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The wind became so fierce
my truck was blowing around on the road.
I could see the dark thunderclouds ahead. As I approached lightning started shooting out at regular
intervals. I watched with nervous
excitement as some bolts hit the hills on either side of the Highway. I could see the wall of rain coming but
I just kept driving, hoping to make my meeting time with the boys. The windshield wipers couldn’t keep up with
the amount of rain falling and Highway 395 was flooding over. Not an inviting start to a 10 day
backpacking trip in the Southern Sierras.
As dark creeped in over the
hills the rain clouds began to clear up.
I came rolling into the small town of Lone Pine to meet up with Craig
Ballenger, Keith Braunies, George and Dusty Revel and Hippy Ted, our crew for
the expedition. This was to be our
jumping off point for a back packing trip into the Southern Sierra’s. After a night in the Alabama Hills, an
unusual rock formation outside of town, we spent the morning organizing our
gear. We then parked a couple cars
up at Whitney Portal and all crammed into Craigs truck with our backpacks in
the bed. After buying food in
Bishop we headed up to Onion Valley Trail head outside of Independence to sleep
at altitude before setting off on the trail the next morning.
Our mission was to head deep
into the headwaters of the Kern River basin in search of pure stain California
Golden Trout. Unfortunately many
miles and two of the biggest passes in the Southern Sierra lay between us and
there. Mt. Whitney and the
tallest pass in California guards the way out. Our route included several miles on the John Muir trail then
a detour into a remote basin that had been on the radar for Ballenger for a
number of years. Craig has spent
many a night in this part of the state and been exploring the region by foot
for decades. He’s a history buff
and a fish head. Craig has read
more literature on the history of fish distribution in this state than most
people even know exists. As well
as talking to folks out on the trails, people from the department of fish and
wildlife and local horse packers and trail workers. Rumor has it he knows a thing or two about a thing or
two. He’s forgotten more than I’ll
ever know about the Southern Sierras so I was happy to have him as our
guide.
Craig was hoping to discover
some pure strain Goldens and Keith planned on capturing the adventure on film
for a new California Trout video project called Liquid Gold. I was to be camera number two and help
fill in where I could. Planning
for 10 days in the wilderness is hard enough. Throw in an extra 10-15 pounds of camera gear and welcome to
a videographers life.
Step by step we climbed the
5.5 mile accent to the top of Kearsarge Pass. As we approached the summit the thunder clouds begun to
build. The last mile leading to
the top of the pass is above tree line and highly exposed. A ranger stopped to warn us about the
extreme lightning danger. We
pressed on with a sense of urgency.
Not wanting to be turned into a crispy pulp is good motivation to keep
placing one foot in front of the other on a long trudge up a steep hill. The time on the summit was short lived
and we made quick work of the 3 mile decent down the backside to a small lakes
basin where we could take shelter in some trees and set up camp before the
rains hit. Everyone hunkered down
in their cozy tents except Hippy Ted and I. I had only a bivy sack for my bag and Ted only a plastic
pancho to shelter his bag from the elements. I put on my Patagonia Rainshadow shell and curled up under a
small cluster of wind twisted lodgepole pines to wait out the hail.
The pattern had been the
usual afternoon thunderstorms which were actually unusual for this time of
year. Clouds building by noon, rain around later afternoon then clearing by
nightfall. Yet somehow out of the
blue the sky that was clear when we went to bead decided to unleash a downpour
of rain at 4 in the morning that lasted for a few hours. The rain and wind pounding on my bivy
made it hard to sleep. Seldom is
there a night where I’m so excited to get up in the morning. Mostly I just couldn’t wait to get the
stove going and cook up some warm oat meal.
Mornings in the high Sierra
are spectacular. The light, the
smells, the sounds of the birds singing all create a melody that is hard to
explain with words. It engages
every sense and imparts a feeling of aw.
