Showing posts with label Yosemite. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yosemite. Show all posts

Friday, July 18, 2014

The John Muir Trail - part 3


Along the John Muir Trail...
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....

Friday, February 17, 2012

Lost in the Snow

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!

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Storm!


Storm!


12.7 miles round trip, on trail moderate overnighter. Hetch Hetchy, Yosemite National Park.

Huddled down on my sleeping pad by the side of the rock that barely hit my shoulders,  yet desparately trying to crouch lower,  I feel the rain drip slowly down the back of my neck.  The storm rages,  the hail falls bigger and bigger,  and I wonder just how long I can stay in that cramped position.   My thighs burn from squatting, my shoulders and head protest the pummeling of the thumbnail sized hail,  and my thoughts run amuck in fear.

As the storm first approached,  and it’s intensity dictated I find a position of safety,  my eyes hunted frantically for something to hide under,  and it was then I noticed the wasteland the forest around me had become.   Towering firs and pines once majestic in their reach to the sky,  had been stricken down in the primes of their lives, reduced to barren sticks pointing feebly at the now lowering sky.    It was quite obvious to me that these silent sentinels had one by one each been victim to the catastrophic force of lightning storms.    Not finding much confidence after gazing at the landscape around me, nevertheless,  I had to find a safe haven somewhere near at hand.   The trees I knew for sure that could protect me would necessitate a climb up over a barren ridge,  I would not be headed that way soon. Turning back towards another copse of trees,  I realized would also dictate a climb up an exposed ridge. No other options presented themselves but the puny boulder barely shoulder high a few feet away.   So I grabbed my pad to perch on,  tossed my metal tent poles a safe distance away,  and hunkered down next to it to wait out the worst of the storm hurling itself towards me.

Earlier that afternoon I had stood at my car going over a mental checklist to make sure I had everything I had wanted to pack in.    I was quite anxious to begin the hiking season,  and had set out in early May to hike in an area of Yosemite National Park called Hetch Hetchy.   Checklist satisfied,  and finally ready to undertake this solo journey,  I hoisted my pack and headed for the tunnel.    The tunnel is about 500 feet blasted out of the mountain on the eastern side of the dam built to serve the citizens of San Francisco City.   The saunter across the dam and through the tunnel signifies the official start of this trek.    So through the tunnel I went with pack fully loaded,  and finally I stepped out onto the beginning of my trail.

The spotty clouds and sparkly clean air had me looking forward to an idyllic escape into the wilderness. I sauntered leisurely up the trail with camera in hand.   Pictures of beautiful seasonal wildflowers and roaring waterfalls captured my attention and would fill empty spaces on the walls in my house someday.   I passed chameleons and carpets of green lawn and glistening granite polished smooth by the eons of ice and later storms having graced their surfaces.    By the time I got close to the first of the major waterfalls along my way,   I noticed the sparkly fun sky was starting to darken and close around me.   Add to that mildly distressing change,  the roar of the waterfall ahead sounded like a freight train coming around the corner and straight for me!

I rounded the corner and stood gawking at the sight of the falls in front of me.    The falls were in full snow melt,  and they didn’t just drift gently to the ground.   These falls leapt away from the cliff like buffalo being herded to their deaths.   One hundred fireman standing with fire hoses at the top couldn’t have produced the display the snow running out of the mountains that early spring did.   The well made bridge painstakingly crafted at the bottom of the falls to aid travelers across this stream suddenly looked woefully inadequate.    And sure enough,  as I drew slowly closer,  I saw that the bridge in fact was inundated.   At first glance it seemed it would be a near suicidal act to cross it’s once sturdy seeming beams.  Trepidation gripped my soul and made me look frantically for other places to cross this raging water.   Seeing no other choices however,  I resolved to cross!   A study of the terrain below the bridge allowed me to figure should I get swept off,  I would not be plunged into the reservoir below after all,  but could somehow stop my downward plunge by grabbing amidst the rocks that lay between the bridge and the cliff.   So I put on my rain jacket and rain pants,  pulled up the hood over my head cinching it down tight,  and bravely put my foot on the first step of the bridge.

Spray showered over me and water slapped at my legs.   I knew the best approach would be to just plunge headlong across the bridge to the other side,  so that is what I did.   Before I got to the other side though,  water pushed and surged against my thighs and spray drenched my clothes and pack and made me grateful I had not forgotten my rain jacket.   Half way across this recently and solidly constructed bridge built to see travelers safely past these horrendous skyscraper falls,  I looked down to see one railing already knocked out and several bricks washed away.    I stifled the fear that threatened to overwhelm me and pushed on against the force of the water.   After an eternity,  I finally reached the other side and grabbed the pack off my back and let it sink to the ground where I would follow suit.   I splurged on my time with a short rest from my adrenaline pumping ordeal.   I shook the loose water from my clothes and caught my breath.   After a brief rest,  I hefted my pack back onto my shoulders and headed back up the trail.

