The Y's Hikers John Muir Trail hike, 1971
Kevin Anderson
Chris Hughes
Steve Seibert
Chuck Ringrose
Dean Ranger (not on this hike, but on many other Y's Hikers trips)
Rob Culbertson, Dean Ranger, Bill Morse (not on this hike, but on many other Y's Hikers trips)
Itinerary:
S Toulumne Meadows to Rafferty Creek
S Rafferty Creek to below Lyell Creek
M Lyell Creek,
over Donahue and Island Pass,
to Thousand island Lake
T Layover Day
W Thousand Island Lake to below Lake Ediza
T layover day
F lake Ediza
to Trinity Lakes
S to Devils
Postpile, get food drop, hike 2 miles out of DP
S to Purple Lake
M over Silver Pass, to Qual Meadow
T to Lake Marie
W over Selmer Pass to Evolution Valley
T over Shit
for Brains Pass,
to Midnight Lake
F to Lake Sabrina, get ride to South
Lake
S to Saddlerock Lake
S To Barrett
lakes
M layover,
climbed Polomonium, Sill
T to Palisade Lake
W over Mather Pass to Lake Marjorie
T over Pinchot Pass to Rae lakes
F To Onion Valley, over Glen, Kearsarge
S to Flower Lake
S over Kearsearge Pass to Bubbs Creek
M over Forester
Pass to Wright lakes
T Layover
W another
layover for Group A, to Wallace lakes for Group B
T To Hitchcock
lake for Group A, layover at Wallace for Group B
F over Trail
Crest to the Portal, to summit of Whitney
S out to trail
head Group A, down to Whitney Portal Group B
Mike Shaver, at Sierra Lake
The backpack of the John Muir Trail began as a two man trip,
just my brother Mike and I. The closer we got to the planning state, the more we found
other interested people. It reached five
or six and we decided to make it a Y’s Hikers trip in order to be insured with
the Y. Almost immediately we had a party
of 12 or possibly 16. The extra four
were Scouts and when Mike refused to put them in one cook group they dropped
out. We decided to charge everyone $50 each, for 28 days worth of food, plus gas for the transpotation to the trailhead and back. We were all students and we were trying to keep it inexpensive, but that was rediculous. if we had charged $100, we could have eaten a lot better. This is a letter from Mike to me
when I was still off at college, and he was in Lancaster starting to get things organized.
Bob:
Here’s the signup
$50 paid: Kevin
Anderson
me
John
Laine
$10 deposit Chris
Hughes
Robert
Bouclin
Tomlinson
(age 14 but really wants to go and went on shakedown hike
Lowry,
Conrad
You
Wes
Little
Madeline
Payne (ah yes, Gordon’s has put in a moutaineering line. Wipe out for Eaton! Wally to help buy food
wholesale. Cheep. Good equipment. The
jacket sold for $25 at last meeting to Payne)
Antonia
Reeves
Plus two kids who want to wait until an Explorer Scout trip
is scratched (they won’t commit themselves yet so neither would I on Oking
them).
The first 11 seem alright to me, though Antonia Reeves and
Robert Conchil weren’t on shakedown. The
other two will have to committ themselves and $10 by next hiker meeting. I don’t really thin 13 would be too many
(+Sue? Is she going part?). Also Byron might go part with us. Que respone es? Shakedown was to Kern Peak with Wally Henry – in ickey
trip, but it found a leader (I stayed home).
On food—I
can get egg noodles and macaroni from the Wrangler cheep cheep cheep. All deyhdrated, good for perhaps two meals on
each 7 day segment. John Laine said any grits and he’ll wipe us both out (cream
of wheat!). Will hold Y meeting and demand
deposits, hand out medical slips and plan what support trips can be run. Powells volunteered their van for the
shuffle, but with 13 people and packs it alone just won’t hack it. Drivers are you, Laine, the rest
illegal. Don Shaw wants everyone to
become Y members ($2) for insurance, so we probably should go along with
that. I propose a split group when we
hit the N. Pal Sill area—with peak baggers and trail-o-phobes taking last years
route. We can hassle that out on the trail.
Rob
Culbertson was drafted into the Army and Kevin Anderson into the Treasury. They still mail bank notices to 2121. Its frustrating!. Kevin A’s parents are
willing to drop off food—how about Primmer? Still in? Logistics are going to be interesting! Where do we keep the
food that is to be taken up to us?
Boy, have you got problems
Mike
Bob Shaver at Sierra lake
I got out of school the week before
we were to leave, and the week before the trip was when 95% of the work on the
food was done. Our itinerary was planned
and we already had out food drops in order. Of all the preparations I guess the food was the most work.
