Sierra High Route - Chapters 2,3 Dusy Basin - Red's Meadow

Duck Lake by moonlight

Prologue:

This blog covers Chapters 2,3 of Steve Roper's Sierra High Route, which is a 195 mile South to North traverse of the Sierra Nevada. The route travels largely cross country, avoiding the John Muir Trail where the JMT dips low, in favor of travel over high, sometimes technical, mountain passes. Even if you never plan to attempt this arduous route, if you are an aficionado of the High Sierra, Roper's book is a must read. Roper is an avid historian, and gives great descriptions of early explorers of the High Sierra, geology, flora and fauna.

I plan this 80 mile adventure as a 7 day trip, knowing that off trail travel takes about double the time of trail travel. But when I go to plan each day, I realize that a 6 day schedule will render ideal camping locations, so I set a 6 day trip as a goal, knowing it may be unrealistic for my ability level (and of course, packing enough food for 7 days just in case).

I completed Chapter 1 with my son Daniel in 2016. This 2018 trip will be a roller coaster of emotions. On the high side, just before the trip, I am able to hold my new granddaughter in my arms for the first time. On the low side, my son Daniel, my longtime companion in my High Sierra adventures, being a new father, is unable to join me for this leg of the trip. Additionally, I recently split from my girlfriend of four years, a woman I truly loved, and with whom I shared many great adventures, during our time together.

Holding Alva Sierra in my arms and making her giggle, smile, and stretch her arms makes me think, well, if I don't make it back from from this trip, I'll have this memory with me always. What a pleasure holding this precious baby with a full life ahead of her!

Going solo on a remote, and potentially dangerous trip such as this, brings on feelings of trepidation. Not having a partner means having to carry all gear that could be shared, such as tent, cooking gear, and water purifying equipment. This means a heavier pack on technical terrain. And traveling alone on a route where I will not see a single human for many days, indicates higher risk if something should go wrong.

So it is, I begin this inspiring, lonely, extraordinarily difficult journey, with a heavy backpack... and a heavy heart. As I travel the High Sierra alone, Jimmy Cliff's "Many Rivers to Cross" plays in my head, over and over again, especially this verse:

And this loneliness won't leave me alone,
It's such a drag, to be on your own,
My woman left, and she didn't say why,
Well I guess I'll have to cry.

Day 0 and Day 1:

My first problem is arranging a shuttle for the point to point trip. I prefer to leave my car at the finish if possible. I'd been in communication with my friend Marc Moons, who tends to spend the Fall in the High Sierra doing multiple trips, about possibly helping me. As it turns out, through coincidence, or good planning on Marc's part, he and Rita plan to enter at Bishop Pass on the same day as me, Sept 19th.

We meet at Mammoth Ranger station on the 18th, and shuttle my car to Red's Meadow. We then make a trip to Von's for lunch/dinner supplies, and have a nice lunch together in Mammoth Lakes at a nearby park. We then head for the campground near South Lake, with the cleanest bathrooms ever seen in such a remote setting. We set up camp, and have dinner, later enjoying a campfire. Marc and Rita ask what time I'd like to be on the trail in the morning. I suggest 8 AM, as I have a long 16 mile day planned, with lots of climbing and descending.

Marc and Rita at our comfortable camp before the trip. This handsome Belgian couple are incredibly dedicated to exploring the High Sierra. It is Marc's goal to explore every nook and cranny of this complex range. They'll do about 3-4 weeks total this Fall, spread about as many trips, exploring the High country. I cannot express my gratitude for the shuttle and hospitality these two offer to me, and how much it means to me to have them as friends.

While Marc and Rita would prefer to start later, as they're only traveling about half my distance, they oblige and we hit the trail head right on time. I'm ready to hike, but Marc and Rita still need to pack up and do final prep. Marc suggests I go ahead, but I decline saying I want to enjoy some company before heading off on my own. I fail to realize that Marc and Rita had just finished a previous trip a few days before, and after a few days rest, are far more "mountain fit" than me.

Making final preparations to hit the trail at South Lake, headed for Bishop Pass.

The first day of this trip is a very long trail slog. First, to pick up the SHR in the lower part of Dusy Basin, then taking the JMT to access the next cross country section. So the real excitement doesn't begin until the middle of day 2, so bear with me... It's still a nice hike on the trail sections of the SHR.

We get going at 8:30 AM, with Rita initially setting the pace up the 2,000'+ climb to Bishop Pass. I immediately realize that I have to work pretty hard with my heavy 40 lb. pack, and un-acclimated legs, to match her pace. I stop for many photos on the way up to beautiful Bishop Pass, and while I can match Rita's pace, I can't close the gap once I fall behind. Marc, being an extremely strong mountain man, is far ahead.

Marc lets Rita set the pace initially, while he easily handles his 95 liter pack. I struggle to keep pace with this mountain fit dynamic duo. 

Working our way up the beautiful Bishop Pass Trail, Marc now takes the lead.

I step off the trail to grab this shot near Bishop Pass, as I know that once at the Pass, this view of Bishop Lakes, is missed. 

At the top Marc drops his pack and descends to meet me, seeming relieved that I am not far behind, for he knows, as well as I, and he is concerned, about the difficulty of the journey that lies ahead of me.

