Aug. 8, 2007 to Aug. 19: Tuolumne Meadows to Sonora Pass
The seventy six miles of this rugged, roadless section feature deep glaciated canyons, sparkling alpine lakes, lush meadows and forests and exposed volcanic ridges. The route crosses the northern half of Yosemite National Park for fifty six miles and then wends through a proposed national forest wilderness to Sonora Pass. (Happy news is that the new Congress in early 2009 designated this national forest area as wilderness and President Obama signed the bill into law.) Like other hikes in the High Sierras I chose to do this in August to avoid lingering snow and fierce mosquitoes.
The drive across Yosemite National Park to Tuolumne Meadows is always a treat, highlighted by this vista of Half Dome and Cloud's Rest. (Peter at Olmsted Point.) In order to obtain a permit for the hike (Peter with backpack at Wilderness Center), the National Park Service requires that food be carried in a bear-proof, plastic cannister, a practice that has greatly reduced people-bear encounters in the backcountry. (No bear sightings again on this trek -- sorry, friends.)
From the lodge at Tuolumne Meadows, where I spent the night in a tent cabin, I picked up the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) and crossed Highway 120, the last pavement for over seventy five miles, and entered the largest meadow in the park, Tuolumne Meadows. Dramatic mountains rim the meadows: (Unicorn Peak and Coxcomb) and (Cathedral Peak.) I waved at a packer returning with his gear and his saddled campers. (Horse Party.) I paused to inspect a historic building (Parsons Lodge) used in decades past by the Sierra Club for their executive committee meetings. Nearby is a curiosity of a bubbly, rust-colored springs. (Soda Springs.)
I take off my boots and wade in the cool shallows of the Tuolumne River and enjoy the view (Skyline of Mountains), with the addition of the rounded Fairview Dome at the end of the line. The river makes its first drop (Tuolumne Falls) and then splashes down again into an inviting swimming hole (White Cascade.) After this glorious beginning to the hike I took a side trail off the PCT and spent the night in a dense pine forest at nearby McGee Lake.
As always, it felt like home again to be back on the PCT after a month off. I had done the first twenty miles or so of this section back in October of 2003, when I had just moved to CA, so it was a pleasure to see some familar landmarks. Back in 1984 Congress passed legislation which was signed into law by Ronald Reagan, that preserved the undeveloped portion of the park (over 90% of its acreage) as wilderness -- safe from new roads, dams, motorized uses and other intrusions.
The next morning I strolled back to White Cascade falls and met a friend at the backcountry camp there, called Glen Aulin, just finishing up her blueberry pancakes. (Yosemite NP has five of these rustic camps, reachable only by hiking or horseback; they provide meals, cabins, bear boxes and nature programs. The camps are popular -- and pricey.) We took a day hike, off the PCT, down into the "Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River." (Mouth of the Canyon.) The trail descended past soaring cliffs on either side, straight up like El Capitan in Yosemite Valley.
We ate an early lunch along the roaring cascades of California Falls amid flowering purple Lupin and red Indian Paintbrush. I spied an energetic small bird feeding in the rushing water: the dipper or water ouzel. That's right -- IN the water. This sturdy, grey bird actually walks along the bottoms of streams and flips over small stones to find food! Evidence of avalanches and fire were everywhere in the canyon.
Sad to say, after the river flows through this wild canyon, it is drowned in the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, only a few miles downstream of our lunch spot. John Muir battled to prevent this dam but lost, and reportedly, died of a broken heart soon afterwards. Studies show that there are enough other reservoirs downstream, outside of Yosemite NP, to store Tuolumne River water so that Hetch Hetchy is not needed. Maybe someday the dam can be removed and the glory of the lower canyon, said to rival the spectacular beauty of Yosemite Valley, can be restored.
My friend and I climbed out of the canyon back to Glen Aulin, where she headed south to the next backcountry camp at May Lake and I continued north on the PCT up Cold Canyon. As twilight fell, I set up my tent next to a giant, house-sized boulder at the edge of a meadow. I remembered that this was exactly where I had camped on my hike here in 2003. As I slipped into my sleeping bag I recalled too that a pack of coyotes had sung to me all night long at this very spot. Sure enough, within minutes the howls, the yipping and the barking began, seemingly within yards of my tent! The pack was back -- or rather, it had never left. Ah, the music of the wilderness.