Confident my biggest hurdle was out of the way,  I looked forward to an uneventful stroll into camp.   I enjoyed the green grasses of spring, and the sporadic seasonal waterways running in every crease and crevice.   Wildflowers were starting to pop up in an unending array of colors,  and the afternoon wore on pleasantly during my stroll south along the reservoir.   I was having such a pleasant walk that it was quite some time before I noticed the sun had evaporated completely while clouds now covered the spaces above me.   Suddenly realizing I needed to hurry to camp and batten down the hatches before the storm hit,   I put away my camera and stepped up my pace.    It was on my approach to the final climb before camp that the storm caught up to me.   The few stray drops that had threatened and laughed at me,  turned suddenly into raging,  pounding and angry hail.   I started hurrying up the hill and was almost to the top when rounding a corner I ran right into a fresh mud slide.   The slide would probably have not even slowed my pace,  but there was the most gigantic car sized boulder sitting smack dab in the middle of the slide blocking the whole trail.   And,  the muddy slick trail traversed a steep hillside.  I stood for a moment wondering how in the world I could get around it when I realized finally the only way around it was over.   Very gently I started to climb.   I slipped in the slick mud and grabbed at the now exposed tree roots in the hillside to keep me from sliding down the hill.    I managed finally to clamber over the top of the boulder and while trying to keep my now muddy hands from sabatoging my clothes,  I hurried once again to the top of the incline and hopefully camp!   A few minutes later a huge sigh of relief slipped past my lips as I reached the top and came out on the flats.   Now looking around for a place to set up my tent and crawl in,  I got a terrible sinking feeling when I saw that not a fraction of a piece of ground was dry.   Not only was the ground saturated with rain,  but every inch of the surface around me was a streaming torrent of water. The storm was much more intense now,  and water was coming out of the sky in much heavier volume than I had realized.  Between the gray skies,  the streaming wet ground and the fear that the falls a couple of hours behind me would be too heavy to cross if I waited til the next day to try,  I turned tail to run back the way I came to try and get back over the bridge before that treacherous crossing trapped me  and kept me away from my family and friends.

Down the hill and over the car sized boulder I went once again,  past the ankle and arm grabbing newly exposed roots I ran.   It was at the bottom of that hill and before the next climb,  that the head pounding hail and slashing lightning finally caught me.    Hail the size of marbles pummeled my head making me sure my scalp was turning into a mass of welts.   Lightning seared the sky,  torturing me with the knowledge that any moment now it would quit playing with me and send a bolt straight at me!    Thunder clapped my ears deafeningly,  and seemingly damaged my ear drums.   Nevertheless,  here is where I had to make my stand.   At this spot is where I saw all the previous lightning storms victims standing with tortured bare outstretched limbs.   Here is where I realized any way out for me would be up exposed ridgelines.   And here,  is where I tossed my metal tent poles away from me,  grabbed my rubber sleeping pad to insulate me from the dangerously wet lightning charged ground,  and hunkered down to wait out the worst of it.

After a few minutes,  my legs were burning from crouching,  and the cold was starting to chill straight through to my bones.   I was more or less dry as I had my rain jacket back on by this time,  but my fleece sweater was tucked safely away inside my pack where it would stay dry,  yet would do me good as I grew more and more chilled by the minute.   Finally in desparation,  I managed to pull out the sweater and exposed myself by pulling off my jacket to put on the sweater and then put the jacket back on again.   This all seemed to take an eternity as I accomplished it all while crouching next to the boulder and trying to keep my head low.   Now I was warmer,  but my legs began to cramp from crouching.  How long could I stay like this?   Lightning continued to strike 360 degrees around me and the bolts were in ones and twos and threes and even sheets all around me.   Eventually though,  the hail started to slack off and become smaller pea sized bullets,  and the thunder and lightning started to distance themselves so that there was actually a delay between the strikes of lightning and the crashing of the thunder.   The fear that had a death grip on my heart gradually started to loosen it’s stranglehold. I was done for the day though and thoughts of camping were long gone.   All I wanted to do now was get back to my car and head for the safety of the low lying valley!   Finally I picked up my ejected tent poles and shoving them back under my pack flap,  I headed back up the trail retracing the steps I had made only hours earlier.   Though it seemed like days,  I made record time back to the tunnel, the dam and the parking lot.   Not even the falls and their staggering amount of water stopped me.    When a bit later I reached the civilization of a pay phone,  I stopped to call my honey and let him know my change in plans.   It was at this point that Gary told me this storm was so violent that it had produced tornados…one of which had torn the roof off of a nearby barn.   Hearing this news,  I stopped trying to lick my wounds so hard and contented myself with the knowledge that I had just done two days worth of miles in one day through hail,  lightning and mudslides…and lived to tell the tale!

