Up Pine Creek | Pine Creek Pass | Feather Pass | Dancing Bear and Italy Passes | Full Circle
Dancing Bear and Italy Passes
I wake up to frost on my shoes. Getting out of my tent, I think to myself, “Today is going to be the second hard day.” I walk around Big Bear Lake taking first light pictures. Returning to camp, I open the coffee bag, and the smell of fresh grounds wafts through the frozen air—the best part of a cold morning. We shake frost and sheets of ice from our gear, let them dry out, and pack unhurriedly, knowing that we had beaten the previous day’s estimate.
We backtrack a little towards Ursa Lake and veer off to the northeast to approach Black Bear Lake. From here, we weave between two tarns and skirt around White Bear Lake.
Dancing Bear Pass is straight up the mountainside. Lisa leads the way, and Brad scrambles up along. I try to hide behind safe boulders in case Jonathan kicks loose a rock and starts a scree avalanche. The last bit is in loose gravel, the unstable sand swallowing each step. I lunge upward on momentum, swim through the sliding dirt, and top out gasping. The others are already relaxing on the pass.
Keeping with tradition, I get some shirtless photos, courtesy of the professional photographer. Then, we pause for lunch. Brad and I have dry food while Lisa and Jonathan cook up pad thai. We’re jealous.
The route to Italy Pass looks straightforward. We just have to contour over. Brad and I strike out first. The initial one-third of the way is a flat easy walk, but all too soon, we encounter car-sized and house-sized boulders. Lisa and Jonathan bounce along and overtake me while I slither across the rocks. It hits me that what might be a stretched step for them requires me to commit to a jump across deep crevices with a fully weighted pack. Every foot placement is agony, and their effortlessness makes it all the more demoralizing. I wonder if it would have been easier to descend to Jumble Lake and hike back up.
I’m the last of our group to arrive at Italy Pass. Jonathan isn’t there, so Brad sighs as he finds himself having to take my picture in front of Mount Julius Caesar. Lisa laughs at the whole situation.
Under clear skies, we descend into idyllic Granite Park, aptly named for the boulders strewn between cute lakes and streams. We follow Lisa down the trail to arrive at an oddly-shaped unnamed lake. I have a map marker at 11340 ft, just south of the stream. We cross over and find beautiful campsites on the granite stairsteps.
After setting up, Brad and I fish, hook a few, but they all wiggle loose. It’s OK, since dinner is big anyways. We have cheese and spinach tortellini with pine nuts and sun-dried tomatoes. My recollection tells me that Brad was the one who suggested the tomatoes, but he ends up picking most of them out.
The sun slips behind Granite Bear Pass, and it turns cold. Brad whips up his signature camp tiramisu with chocolate shavings. It’s a perfect dessert for this afternoon’s Italy Pass theme. On this last evening in the wilderness, we walk around after dinner, taking it all in—the little lakes, flowing streams, soaring peaks, and the challenging passes we just crossed. It’s a peaceful evening. Our small patch of this universe is quiet, and the twinkling stars will soon emerge.