At the next water crossing at Virginia Canyon, the PCT began a series of steep up's-and-down's over a series of 10,000' mountain passes. It was tough going the next few days -- seemingly more vertical than horizontal walking -- but the scenery was stunning throughout. In fact, Backbacker magazine just ranked Yosemite NP as the #1 in the US for hiking. With my feet still wet from the creek crossing I had to snake up two dozen switchbacks to a forested pass, with the reward of a pretty camp (Miller Lake) with a cool wind off the water.
Descending sharply the next day into Matterhorn Canyon, I began to taste and smell acrid, grainy air -- smoke! Where there had been a striking view in 2003 of angular Matterhorn Peak, now it was all hazy. (Smoke in Valley.) Where was the fire? Should I turn around and retreat from the smoke? Stay by the creek in the canyon for safety? Continue north? I talked to a couple of hikers and each had different advice so I just kept going. Sure enough, the smoke cleared by the next high point, Benson Pass, with its rewarding views: (East) and (West.)
Up high it's a world of exposed granite, with smooth rock surfaces that make it easy to lose the trail. (Alpine Terrain.) There are no paint blazes along the PCT, unlike the Appalachian Trail; only the occasional rock pile or "duck," as they are affectionately called, marks the route across a bare face. I spotted a weasel in a dry creekbed -- about 18" long, agile, brown and with a long tail. I passed the alp-like mountain (Volunteer Peak) where I had turned on my loop hike in 2003 and reached the still waters of my next camp. (Smedburg Lake.)
From the bottom of the next canyon the PCT ascended a punishing route across shadeless chapparal up to narrow Seavy Pass, graced by a small lake -- my welcome stop for the night. Even the descent the next day was tough -- down tight switchbacks, with thankfully the occasional view. (Piute Mountain.) By the time I reached the creek at the bottom of Stubblefield
Canyon, my legs were quivering. It took all my focus just to get the tent set up and crawl inside.
My legs were still leaden on the next day's climb over Macomb Ridge but I got to Wilma Lake early enough to relax, swim, and enjoy the sunset. A Great Horned Owl hooted across the water through the night. Sleeping late, I had a visit from a park ranger in the AM, checking on my permit, my bear cannister, and the required distance of my tent from the lake (100.') He said the drought was hard on the bears; even in the summer, their ribs were showing. As a solo hiker, I was glad to see a ranger on patrol, in case I ever need help.
After a pleasant day's hike alongside broad Falls Creek, I spent the last night in the park at the edge of this grassy expanse (Grace Meadows) ringed with mountains. The next day I had lunch at spacious (Dorothy Lake) at the park boundary. Across the lake rose majestic (Forsyth Peak) with a few snowfields still visible on its north slopes.
As I left this treasured park, I reflected on the joys of wild nature. What attracts me first and foremost is the beauty of pristine landscapes, especially when preserved as wilderness. Next in attraction is outdoor exercise, particularly the chance to lose weight and firm up muscles. I like too the simple pleasures of life on the trail: pure water, warm breezes, the silence of the night and the rustle of the wind through the pines. I cherish too the freedom of a pack on my back, allowing me to camp anywhere I please. Nature study is fun too, in this classroom without walls.
It all adds up to a comfortable intimacy with nature. John Muir spoke for me and countless others when he wrote: "Wonderful how completely everything in nature fits into us, as if truly part and parent of us. The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us, thrilling, ringling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing. The trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls, and every bird song, wind song and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song, our very own and sings our love." Muirs calls this his "Tuolumne Gospel" -- aptly named for this hike.
Leaving Yosemite NP, the PCT entered a roadless area on the Toiyabe National Forest, past inviting (Stella Lake.) This 20,000 acre wildland has been proposed by the Forest Service for wilderness designation by Congress, as a western extension of the existing Hoover Wilderness. Along with a proposed extension of the nearby Emigrant Wilderness, this would protect twelve miles of the PCT in secure wilderness! The local Republican member of Congress, Buck McKeon, and our two Democractic Senators, all support the designation, helped along by a compromise between conservationists and snowmobile users to allow snowmobile use in an area previously off-bounds to their use.
