I guess the only surprising thing about this hike is that we waited so long to do it. Buddy and I had been partnering for hiking trips almost every year since we finished the Appalachian Trail in 1976. Our first few trips were in the east, Vermont’s Long Trail, New York’s Northville Lake Placid Trail, and repeat sections of the Appalachian Trail in Shenandoah National Park and Cherokee National Forest. When we moved out west, me for graduate school and him for work, we started to pick off the great ranges of the west, going to the Wind River Range, Banff and Glacier national parks, along with the Alpine Lakes (WA), Marble Mountains (CA), and Lake Tahoe sections of the Pacific Crest Trail. But we had not yet visited the heart of California’s iconic Sierra Nevada Range.
A
loop through the heart of the Sierras wasn’t practical for our week of
vacation, so we planned a long shuttle hike on the southern end of the John
Muir Trail, where it overlapped with the Pacific Crest Trail in Kings Canyon National
Park. I was also interested at the time in completing the 50 states high
points, and the trip would finish at Mt. Whitney, the California state high
point.
With
a rough estimate of our daily mileage, we thought we could start at Big Pine
Creek and have the time to finish at Whitney. We were able to arrange a shuttle
that would pick us up at Whitney Portal and drop us off at Big Pine Creek, so all
we would need to do was hike back to our car. Finishing at Whitney would also eliminate
the need for a day hike permit for climbing Whitney from the Portal. But we
would have a tough first day, climbing over the Sierra Divide at Southfork Pass
to connect to the PCT.
For
this trip I had the paper 1:63,360 John Muir Wilderness and National Parks
Backcountry two sheet topo map, and was using the Wilderness Press California
PCT guidebook.
8-10-90,
Travel to Whitney Portal
No
hiking this day, but a lot of travel. I left Rapid City at 3:30PM and arrived
in Sacramento at 7PM. Buddy had already arrived, and he and his friend Steve
Palmer met me at the airport. We drove to Steve’s house in town for a final
repacking, and were on the road at 8:30.
There
were a lot of fires around Yosemite, so we stayed further north, taking US 50
to South Lake Tahoe and then drove down the Kingsbury Grade to Gardnerville.
Steve’s VW bug had trouble on the hills with a full load of three hikers and
three backpacks, but performed well otherwise. We passed a lot of quick stop
places on US 395, and noted Bishop had a 24 hour restaurant. Steve drove most
of the way, and Buddy took the last shift. We got into Whitney Portal at
4:30AM.
The
portal was a zoo. Even after the USFS implemented day hiker quotas, there were
cars parked at least a half mile down the road. People were roadside camping everywhere.
I can’t imagine what the crowds were like before then. We found a place to pull
over and laid out our sleeping bags. There were people leaving on their Whitney
hikes even as we settled in.
8-11-90,
To Lake 11,767, 9 miles
We
woke at 7:30 amid the commotion of hikers leaving for Mt. Whitney. The
trailhead was well set up to handle the deluge, the store was open at 7 on
weekends and had a small restaurant. Our shuttle driver (Big Jerry, from
Mammoth Cab Company) picked us up at 8:15.
Jerry
let us stop for breakfast in Lone Pine, and then drove us to the Big Pine Creek
Trailhead. The previous night we saw the skyline of the mountains, and now
their reality struck home. Both the Sierras to the west and the White Mountains
to the east looked huge from Owens Valley. I could only hope that the
trailheads were high above the valley floor. Both trailhead roads were paved,
so despite some standing around at Upper Sage Flat to pick up our permit, we
got off to an 11 AM start.
We
left from the Big Pine Creek Campground and Trailhead, and started up the trail
on the south fork of the creek. The first two miles to Willow Lake were easy, but
the next two were a long climb on endless switchbacks. Buddy and I made Willow
Lake in two hours, with Steve 30 minutes behind.
In
those days we hiked what I might call “thru hiker style.” Buddy and I were used
to hiking like we did on the Appalachian Trail, with everyone travelling
independently. We didn’t necessarily hike together, we just stayed on the same
route and expected to see the rest of the group at different spots, and then
camp together at the end of the day. We all had our own gear, and except for a
few cases where we shared tents or a stove, we were still independent during
the hike. This strategy worked on well-marked trails such as the AT, Long
Trail, or the three sections of the Pacific Crest Trail that we had done
previously. But as we would find out on this trip, (and on the following year
in the Beartooth Range (Beartooth Blog)), this approach didn’t
work well off marked trails.