There is a reason I chose this hike...my tale not doing it justice!   Check your weather forecast and head out to view two of Yosemite's premier falls,  Wapama and Tueeulala Falls along the way to Rancheria Falls.   Not many places as beautiful as this are available in the spring to hikers,  when the high country lays under snow.   But,  Hetch Hetchy displays it's magical waterfalls and colorful wildflowers early in the spring...don't miss them!

Thursday, March 4, 2010

The Last of His Kind




The Last of His Kind

12.7 miles all on trail, moderate overnighter, Ostrander Lake, Yosemite National Park




I like to think he sat perched on the side of that tall lofty tree for so long allowing me to watch him because he was acclimating to people finally,  and would make a swift recovery from the endangered species list.   I know in my heart though,  that more than likely I was just one of the lucky ones to have been afforded a glimpse of such a beautiful,  rare and painfully shy creature.

Winter was nearly upon us,  and while I awaited anxiously for the winter snows to bring skiing and snowshoeing,  I nevertheless longed for one last late season backpack.   Unable to find any partners, though truth to tell I hadn't searched very hard as I wanted to try soloing,  I headed off excitedly in late October to Yosemite for one last  backpack of the season.   Arriving early in the morning,  I made a routine tour of my usual haunts.   Making a great find in the bookstore,  then grabbing a salad and crackers for lunch,  I continued to meander along the way to the trailhead exploring nooks and crannies of Yosemite as I went.   Finally arriving at the trailhead about 2:30,  I worried not one whit about the late start as I was only going a paltry six miles to my lake.   Easily I'd be there by dinner relaxing at the lakeshore beholding the sun's colorful setting rays.  Having been the only car at the trailhead surprised me,  but not so much as it was so late in the season with the weather having already produced the winter's first snowfall a couple weeks back.    Nevertheless,  I paused every once in awhile to look back over my shoulder to see if anyone had started up the trail behind me.   I really didn't think this would happen either though,  simply for the fact that it was such a late time of day for most people to start on a trail. So,  I wasn't surprised when I got up to the lake and found not another soul in sight.  This was truly the backcountry trip that I had sought.   But, on having gotten what I wished for,  I started wondering once I was there if perhaps it wasn't what I really wanted after all.

The retiring daylight made the lake seem very dark,  cold and forbidding on first glance.   Looking up at the blackening sky and the clouds roiling overhead, I was disappointed also to realize I'd have to set up my tent.   I much prefer a starry sky filled with bright twinkling shooting stars as my ceiling,  and the gentle breezes soughing across my face during the night.  And looking around,  I saw not much choice in where to set up my tent either due to the recent early season snowfall.   I had planned camping at the far corner of the lake away from any intrusive latecomers.  But seeing the solitude around me as well as the snow cover discouraging it,   I realized hiding in a corner was quite unnecessary.  I threw my pack down on the largest flat snow free spot I found,  and pulled out my tent.   Setting it up with fingers stiffening with the plummeting temperature,  I knew I'd have to get settled inside quickly.  Looking around one last time before cocooning myself in my bag and tent,  the solo hiker blues really started to get me.   This lake was truly one of the ugliest I had ever seen.  There was nothing special about it at all,  and I was quite lonely all of a sudden and wishing I were anywhere else but there!   Being almost dark though,  to try and hike down the narrow forested trail would have been near suicidal.  I knew I'd have to grit my teeth,  hunker down and wait out the night.

While I lay in the tent though, thoughts of my husband at home,  and my vulnerable situation high up at that isolated lake kept pounding away at me.  Wanting to throw my things in my pack any old way and run down the trail,   I tried to distract myself with the book I had brought along.  What I got to read of Stephen King before the failing light caught up with me and gave my spirits another downwards kick, had proven poor reading material for a solo trip!

I finally fell into a restless sleep,  then jerked awake sometime later to a large crashing noise, and snuffling sounds right outside my tent!   I found myself being dragged in my tent for yards and yards before realizing this could only be happening in a dream!   Now really awake,  I listened for a moment to make sure a bear wasn't really out there,  then drifted off to sleep once again.   A little later I woke to the brightest full moon I had seen in a long time.   I got excited thinking I could actually hike out finally if I wanted to.   But,  I had made it this far.   I would stick out the night.   The solo hiker blues were not going to chase me back down that trail after all!!!

