet at McGee Pass, also known as Red Slate Pass. Along the way, we passed an obvious spot Native Americans had stopped in their travels routinely as there were tons of obsidian chips and a few arrowheads littering the ground.

Should you be lucky enough to find this lovely spot too, please leave the arrowheads for the next lucky hiker to ooh and ah over!

Somewhere before McGee pass Gary's knee was really bothering him. We spied a lovely little peak with a flat spot on top just big enough for a groundsheet and bags, and incredible views...and a nice little stream below. After going back and forth on whether we should take advantage, we finally decided to take the rest of the day off here... one of only a handful of days we've ever taken as a layover day. We just could not march through this lovely spot enjoying it only for the few minutes it took to get from one side to the other. As it turned out, we made the best decision, for in the morning we entered the lovely, but austere and rocky McGee Pass and canyon area.

The lovely but austere and inhospitable McGee canyon area

It would be awhile before we had views again like what we had had...except on the pass itself. Even still, the trail was absolutely stunning the next day as it wound in and out and around the McGee Pass area...but would not have made the most hospitable camping spot. And, Gary really needed the rest for his knee. Pain was his constant companion, and the care it takes to navigate the backcountry while injured had been taking it's toll.

Once over McGee pass, Gary and I enjoyed the wild volcanic colors and the twisting and turning trail and actually made pretty good time. This might have contributed to Gary's downfall later on....

As we were getting closer to the car, perhaps a half mile away, Gary suggested I hurry on to the car and open it up and cool it off so he could get comfortable soon as he got there. I didn't see the warning signs. I had watched him struggling with the pain and trying to keep his knee immobile as much as possible and just figured he was drained. In reality, Gary had something much more serious going on. But, not realizing this, and knowing we were following a well marked path we had been on a few short days before, I left him to hike out as he asked, and I sped on down the trail to the car. The car was insufferably hot having been sitting in the hot sun all day. But by the time Gary arrived, the car was open and windows down and the hatch up so he could take off his pack and sit a bit. I got excited when I saw him, and told him I had everything ready...but my excitement turned to fear that twisted my guts when I looked at his face. His glazed eyes and pasty skin made it clearly obvious he was on his last reserves and was not doing well. With his not very maneuverable knee, Gary had slipped once again in a final creek crossing just short of the parking lot and twisted his knee all over again. It is a testament to his innate determination that he was able to get back to the car on his own! I helped him get his pack off and fall back into the back of the car to sit a minute and recover.

It was then his eyes rolled up in his head and he left me! The parking lot was empty except for a carful of 3-4 college aged kids, but I yelled at them to come help me. By the tone in my voice, they knew to come on the run. As soon as they got there I started telling them what I needed them to do. I honestly did not know at this point if Gary was alive or not, but as terror stricken as I was, my years of telling others what to do in medical emergencies took over and I gave them exact directions. We got Gary out of the car and laying flat on the pavement. I prevented them from putting clothes or anything else under his head and explained that I worked at 911 and needed him flat with his head tilted back, and then I started checking for breathe. It was then that I saw it....a little flutter of an eyelid. At this point, I just did not care what those kids were thinking or how personal a moment this was for us when I was telling Gary to stay with me! Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at me and I knew I had him back.

I don't know who those kids were, but without their help, I don't know what would have happened as Gary was in a pretty dire straits and needed his airway opened up by tilting his head back, so I will always be grateful for their help! They waited a few minutes to make sure all was okay with us and we thanked them profusely, and they went on their way. By this time, Gary had managed to get in the passenger seat of the car and we started driving down out of the mountains. We discussed seeking immediate medical help, but Gary said he really just needed food. So we stopped at a favorite stopping place of our's, "Whoa Nellie's Deli," and had steak salads before heading on home. As it turns out, we should have seeked medical attention, for we later found that Gary had had a blood clot from his injury that had caused the later problems! When we got home, the Doctor Gary saw immediately put him on blood thinners for 3 months and diagnosed the meniscus tear. In hindsight, though we thought we were being conservative in our actions...we had risked all to complete our trip. We ended up making a 9 day trip into 5 and cut 100 miles of on and off trail travel down to 50 miles of all on trail travel. But, if we had it to do over again, we would be even more conservative and most certainly hike out the fastest route we could possibly find and abort the trip in seeking medical attention....maybe....:)

Don't let our experience in McGee scare you off...the phenomenal beauty of this area justifies visiting!