I
lost the trail on the way to Brainerd Lake, not far past where the official
USFS trail ended. Around 4PM I contoured over to a spot above two small lakes
and stopped to look back for Buddy and Steve. I hadn’t seen them in the last
two hours, and wasn’t sure if they were ahead or behind me. Finally, I saw
Buddy, he’d seen my detour and thought I would be far ahead of him.
Unfortunately,
I’d put my pack cover on during a brief light rain, then stashed my pack to
look for Buddy and Steve. Now I couldn’t find my pack. I spent 30 frantic minutes
scouring a boulder strewn bench before finally coming across it. I don’t know
if I was more relieved to find it, or more embarrassed to have lost it in the
first place.
After
all this we still had to climb over Southfork Pass. Assuming Steve was just
behind us, Buddy and I slogged our way over to the base of the glacier at the
pass in a light rain, slowly getting worn out from our lack of sleep, the
continued climbing, and the high elevation. The glacier was slippery ice with
no fresh snow, and had some hidden crevasses. At least by then the rain had
stopped. The pass was much more difficult than its Class 2-3 rating in our
Sierras climbing guide. Expecting to be able to simply walk over it, we had
brought no climbing gear. The lower part was sheer ice covered with sand. All
the rock in the chute was rotten, and the pass was mostly too steep to stand up
in. We worked our way very carefully up the left side keeping a death grip on
any solid rock. We were both extremely nervous, and needed to take a rest about
halfway up. I wouldn’t do the climb again in those conditions without crampons,
an ice ax, and a rope. 
Southfork Pass.
From
the top we spent a long time looking for Steve on the route behind us, but
never saw him. Obviously we should not have committed to climbing the pass
without knowing where he was, but now we didn’t feel like we could safely down
climb the pass to look for him. This was not an easy decision to make because
the options for Steve were all bad; he could be lost, hurt, or at best too
tired to continue. We decided to continue down to Lake 11,767’ and wait there
until tomorrow noon. We left a note for him at the pass at about 6:30. 
Camping near Lake 11.767.
The
west side of the pass and descent to the lake were easier. We got there about
7:30. We made one dinner to split (I think Buddy and Steve planned to cook
dinners together while I was solo), filtered water, and fell asleep about 8:30.
Steve had the tent body, so we ended up sleeping out since we had nothing to
support the fly. This was far too difficult a first day for our hike, with our
lack of sleep, the altitude, and the difficulty of the pass.
North Half, 1990 PCT Map.
8-12-90,
To Upper Basin, 5 miles
Despite
sleeping out, the dew on the sleeping bags, and our worry about Steve we slept
well. In the morning we cooked, filtered water, and I caught up in my journal,
all the while looking out for Steve. I also took a swim in the sandy, shallow
upstream end of the lake.
We
had a long debate about what to do next. Even if we could descend the pass, the
next question would be where to start looking. We never should have gone so
long without making contact. Would it be best to climb to the pass with our
packs, or leave them at the lake? If Steve was hurt and had headed back out we
might not find him until we reached the trailhead. We knew he wasn’t in great
shape now, but he had plenty of prior experience in the mountains.
About
11 we decided to hike up to the pass with our packs to see if we could find
him. If we couldn’t see him by the pass we’d have to hike down until we met
him. I was just about 100’ below the pass when I heard Steve yell out to Buddy.
It had been a long time since I’d been that glad to see someone.
Steve
had gotten worn out not long after we’d last met up, and had spent the night at
the first small lake above Brainerd. Besides being worn out again by the
Southfork Pass climb and its treacherous ice, all was well. He’d had the tent
body and managed to sleep in it. We agreed to go slow, and hike together for
the next couple of days. 
View over Palisade Lake.
We
had a nice walk to our bench and campsite above the Palisade Valley. All
morning it was cloudy, but not quite raincoat weather. We angled down the
valley on some easy open cross country and joyfully connected with the Muir/PCT
Trail just below the switchbacks to Mather Pass. Though this day would be much
shorter, it was typical of the pattern for hiking the trail at our pace; a long
morning climb with a race to crest the high pass before storms arrived, and a
downhill stroll to a lakeside campsite in the afternoon.
Buddy at Mather Pass.
Steve
was hiking about 50% slower than Buddy and I, but he’d had a much rougher day.
Simply the stress of being separated would have been hard on top of the
physical exertion. We took an hour to climb Mather Pass, and another 40 minutes
to descend to a great campsite by a small lake in the Upper Basin. We had a
great view of Split Mountain, one of the Sierra’s few fourteeners. I doubted
we’d have been able to climb it even if all had gone well the previous day. We
hoped to get over Pinchot Pass the next day to put ourselves back near
schedule.