I enjoy my precious time hiking with Marc and Rita, but it's now time to go our separate ways. We exchange goodbyes and expressions of goodwill to be careful and safe. Marc is hyper aware of the risk I am taking, knowing this terrain as well, or better, than I, and urges me to take every single step with care, especially when tired and fatigued. I will, over the next week, remind myself of Marc's solid advice when on difficult terrain. I will hear the words of Jimmy Cliff and Marc Moons over and over again on this great adventure. One bad step on technical terrain could be my last.

A good spirited goodbye to my friends, Marc and Rita at Dusy Basin, a wonderland to explore off trail.

After leaving Mark and Rita, I now set off alone, heading down Dusy Basin, and unfortunately, having to drop all the way down to LeConte Canyon. If climbing over 2,000' to Bishop Pass with a heavy, 7 day pack is arduous, then descending over 3000' with that same pack is torture on old man knees.

Marc and Rita set off cross country in Dusy Basin, seeking a remote lake to set up camp. Tomorrow they'll follow my footsteps up toward Muir Pass before again leaving the trail in favor of cross country travel.

As I descend though beautiful Dusy Basin, I encounter a young backcountry Ranger. She asks for my permit, and I show it to her. We chat, and she explains she's been stationed at the LeConte Canyon Ranger Station for 3 months, and is just finishing her call of duty for the season. After a brief conversation, I am on my way.

As I continue down the trail I see many Ranger/Forest Service workers hiking out. Many may be trail crew, those who work hard to maintain the JMT, which has literally several thousand travelers per season. My SHR route will see perhaps a few dozen per season, if that.

Backcountry Rangers are shutting down services for the season, and all gear is being hauled out by mule train. I step off the trail to give right of way to the train and the rider greets me and expresses appreciation for my courtesy. It's actually a lot of work, and takes great skill, to drive a mule train on these technical, steep, rocky trails.

Dusy Basin looking down to LeConte Canyon. I'm not looking forward to having to descend that low, from 12,000' at Bishop Pass, to below 9,000' in the Canyon.

I enjoy a lunch stop before the steep descent down to LeConte Canyon. I am feeling fatigue already, with still a long way to go. I want to descend to the canyon, then climb up as far as I can toward Muir Pass, hopefully out of Bear Country.

Cascades coming down as I descend the steep slopes toward LeConte Canyon.

The descent on the Bishop Pass Trail is rough and steep, and fatigue begins to settle in. It's actually quite hot with the sun beating down on this West facing slope. At the bottom I look at the time, and realize that I will need to push hard on the climb to Muir Pass to get as high as I'd like.

Some of the trail building on this section of the JMT is quite remarkable, as evidenced by this section.

It's getting late, I'm extremely fatigued, and I begin to realize, that I cannot maintain this pace for 6 days. Perhaps my 7 day schedule is more realistic. I do make my goal of 16 miles, but it's nearly dusk, and I have to quickly choose a campsite that is less than ideal, and get on with my camp chores as quickly as possible. If there is one thing I am particular about, it's that I like to have a nice campsite. That preference will have to wait for another day...

It's late, time to settle for a less than ideal campsite along the JMT. On the bright side, I have this great view of a cascade on the Middle Fork of the Kings River.

I quickly bath, set up camp, prep dinner, hang food, and by now it's nearly dark. What an exhausting day! I know there will be more to come, so I settle into my tent, and sleep as best I can, concerned about keeping my pace for the trip. Day 1 is done. Trust me, this trip will get a lot more interesting in the coming days.

Day 2:

I roll out of my sleeping bag at a bit after 6:00 AM. It's 35 degrees F, not too cool for my lightweight 32 degree bag. I know it's going to be another long day, as I am hoping to make it over Snow Tongue Pass, and today will include much cross country travel. I leave my camp at 10,500' at a few ticks before 8:00 AM on my way to Muir Pass at 11,955', just about the same elevation as Bishop Pass, 11,972'. In short order, I'm at a lake at 10,800'. This is where Marc and Rita will camp tonight. I wish I'd made it to here, but the clock was ticking last evening, and I don't like not having my camp chores done by dusk.

The Lake just above my campsite, at 10,800'

Looking back on the lake from just above

The hike to Muir Pass is pleasant, and I take a little time to enjoy the wonderful little hut at the Pass. This thing is quite a marvel of construction, put up by the Sierra Club in 1930. With a little maintenance, this hut has remained as good as new surviving harsh winters for nearly a century.

Muir Hut

Interior of Muir Hut. Fireplace is blocked off unfortunately. Too many disrespectful campers made a mess of it.

From Muir Pass I encounter the Evolution Basin, one of the prettier sections of the JMT. Wanda Lake is visible from the Pass, then as the hiker descends, Saphire Lake and Evolution Lake come into view.

Lake McDermand (foreground) and Wanda Lake (distant, looks like two lakes)

At Wanda Lake, looking back toward Muir Pass at left of photo.

Having lunch at Evolution Lake

Looking North at the far end of Evolution Lake.

After passing Evolution Lake, the JMT drops quickly, over 2.000', to McClure Meadow. This is where the SHR leaves the JMT to stay high, avoiding the low country. After descending for a short bit on the JMT, I leave the trail for a most interesting off trail contour, trying to keep more or less at the 10,800' level, where the cliffs are less severe. This section is a combination of crossing little streams, bushwhacking through willows, walking through dense forest, negotiating wet bogs, and doing short climbs up and down the granite cliffs that are encountered consistently along the way.