After the
menu was made we had to buy enormous quantities of food, enough for 12 people for 27 days. These supplies purchased, we
took over the facilities of the Palmdale Y for the week. The five or six steady
workers became quite expert at food packing and accomplished the largest food
packing in the history of the Y’s Hikers club, with no major problems. By Thursday our bundles were lined up along 3
½ walls of the room, all in order and ready for the food drops. They were bundled and stored in Mike’s
bedroom, till they were picked up and delivered by our support parties, the
Powells, the Peca’s, and Ken Primmer.
We got
started on the trip on Saturday, driven by the Powells up the Owen’s Valley to
Tuollumne Meadows, at the top of Tioga Pass.
Once dropped off, all we had to do we hike
227 miles through the roughest mountain country, and the most beautiful, in the
North American Continent. We got on the trail by late afternoon, and reached a
camp on Rafferty Creek by evening. We
were all tired, even though it was a short day, because none of us were used to
the heavy packs and none of us were in shape for that high elevation.
My
girlfriend Beth drove up from Modesto,
and I hiked back down to the Meadows to meet her and spend the night
there. I got up early and bombed up to
Rafferty Creek but the troops had already split. We finally met Conrad, John, and Mike. The whole group had apparently gone up Rafferty
Creek rather than up the Canyon of the Toulumne, which was our route. We had all been fooled the evening before
when reading the map. When the mistake
was discovered, Conrad dropped his pack and ran up the trail to catch Chuck,
but never caught up with him. Since no
one had seen him leave camp that morning we all hoped that he would realize his
mistake and come back down the trail, to rejoin the JMT.
We went
back the trail ourselves to the Lyell River, where Beth left us and
headed back down to Toullumne Meadows, and we started up Lyell Canyon. Reports told us that one
group of 4 was ahead of us, and a larger group ahead of them. We knew the smaller group was ours and hoped
the other included Chuck. Cruising along all afternoon we caught sight of Chris
Hughes a few times but never caught up with them till camp that night at the
headwaters of the Lyell River,
a campsite arranged the day before. We
made camp and hoped that Chuck would make it in and that everything was all
right with the people that were with him. They did show up shortly after us, after climbing up Rafferty Creek and
then hiking cross country to our camp on the Lyell. He and everyone was quite
tired, and we set about supper and a good nights sleep.
Our itinerary for the trip was not
planned for each day of the week. We picked three
high and about equally spaced trailheads for our food drops, arranged for the food to be delivered to
the trailheads on each Saturday, and the itinerary between food drops we
figured out as we went. That allowed us
to adjust the pace of the trip, and choose layover days for the best areas we
found, or the best fishing or climbing, or to avoid mosquitoes. This loose itinerary worked out very
well. One thing Mike and I didn’t
anticipate was the urge of the hikers to get to the next food drop as early as
possible, even a day or so early. Sometimes just making it in time was tough,
but it was always nice to get a hamburger and shake, and take our clothes to a
laundromat to get them washed.
Monday: From
Lyell Creek we headed for Donahue Pass,
where we had lunch. The view of Lyell
was quite good, and Chuck and I headed off from there to climb Donahue Peak. We agreed on a place to meet the others at Thousand Island lake, and wished them a good
trip as we headed for the peak. The peak
was an easy one, but it gave us a late start for Thousand Island Lake. We were wet from the snow when we crossed the Woods Creek Valley, a very secluded and peaceful
place. Going up Island Pass I was really tired and we
reached camp totally exhausted. The main
group had beaten us to camp by only a few minutes, so we all hustled around for
supper. As evening deepened the imposing
view of Banner was spectacular. The peak
really dominates the area, appearing to be an Everest from our camp.
Tuesday: Everyone was ready for a day of loafing and I sure
was. Nancy loaned me a book that John was carrying, and with the book I hiked back over
to the lovely Woods Canyon and spent the day reading and fishing. I
returned in the evening, and found that everyone had used the day to fish, wash
clothes, read, write, and sleep. Several
had gone off and spent the day alone as I had.
Wednesday. This was
really a fun day. We got a late start
from Thousand Island lake and traversed past Purple and Shadow Lakes toward the trail that
branched off to go to beautiful Lake Ediza. A few of us were alternately bombing and
going slow, and we all had lunch at Shadow Lake. The entertainment for lunch was provided by
John and Nancy. We had passed a group of
girls and John was full of plans and ideas of meeting and making the
girls.
Nancy was of course angry at him and as John was fantasizing about the encounter, Nancy undermined and parodied him with a skill born of practice.
John: why, hello there sweetie,
which way are you lovely ladies headed?
Nancy:
The other way from you if they’re smart.
John: You say you’re going to
Whitney? Why what a coincidence. It
seems that the fates have thrown us together.