I
was feeling good, my appetite was good, and the altitude was not affecting me. I
only had a quick flash of nausea at Southfork Pass, which may have been
exposure induced. So far the range seemed every bit a match for the Wind Rivers
in the majesty of tis mountains. I was itching to climb some of the peaks, but
maybe the long day coming up would cure my summit fever.
After
dinner we got a quick rain shower, it had been cloudy and thundering all afternoon.
We got our tent up quickly and our geared packed into it. At dusk the sky
cleared, and I set my bag up outside until another brief shower drove me back
in.
8-13-90,
12 miles to Lower Twin Lake
We
awoke to a beautiful clear morning. We were up at 6:20 and on the trail by
7:50. We descended the Upper Basin and had a gorgeous walk along the south fork
of the Kings River. After two days alone, we passed four parties in the
morning. We missed one trail junction, but stayed on course. Steve had worked
himself into shape and keeping up well. 
Buddy and Steve along the south fork of the Kings River.
Once
the trail left the south fork we began our daily long climb. After passing the
marked junction with the Taboose Pass Trail, the trail enters the Lake Marjorie
Basin. The day had stayed clear, and we talked some about trying to climb
nearby Mt. Wynne, a thirteener only about a thousand foot climb from the pass.
But we needed to keep the group together. Wynne looked climbable, but probably was
third class. There was a steep section about halfway up the ridge that looked
like the hardest part. After Steve caught up we hiked a half hour up to Pinchot
Pass, then 1 ½ hours down to Lower Twin Lake. Buddy and I stopped for a swim in
the small pond above Lake Marjorie.
We
camped about 4PM. Though the sky had clouded over, we got no rain. We planned
to sleep out, but the tent was set up, just in case. There was one brief shower
before bedtime, but we were able to sleep out. We fried up potatoes, onion, and
green pepper that Steve had brought along, and it made a great change from the
typical rice or noodle dishes that I’m used to on the trail.
I
finally gotten into a good walking rhythm. Hiking is really a momentum sport; I
think that’s partly why boulder hopping seems so slow. This part of the PCT was
long climbs and descents, all 4-5 miles long. The trail was in great shape, and
never seemed to add any extra climbing or distance. It was easy to understand
why it is so popular. I was still anxious to climb a peak before we got to
Whitney, but tomorrow looked like another trail day. I was adjusting well to
the weight of the backpack (my old Kelty Tioga external frame), but spent a lot
of time moving the weight between my hips and shoulders, both of which were
getting sore. Still, this was just a minor issue with so much great trail and
so many beautiful campsites ahead.
8-14-90,
To Glen Lake, 13 miles
We
started the day with a gentle downhill hike along Woods Creek. The forested
walk was nicely shaded, but we dropped a lot of elevation and were down to
8500’, low enough for us to see sagebrush. The deer we’d seen in our camp last
night were probably living around the creek. 
Buddy on the bridge over Wood Creek.
Two
hours of gentle climbing took us to Dollar Lake. We were approaching the Rae
Lakes Basin, one of the most popular spots along the Muir/PCT. We’d seen seven
other groups along the way, and there was a lot more horseshit on the trail.
The sky was clouding up, so we decided to take a sure shot at a dry lunch spot and
added a swim at the lake. Oddly, the lake was much warmer than the others we’d
been in so far this trip. Sure enough, it began to rain just after leaving the
lake.
View over Dollar Lake.
It
was another hour to the isthmus containing the Rae Lakes Ranger Station. This
area was crowded as expected with its views of Fin Dome and the Painted Lady,
and relatively easy access from the east via Onion Valley. There were great
beaches near the outlet of Lower Rae Lake. 
Painted Lady over Rae Lake.
We
met up above Rae Lakes, and again at the base of the climb to Glen Pass. Both
times I got chilled waiting for Buddy and Steve. In a light rain it was
possible to stay warm while walking, but waiting around it was easy to get
chilled. I was cold enough to need to wear two polypropylene shirts for the
climb up Glen Pass. I needed to work on moderating my speed, so that I would spend
more time hiking, less waiting, and keep my core temperature more consistent. 
Sierra Basin from Glen Pass.
Glen
Pass itself wasn’t too tough, I think the stretch to Dollar Lake was harder.
Both sides of the pass are sheer, and the trail is literally carved into the
headwall of a cirque on each side. The views were great, but I was barely warm
enough to take pictures. There is a beautiful, austere lake on the south side,
and we camped there on small sand patches in the rocks by the outlet. Looking
south from the pass, the area looks uncampable, but these small, hidden sites
will do.