Off trail travel through the forest on a 10,800' contour

This section is long and arduous, and chews up a lot of time. As the day is slipping away, I realize I will not make it over Snow Tongue Pass today. It'll be late by the time I get there, and I will be tired. It's the most technical obstacle on the trip, so it will be best to tackle it fresh in the morning.

A bit of bushwhacking through the willows

Eventually, I emerge from the complex contour section, and begin to climb toward Snow Tongue Pass

I finally emerge from the messy cross country contour, and the terrain opens up as I head toward Snow Tongue Pass. It's getting late, so I decide to simply hike as far as I can, hoping to make the final lake below the Pass. I do, but it's 5:45 PM, and at this elevation, 11,600' it's already getting quite cold. I quickly clean up, change into evening wear, set up camp, cook dinner, stow food, and by this time, it's getting dark, so I crawl into my tent. Today is another reminder of just how difficult this trip is going to be. Though I've fallen behind on the 6 day plan, I'm still in good running for completing the route in 7 days. Today I completed nearly 15 miles including some very slow cross country travel, so the fatigue is settling in!

My cold camp just below Snow Tongue Pass at 11,600'.

Day 3: Snow Tongue Pass to Puppet Lake

I emerge from my tent on Day 3 at about 6:30 AM, treated to a frigid temperature of 28 degrees. I slept cold last night, realizing my older 32 degree sleeping bag is inadequate in these conditions. There is added discomfort in the fact that I am now to face the  most difficult, and technical Pass of my trip, Snow Tongue Pass. Many who travel this Pass have been terrified by it, and I expect to be among those. In fact, I'm so preoccupied, that I forget to turn on my Garmin, so I have no record of my start time, but it's probably around 8 AM.

Snow Tongue Pass from my camp. This is the easy side.

I work my way up the pass, and discover that the SW side is quite easy, with stable talus that isn't too steep or technical. It's an enjoyable climb, and I warm up quickly and become quite comfortable.

Approaching the easy SW side of Snow Tongue Pass. I'll shoot for the notch in the middle.

As I work my way up toward the Pass, I look back at the lake where I camped.

I am able to get to the pass in good time, and as I look over the edge, I see what the fuss is about. But you don't have to take my word for it, Roper writes, after noting view of the prominent Mt. Humphries in the distance;

The terrifying part of the view is the immediate foreground, where acres of shattered rock drop precipitously down the northern escarpment of the Glacier Divide. James Hutchinson was aghast as he gazed over this cliff in 1904, noting with gloom that, "the prospects were far from bright."

Roper continues;

Do not drop straight down from the pass, for the steep main chute visible below is dangerously loose. Instead, scramble up the ridge to the south for fifty feet to a small notch. Leave the ridge crest here and carefully, one person moving at a time. None of the possible routes are easy; all involve steep, loose rock."

Looking down the first main chute of the Pass to Wahoo Lakes area. Mt. Humphries left of photo.

So I scramble up the ridge to the next notch, and peer over the edge. My note to self is, this doesn't look a heckuva lot better than the first notch!

From the Pass looking back toward my camp.

On Chapter 1 of the SHR, the feared obstacle was Frozen Lake Pass. It is similar in that the climb was relatively safe, while the descent involved dangerous loose rock and scree. I used a technique of shortening one trekking pole to ice axe length, while stowing the other. The pole doesn't tend to cause scree slides, so I'd plant the pole, put as much weight on it as I could, then step very light footed down the scree. This worked well on Frozen Lake Pass, but as I drop into Snow Tongue, this method proves less effective. I cannot help causing scree and rock slides, and although they are small, they are very unnerving, and the footing isn't confidence inspiring.

I work my way down slowly and carefully, hyper aware that if something goes awry, I'm in deep sh!t! As I move lower I come to what seems to be an insurmountable barrier— a class 3-4 move to continue down the Pass. I can either up climb, and find another route, or I can deal with the technical problem. I definitely do not want to be lazy, and be unwilling to up climb if it is the safer thing to do.

looking down the slope, more loose rock and scree.

I study the problem, and ponder my options. In my mind's eye, I imagine the moves necessary to down climb the technical section, and decide that I can do it with confidence. Up climbing, and moving laterally, has it's own risks. After careful consideration, I decide that down is the way to go.

Being terrified isn't going to help me past this obstacle, so I try to go at it with confidence. In under a minute, I tackle the problem, and am on to safer down climbing, relatively speaking.

I'm now down the worst of it, looking back

Still some more loose rock and scree, then some tedious talus to get to the lake at the upper left of photo

A few more moves and I am down the scary part, but now, unfortunately I have acres and acres of tough talus to tackle.

From the talus field below. Straight over the pass is middle right of photo, After scrambling up the ridge, my route was middle left of photo, to the right of the larger shaded area.

I take a break at the first lake in the Wahoo Lakes area, water up, have a snack, and then continue to tackle the talus. Having STP out of the way is a major relief. I've got many more technical passes to cross, but none will be as scary as this one!

Taking a break at the lake. Do I detect the slightest hint of a smile of relief?

Mt. Humphries in plain view across the Humphries Basin

The next talus section through Wahoo Lakes is quite awful, and painfully slow. With all the time consumed dealing with Snow Tongue Pass, I realize I am again falling behind schedule.