As I pulled into (Lake Harriet I) and set up my tent along its rocky shore, I could see why the Forest Service recommended the area for wilderness: this lake and its alpine basin were as pretty and unspoiled as any spot in Yosemite NP itself. Its turquoise waters were delightful to swim in. (Lake Harriet II.) I descended to the West Fork of West Walker River, a prime trout fishery, and passed golden fields. (Walker Meadows.) I spent the night at the foot of Kennedy Canyon and was reminded this was national forest after all from the clanging of the cow bells near the creek. The next day brought a rugged 1500' climb up an exposed alpine face at the head of the canyon. Note all the avalanche chutes along the side of (Kennedy Canyon.)
At the top of the climb it was a totally different landscape. Rather than the granite domes, peaks and fields of Yosemite NP, this terrain featured vast lava flows -- fields of jagged, porous rock with virtually no plant life or water. (Lava Fields.) This is a panoramic view of the Emigrant Wilderness that borders the PCT here. (Emigrant Wilderness.) The trail along this 10,000' ridge circled around deep volcanic bowls and angled through narrow notches with not a tree or boulder to block the fierce wind.
Near Leavitt Peak at dusk the wind doubled in force, making it difficult to walk much less put up a tent. At almost 11,000' at this point I went off trail, found a low rock wall and hammered in my tent with every stake in my pack. All night the wind howled down off the (Snowy Cliffs) of the mountain above me but the tent held! At dawn I packed up quickly and clambered back to the PCT. The wind now seemed double yesterday's maximum; a local hiker estimated it at 60 mph.
I could make forward progress only by leaning 45 degrees into the wind and stabbing at the ground with my hiking poles, like a four-legged creature. I finally got to the end of the ridge and stared down at a 1200' drop along a narrow trail across loose, sandy rock. (Descent to Sonora Pass.) The guidebook didn't help matters either by warning that this section is "potentially lethal if you fall." Thanks heavens I was rested and fit and got down in one piece.
At the bottom (Sonora Pass) I felt as battered as a prize fighter, tired in every muscle. After a quart of water, a carrot-cake Clif Bar and a power nap, I was renewed and began hitch-hiking on the near-empty road. To my delight I caught a ride direct to the bus station in Reno, where I got a bus back to Sacramento and was home by day's end.
The drive across Yosemite National Park to Tuolumne Meadows is always a treat, highlighted by this vista of Half Dome and Cloud's Rest. (Peter at Olmsted Point.) In order to obtain a permit for the hike (Peter with backpack at Wilderness Center), the National Park Service requires that food be carried in a bear-proof, plastic cannister, a practice that has greatly reduced people-bear encounters in the backcountry. (No bear sightings again on this trek -- sorry, friends.)
From the lodge at Tuolumne Meadows, where I spent the night in a tent cabin, I picked up the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) and crossed Highway 120, the last pavement for over seventy five miles, and entered the largest meadow in the park, Tuolumne Meadows. Dramatic mountains rim the meadows: (Unicorn Peak and Coxcomb) and (Cathedral Peak.) I waved at a packer returning with his gear and his saddled campers. (Horse Party.) I paused to inspect a historic building (Parsons Lodge) used in decades past by the Sierra Club for their executive committee meetings. Nearby is a curiosity of a bubbly, rust-colored springs. (Soda Springs.)
I take off my boots and wade in the cool shallows of the Tuolumne River and enjoy the view (Skyline of Mountains), with the addition of the rounded Fairview Dome at the end of the line. The river makes its first drop (Tuolumne Falls) and then splashes down again into an inviting swimming hole (White Cascade.) After this glorious beginning to the hike I took a side trail off the PCT and spent the night in a dense pine forest at nearby McGee Lake.
As always, it felt like home again to be back on the PCT after a month off. I had done the first twenty miles or so of this section back in October of 2003, when I had just moved to CA, so it was a pleasure to see some familar landmarks. Back in 1984 Congress passed legislation which was signed into law by Ronald Reagan, that preserved the undeveloped portion of the park (over 90% of its acreage) as wilderness -- safe from new roads, dams, motorized uses and other intrusions.