Steve
was worn out again, so we abandoned our plan to push on to Lake Charlotte. His
stomach has been upset, and this bothers your appetite, which then compounds
fatigue and altitude. He’s still game for anything, just a slow hiker,
especially on the climbs.
I’ve
been OK, with the exception of minor headaches on Glen Pass, and an attack of
the runs, probably brought on by moldy bagels. I’d also cut my heel while
swimming, but luckily not all the way through the callouses.
Overnight
we were treated to an all-night serenade of avalanches crashing down into our
basin. We could see sparks fly from the crashes in what is my strongest memory
from the trip. Some were loud enough to wake us from a deep sleep, others were
just a few rocks falling. Between the avalanches the night was calm, almost
equal to the perfect silence of Lake 11,767 on our first night. The morning
revealed that the cirque walls were indeed still intact, and the only evidence
of nightfall was the dew on our sleeping bags.
8-15-90,
To Forester Lake, 12 miles
Our
hikes were falling into a pattern; two hours down to the low point, climb above
tree line, eat lunch, push up over the pass, then camp just over the pass. Not
a bad schedule, except it put us at our high point at midafternoon, when the
rains were most likely coming. Either the guidebook miles were short on this
section, or we were rounding into shape. We made great time to Center Basin. The
prior night we ate one of the dinners I’d been carrying, so my pack was getting
lighter. 
Keasarge Pinnacle over Vidette Meadow.
Except
for the crowds around Rae Lakes, there were not as many people on the trail as
I expected, especially for peak season on such a famous trail. It would be
difficult to take a long hike out here without using some of the PCT, but there
was great opportunity for making other trips using the PCT.
After
Center Basin, the sky clouded up again. By the time we reached the last basin
below Forester Pass we had on our pack covers and rain jackets. A black
thunderhead was wrapped around the base of Junction Peak, and stayed there all
afternoon. Luckily we were blessed with stationary storms, and never got rained
on. 
Junction Peak.
Below
Forester Pass we grouped up, and I decided to try to climb Peak 13,680’+, if
the weather held. Passing by all these majestic Sierra summits, was just too
much for me, and I had to break down and give one a try. 13,680’ is the minor
peak on the west side of Forester Pass, opposite Junction Peak. Forester Pass
is the highest point along the Pacific Crest Trail, and the southernmost of the
six passes above 11,000 feet along the John Muir Trail, I would not get another
chance to be this close to a summit again, except at Mt. Whitney.
From
Forester Pass I had a 20 minute Class 2 boulder hop to the top. It was hard to
tell exactly which spot was the summit, so I moved out to a small arete to
cover all my bases. There were two prominent chutes on the north side that
looked like potential climbing routes. Views from the peak were spectacular,
especially to the south. I could see the dome of Mt Whitney, highlighted by two
lightning bolts off in its direction. I was exhilarated to be on top of
something, even if the peak had no name, precise elevation, or summit cairn. I
confirmed my suspicion that many of these high passes were located by faults.
It was clear at Forester Pass where you could see traces of the faults along
the valley floor.
Forester Pass.
But
I could not stay long on top, knowing that I might hold up dinner for Buddy and
Steve. The descent was 25 minutes back to the pass, and then 30 minutes down to
the bottom of the switchbacks on the south side. We camped at the head of the
lower lake at a beautiful spot in the rocks. This was easily the coldest night
of our trip. Our sleeping bags were covered in frost in the morning, and the
water in the top of the cook pot was frozen. Again, the morning was crystal
clear, but the overnight temperature was likely around 20F.
8-16-90,
To Guitar Lake, 14 miles
Because
of the cold we packed up quickly in the morning and headed out fully dressed.
We stopped to dry out our gear at the Lake South America junction. It was a
popular spot; we saw three other groups while we were there. Around Tawny Point
we got our first trail views of Mt. Whitney and the equally impressive peaks to
the north. The walk was entirely in the open to Wright Creek, and then in the
trees to the Crabtree Meadow Cutoff. It would be hard to imagine a prettier
walk, even in the woods the trees were spaced widely enough to allow good views
of the peaks. We couldn’t see down into Kern Canyon though.
After
the cold start we had one of our best weather days. The sky was deep blue with
light breezes, and it was cool all morning. I was hoping we would have similar
weather for our summit day on Whitney coming up.
Buddy and Steve at Guitar Lake.
We
took a cutoff toward Whitney that bypassed Crabtree Meadows, still going by the
ranger station. From there it was a steady uphill walk to Guitar Lake, where we
would camp with about 50 other people, all with plans to climb Whitney. We even
got passed on the trail by two high school girls, the first people to pass us
all trip. It was strange to share the campsite with so many other groups, after
all our solitude. The conversations intrude, especially the louder voices. I
expect the rest of the walk will be crowded, but there is no alternative on the
standard route up a popular peak.