First Rate Books To Read!

2012-03-24T09:29:00.007-07:00

If you like my hiking stories, then here are some true story adventure books I've read and was thoroughly entertained by that you might also enjoy! ..................................................................................................................... 1-The High Adventure of Eric Rybak, or The Ultimate Journey, Canada to Mexico by Eric Rybak. These stories were written by a young man who hiked the PCT (2,650 mile Pacific Crest Trail) by himself at age 18. Then hiked the CDT (3,100 mile Continental Divide Trail) a couple of years later with his brother accompanying him part way. And, he was the first to hike the "Triple Crown." The CDT (3,100 mile Continental Divide Trail), the PCT and the ADT (2,100 mile Appalachian Trail). These books are out of print, but I actually found one of his books on Amazon...his story of hiking the CDT!

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2-Zero Days. Here's a true story of a family who hiked from Mexico to Canada along the Pacific Crest Trail! They manage to tell the story from all 3 viewpoints, Mom, Dad and 10 yr old daughter...and they pull it off delightfully well! Loved this book! .....................................................................................................................

3-Hiking the Continental Divide Trail. Another great read! This gal starts out hiking the 3,100 mile Continental Divide Trail with her husband. The CDT is a trail from Mexico to Canada along the Continental Divide that is only partially complete and therefore is considered the toughest of the long trails in the US. Her husband has to drop out midway due to foot problems and the author decides to finish her backpack journey alone! The CDT (Continental Divide Trail) is not clearly marked, very remote and very long....my hat is off to her...her amazing determination makes for a great story for us to enjoy! ..................................................................................................................... 4-Skywalker. Skywalker can tell a tale! Following Skywalker as he walks from Mexico to Canada is very entertaining and you won't be able to put his book down til the end!:) ..................................................................................................................... 5-Dances With Marmots. This author takes a leave of absence from the fire service in New Zealand to hike the Pacific Crest Trail...despite never having hiked before! He pulls it off...and shares his journey with us in an engaging and humorous and entertaining way! Must read! .................................................................................................................... 6-The Trail Home by Alfred Wohlpart. Alfred Wohlpart obviously wrote a journal as he traveled the PCT. But this is no “dry, dull, diary.” Wohlpart’s story is entertaining and engaging and written in present tense so that you get to take the walk with him as he hikes. Another great read…enjoy this one!:)

Lost in the Snow

2012-02-17T07:43:00.056-08:00

Yosemite National Park backpack
An approximately 28 mile semi loop 3-4 day moderate backpack, including a short, roughly two mile section, of off trail travel for those who want to get their feet wet at traveling by map and compass!

Off trail for the initiated is pretty much the only way to hike. The solitude, the peace, the chance to see wildlife grows exponentially when you get off the beaten path. And, off trail is pretty much the only way my husband and I hike anymore. You will find stories in these pages more and more about off trail hiking if you stick around long enough. A few hours up a known and marked trail....then we hop off the path for adventures unknown and hike by map and compass only. We haven't gotten a GPS yet, and after this experience I am about to share, we learned it is best to be knowledgeable enough to navigate without GPS even if you are going to carry one.

The Sierra (notice I did not say "The Sierras" as that is a misnomer as there is only one mountain range, not several, thus the name is correctly "The Sierra," but I digress...) is the ultimate playground for backpackers. Folks chomp at the bit all winter long if they don't winter camp and they can't wait for the roads to open and the trails to start peeking through the snow. In fact many hardier backpackers start their season as soon as the first road opens and head for the high country while snows still blanket the land. My husband and I are among those hardier backpackers. We are just impatient enough to head out as soon as we can possibly get anywhere near a trailhead. In the spring of 2000 on Memorial Day, our first hike of the Sierra season was to be theoretically a mostly on trail hike with just a couple miles off trail in one little section. Notice my use of the word theoretically, as any backpacker knows that if you hike early season, snows can turn any "on trail" hike into a map and compass "blood, sweat and tears" extravaganza. Our trailhead this year was out of Wawona, heading up to Chilnualna Falls where you better have your camera out and ready as the rainbows down canyon from the falls as you are hiking up canyon are simply stunning.

