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Tag: Big Arroyo

  • High Sierra Trail: Day 3

    High Sierra Trail: Day 3

    Preparations  |  Day 1  |  Day 2  |  Day 3  |  Day 4  |  Day 5  |  Day 6  |  Day 7  |  Day 8

    Day 3

    It’s a lazy morning. We’ve had a tough second day, and to reward ourselves, we decide to not rush it. Mickey had slept under the stars, and that must have been beautiful. Wayne, seated on a smooth boulder, reads his devotional. I take pictures of the stark above-treeline views.

    Mark pulls out his fishing rod, attaches lures, and heads to the lakeshore. In his first cast, he gets a bite. Here, there are no protected species, and regular California fishing regulations apply. Soon, he returns with four rainbow trout. Before this morning’s catch, Mark had been regretting bringing his luxury item. He cuts their heads and tails off and fillets them. With a little melted butter, he pan-fries them. We complete the dish with a fresh squeeze of lemon and a sprinkling of salt, pepper, and fresh herbs from my garden. The trout actually tastes pretty good. I tell Mark that the last time I had fresh trout was nearly a decade ago, with Ryan, who was then my intern, during a through hike from Cottonwood Lakes to Whitney Portal. He had hooked some golden trout, grilled them over a fire, and got me to try some, thereby inducing projectile spitting from this vegetarian. But recently, I’ve been trying to like fish; for some reason, it’s excellent this time. With that, we have scrambled eggs, vegetarian chili, and avocado on multigrain tortillas drizzled with Tapatío sauce.

    I know we’re taking too long for this luxury breakfast when Mickey and Wayne say they want to take off first. Soon, Mike, Mark, and I hit the trail down the Big Arroyo. The sweeping view, the same one that we saw from atop Kaweah Gap, becomes more intimate and beautiful. We get water at the first creek crossing.

    Near the old patrol station in the Big Arroyo, we meet up with Mickey and Wayne. Here, we have lunch.

    “What’s the honey for?” Mark asks.

    “You’ve never had it with blue cheese? Sometimes, they have that at these nice receptions.”

    “I’ve never had the luxury to go to those types of events.”

    Pita chips, blue cheese, walnuts, and a drizzling of honey—that turns out to be heavenly, and Mark becomes a convert. I was going to bring grapes, but I didn’t think they would last that many days.

    From the junction, we climb up toward the Chagoopa Plateau. This ascent seems long. Across the valley, Lippincott Mountain passes further and further behind us to the right but somehow not fast enough. After a long uphill stretch, we crest at a dry lakebed. Across the lip, we can see the triple valley’s intersection of the Big Arroyo, Lost Canyon, and Soda Creek drainage.

    Anxious to reach camp, Mickey bounces down the trail, and Wayne follows suit. I tell Mark that my knees hurt just watching that downhill run. Mike stops to adjust his pack while Mark and I speed-walk. Near a picturesque dead tree, Mark suddenly develops the urge to take care of business, and he finds a perch overlooking the Big Arroyo below. “I had a great view,” he says. Mike passes us while I wait by the dead tree, accidently sitting on this boulder dotted with pine sap.

    Soon, we meet up with the rest of the group at Moraine Lake. Mickey is already swimming. We set up and get clean. Mark walks to the other side of the lake, but there would be no fish for dinner tonight. Wayne and Mickey have curry lentils and mashed potatoes. We had jettisoned our single fresh egg this morning at Nine Lake Basin because it had cracked, so I borrowed some powdered egg from the next breakfast to make egg drop soup. Mickey comes by with his notepad: “Now, what is it you guys are having?” Then, we slurp down spicy Korean noodles with tofu, mushrooms, and sesame oil. After dinner, Mark reminds me how it would have been nice to have the pink bucket to do dishes in.

    Our campsite, situated at the forest’s edge, catches silver rays from the brightening moon. Nearby, the warm campfire casts an orange glow. Even without fish and without the pink bucket, this experience is just about perfect.