With
the clear sunny day our afternoon concern was sunburn rather than rain. But we
had great views of Whitney from the lake, and I was excited about the climb. We
planned to add on the short side trip to Mt. Muir if the class 3 chute did not
look too difficult.
8-17-90,
To Whitney Portal via Mts Whitney and Muir, 17 miles
Concerned
about thunderstorms we got a 6:45 start and pounded up the trail for an hour to
Trail Crest, where the spur trail leads north to Whitney. We left before the
sun was up. The night had been cold enough to freeze our water.
The
cairn marking the climb up Mt Muir was 500 paces from the Trail Crest
intersection, and the Whitney summit was about a 45 minute hike. We stashed our
backpacks at the junction for the summit trips, just taking Buddy’s camera for
pictures. The summit views extended north to the Palisades, opening up views of
almost our entire route. We spent about an hour on top, most of the time trying
to identify the other nearby mountains. There were about 50 people on top while
we were there, it wasn’t a remote wilderness peak.
After
the cold drove us off Whitney, we headed over to Mt Muir, also a California
Fourteener. A small cairn and a path through the talus mark the start. The top
50 feet of Muir was easy class 3 climbing. Buddy decided to skip that part, and
I tried to climb it quickly. I didn’t spend much time on top, but halfway back
I ran into Steve and went back up to enjoy the summit with him. Because of the
crowds, Whitney was my least favorite of the three peaks climbed on the trip.
Steve was particularly fired up by the climb, I couldn’t keep up with him as we
headed back to Trail Crest.
Luckily
for us, the rest was all downhill. From the summit of Muir, we had seen the
seemingly endless line of switchbacks of the trail on the east side. With a
heavy pack, the descending lasted forever, I can’t imagine what the climb would
be like. The only positive was that from the trail Muir looked higher than
Whitney.
Leaving the John Muir Wilderness.
Finally,
we reached Trail Camp, where many parties stage their Whitney climbs. We
decided to avoid another crowded camping spot, and hiked all the way out to
Whitney Portal. I wouldn’t recommend the portal trail anyone except those desperate
to climb Whitney, or a trail runner badly needing climbing training. The route
is just a long series of switchbacks.
At
the Portal, exhausted and footsore, we piled into Steve’s VW bug after a short
bath in the creek. A short distance from the end of the Portal Road we stopped and
ate good Mexican food in Lone Pine. We turned north, headed up US 395, and slept
just off the highway near Lake Crowley, near Mammoth.
8-18-90,
Mono Lake and the return drive
The
next morning, we drove to Lee Vining and stopped for breakfast. We decided then
to visit Mono Lake. I’d bought a book about the lake when I’d lived in Reno,
but never had an opportunity to visit it. We first went to the south tufa area
and hiked the one mile interpretive loop. It was a great intro stop with tufa
exposures and brine flies. It was too chilly for a swim, so we just took
pictures. 
At Mono Lake.
Next
was Panum Crater, a 600 year old cinder cone. There was a two mile trail around
the crater rim and a one-way trail through the heart of a rhyolite plug to the
crater highpoint. We took the plug trail to an exposure of obsidian. 
Tufa cones and the view toward Yosemite.
For
our return highway 120 over Tioga Pass was open, so we went back that way to Sacramento.
Unfortunately, it snowed high up, so we did not see much, and the Tioga Pass visitor
center was packed. At least this was good day not to be on Mt Whitney. I made
the logistical notes that it would have been possible to stock up for a
weeklong trip at the Tioga Pass store, and that there was a good mountaineering
shop in the town of Sonora. The next morning, I flew back to Lead. 
South Half, 1990 PCT Map.
Of
the four long PCT segments that I backpacked with Buddy (Marble Mtns. CA 1982,
Alpine Lakes WA 1986, and Tahoe Sierra 1987) this would be the last in that
series.
In 1994 I would head back to the Big Pine Creek Trailhead to start a climb of Middle Palisade with Karl. The blog for that trip is: Link
Literature
for the Sierras
Kim
Stanley Robinson, The High Sierra: A Love Story, 2022, Amazon. See especially his
discussions of renaming some peaks in the Sierras (including switching the
names for Muir and Whitney) and his “ratings” of good and bad passes over the
Sierra Crest
John
Muir, The Mountains of California, 1894, Amazon
Clarence
King, Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada, 1871, Amazon