The next morning I strolled back to White Cascade falls and met a friend at the backcountry camp there, called Glen Aulin, just finishing up her blueberry pancakes. (Yosemite NP has five of these rustic camps, reachable only by hiking or horseback; they provide meals, cabins, bear boxes and nature programs. The camps are popular -- and pricey.) We took a day hike, off the PCT, down into the "Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River." (Mouth of the Canyon.) The trail descended past soaring cliffs on either side, straight up like El Capitan in Yosemite Valley.
We ate an early lunch along the roaring cascades of California Falls amid flowering purple Lupin and red Indian Paintbrush. I spied an energetic small bird feeding in the rushing water: the dipper or water ouzel. That's right -- IN the water. This sturdy, grey bird actually walks along the bottoms of streams and flips over small stones to find food! Evidence of avalanches and fire were everywhere in the canyon.
Sad to say, after the river flows through this wild canyon, it is drowned in the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, only a few miles downstream of our lunch spot. John Muir battled to prevent this dam but lost, and reportedly, died of a broken heart soon afterwards. Studies show that there are enough other reservoirs downstream, outside of Yosemite NP, to store Tuolumne River water so that Hetch Hetchy is not needed. Maybe someday the dam can be removed and the glory of the lower canyon, said to rival the spectacular beauty of Yosemite Valley, can be restored.
My friend and I climbed out of the canyon back to Glen Aulin, where she headed south to the next backcountry camp at May Lake and I continued north on the PCT up Cold Canyon. As twilight fell, I set up my tent next to a giant, house-sized boulder at the edge of a meadow. I remembered that this was exactly where I had camped on my hike here in 2003. As I slipped into my sleeping bag I recalled too that a pack of coyotes had sung to me all night long at this very spot. Sure enough, within minutes the howls, the yipping and the barking began, seemingly within yards of my tent! The pack was back -- or rather, it had never left. Ah, the music of the wilderness.
At the next water crossing at Virginia Canyon, the PCT began a series of steep up's-and-down's over a series of 10,000' mountain passes. It was tough going the next few days -- seemingly more vertical than horizontal walking -- but the scenery was stunning throughout. In fact, Backbacker magazine just ranked Yosemite NP as the #1 in the US for hiking. With my feet still wet from the creek crossing I had to snake up two dozen switchbacks to a forested pass, with the reward of a pretty camp (Miller Lake) with a cool wind off the water.
Descending sharply the next day into Matterhorn Canyon, I began to taste and smell acrid, grainy air -- smoke! Where there had been a striking view in 2003 of angular Matterhorn Peak, now it was all hazy. (Smoke in Valley.) Where was the fire? Should I turn around and retreat from the smoke? Stay by the creek in the canyon for safety? Continue north? I talked to a couple of hikers and each had different advice so I just kept going. Sure enough, the smoke cleared by the next high point, Benson Pass, with its rewarding views: (East) and (West.)
Up high it's a world of exposed granite, with smooth rock surfaces that make it easy to lose the trail. (Alpine Terrain.) There are no paint blazes along the PCT, unlike the Appalachian Trail; only the occasional rock pile or "duck," as they are affectionately called, marks the route across a bare face. I spotted a weasel in a dry creekbed -- about 18" long, agile, brown and with a long tail. I passed the alp-like mountain (Volunteer Peak) where I had turned on my loop hike in 2003 and reached the still waters of my next camp. (Smedburg Lake.)
From the bottom of the next canyon the PCT ascended a punishing route across shadeless chapparal up to narrow Seavy Pass, graced by a small lake -- my welcome stop for the night. Even the descent the next day was tough -- down tight switchbacks, with thankfully the occasional view. (Piute Mountain.) By the time I reached the creek at the bottom of Stubblefield
Canyon, my legs were quivering. It took all my focus just to get the tent set up and crawl inside.
My legs were still leaden on the next day's climb over Macomb Ridge but I got to Wilma Lake early enough to relax, swim, and enjoy the sunset. A Great Horned Owl hooted across the water through the night. Sleeping late, I had a visit from a park ranger in the AM, checking on my permit, my bear cannister, and the required distance of my tent from the lake (100.') He said the drought was hard on the bears; even in the summer, their ribs were showing. As a solo hiker, I was glad to see a ranger on patrol, in case I ever need help.
