Up Pine Creek | Pine Creek Pass | Feather Pass | Dancing Bear and Italy Passes | Full Circle
Pine Creek Pass
The drizzle lets off enough for us to make breakfast burritos with chipotle chili. Between storm clouds, shafts of sunlight break through and strike the Wizard’s Castle. I survey the clouds as they sail past at an angular rate of twenty seconds to traverse the width of my palm. Whatever horizontal distance that is depends on how far they are.
Our group soon approaches pretty Upper Pine Lake with some overused campsites along the northwest shore. Beyond that, at the trail junction, we take a left and head up the next set of switchbacks. Lisa had said that this will be Jonathan’s first through hike, not just an out-and-back, so here we start this part of the trip—the traverse loop.
The terrain widens while the weather closes in. Cold winds blow the clouds as they clip across at a faster pace. Occasionally, blue sky peeks through and laughs at us. It rains on and off.
Nearing Pine Creek Pass, I ask Jonathan if he’s been over the Sierra Crest. He hasn’t.
“It’s the ridgeline of the Sierra Nevada, where on the west side, water flows to the Pacific, and on the east side, everything drains to the Great Basin,” I explain.
To me, Jonathan’s first encounter with the Crest is a bit of a disappointment. While most of it is a stark contrasting ridgeline, Pine Creek Pass is a broad expansive swale.
“Have we crossed the pass?”
The trail opens into the expanse of French Canyon, where grass and dwarf trees scatter on the terrain. Visibility is miles across this openness, and from the western horizon, storm clouds billow toward and over us. Roper says to ascend the steep slope to Merriam Lake just before the creek crossing, but Lisa suggests that it will be better to follow the use trail. We all agree. A few steps ahead, we reach the junction with the Piute Canyon and Hutchinson Meadow trail.
“You remember our South Lake to North Lake trip?” I ask Brad. “Just beyond is where we rounded the corner and hiked up to Summit Lake for our final night on that trip.”
From here, it’s straight up the southern side of the Bear Lakes massif, nearly a thousand foot climb over just half a mile. Halfway up, our group stops for a snack before the final push. As we ascend, we try to read the clouds flying toward us from the west; they look more white and less angry, I think to myself. Maybe the darkest ones are behind us.
At picturesque Merriam Lake, we find nice sites in a shallow depression, low enough to give us cover from the relentless crosswinds. Brad contemplates fishing, but I suggest we set up first. He agrees and takes out the tent’s footprint. It is covered with mud from the previous night’s setup, so he washes it in the lake. We shake off the water, and the stiff breeze takes the rest.
The moment the tent is up, the sky opens, and we’re in another downpour. I tell Brad that these two days of weather don’t even come close to our experience at Cosley Lake in Glacier National Park, where we set up under a rainfly pooling with water. Today’s rain makes for a perfect afternoon lullaby, and I’m off to a long nap.
After about two hours, I hear a lull in the raindrops. Today has been too cold for a bath, and now is our window to make dinner. It’s pad thai, which I later learn is Brad’s favorite backpacking meal. I accidentally burn the bottom of the tom yum soup, which ends up tasting like charcoal. Then, we make a quick dessert of apple pie filling over graham crackers.
Lisa and Jonathan turn in early while Brad and I walk around the eastern shore of Merriam Lake. Suddenly, the northwestern sky ignites, then more clouds light up, and the horizon turns bright orange-pink. Shining through the clouds, sunlight strikes the opposite slope, and it becomes glowing lava.
“The sky’s red, so this is the end of the rain!” I exclaim. Having slogged through a day and a half of gloomy weather, I am excited to see a change.
Like the previous night, we’re in bed early again, but before midnight, I happen to poke my head out the tent’s rainfly.
“Stars! Brad, I see stars!” He doesn’t hear me or he’s ignoring me, but it doesn’t matter; this is fantastic. Across the lake, I can see the obvious Corona Borealis plus nearby Hercules and Serpens Caput. The full moon brightens the landscape, and details of the granite peaks pop. A few high clouds streak by. From my tent door, I take pictures of this moonlit scene.