Once past the talus problem, I arrive in the Humphries Basin, where cross country travel is enjoyable. It's quite easy to access this beautiful basin from North Lake over Piute Pass. A while back, I did a very nice trip, that involved cross country travel of moderate difficulty, and included exploration of Humphries Basin, Darwin Bench, and the Evolution Lakes area:

Piute Pass, Humphries Basin, Darwin Bench, Lamarck Col

This is a fine trip for someone wanting a cross country challenge, but not ready for the rigors of the SHR!

looking back on Snow Tongue Pass from a distance. I descended from the second lowest notch, center of photo, to the left of the lowest point. This photo better conveys the steepness of the pass vs. previous photos.

Rough going is over, now it's time to cover some ground crossing the Humphries Basin en route to Puppet Pass. Such beautiful hiking in the Basin, with the imposing presence of Mt Humphries, certainly one of the most prominent peaks in the Sierra, due to it's large size, and the fact that it's isolated, presiding over this huge Basin.

Smooth sailing hiking across the basin toward Puppet Pass.

Travel goes well in the Basin, and I make quick work of getting to Mesa Lake below Puppet Pass, where I take a late lunch break.

Lunch at Mesa Lake

Climbing toward Puppet Pass, looking back on Mesa Lake.

Climbing to Puppet Pass, looking back at Mt. Humphries and Desolation Lake.

Terrain gets a bit confusing working my way to Puppet Pass, as it cannot be seen from below. Navigation isn't perfect, but I eventually find the Pass. Again, the approach is easy, but the down climb is tedious talus. Nothing scary, but time consuming, especially for this tired body.

Splendid view from Puppet Pass down to Puppet Lake, the larger lake on the right. I will camp at the far end of Puppet Lake. I believe that is Merriam Peak, 13,103' on the right of the photo.

Looking back at Puppet Pass. Just a huge talus problem.

After Puppet Lake, I need to drop down to lower elevation, and will give up the beautiful views I have here in the high country. So I decide to shut it down a little early, at about 4:45 PM, and make camp at Puppet Lake. It turns out to be a good decision as I enjoy a gorgeous moonrise after dinner, before retiring for the evening.

View of Puppet Lake from my camp.

Happy to be in camp a bit early today, and have a little time to relax, even take a selfie! Rare treat.

Nice moonrise over Puppet Pass this evening, to enjoy before climbing into the tent.

Note: This is a partial Strava file, missing up and over Snow Tongue Pass.

Day 4:

It's a cold night at Puppet Lake, 11,230', with a recorded morning temperature of 27 degrees F. Nonetheless, I haul my carcass out of my bag and face the morning. Thankfully, wind is light, so I am not uncomfortable as I prepare breakfast and break camp.

The first task is to drop down, cross country, through the forest to French Canyon, where I will catch a trail for a mile or so before leaving the Canyon to climb up the opposite side of the canyon to Merriam Lake en route to Feather Pass.

Below Merriam Peak, the Royce Lakes drain into French Canyon with this lovely waterfall/cascade.

On the way down, I have to negotiate a lot of brush and trees, and I focus on trying to find deer and bear paths to get me through. This seems reasonably effective, and I find myself on the canyon floor in short order, crossing the stream to access the French Canyon Trail. It's a nice walk along the trail next to the stream.

The stream along French Canyon

Sign to Merriam Lake

The initial climb up toward Merriam Lake is extremely steep and taxing. Once I crest the bench, the hiking is much more pleasant for a while, followed by another steep bench to get up to Merriam Lake, a pristine place, and wonderful camping spot if one is so inclined. It would be possible to set up a base camp at Merriam Lake, then do a day trip to Bear Lakes Basin, thus not having to haul the pack over Feather Pass.

Nice hiking after gaining the first bench before Merriam Lake.

Beautiful Merriam Lake as I begin to climb again above the lake.

Climbing above Merriam Lake, the terrain gets a bit steep and technical, as I must gain yet another bench. The bottom of the Merriam Lake trail is under 10,000', while Feather Pass is 12,400', so this is a hefty climb! The SHR travels up next to the steep drainage from the lakes above, and is quite a grind.

As I gain the next bench, I can now see Feather Pass, the sharp "V" shaped saddle on the right of the photo. One more bench to go before the final climb up to the Pass! I stop here briefly to water up.

Feather Pass (middle of photo).

The last lake near Feather Pass. I will ascend the reddish area on the right of the photo, just left of the snow fields. A little  bit steep near the top.

Some steep talus to negotiate up the final bench before the Pass

I climb up one more bench, then make the final, and relatively easy march up to Feather Pass. The terrain here is of moderate difficulty, so I am making good time toward the Pass.

Looking back down at the final lake toward Feather Pass after I have gained the final bench before the actual hike up to the Pass.

Once on Feather Pass, I am able to enjoy lunch as wind is unusually light for being up on a Pass!

Looking down the North side of the Pass toward Bear Lakes Basin

A snowfield to cross, with deep sun cups on Feather Pass.

Roper says the North side of Feather Pass can be tricky, as it's easy to get stuck on Class 3 cliffs if the traveler does not pick the route carefully. For whatever reason, my selected route goes quite smooth, and Feather Pass gives me no trouble whatsoever.

I look forward to traveling again through Bear Lakes Basin, as this is arguably my favorite spot in the Sierra Nevada. The lakes are stunningly beautiful, and the terrain is complex, hiding, then revealing each gem of a lake, one at a time.

Looking at the entire Feather Peak ridge, beautifully complex.

