Up Pine Creek | Pine Creek Pass | Feather Pass | Dancing Bear and Italy Passes | Full Circle
This backpacking trip is one of firsts.
It’ll be the first time hiking with Jonathan and Lisa. Jonathan is a photographer, media producer, sound engineer, writer at Loma Linda University, and we’ve been talking about backpacking together for years. His wife, Lisa, a physical therapist, has been backpacking since the age of seven and recently reintroduced this hobby to him. She said that this will be Jon’s first through-hike; all his other ones have been in-and-out. And Brad and I started backpacking together twenty years ago; this will be our twelfth overnight hiking excursion.
For all of us, this will be our first trip doing so much off-trail travel. The planned route will take us through the austere beauty of trail-less Bear Lakes Basin, involving two full days of routefinding. Two of the passes—Feather Pass and Dancing Bear Pass—are Class 2 (rugged, steep, occasionally requiring handholds). These will add to our off-trail challenges, since, for the most part, I’ve only done trail walking on Class 1 terrain.
Inspiration originally came from Robinson’s book The High Sierra: A Love Story, where the author describes the joy and freedom of exploring the roof of Sierra massifs, unconstrained by trails and unfettered by trees. I first floated the idea more than six months ago, and there was no hesitation on their part. Then, having gotten my first-choice permits, I reference Roper’s Sierra High Route: Traversing Timberline Country and Secor’s The High Sierra: Peaks, Passes, Trails, both classics, and I scour the internet for more information.
I plan out the route, select campsites based on my research, and send out a detailed itinerary. Brad doesn’t seem too interested.
“Danny’s the planner,” he says dismissively.
Well, to me, with so many firsts for all of us, meticulous planning feels like anxiety therapy.
Jonathan, Lisa, Brad, Danny.
Headshots by Jonathan Davidson.
Up Pine Creek
Brad and I arrive at the trailhead and park under towering conifers. We pack up all of our gear and pose at the trailhead sign for a photo then strike out. The first part of the trail passes through the Pine Creek Pack Station. From my previous research, this is a popular horse trail to the stock camp at Honeymoon Lake, and that’s why we had decided to camp elsewhere.
We wind through evergreen forest mixed with quaking aspens, the air sharp with wet pine and resin. After about a mile, the trail spits us out onto switchbacks hugging a sagebrush slope, and at the base squats the Pine Creek Mine Mill. Behind the mill, a boring trail leads up to Morgan Pass; I tell Brad that we were just backpacking on the other side of the pass with family and friends the week prior.
Our planned camp is nearly 2,800 feet above the parking lot, and the uphill slog is relentless. Scattered high clouds gather and darken. Partway up the sagebrush slope, Brad catches a minty note cutting through the mountain air—wild mountain pennyroyal, maybe, tucked in the cracks between the brush. Further along, in the shadow of the southern canyon wall, we meet a hiker headed for Honeymoon Lake and onward to the French Canyon. He notices my camera, and he too likes to carry photo gear. “You’re going to get some good storm cloud shots,” he says.
The storm arrives, sure enough. Brad and I reach the outlet of Pine Lake and take a snack break when the winds kick up and the sky starts spitting droplets. We don rain gear. Around the north side of the lake, a towering patchwork of orange, black, and gray rears up—Peak 12245—and the field of broken pieces surrounding its base look like a big colony of calico cats. Someone on a discussion board calls it the Wizard’s Castle; I had erroneously thought it was the same Pyramid Peak with similar coloration seen from Little Lakes Valley, but that mountain sits a mile to the northwest. I tell Brad that our camp is just ahead, another length of the lake beyond the far shore.
The rains clear, we scout and find a broad flat area to camp. I backtrack to the main trail, leave my map, and stack a cairn marker for Lisa and Jonathan. Then, we set up, wash, and do the first day’s laundry. I crawl into my sleeping bag for a cozy nap.
About an hour and a half after we arrived at camp, I hear my name. Lisa and Jonathan have made it, and Brad is still cleaning up outside. They had hiked up in the rain for most of the time. The showers become heavier, and I close up the rainfly to keep out the water. We hunker until the patter slows and nearly disappears.
Dinner tonight is miso soup and rice with Japanese curry. For this meal, I had brought two carrots, one onion, and one potato. Brad flashes his brand new Mini Crooked River knife from benchmade.com, which he had been showing me the previous day. It’ll slice through anything, including his left thumb, and now, his nail fold is bleeding all over. Lisa helps him get it under control. The dinner warms us on this cold damp evening, and we clean up and shelter in the tent. We’re in bed by 8:00, falling asleep to the sound of gentle raindrops and the singing cascade of Pine Creek. The next day’s seven miles should be easy.