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  • High Sierra Trail: Day 2

    High Sierra Trail: Day 2

    Preparations  |  Day 1  |  Day 2  |  Day 3  |  Day 4  |  Day 5  |  Day 6  |  Day 7  |  Day 8

    Day 2

    This would be our hardest day, stumbling into camp around sunset, completely exhausted.

    But, the start of the day is great. We set off early, climbing through thick forest along the gentle trail covered with soft forest litter. Soon, we arrive at Bearpaw Meadow. The luxury of staying there for $350 per night doesn’t seem worth the price. Mark gets water while Wayne and Mickey check out the restaurant. The chef is willing to make us pancakes.

    From the restaurant porch, we catch a glimpse of Kaweah Gap. We will be hiking over this pass, gaining 5,000 feet over 3 short miles. From here, it looks towering and daunting.

    Beyond Bearpaw Meadow, we descend through mixed forest as the trail skirts areas of exposed granite slabs. At the bottom of the river valley, we cross over a well-maintained footbridge over Lone Pine Creek, just above where it joins the Middle Fork Kaweah River. Now, right at 10:00, we apply sunscreen and rest before the long hike up to Hamilton Lake.

    Our group spreads out on this overwhelming hike. Mickey finds respite at the ford of Hamilton Creek just below Valhalla. Mark and I have peanut butter pretzels, and Mike shares some goji berries covered in dark chocolate. They are amazingly good. Wayne marches on ahead to the lake.

    Upon passing Upper Hamilton Lake’s outlet, Mark and I find Wayne waiting in the shade on the opposite bank. We continue on to find a beautiful covered spot by the lake’s northwestern shore. Here, we have lunch. The one luxury item to complement today’s meal is fresh dill to top the crackers, cream cheese, and wild salmon. Mark thinks this is really good, at least for now, until later in the day, when he will be burping dill flavor during the tough climb to Kaweah Gap.

    The Great Western Divide’s skyline dominates our views. Suddenly, the moon appears, rising above the Gap as if beckoning us higher. I get out my long zoom lens, and by the end of the trip, it would have been only the first of two times that I use it.

    We marvel at the engineering feat that went into trail construction. This entire section, from Hamilton Lake to Precipice Lake, was seemingly blasted out of vertical cliff faces. The thousand-foot drop-offs are better appreciated when viewed on profile. On the way up these relentless switchbacks, Mark tells me that he now dislikes dill, having been burping up lunch this whole way.

    Precipice Lake is a deep beauty, transparent like a blue sapphire tucked comfortably against sheer jagged cliffs. Mark and I refill our water before heading out, and Mickey naps at the shallow ended. At this point, there’s almost no energy to continue across the Gap.

    Knowing that the setting sun will soon disappear behind the Great Western Divide once we reach Nine Lake Basin, Mark and I take off for Kaweah Gap. From there, the view of the Big Arroyo is breathtaking. We cross over, scramble cross-country, and pick a campsite on the east side of the lower lake’s outlet, hoping to savor as much sunlight as possible.

    By last light, bathing is done, and we’re completely bundled up. After doing laundry, we wave down Wayne as he cross the Gap to join us. Next, Mike makes it to camp. Mickey misses the turn-off but later finds us. We’re all dehydrated and exhausted.

    It’s dinner time. Mark makes the kale salad with olive oil, pine nuts, Romano cheese, and lemon. He starts the tortilla soup, and I get the black bean quinoa going. Unfortunately, I do most of the eating, since Mark is feeling too sick to eat. Instead, he drinks some hot chocolate and replenishes with mini Oreo cookies.

    Based on pre-trip planning, this would be the only night that would give us the best shot of the Milky Way. The moon, being in Libra, is just west enough of galaxy center; and over the next few nights, it will be moving into Ophiuchus and Sagittarius, thereby obscuring all possibilities of getting good pictures of the steamed milk rising from the teapot’s spout. I experiment through a few shots with the moon framed outside the view, and I wake up again to take more pictures after the moon had dropped behind the Divide. I think Mark is irritated that I’m giving him too many directions on how to light up the tent for the picture. The tripod, camera, and crazy instructions—they’re worth it.

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