Approaching the remarkably beautiful Bear Lakes basin, first lake is Bear Paw Lake, next is Ursa Lake

Pristine Lake, but unfortunately, some idiot has gotten some "Camp Suds" in the lake. Some backpackers think it's OK to get their 'biodegradable" soap in the lakes when cleaning cookware. It's NOT OK, you fucking idiots! I get so angry when I see this!!! If you must use soap (it isn't really necessary, I didn't use any), then please, use it on the shore AWAY from the lake. And use a clean, non soapy vessel to dip in the lake to fetch water. OK, done ranting...

Looking back at Feather Pass (saddle at right of photo) from Bear Paw Lake. Beautiful!

Looking down at Ursa Lake with Seven Gables on the horizon. OMG! This is unbelievable!

Black Bear Lake, another amazing beauty!

The first peek at White Bear Lake.

White Bear Lake revealed

One more... White Bear Lake

I don't know what to say. Hiking through the Bear Lakes Basin is simply an amazing experience. All of the lakes are stunning. I am reluctant to pick a favorite! The terrain is complex, so one must pay attention to navigation, but the travel isn't particularly technical, so the hiker can focus all attention on enjoying the scenery.

Brown Bear Lake, with Teddy Bear Lake below. Last of the Bear Lakes, but getting there will not be easy.

Unfortunately, the fun is over after going over White Bear Pass. Although the beautiful Brown Bear Lake comes into view, climbing down the Pass proves to be quite horrible. There are many steep cliffs involved, and route finding is difficult. The day is wearing on, and I really need to make it to Lake Italy to stay on a seven day schedule. I'm quite exhausted now, and this tedious, technical descent will take all of the energy I can muster. I'm hacking my way through willows to avoid cliffs, and sometimes having to backtrack to try a different route. Time is ticking, as is my patience.

Looking back up White Bear Pass, a tedious obstacle to overcome.

I finally make it down the Pass to Brown Bear Lake, and shadows are becoming long. I still have to climb up to Lake Italy.

From Brown Bear Lake, looking back at White Bear Pass

Once past Brown Bear Lake I begin the tedious process of climbing up to Lake Italy. There is an old trail here, but unfortunately, I miss it, and end up climbing up a long talus field. More time wasted. The bad news is that it's getting late, but the good news, is that I will make it to Lake Italy before dark after all. 

I arrive, and set up camp as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, it's quite windy, and the wind chill factor is making it very cold, it's tough to do camp chores – setting up tent, making dinner, etc. I am so exhausted, I am so cold, I'm afraid my spirit is broken. After such an inspiring hike through Bear Lakes Basin, all seems lost now. I can barely function, but I do what I must.

It's icy cold here with the wind, which is common on Lake Italy. I've set up my kitchen against the rock as a wind break. It's a beautiful evening, but hard to enjoy.

I finally get camp set up, have some dinner, and collapse in my tent, completely exhausted, and unsure I can continue. But I must...

Day 5:

As morning comes, I'm unable to leave the comfort of my sleeping bag, still whipped from yesterday, not to mention it's still windy and cold out, 28 degrees without the wind, wind chill certainly puts it in the teens.

When I finally emerge, I find a beautiful morning, and go about my camp chores.

Beautiful morning on Lake Italy before sunrise.

As I nearly complete my morning chores, the sun hits my camp, making me realize I should be hiking by now!

Sun is on my camp now, I make the best of it by getting the solar charger going. I hang this on the top of my pack while I hike to charge a 5500ma auxiliary battery. Orange device is my Garmin Inreach Satellite SOS beacon, capable of two way texting.

I'm not quite over my broken spirit from yesterday, but once I start hiking, I feel a little better. The sun, the movement, and the nice scenery, warm my body and soul, and things start to look just a bit brighter. Unfortunately, it's nearly 9 AM when I start hiking, about an hour later than I'd like.

Peaceful hike along Lake Italy in the early morning warms the body and soul.

At the end of the 1.5 mile hike along the lake, 11,202' I begin to ascend easy cross country terrain up toward Gabbot Pass, situated at 12,300' between Mt. Gabb and Mt. Abbot.

Looking toward Gabbot Pass, the low saddle in middle of photo, as I climb up from Lake Italy

Getting to the Pass is without issue, however once over the Pass, much talus is found on the North side, so going is tedious.

Looking back on tedious talus on the North side of Gabbot Pass, after I have descended a bit.

Large blocks of talus on Gabbot Pass

Looking back again on Gabbot Pass from lower down. Talus forever!

As I slowly work my way down the talus field toward Upper Mills Lake, the view opens up, but the terrain doesn't get easier. Time is ticking.

Lovely Mills Lake Basin. Getting there is a chore...

I arrive a Mills Lake Basin, work my way along the flats, then descend yet another talus field before heading into a tedious section of willow bushwhacking, negotiating thick forest and fallen logs, steep cliffs, and just about every other obstacle one could imagine!

Pretty scenery, but hard going in there!

I hike down next to this steep cascade.

Once I get through the forest area, the terrain flattens out a bit, and opens up. I stop for a late lunch here. There is a reasonably good trail through this section, which then drops steeply down to Mono Creek at the edge of the bench. I cross the fast flowing Mono Creek, via large rocks, which are quite slippery. On my last step to the bank on the other side, one foot slips in the water and becomes soaked —not a good thing for my sore and tender feet.