Chilnualna Falls Rainbows...

For those who don't want a swashbuckling adventure, but just a nice early season getaway, Chilnualna Falls are a lovely overnight early season destination. However, this trip, we bypassed the falls and pushed on heading North and slightly West "on trail" towards Turner Meadow, then East to Ostrander Lake, going off trail for a short distance to catch the Buena Vista Trail to Buena Vista Lake then Buena Vista Pass to Royal Arches, Johnson Lake then ultimately back to Chilualna Falls and back to our car. Nice little loop with lovely country, views of the breathtaking Clark Range along the way, and mostly "on trail" for an "easy" first season warm up trip.

By the time we had gotten just a short way past the Falls heading to Turner Meadows though, the snow was starting to get thick on the ground. We weren't yet postholing, that would come later. But, we were already starting to look for patches of trail and cut logs indicating trail under the snow, and the park's old pathfinder "i" marks carved in the trees. However, since we were in the trees we weren't too worried about the snow, as once we got back out in the open and especially in the sections above treeline, the sun would have helped us out, and we'd have plenty of snowfree trail patches peeking through the snowcover to keep us on route. The morning was a bit of a slog though, and postholing began in earnest at some point before lunch. By the time we called a halt to break for lunch, I was beginning to wonder what this trip had in store for us!

Sitting on a log in the trees enjoying a large juicy orange after our cheese and crackers brought us back to battery though, and we set off once more. The snow piled deeper and deeper as we went higher and I was quite grateful for my gaiters. After spending the better part of the day in the trees and snow, we finally broke thru the trees into the open. And by this time, having clawed our way through deeper and deeper snows as we navigated higher and higher, it was no surprise to find the entire untreed landscape was solid white! Snow covered everything ...so much for the sunbaked areas blessing us with snow free patches of trail! In fact, there was enough snow that there were still cross country skiers about! We joined the handful of skiers milling around Ostrander Hut briefly, then left them behind as we headed off trail for Hart Lake not too far away.

After about 15 minutes trudging through the snow, we noticed that two guys we had seen at Ostrander Lake were also headed off in the direction of Hart Lake. They were roughly 30-40 yards below us traversing the same slope about the same pace, and we had intermittent views of them and had given each other grins and nods as we all slogged through the melting deep snows of spring. Gary and I had actually never been to Hart Lake before. Generally it's a good idea to hike to a place in summer that you plan on hiking with snow still on the ground...but then we hadn't planned on all this snow! Oh well, we learned long ago to be flexible and roll with the punches. And if it got bad enough, we could double back the way we came from, and jettison our trip plans if need be. So far though, our spirits were high, so we kept on hauling ourselves through the snow. As the daylight starting getting short and the sun started dropping in the sky though, I chanced to look over at the two guys we had been mirroring and noticed that they were waving us over. They were studying the terrain ahead and had some concerns about the route to take. Gary and I pulled out our map and took a look...we were right on target. We knew we were close to Hart Lake finally, and it being obvious by now that we were all headed to the same destination, we decided to go the last bit together. Probably no less than 30 minutes later in fact we were standing by the shores of the lake admiring it's smooth clear reflections!

Hart Lake With Enough Melted Snow to have a section of the lake showing lovely reflections....