After a pleasant day's hike alongside broad Falls Creek, I spent the last night in the park at the edge of this grassy expanse (Grace Meadows) ringed with mountains. The next day I had lunch at spacious (Dorothy Lake) at the park boundary. Across the lake rose majestic (Forsyth Peak) with a few snowfields still visible on its north slopes.
As I left this treasured park, I reflected on the joys of wild nature. What attracts me first and foremost is the beauty of pristine landscapes, especially when preserved as wilderness. Next in attraction is outdoor exercise, particularly the chance to lose weight and firm up muscles. I like too the simple pleasures of life on the trail: pure water, warm breezes, the silence of the night and the rustle of the wind through the pines. I cherish too the freedom of a pack on my back, allowing me to camp anywhere I please. Nature study is fun too, in this classroom without walls.
It all adds up to a comfortable intimacy with nature. John Muir spoke for me and countless others when he wrote: "Wonderful how completely everything in nature fits into us, as if truly part and parent of us. The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us, thrilling, ringling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing. The trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls, and every bird song, wind song and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song, our very own and sings our love." Muirs calls this his "Tuolumne Gospel" -- aptly named for this hike.
Leaving Yosemite NP, the PCT entered a roadless area on the Toiyabe National Forest, past inviting (Stella Lake.) This 20,000 acre wildland has been proposed by the Forest Service for wilderness designation by Congress, as a western extension of the existing Hoover Wilderness. Along with a proposed extension of the nearby Emigrant Wilderness, this would protect twelve miles of the PCT in secure wilderness! The local Republican member of Congress, Buck McKeon, and our two Democractic Senators, all support the designation, helped along by a compromise between conservationists and snowmobile users to allow snowmobile use in an area previously off-bounds to their use.
As I pulled into (Lake Harriet I) and set up my tent along its rocky shore, I could see why the Forest Service recommended the area for wilderness: this lake and its alpine basin were as pretty and unspoiled as any spot in Yosemite NP itself. Its turquoise waters were delightful to swim in. (Lake Harriet II.) I descended to the West Fork of West Walker River, a prime trout fishery, and passed golden fields. (Walker Meadows.) I spent the night at the foot of Kennedy Canyon and was reminded this was national forest after all from the clanging of the cow bells near the creek. The next day brought a rugged 1500' climb up an exposed alpine face at the head of the canyon. Note all the avalanche chutes along the side of (Kennedy Canyon.)
At the top of the climb it was a totally different landscape. Rather than the granite domes, peaks and fields of Yosemite NP, this terrain featured vast lava flows -- fields of jagged, porous rock with virtually no plant life or water. (Lava Fields.) This is a panoramic view of the Emigrant Wilderness that borders the PCT here. (Emigrant Wilderness.) The trail along this 10,000' ridge circled around deep volcanic bowls and angled through narrow notches with not a tree or boulder to block the fierce wind.
Near Leavitt Peak at dusk the wind doubled in force, making it difficult to walk much less put up a tent. At almost 11,000' at this point I went off trail, found a low rock wall and hammered in my tent with every stake in my pack. All night the wind howled down off the (Snowy Cliffs) of the mountain above me but the tent held! At dawn I packed up quickly and clambered back to the PCT. The wind now seemed double yesterday's maximum; a local hiker estimated it at 60 mph.
I could make forward progress only by leaning 45 degrees into the wind and stabbing at the ground with my hiking poles, like a four-legged creature. I finally got to the end of the ridge and stared down at a 1200' drop along a narrow trail across loose, sandy rock. (Descent to Sonora Pass.) The guidebook didn't help matters either by warning that this section is "potentially lethal if you fall." Thanks heavens I was rested and fit and got down in one piece.
At the bottom (Sonora Pass) I felt as battered as a prize fighter, tired in every muscle. After a quart of water, a carrot-cake Clif Bar and a power nap, I was renewed and began hitch-hiking on the near-empty road. To my delight I caught a ride direct to the bus station in Reno, where I got a bus back to Sacramento and was home by day's end.
posted by peterkirby at
10:44 AM