After a mile or so of hiking up the trail along the stream I encounter the side trail to Lake Laurel. It's nearly 4 PM, and I've got a 3.5 mile hike, with a 1500' gain. I'm doubtful I can do this before sundown, but I have to give it a go. It's Day 5, and Laurel Lake was my goal on Day 4 on my 6 day plan. Even if I make it to Laurel Lake, that means I'm a full day behind, and will need to match my 6 day pace on the final two days in order to complete the trip in 7 days. I can ration my food, as I have a little extra, and finish it 8 days... but I'd rather not.

3.5 miles to Laurel Lake. It's 4 PM...

Glaciers came through these canyons long ago, and they are the cause of the hanging valleys that preside over the canyons. As a result, hiking up the edge of the bench can be extremely steep. The Laurel Lake trail is relentless, as it does very little in the way of switchbacks, but rather, heads straight up the hill! It's exhausting work, but eventually, I make the bench for a respite on flatter ground, but must keep moving.

Easier hiking once the bench is gained.

I will need to travel this bench all the way to the high peaks in the distance, under which Laurel Lake will be found.

Getting a little closer to Laurel Lake

The weather cools as the sun dips below the peaks, and the hour is late, but it looks like I will make it to Laurel Lake before dark! Aside from feeling pressed for time, this is a beautiful hike up to the lake.

Laurel Lake comes into view, and it's very nice! Last bit of sun on the ridges.

I set up camp, and my tent, pitched between the huge granite blocks, is dwarfed by these giants.

I pitch my tent between two large granite blocks, and later read that Roper makes reference to these, as he instructs the hiker to head toward Big Horn Pass, my job for tomorrow morning:

Leave this body of water (Laurel Lake) near the two massive granite blocks adorning its northwest shore and ascend precipitous, grassy slopes that lead upward 900 feet to Bighorn Pass, the 11,250 foot saddle immediately east of Rosy Finch Lake.

I get through my camp chores as quickly as possible, and settle into my tent for yet another cold night. Light breeze here, but nothing like Lake Italy.

Laurel Lake by moonlight.

Day 6:

OK, I think I've got my spirit back. I'm out of the tent fairly early, just at dawn, before 6:30 AM. Yes, it's cold again, 28 degrees F, but wind is very light. I love my camp between these two massive granite blocks. It's a special place.

I move through my camp chores as usual, and am fairly efficient on this morning. Strava says I was on the trail at 7:52 AM. This is a full hour earlier than yesterday's debacle!

Bundled up at camp, getting my chores done.

My tiny tent next to the huge granite blocks. My route to Big Horn Pass will be right up the chute in the middle of the photo. A bench is gained, then the real Pass is far behind, and higher, barely visible.

 I am treated to some comic relief on this cold morning. Since I arrived in camp late last evening, I was forced to rinse out my Smart Wool socks and Jockey tighties, quite late. So there was no time for them to dry. And the cold weather froze them stiff overnight. So they would literally stand up on their own. I'll be wearing my camp socks, and going commando for a bit while these articles dry fastened on the outside of my backpack!

Socks and tighties standing up on their own! Note the frost on the tighties!

As I climb up toward Big Horn Pass, I absorb the warm sun, and take in a nice view of Laurel Lake, and the two huge granite blocks, which look like pebbles from this vantage point.

As I climb up toward the pass, I look down at Laurel Lake and my camp, and now the huge granite boulders look small. Over and over again on this trip, I am amazed at the scale of this terrain, and editing photos afterward, I realize that scale is lost when looking at photos, vs. actually being present in this amazing landscape.

As I get higher, I gain a bench, and then there is more climbing to the actual Pass (middle of photo), which was not visible from my camp.

The climbing toward Big Horn Pass is extremely steep, but not technically difficult, which is welcomed by this weary hiker. Once at the Pass, I peer over at Rosy Finch Lake. The terrain now will be more technical, and movement will be slower.

Looking over Big Horn Pass at Rosy Finch Lake.

Looking toward Shout of Relief Pass. I should note that I always wore my sunglasses and large brimmed Sun Day Afternoons hat, briefly removing them for selfies. The hat would put my face in complete shadow and make me invisible. Looking at my photos now, perhaps that would be a good thing ;-)

Looking toward Shout of Relief Pass. The terrain is complex here, lots of cliffs, and route selection is of paramount importance.

I descend Big Horn Pass slightly, but not too much, for I must do a traverse over to Shout of Relief Pass. This Pass was named by early explorers, when they peered over the edge, and discovered the descent on the other side was easy. Indeed, for the traveler on this section of the SHR, my experience has been that all passes crossed thus far, have been easier on the climb than on the descent. From Big Horn Pass, it looks like a straight shot to SoR Pass, but there is actually a ridge in between, which amounts to sort of an interim Pass between the two. I don't know this initially, but discover it on the fly.

After gaining the interim ridge, I now see the real Shout of Relief Pass, on right of photo. Yes, more climbing!

From Shout of Relief Pass, I can now see Rosy Finch Lake again, the lower, larger lake. The upper small lake is unnamed.

I let  out a Shout of Relief at the Pass. Hell, nobody is going to hear me, but I don't want to pass through here and NOT do it.

Looking down at the easier side of SoR Pass, and the descent to these lovely lakes. My route will take me right down the middle of the photo past this series of small lakes.

After getting over Shout of Relief Pass, it's a long slog to the lakes below, on relatively easy terrain, with just a few challenges thrown in. The good news is that I am over the two technical passes of the day, the bad news is that it took me 2.5 hours to travel one mile in distance. Fortunately, today's goal is only 9 miles, so with some better terrain, I can make up some distance as the clock ticks.