The kids we had been hiking with decided to set up camp by the water. Gary and I long ago decided we did not like to have lakeshore camps as they tend to be colder and buggier, so we bid our friends adieu and headed around the shore to climb the little ridge on the north side and catch the last warming rays of the setting sun while we set up camp. As we began to part ways, I heard one of the kids say "wasn't it great that we made it as far as Buena Vista Lake already?" Warning bells went off in my head as I spun to look at Gary, and caught him glancing nervously at me. We both thought the same thing...how could we have so misread our map! We thought we were at Hart Lake...which is a good two miles before Buena Vista Lake! Wow! Over all the years of off trail hiking we've made just about every bonehead mistake we can make reading a map. But...we thought we were finally getting so good at it, how could we be so off this time. Suddenly worried about being off trail without knowing exactly where we were, we hustled around the shore and up the ridgeline and dropped our packs to figure things out. Gary and I both grabbed at the map and stared at it! No... there was the ridge depicted by the squashed contour lines on the map. And... the lake in front of us with it's distinctive shape matched exactly the Hart Lake drawn on the map. The open plateau we crossed between Ostrander and Hart Lakes was unmistakable too. It was clearly obvious that we knew where we were, and that was right at Hart Lake! I told Gary we needed to go talk to those kids and show them the map. Gary offered to go talk to them while I stayed and started setting up camp and getting dinner ready while I still had some sun to help me. Once the sun goes down, fingers get too cold to be out trying to work zippers on bags and turning knobs on stoves! So, I began working on camp chores as Gary began picking his way back down the ridgeline.

Gary was gone quite some time, but by the time I had tarp and bags out and dinner about ready, Gary finally wandered back up the ridge to our little flat spot we called home for the night. "Did they believe you? What did they say? Are they still thinking they are at Buena Vista Lake?" The words rushed out of me, as I stood impatiently waiting to hear what happened, for it is no simple thing to be lost in the wilderness thinking you are one place and are really at another! Gary had delicately explained to the kids that it might be a good idea to look at our map. He pulled it out and showed the boys the ridgeline, the lake, the plateau and a few other features displayed on the map that were quite prominent in the landscape around us. At first they didn't want to believe him. It meant they had farther to hike tomorrow. And they pulled out their GPS to get a reading. It seems you need 3 satellites to triangulate your position and they could only get 2. Their GPS was useless. And....they didn't really know how to read a map well having relied on their GPS. But, they did end up seeing what Gary and I saw on the map and knew for sure that we were all at Hart Lake! Thank goodness. We relaxed then, enjoying our quiet supper and warm cups of cocoa as we sat in our bags watching the stars unfold in the inky black sky. Finally, we snuggled down in our bags and nodded off watching shooting stars streak across the night sky above us.

Lazing around our little flat spot on the ridge

With the morning's light we were up and at it and on the trail first, pausing to say goodbye to our new friends as we left the lake bowl. They were headed in a completely different direction than we and we would not cross paths again, or so we thought. Sauntering off in the warm morning sun, Gary and I had an "easy" downhill stretch for an hour or so as we dropped down to a creek crossing, both enjoying the long downhill before our eventual climb back up for our midmorning snack on Buena Vista Pass. At the bottom of the slope we actually came across about 2 feet of exposed trail! Hallelujah! We were on the right path! It is amazing when you are going by map and compass how such a little thing like a sawn log (The only reason for cut logs in the backcountry is for trail clearing) , an "i" blaze on a tree, or a tiny short section of exposed snow free trail can boost your spirits as you realize you are right where you thought you were! In fact, it's quite a feeling of empowerment to wander through the wilderness by map and compass and pass from one landmark to another knowing you can go where you want and always find your way home. And that's exactly how we felt this lovely morning. We reached the creek and criss crossed right over the top of it...walking on snow laid so thick over the top of the creek that we had no fear of falling through and into the water. And knowing exactly where we were made the morning that much sweeter. Too bad that feeling wouldn't last!