The next thing to wake me was the chirping and scurrying noises of little critters running around outside my tent.   I bravely unzipped my tent flap,  afraid for an instant that it might still be night.   I peeked outside,  and finally saw what I had waited for so many hours to see,  the morning sun!   As I slowly gazed around at the early morning sun's warming effects,  I felt all the weight of the misemotion from the night before start to float away.   I lay watching the steam swirling lazily up from the lake's surface,  while sunbeams bounced playfully off the water between the swirls.   Maybe I could linger just a little while,  long enough to get a few pictures anyway...

Grabbing my camera,  I jumped out of my bag and headed around the lake.  A couple of dozen shots later,  I realized what a truly gorgeous lake I was visiting after all!   The cold and forbidding lake of the night before had been magically transformed.   Across the lake to the south,  a sharp edged granite ridge knifed sharply out of a lacy skirt of snow,  while the banks on the East side of the lake faded meekly away to a stunning vista of two connecting mountain ranges jutting up in the distance.   After the early morning sun's alluring rays finally quit playing their cat and mouse game with the steam from the lake,  I set down my camera.   Finding a nice flat granite boulder to stretch my legs on,  I sat soaking up the heat of the rising sun for the better part of the morning.

Once satiated with the warmth of the sun and incredible beauty of nature's own artwork around me,  I packed up to finally head back out.   About two thirds of the way to the car,  I caught a slight grin creeping across my face.   I was a little pleased with myself for having bested all the fear and loneliness of the night before.   In fact,  I became quite pleased with myself once I thought about it,  and the grin slowly spread across my face from ear to ear.   And I had the thought then,  that I was ready for that darned bear of my dreams now!

Well,  I didn't get to see a bear that morning,  but about ten feet past that thought,  the biggest owl I had ever seen in my whole life winged up from a burnt out snag about twenty feet from me.   Flying to a nearby tree and landing to watch me,  made me debate for a moment if I had time to get my camera out. Deciding I didn't,  I stood mesmerized while he gazed curiously back at me.   The two minutes we stood watching each other,  etched indelibly on my mind.   Every feature from his slightly sad expression,  to his lack of ear tufts,  to his wing coloration became a part of me.   When finally he took wing and flew to another nearby tree and then another and another farther and farther away until finally he was out of sight,  I still stood stunned by the magnificent creature I had just witnessed so close up.    I thought briefly of trying to follow him with my camera,  but decided I had been privileged enough and wouldn't abuse the gift I had been given.

I hurried back to my car and then down to the ranger station,  anxious to find out what manner of majestic owl I had just seen.  Upon describing him to the ranger and picking his picture out of a book,  I found I had seen a Great Gray Owl.  They are the largest of the owls, one of the shyest,  and are on the endangered species list in California.   There are Great Grays much farther north,  but there are only 40 known individuals in the whole Sierra Nevada.   I was stunned to realize what I had just witnessed on my hike.  The ranger had me fill out an endangered species sighting report which helped commemorate the occasion.   Then I left feeling so much richer than when I had come.   That solitary majestic creature had been my reward after all for sticking it out despite all the worst fears and loneliness my mind could throw at me.   I drove down out of the mountains that day listening to music that matched my reflective mood while I pondered what I had been through.

It pains me now to think of the loneliness of that beautiful animal for others of his kind.  I like to think soon there will be Great Grays mating and nesting and hunting throughout the Sierra.   And,  having had such a small taste of his isolation up at that high mountain lake,  I would like to think that breathtaking creature sat high up on that tree watching me for so long because he is finally acclimating to people and will be off the endangered species list soon.    I fear in my heart of hearts though,  that I was just one of the lucky ones....

*You might be lucky too if you care to venture quietly up to Ostrander Lake in Yosemite National Park.   Go in the late spring as snow is melting and skiers are gone.   Or,  go late fall when most hikers have left the high country for the winter, to get enough solitude to try for your glimpse of one of the few remaining Great Gray Owls left in the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range of California.

Good Morning Fellow Nature Lovers!
Whether you are in the snowy NE or wet NW or somewhere in the south...I bet you are already dreaming of your upcoming summer getaways in the mountains as I am!
Here are a few good trips with some photos I hope give you some dreaming material!
And, here also are some other areas to enjoy when summer is far off and you can't or don't want to get to the snow to play.
*Trails labeled easy can be done with small children.
*Trails labeled moderate can be done by anyone including older folks...small kids might need lots of incentives such as M & Ms!:)
*Trails labeled strenuous should be hiked when you've done warm up trips and/or are not daunted by blood, sweat and tears!
BTW, this photo is just over the E side of Red Peak Pass in Yosemite....strenuous overnight backpack or moderate multi day backpack

The John Muir Trail - part 7

  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 cri...