These lakes are low in late season, no longer draining water. Red and White Mountain in the distance.

Looking toward Izaak Walton Lake from the inlet

Gorgeous Izaak Walton Lake

I enjoy a nice lunch at Izaak Walton Lake before descending toward Tully Hole. I am not expecting what is coming, a very steep, technical descent into the forest, and along a very steep cascading creek. Route finding is extremely difficult, and I frequently find myself having to make short, Class 3 moves to get down the terrain. As often as not, I also encounter Class 4 moves, but in this case, I back track and select another route. My emergency satellite device does not work well in the trees, so I am hyper aware about traveling alone here. One slip, causing a broken leg or worse, could be the end of me!

During an otherwise stressful descent, I have some comic relief in this huge mushroom, 12" across, shaped like a bicycle saddle. Note trekking pole handle (right) for scale.

This photo did not turn out, possibly because I was still shaking after having to descend this cliff!

Finally down near Tully Hole Meadow where I pick up the McGee Pass Trail, descending to the JMT. Easy going from here, well, except for the huge trail climb out of Tully Hole on the JMT!

Trail junction, 9200', where I will join the JMT for six miles.

As I begin the 2,000' climb out of Tully Hole on the JMT, of course I suddenly begin to encounter many JMT hikers. Some want to talk, most don't. Generally JMT hikers are about making time. I do run into a family of five, and really enjoy speaking with them. They're a couple on a slow pace with their three children, one young teen boy and a pre teen boy and girl. The couple has done parts of the SHR, so we have much to talk about. The kids welcome the break, as mom and dad talk with me. First nice conversation I've had in many days! I finally let them go on their way.

I'm amazed at some of the packs that the speed hiker/runners are carrying on the JMT. Little more than a day pack, I can't imagine they've got more than 10-12 pounds. They've certainly given up some comforts, but it is truly amazing what you can do with today's lightweight equipment. Significant change since the light packs I saw in 2008 when I did the JMT with Daniel.

Huge Lake Virginia along the JMT.

Purple Lake

My destination today is Purple Lake, along the JMT. When I arrive there, I realize a few things. First, I still have some daylight left. Second, there aren't many good camping spots, and third, the place is crawling with JMT hikers. I figure I'll push for Duck Lake. Don't know if it will be any better there, but having the extra miles done will increase the chances that I can make it out in seven days.

Duck Lake is another 2+ miles and a good climb, but I make it right at dusk. Curiously, I see nobody at the Lake, and I quickly select, and set up, a decent camp site. I efficiently work through all my chores and climb into my tent. I'm quite satisfied with today's effort, and I know that if my final day isn't too troublesome, I should be able to complete my hike at a reasonable hour on Day 7.

Duck Lake by the light of the full moon. Actually, the day before the full moon.

Day 7:

I wake at Duck Lake (10,482') at my normal time, around 6:30 AM. It's cool with a very light breeze, 32 degrees F. I take care of chores and am on the trail at 7:55 AM. It's a nice morning as I hike along Duck Lake, making the long, gradual, uphill traverse to Duck Pass (10,797').

As I slowly climb above Duck Lake, I look back to see still air, calm water, and beautiful reflections.

After I gain the pass, I descend Duck Pass briefly, then leave the trail for a cross country route toward Deer Lakes basin, climbing up above Duck Pass. 

After cresting Duck Pass, I take a break for a wardrobe adjustment. In the distance is Barney Lake and Skelton Lake along the JMT. I will not be going there, but rather leaving the trail on a cross country route to Deer Lakes. Solar panel on my backpack is visible.

At about 11,200' I reach a crest and can see the Mammoth area in the distance. Just for fun, I check cell reception, and it's working. I sit and check in with the world for a bit, sorting through email, and making sure Trump hasn't done anything really, really stupid, such that the world will be dramatically changed when I get back to civilization. A lot can happen in a week!

From this vantage point, high above Mammoth, I realize I have cell phone reception for the first time in a week. That is Skelton Lake, seen again from a different vantage point.

After a break I head for Deer Lakes, a very pretty spot. I regret that I didn't make it farther yesterday, such that I could camp at Deer Lakes. That said, Duck Lake was a very nice camp spot.

I come to the Deer Lakes Basin, a beautiful spot.

The view above Deer Lakes is spectacular, and there is an easy walk through some talus to get there. There is sort of a trail at this point, which makes the trip through the talus much easier. Once at Deer Lakes, there is a good trail for many miles, something I was not expecting.

White Bark Pine detail

This area is very nice for hiking. Easy terrain with great views in all directions.

Hiking through the area past Deer Lakes toward Mammoth Crest is easy and rewarding. The miles are ticking by, and the views are splendid in all directions. The easy hiking is welcomed by this weary traveler, as I finish off my mission!

The rock is changing in this area. Less pure granite, more volcanic action, and more color variation in the rock.

Red volcanic rock along the trail.

In short order, I reach the Mammoth Crest, as my trail travels along the precipitous ledge above the Mammoth Lakes area. 

Mt. Ritter and Banner Peak in the distance as I travel Mammoth Crest.

It's lunch time, so I take a break on Mammoth Crest, right at the top of a cliff.

My lunch spot on the crest overlooking Mammoth Lakes.

After lunch, I begin to descend, and there is some off trail travel. On one steep descent, I encounter deep pumice, such that my shoes disappear on each step.

Dry, soft, deep pumice is encountered on this section. Where's my foot?