Our level path eventually starting climbing, all good things must end, and so the climbing began. I don't remember the particular details of how steep that climb was or how long, but it was a workout. In due time though, we topped through the thinning trees obtaining wonderful views from the top of 9,040 foot Buena Vista Pass. Spotting a nice exposed dry spot on a large flat car sized boulder, we clambered up and sat down stretching our legs out to a midmorning snack with some absolutely magnificent views! Most times we seem to eat fast and move on quickly, but this day we truly enjoyed our rest. Finishing, we packed up and started off to go down the South side of the pass and had gone a couple hundred yards when all of a sudden I realized Gary was waving at someone! I spun around to see who on earth could possibly have hiked as hard as we had through all that snow and gotten way out in the middle of nowhere as we had. Due to the distance, it took me a minute to recognize who it was. Coming up the last few feet of uphill towards us, the two figures hollering out hellos and waving vigorously, were the kids at the lake from the night before! Puzzled, we both headed back to where we had stopped for lunch and met them. "We're Lost," they both exclaimed. Gary and I took off our packs once again as obviously we needed to help them, we weren't just going to leave them stranded out here. As their story unfolded, they apparently had packed a short time after us and headed out on their path, but had quickly gotten hopelessly lost. So, they managed to backtrack back to where they had last seen us, and had followed our tracks all morning, catching us finally all the way up on top of Buena Vista Pass! And we thought we had worked hard that morning! Looking at the map, Gary and I spent some time figuring out a route for them to follow out. Their car was left at another trailhead in an opposite direction from ours, so they didn't want to follow us all the way out. But, we found a nice ridgeline that slanted down into an obvious valley that should lead them right back to their car. They thanked us profusely and headed on their way. That truly was the last we saw of them, but we thought of them the rest of our trip, wondering if they had had any more difficulties finding their way, and wondering if they made it out to their car. We even checked Yosemite websites after to see if any missing hikers had been reported! Thankfully, none had been.

Finally Gary and I were making our way off the pass and into another drainage. What a beautiful morning! The sun's warmth kept us company all that morning as we had an easy stroll down a gradually sloping valley. At one point we were amazed to realize that though we were walking on a thick snow blanket covering the entire valley, we could hear water quite clearly rushing underneath our feet! The crusty ice on top was thick enough and hard enough that it kept it's form and the water melted and ran under the crust! Hiking down a large granite slab, we had no fear of falling through the icy crust, as we would just hit solid rock, but it was quite interesting to realize we were literally walking on water!

After a couple hours of moving down valley though, things started not adding up. We kept expecting to find a little lake. Also, we kept expecting to see the Royal Arches, a landmark that should be carved in the cliff faces to the left of us by rockfalls. But, neither of these landmarks showed, and the landscape just kept looking the same...snow and trees. In fact, all we saw were trees, trees and more trees on the sides of us with the neverending steady roar of rushing water under the snow below our feet. When you are offtrail and not finding what you expect to find, after awhile you start getting irritated and concerned. We inspected the map repeatedly, but it didn't change a thing. I wore my compass on a string around my neck and checked it, and rechecked it to no avail. Finally Gary called a halt. Suggesting we stop for lunch and get fuel on board while we scrutinized the map more thoroughly, we pulled over and dropped out packs and both slumped down on a pair of downed trees facing each other. After a few minutes we called on our mental and physical reserves and started putting together some lunch. We pulled out our humus and pita bread which helped immensely, the map study did not. I told Gary though, that I bet within 20 minutes of restarting, we would find the arches and lake. Our spirits recovered somewhat due to the fortifying lunch, and we resolved to stay upbeat and find our lake.

I wore a compass around my neck and checked the map repeatedly

Standing once again, we pushed off to find our route. The landscape began flattening out a bit and the tree cover thickened. I told Gary I wanted to aim left a little bit and check out what was on the other side of the trees as it looked like they were thinning to the left of us. About five minutes had passed after leaving our lunch stop and as we shot left through the trees, all of a sudden I saw a tiny patch of turquoise about a foot in diameter at my feet....staring at it a minute, I suddenly realized we were standing at the edge of the lake!!!! We had found it! We knew where we were! Looking up across the snow covered lake we recognized the arches etched in the cliff face! They waited patiently through the ages for just that moment of us finding them! If you've ever been lost, and then found your way, you know how excited we got! There really was no lake to find, as it was covered in snow, thus we never would have been able to see it through the trees. Only in varying our route slightly and edging closer to the cliffs were we able to spy the one tiny corner of the lake that had turqoise ice showing instead of snow. Talking a mile a minute, we reveled in the beauty around us, enjoying the exhilaration of finding our way!

Royal Arches on the far side of the snow covered lake....

