Kearsarge Pass | Center Basin | Forester Pass | Shepherd Pass | Shepherd Creek
Part 2
The lake remains a perfect mirror in the early morning light. I wander around with my macro lens, searching for the right subjects, capturing the delicate details that often go unnoticed. Breakfast is simple but satisfying: loaded oatmeal drizzled with honey, scones paired with pour-over coffee. I had rigged up a makeshift contraption to hold the filter paper, and the coffee grounds—carefully measured at home, 35 grams to 560 cc of water—deliver the perfect brew.
We set off under another bright sky, the wind picking up as we circle Bullfrog Lake. The Vidette Switchbacks lead us down to the John Muir Trail along Bubbs Creek. We come across a few well-worn campsites and decide to try our luck fishing. The plan? Catch some trout and grill them here, before we ascend above 10,000 feet where fires are banned. The fish outsmart us here, though. The only ranger we meet on this trip stops by to check my permit, and after a quick lunch, we’re back on the trail.
Halfway between Vidette Meadow Junction and Center Basin Junction, we stumble upon a breathtaking waterfall. Photos don’t capture its majesty, especially under the harsh glare of the midday sun. But beneath the waterfall, the pool is alive with trout—maybe two dozen of them, darting through the water. Brad and I can’t resist casting the line, and in the fast-moving current, the golden trout strike at our caddis flies. This is Brad’s first taste of fly fishing, and he’s hooked.
The trail up to Center Basin is non-distinct, but luckily, we met a pair of hikers who described how to find it: directly across from the campsite with a large bear box. The climb is tough, and with the trail unmaintained, we lose it a few times, only to find it again as we weave through the rugged terrain. Cresting the ridge, we’re greeted by the wide, open expanse of Center Basin, with Center Peak standing sentinel to the right and the Crags rising sharply on the left. A lush meadow and shallow lakes spread out before us, like a hidden paradise.
We push on to the next basin, reaching Golden Bear Lake. The solitude here is profound, the kind that makes you feel like the entire world is touching the sky. Brad and I scout for a campsite, settling on one with open views—perfect for some star photography later tonight. With map and compass, I orient myself, pinpointing where Polaris will make its appearance tonight—right over University Pass.
Following our usual routine, we set up camp, wash off the trail dust, and do laundry. Our shirts, shorts, and towels fluttering against the towering peaks evoke images of Tibetan prayer flags. Tonight’s menu: spinach and cheese tortellini with pine nuts, Parmesan, and olive oil, finished with fresh basil. There’s something about fresh herbs—they’re light to carry but add so much to a backcountry meal. For dessert, Brad whips up tiramisu, a sweet ending to a long day.
As the sun dips below the horizon, alpenglow paints the peaks in a rosy hue. I set up my wide-angle lens, framing the tent and the spot where I expect the North Star to rise. After a few test shots, I turn in for a short rest, setting my alarm for 21:17—right when true darkness begins.
When the stars finally emerge, the sky is a brilliant tapestry. The moon is so bright it makes my test shots look like they were taken in daylight. I set the intervalometer and tuck back in; after an hour, I take my camera into the tent and drift off to sleep.