After the pumice descent, I travel cross country through the forest, and eventually pick up the Old Mammoth Pass Trail, which takes me back to the John Muir Trail. Just a few miles to go, I am smelling the barn!

Minarets are visible from the JMT. This forest burned a while back, and is in recovery.

Another view of the Minarets, and the old, burned out forest.

I travel through an old, burned out forest that is in recovery, as I approach Red's Meadow. With just 3 miles to go, I turn on the after burners, and knock out this section in less than an hour. I'm dreaming of enjoying a beer in Red's Meadow!

Not sure I have every been happier to see my Subaru.

I arrive to find my car intact in Red's Meadow. I'll be glad to shed my pack and have a beer. This has been one of the most amazing adventures of my life. So difficult, so beautiful, so rewarding!

I enjoy a beer and a bag of chips from the store in Red's Meadow, and discover that they have showers available. So I partake, clean up, and put on some fresh clothes from my car. It's early afternoon, the first day I've completed my hike before dusk. So I put on my flip flops, and make the short, easy hike to Devil's Postpile, playing tourist.

A quick trip to Devil's Postpile.

After the short hike, I head into town, and have a beer and burger.

Beer and Burger at Mammoth Brewing/Eatery is a perfect cap to the day!

I'm not keen on driving home late, so I make a short trip to Oh! Ridge campground on June Lake, and roll my bag out under the stars for one more cold night. From here, I am within striking range of the Whoa Nellie Deli/Mobil Station near Lee Vining, so I'll head there for breakfast in the morning.

Epilogue:

In the morning I head for Whoa Nellie Deli, and enjoy a breakfast burrito, and some real coffee. Truthfully, it feels nice to be back in civilization, and to enjoy some basic comforts.

Moon setting in early morning as I drive along Hwy 395 to Whoa Nellie Deli.

After my meal at the Deli, as I drive toward Tioga Pass, I notice three hikers that look like they need a ride. I pull over, and step out of my car, and before I can ask if they need a ride, they are already profusely thanking me for stopping. Anyway, they pile in the car. They are doing the full PCT, starting at the Canadian border, and heading to Mexico. I inform them that they are about to embark on the best part of their trip, a fact they are already aware of. They're quite weary, but enjoying their long journey, which they plan to complete in November. It is a very lively conversation in the car as we drive toward Tioga Pass, as we exchange our differing stories about our experiences.

I drive them to the trailhead, where they will continue. I find myself hanging around with them longer than I need to. Perhaps I am somewhat reluctant to let go of the hiking life. But alas, I eventually send them on their way, and continue my journey home to the San Francisco Bay Area.

Time to bid farewell to my new friends, the PCT hikers, and send them on the rest of their very long journey.

Wrinkles:

I've presented this trip as extremely arduous and challenging. The reader should keep in mind that I am in my 60's now, and this terrain is very difficult for old legs. Younger hikers should find the route much easier, and perhaps doing this section of the SHR in 5 or 6 days, rather than 7 days, is realistic for a younger, fit hiker. And speed hiking with a very light pack could make the trip even faster.

I'm not a climber. Class 3 terrain for me is my limit. While competent in the mountains, I'm a bit acrophobic, so as you read my account, keep these considerations in mind. When I describe terrain as being extremely taxing, or technical, a competent climber on the same terrain my not feel any duress, and may be able to pass through this terrain much more efficiently than I.

As far as technical terrain on this section of the SHR, there is much of it, but the only "scary" section for me, was Snow Tongue Pass. This is easily bypassed by taking a nicer route over Alpine Col. The hiker can leave the JMT after Evolution Lakes, and head up to the Darwin Bench, then take Alpine Col over to Humphries Basin. This route is prettier, and less technical than the Roper route, which includes a tedious traverse in the trees, as well as the difficult Snow Tongue Pass. But be warned, Alpine Col has a very long talus grind. It's no cake walk.

Roper seems stuck on following the routes of the early Sierra Nevada explorers, hence Snow Tongue Pass, and also, Chapter 1 starts at Road's End in King's Canyon, and does Frozen Lake Pass, whereas it would be better to start on the East Side, in the Whitney Region.

I'm committed to do the route exactly as Roper intended, and will stick to that, but it's good to consider that other, more desireable options are available.

While I traveled this route alone, I don't really recommend it for safety reasons. I didn't see a single person on my off trail days, and I think it would be safer to travel with a companion. There is so much that can go wrong on this terrain vs. hiking on a trail. Talus fields are always hazardous, and Passes, such as Snow Tongue, are potentially dangerous. I did carry a satellite SOS device with me (Garmin Inreach), and was in somewhat regular contact with two people who were watching me.

On that topic, I'd like to extend a warm thank you to my son Daniel, and Sarah Schroer, for keeping in contact with me. Sarah was particularly diligent about watching my progress and making sure that I was where I was supposed to be, more or less, on a daily basis. I felt more comfortable knowing that there were eyes on me.

I personally have never done a trip like this alone. I expected to experience extreme loneliness, but it really didn't happen. I suspect it was because I was so busy hiking, navigating, and dealing with terrain challenges and taking care of camp chores from dawn until dusk, that there wasn't really any time to be lonely!

Traveling the JMT solo can actually be more social than traveling with a partner, as there are so many solo travelers, and they tend to seek one another's company. But the SHR is very different, as there is virtually nobody on the route.

I look forward to completing the next Chapter or two next Fall, hopefully with my son Daniel. Until then, Happy Trails!