Eventually it was time to push on, as we had a few miles left to go before setting up camp for the night. Still with no trail showing though, we slid through the trees looking for the creek crossing we knew was not too far ahead. This creek crossing would mark a change in scenery that would lead us down a newer and easier section of route. We would be tracing a watershed downhill until eventually we'd come out of the backcountry to Chilnualna Creek near where we began our journey a couple of days ago. I don't recall it being more than 30 minutes later when we found something we absolutely did not expect to see...we came across a trail sign! An honest to goodness trail sign peaking thru the snow right in front of us! Snow was still our constant companion, and this was the first real sign of trail we had seen since what felt like days ago, but was really only hours ago. The last sign of trail we had found being that tiny patch of snow free trail by the creek below Buena Vista pass. Yahoo! A real trail sign!

Kissing the trail sign!:)

Spirits up, we continued down slope and shortly thereafter we started dropping elevation quickly and could hear the water roaring louder and louder. Uh oh...we could hear the water "roaring." This was supposed to be an intermittent seasonal creek, a dotted blue line on the map, a creek that in some seasons was completely dried up. Getting closer to the roaring water whose noise drowned out all other wilderness noises, we were chagrined to see our seasonal intermittent creek was a frothing, leaping, foaming white water river! And, to top it off, this roaring, frothing unexpected river blocked our way, and we absolutely had to cross it to get where we needed to go. The only other option being to turn around and backtrack, retracing our entire trip...but we were two thirds done with our trip! We had hiked almost two full days in some not so easy hiking conditions, and all we had left was a bit more today and then a long next day and we'd be back to the trailhead. Determined to cross, we spent quite some time trying to find a way. We did find one tiny snow bridge left that really wasn't an option for me. The "creek" was about eight feet across and several feet deep. A fall into the water would be quite ugly. The day was late and the water swift and a dunking could mean being flushed downstream uncontrollably, or at the very least suffering life threatening hypothermia. So, we went about a half mile upstream....then a half mile downstream. We found not one fallen tree to cross over on, we found not one spot where the creek widened enough to allow the water to get shallow enough to wade through. We were getting desperate! Light was fading fast and we just had to find some way to cross! Finally, Gary decided he wanted to cross at the little snowbridge we spied when we first came out to the "creek." So, we went back once again to look at it. It is true the snow bridge was fairly wide where it attached to the banks, maybe even five feet wide, but in the middle the bridge narrowed to about a 12 inch waist! I was just plain scared. Broad jump was one of my events in school long ago, but my life never depended on how well I jumped back then! After debating several minutes, Gary asked me, if he crossed it first successfully, would I try. I grudgingly consented. What was I thinking?! So, giving himself some room, Gary backed up and took a running leap. He flew through the air landing on the far side of the snowbridge. But, he missed landing solidly on the bank by about a foot. With one foot on the bank, he was not in danger of falling in, but as he landed, the foot dragging behind jammed harshly onto the snow bridge. The concussion of his weight and his leg punching down on it left a gaping crack running the entire width where the snow bridge attached to the bank. Gary was now on one side, and I on the other. And we both stared at the damaged snowbridge with it's obvious break running along the bank's edge where it once attached solidly to the bank and realized it would break completely free at any moment and be swept downstream. Gary was yelling something at me, but I could not hear him over the roar of the water. Gesturing wildly, he was telling me to go ahead and jump! No way! I couldn't do it! I'd fall in! I'd die! He then mimed at me to throw my pack over first, that I could do the jump if I had no pack. Maybe he could pull that off, but even if the broadjump was among my best event in school, the softball toss and shot put were my worst events. I'd throw my pack right in the water if I tried that! I went up stream and down yet again looking desperately for any way at all to cross. But, I found absolutely no other way across. I suddenly realized I had no choice other than to jump, and the longer I stood debating and looking and hoping, the more scared I was going to be. I backed up several feet and without thinking another thought, I ran as fast as I could and jumped! Disaster! I landed sprawled on the broken snow bridge that at any moment was going to break free completely and be swept downstream with me on it! With my feet dangling dangerously in the water, not able to get any purchase on the snowcovered bank, it would be only moments before I was swept away if I couldn't get onto the bank. Suddenly, Gary reached down and I felt his solid hands under my armpits as he yanked me up, pack and all, right out of the water and off the snowbridge and onto the far bank! Shocked, I lay in the snow shaking with the aftermath of fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins. I dared not try to stand. When finally I did manage to gain my feet, my legs were pure jelly and I could barely take a step. I'd never experienced that depth of fear and adrenaline before, and have not since. Finally though, I recovered enough to walk and we pushed off slowly, moving faster as my strength returned, looking to find a place to set up camp and get me dried off before complete darkness overtook us and hypothermia set in.