Our bliss was quickly broken by slinging a 50 lb pack on our back and
heading out down the trail. By
noon we had descended another few miles down into the canyon and linked up with
the John Muir Trail. From there we
headed south along Bubbs Creek.
Our goal for the day was to reach a horse packers camp wish whom we had
arranged a dunnage drop of some extra food at the area we planned on making our
base camp. There in a small patch
of thick trees we found them huddled around a camp stove drinking coffee. Upon arrival we learned there had been
a rock slide on the backside of Forester Pass and the horse train might not be
able to make it over. A couple of
the cowboys had gone ahead to investigate the trial so we decided to pitch camp
near by and wait for the news. Out
came the rods and off to the creek we all headed.
A few Golden Trout later we
spotted the cowboys coming down the trail near dark. They broke the news that the trail was passable and we were
on track to get our supplies dropped.
I used the few extra dollars I had in my pocket to buy a spot on one of
the mules for my backpack over Forester Pass. Felt like cheating a bit but was well worth saving my back a
bit for the long miles ahead. That
night three girls from Georgia that were on day 17 of the JMT camped next to
us.
In the morning we headed off
up the trail. It’s a 7 mile accent
up Forester Pass. The summit is
13,200 feet. We reached it by
early afternoon. I skipped up the
trail without my pack and was able to get ahead of the group for some epic
scenic shots of the group hiking.
We had a nice bite to eat at the summit and shot a group photo. The views from the top were spectacular. The trail heading down the backside of
the mountain is a series of steep switchbacks crafted of elaborate rock work
meticulously placed by hardworking trail crews. It’s really a sight to behold and privilege to walk. Near the bottom of the hill we ran into
some trail workes repairing a section of the trail that had washed out. They were drilling holes with a gas
powered jack hammer to place dynamite.
Each day they hiked 7 miles up there, worked in the hot sun drilling
rocks then hiked 7 miles back to the ranger station at Tyndall Creek. Really helped us appreciate the amazing
trail we had been hiking on for the last 25 miles through the Wilderness. Of course Craig stopped for a
smoke with them and rapped out about the happenings around the place for a good
hour before we pressed on.
That afternoon we detoured
from the trail and headed out cross country. I took a high line and ended up higher on the ridge then the
rest of the group. I ended up skiing
a steep shale mountain goat line down through a saddle on a steep face. Would have been a fun boot ski if I
hadn’t had a super heavy pack on.
From there we intercepted a seldom used trail and ascended up a steep
face into a remote high lake basin at around 13,000 feet. Lake South America was our proposed
base camp and where we had arranged to have our extra food dropped.
Dawn broke and again I was up
with first light. Mostly because I
was too cold to sleep. I grabbed
my rod and set off around the lake.
Dead calm and not a single rise.
I walked the entire circumference of the lake peering into the crystal
clear waters. Not a trout to be seen.
Around noon as planned the
packer showed up and dropped our extra food. We spent most of that day taking it easy around camp. Comparing blisters and going over
equipment. It’s hard enough to plan and execute a trip like this into the high
sierra. Filming adds a whole
different element to the expedition.
First it adds an additional 10-12 pounds of gear to my pack. I though I had brought enough battery
for 7-10 days but by day 4 my batteries were almost entirely exhausted. A heavy battery grip I brought that
works off double A’s worked for about 15 minutes instead of the two hours I was
hoping for. My other two batteries
for my 7D were on red. The go pro
I was hoping to use for underwater accidentally got bumped and turned on in my
pack exhausting the battery. We
brought a solar panel to charge in the field and it didn’t end up working. So half way into the trip and already I
was near dead in the water on filming.
Luckily Keith had some battery power left to tell the rest of the
story.
At that point we decided to
divide and conquer. I had some
obligations that needed me to be home a couple days earlier than the rest of
the gang. I decided my time would
be best spent exploring another drainage on my way out. Dusty had already left that morning as
he too had obligations. His plan
was to hike out light and fast. My
plan was to wander the hills alone and do some soul searching.
