[Written Friday, July 23rd, 8:45 PM, Complete photoset here.]
I’ve long planned to attempt part of the Sierra High Route, as one of the premier wilderness experiences nearby here in California. The route is largely off-trail, wandering at over 9000 feet elevation and crossing only a single road in its 195-mile length through the high Sierra. For more than a year I’ve been planning to try a section, and after much scheduling, planning, and preparing gear, and recruiting a willing partner in Sanjiva, we at last solidified a start date. This month the date finally approached, and we packed up and headed for the wilderness.
We donned our packs and left civilization at 4 PM from Devil’s Postpile (7500 feet) after getting permits and enjoying a late lunch in Lee Vining. Miles of switchbacks ascending through rather dull forests faced us, and with each a further increase in altitude. As dusk fell pestilential mosquitoes emerged and despite bug spray we opted to abandon our first nights destination of Lake Superior, in favor of a dry level spot in the forest from which we could launch a smoky counter-attack on the creatures. We nurtured the small fire until about 10 when the mozzies had dissipated somewhat.
In the morning we opted to hit the trail and gain Superior Lake before breakfast, but failed to realize it was still several miles away, and there remained a good portion of the 2000 foot elevation gain from Devil’s Postpile. Superior Lake is a mid-size lake with a ragged talus ridge to the north and a mixed forest to the south – a surprisingly beautiful first lake destination.
Above the lake we left the trail for a soggy series of meadows with meandering, overflowing streams. A slightly less ragged slope led up from the meadows to our first pass – Nancy Pass (10,250 feet). The slow climb with many stops, took the rest of the morning, providing ever more compelling views of the meadows and lake below as well as the ranges of the southern High Route. However, these were nothing compared with the view that awaited us when we topped the narrow, steep pass – a view down steep talus and snowfields to the Minarets, Mounts Banner and Ritter, and plenty of vertical country in between.
The high altitude and lack of any acclimatization put Sanjiva in the slow lane, but with persistence, plenty of water and breathers, we had eventually accomplished our first goal. But the verticality of the country before us was far beyond our expectations. We had a long break and studied our maps hard – trying to reconcile our preconceptions with this awesome reality.
But as we descended an angled across our first relatively minor snowfields, we picked up a little speed, and managed to navigate a reasonable path around the mountains, talus, stands of trees, multiple creeks. We found ourselves in some quintessential high country meadows, with the first of the wildflowers blooming profusely and buds springing from the recently snow-liberated earth. Also emerging from the winter were some of the worst swarms of mosquitoes I had ever seen – slap a hand, kill five, slap the other hand, kill five more – leaving no time to slap the face! Copious amounts of bug spray (which we realized later was three quarters of our supply) kept the devils from biting but not from buzzing up your nose and into your mouth. We added acclimation to mozzies to the challenges of altitude and exercise.
Navigating some huge granite blocks around the base of the Riegelhuth Minaret – even the name seems straight out of Lord of the Rings – we came to the southern shore of stunning Minaret Lake, surrounded by the dramatic spires of rock known as the Minarets, a mountain known as Volcanic Ridge, and Mounts Banner and Ritter looming behind them in the distance.
We camped next to a tarn, with a view westward to the Minarets a few steps from our campsite. Bursts of cool wind scattered the mozzies, a welcome relief. As the breezes died and with no fires allowed, we turned in by about 7:30 and were asleep not long after.
I awoke around six and emerged to take some photos as dawn touched the Minarets around me.
We decided to forgo the dwindling bug spray and instead keep moving - circling the lake before breakfast. Minaret Lake is a beautiful lake with a little of everything – steep cliffs, isolated stands of trees, a crenulated shape with a large rocky monolith of a peninsula. Warmed by our walk but stalked still by mozzies, we eventually opted on a rock for breakfast – and with moderate slapping a minimal exposure began to come to terms with these pests and enjoyed our meal.
Trekking up through the steep meadows, we followed a rudimentary trail up through the talus to a slot granting access to the next pass. As we climbed we stopped frequently to keep tabs on a marmot scrambling around his domain and warming in the sun. We also noticed deer prints following the trail with such diligence I formed a theory that the prints were a new tip style for trekking poles. But as we emerged from the slot into a small valley we saw a proud deer nibbling among the grassy slopes on the far side. We completed the climb to 10,250 Cecile Lake – with extensive snowfields and a few icebergs a lake still emerging from the late winter. Talus and snowfields slowed our route around this lake, and we didn’t reach the outlet until noon – barely a half mile as the crow flies from our campsite.
These snowfields bore no recent footprints so we advanced slowly and strategically. During one short stretch I followed some marmot prints, kicking in steps for Sanjiva, and shortly later looked back to find the marmot tracing the route and investigating these new appearances.
At last we came to the outflow of Cecile Lake and were shocked anew by the verticality of our onward route. A waterfall tumbles down 500 feet to Iceberg Lake, still largely covered with snow and in such a steep shady valley that it promises to stay that way in keeping with it’s name. The entire eastern edge was steep snowfields and there were no practical alternative routes than to simply cross them.
Descending a steep, loose slope described accurately as “unpleasant,” we inched carefully across the fields and eventually gained the far side. As we were about to continue, we noticed a new form of wildlife – a hiker glissading (essentially skiing in just your boots) down the slopes we had so painfully skirted. Soon his companion followed and they began racing across the snowfield at a rate at least 10 times faster than we had – maybe two hours versus 10 minutes. As they passed us at speed we learned they had just started the route that day and only had three days planned to complete this whole section. That kind of upped the bar on us and we made much better progress after that, following their tracks for an hour before they disappeared.
At this rate it was becoming clear that the High Route was kicking our butts. I was starting at last to feel the “trail zone” kick in but Sanjiva was still suffering from both shortness of breath, leg strength, and challenging terrain especially snow. Despite his grace in dealing with these issues, we started strategizing alternate (trailed) routes. But for now we continued onward.
We skirted a ridge and ascended slightly to a wonderland of wide meadows, scored with a host of squiggly rushing brooks descending from the snowy peak above. Some strategic scouting and impressive leaps led us gradually upward through a forest, and then to a relatively gentle, rocky climb among another multitude of creeks, towards the bases of Mounts Ritter and Banner, which soared above us, still snowbound but pouring forth cold clear water from every side. We counted seven waterfalls large though to be called as such descending from the heights.
At the base of the mountains we turned away and ascended a gentle slope up past 10,400 feet and began to race the early sunset up the slope till we found a dry, grassy space perfect for out tent. We raced to set up and barely beat the approaching shadows. The sunset lingered for hours on the Minarets and the other mountains further to the east. The nearly full moon rose before sunset over Volcanic Ridge, and the majesty of our surroundings charmed us into a short after-dinner stroll which revealed the Nydiver Lakes below us and our next destination Whitebark Pass a manageable distance away. We watched the darkness complete its descent from our cozy tent, with the gentle brook irrepressibly gurgling long into the night.
heart, but I think there are some real gems since then as well. You might detect a bit more rock influence lately in some of my favorites such as “
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