It never ceases to amaze me how cozy and homey the backcountry becomes once groundsheet is laid, bags are fluffed out and warm clothes donned. All the travails of the day slide away and aches and pains go from a dull roar to a simmer taking a backseat to yummy warm food being prepared and eaten, as the dark curtain of night drops down over the surrounding landscape and stars start making an appearance on nature's overhead stage.

The rest of the trip was anticlimactic except for a couple of small events. As we made our way downstream, the snow cover got thinner and easier to slog through and by midafternoon we came out of the wilderness and towards a guy and a girl sitting on the banks of Chilnualna creek soaking up the sun. As we approached, we gave them a jolt, a s we were the last thing they expected to see. The guy looked at us briefly before blurting out "You came out of there?!" with total amazement. We just smiled and said that yea, there was a bit of snow back there as we continued quietly past them. Ah, we had found other backpackers... we made it. But...we were a bit premature in our congratulations to ourselves as suddenly we noticed that the one last creek we had yet to ford seemed about 50 feet wide and about 3 feet deep and MOVING! And, we also realized that this same "creek" was the lovely Chilnualna Falls with five tiers of falls, the first fall being about a hundred foot drop! And we weren't sure exactly how far away the falls were, but we were guessing not more than a few hundred feet downstream! Not again! But, continuing a few minutes downstream, thankfully we came to a downed tree across the creek. Thank goodness! Thinking what a piece of cake this was going to be, I hopped up on the tree first and started to cross. I didn't get too far though before I realized the water was deep and swift below me and this log had been used as a crossing for a very long time as it was slick and smooth and hard to get a grip on with my shoes. In addition, there were a couple of branches sticking up on the way across that made it even more difficult to cross due to having to twist and turn to try to slide my pack through the branches. Finally I gave up and started backtracking pushing Gary back to the shore we had just left. Deciding he would give it a try then, Gary hopped up and after a couple of minutes, was safely across. Then, he turned to wave me across. But, the more vigorously he waved at me to cross, the more vigorously I shook my head no. I knew I could not do it, at least not with my pack on. He tried yelling helpful instructions to me but it was no use, the roar of the "creek" drowned out all voice. Finally, leaving his pack on the far bank, Gary came back across the slick downed tree to me. He gently took my pack from my shoulders, put it on his back and made a second trip across the log. Taking a deep sigh of relief, I hopped up behind him and slid across the tree ...on my fanny! There are times in a marriage when you are so grateful for your partner, and I will never forget the help mine afforded me that one spring in Yosemite hiking in the snowy backcountry above Chinlualna Falls!

Try this loop sometime for a bit of offtrail exploration and solitude. While the rest of the hordes of Yosemite backpackers head for the true high country of the Clark and Cathedral Ranges east of this area, with the exception of the Chilhualna Falls and Ostrander Lake, this area remains lightly traveled for most of it's route. Experienced offtrail backpackers will enjoy this trip very early season, "creek" crossings and all...and for the rest, I would suggest waiting til mid June at least!

The Window

2012-02-14T21:11:00.003-08:00

Ventana Wilderness
Los Padres National Forest

Pat Springs Camp
Moderate overnight backpack -14.2 miles

(Photo-Lupine in the Spring, not to be missed in the Ventana!)