The next three days I hiked
alone. Stopping at creeks and
exploring off trail. I desperately needed some alone time in the
Wilderness. It’s a different
experience hiking by yourself than it is hiking in a group. The sounds of the forest become more
vivid. Your own thoughts wander
then are reeled back in by amazing vistas or small nuances like the bark of a
tree or a patch of light on some bushes as you pass by. Some people I know are nervous spending
the night alone that far from civilization. I on the other hand love it. Falling asleep under the stars and waking to the sound of a
brook. One morning I woke to the
sound of an animal approaching. In
this part of the Sierra Bears are always a concern around your food
supply. The footsteps sounded
heavy but different from a deer. I
listened to it’s steps in the duff as it approached, anxious to see what it
was. There entered into the
clearing the biggest rabbit I have ever seen. It was a huge snow shoe jack rabbit bouncing along through
the forest alone.
That morning I hiked over 10
miles and reached Guitar Lake, at the back side of the final approach to
Mt.Whitney around 3 pm. I was
planning on spending the night there and going for the summit in the morning like
the rest of the hikers showing up at that hour. Some blisters had formed from my boots and every step felt
like walking on hot coals. I
decided to rest and was planning on making camp there. An uneasy feeling fell over me and I
couldn’t relax. I picked up my bag
and decided to make a push for the summit in the last hours of light. My feet were to sore to put the boots
back on so I decided to make the push in my flip flops I had brought for around
camp.
I hiked the 3 or 4 miles up
the hill almost without stopping at all.
Racing the dark is also good motivation for hiking. I figured I might spend the night up
there and head for the summit in the morning. When I arrived at trail crest the sun was low on the
horizon. I’d been cold the few
previous nights and the only camping spots were very exposed. I made the decision to push for the
summit. I switched back into my
boots and basically started jogging up the trail. I was nervous about hiking in the dark so it was a race to
the top. I stopped to talk with a
father and sun near a knife blade section of trail just below the final push to
the top. They looked like they
were ready for an Everest expedition.
They were bundled from head to toe in North Face gear and wearing gloves
and warm beanies. I pulled out my
camera and had the guy snap a shot of me.
Unfortunately it was the last shot that battery would allow. I thought for sure there would have
been enough for a few more.
My time at the summit was
short lived. There were a few
people milling about who I assumed where staying in the cabin up there. I approached the big cliff wall on the
east side. The wind was blowing
hard up the face so I didn’t get too close. Again it was hard to be comfortable because I knew dark was
approaching fast. I hurried down
back to trail crest where again there was no time for rest. I grabbed my pack and started down the
97 switchbacks to trail camp. By
then it was pretty much dark and I was hiking by head lamp. At the base of the hill I found a
little spot to duff out between some boulders for the night.
The next morning I woke with
rising of the sun. The morning
light danced and glowed on the
face of Whitney. I dug out my other camera battery, which I had left in my main
pack and snapped it’s last couple photos.
A selfie with Whitney in the back ground and a shot of my camp spot in
the rocks above trail camp.
From there I pushed fast down
the 8 mile assent back to Whitney
Portal. Everyone I passed gave a
second look or stopped to make a comment about my flip flops. I stopped at a creek to collect some
water. There in some bushes along
he side of the trail was a grouse.
She didn’t move as I approached closer for a look. We had one of the longest starring
contests I’d been engaged in in a long time. She won as I finally got board and had to press on. All I could think about at that point
was a hot meal, hot shower and good nights rest. I’d never been so happy in my life to see my van there in
the parking lot. I flopped down on
the bed and didn’t move for over an hour. That was one hell of a hike.
Not as much fishing as exploring but all and all an amazing experience!
For the rest of the story,
keep an eye out for Liquid Gold, a new movie by California Trout and Keith
Braunies about California Golden Trout.