The Window

The story goes, that at one time a natural rock formation bridged a gap between two peaks in the Ventana Wilderness of central coastal California. The peaks, known as the "Ventana Double Cones," along with the rock bridge arching between them, once formed a window that one could view blue sky through. Hence the name, Ventana, or Spanish for "window." Nobody I know has ever seen it, and one account I came across claimed that the bridge fell some time ago, and only the name "Ventana" is all that is left remaining of the long ago once famous rock phenonmena.

Fall through spring are the only sane times to hike the Ventana due to the extremely hot summers. So, we planned our Ventana trip out of Botcher's Gap to Pat Springs in the spring. I wish I could tell you what the date was exactly...the year was 1990. Some of my readers will wish me to be more exact by the end of my tale, but I think I will leave the date as is.

On the drive to the Ventana from Santa Cruz, we marveled at how close we were to such a beautiful wild area to hike in. Within an hour and a half we were on the trail hiking. Our first span of trail stretched through an immense burned area that had still not begun to regrow. We were saddened by the sight, and later angered even more after coming upon a still smoldering unattended campfire left by campers. It's one thing for nature to perform her "cleansing by fire" routine, quite another for her to be subjected to untimely burnouts caused by careless human visitors. Within a couple of hours though, we passed out of that area and came to a nice ledge with a view and an oak tree to spread our lunch under. Then, once refreshed by lunch, and the incredible views we'd been graced with, we continued our gentle climb. We wound through the forest and over creeks, and finally the trail steepened for a piece that would take us to our camping spot for the night.

At the top, we were on a high meadow that sat nestled at the south side of Devil's Peak. Being just below higher Carmel Peak also, I set off to see if the peak was accessible by footpath. About 20 yards away I came through a small grove of trees to a rocky outcropping. Just as I passed through the curtain of trees into the open I surprised a skunk about fifteen feet to my left. He hightailed it out of there, and I counted my blessings that my normally very alert labrador hadn't noticed his passing. After finishing my exploration, I headed back to the others. The next afternoon we would gaze back at the slopes of this same peak as we worked our way higher and higher, and be thrilled to spot a mountain lion wending it's way around the peak.

In the morning, while packing up to go on, another nature encounter came in the form of a black widow spider nestled underneath my son's sleeping pad! We certainly had luck on our side this trip by not getting skunked or bitten. The lower coastal ranges allow you to hike in times when the higher mountains such as the Sierra Nevada are blanketed in snow, but with skunks and black widows and rattlers and poison oak...things less common in the high mountains, one does have to be a little more vigilant.

Shaking off thoughts of what could have been, we hiked down the ridge we were on, and came out to another lower meadow skirted by an interesting area forested by oaks and pines combined. We hiked through the warm morning and noon, passed by a nice forested campsite and continued to our prize for the night, Pat Springs. The spring was down trail 200 yards or so from the campsites, and there were several campsites to the left of the trail nestled among some shady trees. But, we opted for more solitude and sunshine, and headed a short way past the springs and on up the ridge.

Once up the ridge a ways, we popped out into the open and realized how windy it was above the trees. But, we found a nice ledge a few feet below the ridgeline that was just the right size for a family of four to camp on! It was while leaning back against the cliff enjoying the sun and view that I first spotted it. I wasn't sure I'd really seen it though. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was seeing things. Maybe it was just my imagination. Maybe I'd better just see if anybody else could see what I was seeing. So, after prompting, my husband looked too. There it was! I wasn't crazy, and I wasn't imagining it. The Window, The Ventana, the namesake of the wilderness we were traipsing through was not just a legend. It was there in plain view across the valley, directly across from where we sat. I wondered how many people had actually seen it before us. I wondered how many had searched for, and had never found it. I wondered how many had just believed all along that it was only a legend after all, or a piece of nature worn away by time and long gone and missed by all. And finally, I wondered how it was that I had just happened to be lucky enough to be there at that time of year, at that time of day, and in that exact spot to see it. For surely it was visible for only a fleeting moment in time periodically, based on the angle of the sun.

I have never returned to the double cones. Never climbed to the top of them to find the source of "The Window." Never returned to our spot above Pat Springs. But, I think of it from time to time. It was a magical time in a magical place, and the source of yet another magical memory in the backcountry.