Nancy:
What luck!
John: How about a little kiss
before we go to bed?
Nancy:
Oh this I gotta see! Show em how you kiss like a fish John. Its really
something. Just like a big, wet, slobbery fish! God, its horrible! Do you
practice on doorknobs, John?
The group of girls hiked past as we
ate lunch and made no reply to John’s warm greeting. What he did get was a rock thrown by his
girlfriend Nancy. After a long lunch we climbed a
hill to the valley below Lake Ediza. Chuck and I stopped at a falls for the others
to catch up and had a nice shower and rest. When the rest of the group caught up several more had showers in the
falls before we headed up toward Lake Ediza. About ½ mile below the lake we found a really
nice campsite near the deep and silent stream. After some exploring we found a meadow and marsh area really thick with
wild onions, which we set about harvesting. My cook group, Chuck, Madelyne, Wes
Little and myself had enough to fry them into a good vegetable dish and added
some fish caught at Thousand Island Lake that we had carried with us.
We had a campfire and cooked popcorn
and most groups had breads or cakes before retiring. Chuck was given the task of baking bread for our group, and
really burned it badly. He made up for it later in the trip by turning out a
series of flawless breads.
We cooked in groups of 4, and each
group had a steel army ranger cookset. This set had a pair of nesting pots, with wire bails. The lid was a
shallow frying pan, with wire handles that folded against the side of the
pan. By putting water in the outer pot,
and bread mix inside the inner pot, we made a double boiler, and could cook
bread and cake mixes. We always camped
in wooded areas in those days, and had wood fires. Stoves were an optional kind of thing, and only Conrad and Chris had a stove on this trip. We baked by putting the nested pots on a bed of coals, and then we put
coals on the lid to heat the top of the mix. With practice, the breads could be baked perfectly, and were delicious. Each cook group also had a
grill with three wires, which would be placed between two rocks with a fire
under it. The outer pot became black
from the smoke and the cook set was carried in a cloth bag.
Thursday: Ah, its
time to get down to some serious climbing. John, Chuck, and I started out early, reaching Lake Ediza at dawn. We went around the south end of
the lake and soon found ourselves kicking steps up the glacier. We were heading for the notch betweeh the two peaks of Ritter and
Banner, both 14,000 foot peaks. Earlier
that Spring three out of a party of four Sierra Club climbers were caught by a
storm on Ritter and the three froze, the fourth one got out. We were carrying a newspaper clipping about the
tragedy to leave in the register. All
the prominent Sierra peaks had a metal register on their top, which opened to
reveal a hardbound book in most cases. The tradition was that each climber signed the register, and could
describe the weather or the trip, where they were from, and whatever else they
wanted to say. The full registers were
replaced with new books periodically by Sierra Club members.
All the way
to the notch we ascended the snow field by kicking steps in the snow. At the notch we looked at the north side of
Ritter and it looked really hard to me. From the notch we were about 500 vertical feet to the summit of either
mountain. John wanted to stay but we talked him into continuing for a
ways.
We stared
up the most prominent chute and climbed its ice until it became quite steep and
terminated. Chuck and I both had ice
axes, but I don’t think John did. At
that point John had had enough and waited for us there.
Chuck and I
climbed up and left out of the coular into the coular to the left. We just traversed across the top of this one
to a ramp leading to the top. Three
belayed pitches across the coular and 3 up the ramp. At the top of the ramp it was boulder hopping
to the peak across boulders and wind fluted snow. We signed and read the register as we huddled
from the wind. To the west we could see
Half Dome and Yosemite, north were the big lakes of the Owens Valley: Mono, Crowley,
and Owens. South was the whole of the Sierra and a tiny bump that I recognized
as Mt. Whitney,
our destination some 200 miles away.
Too bad it
was too cold to really enjoy the view. After a quick lunch we started down,
picked up John on the way, much shaken from 3 hours alone on an exposed coular,
and had a long wet glissade to the notch between Ritter and Banner. At the notch Chuck began running up the south
face of Banner, scrambling up the peak like a madman. John and I waited for him and we was to the top of Banner and back down in
no time at all. The glissade from the
notch to the bottom of the glacier was very fast and John especially enjoyed
it. The trip down to Ediza and home to camp was uneventful, but Lake Ediza is a beautiful area.
Friday: Not much ground to cover, and we got off to a late
start. From Ediza the trail took us by Shadow Lake and through rather uneventful
country toward the small, marshy, Trinity Lakes, our destination for the
night. We had lunch together on rocks, and met an old man and his daughter who
were doing the Muir Trail also. She was
a student at Berkeley and not bad
looking at all. She wasn’t John’s type,
we all decided; too brainy. Apparently
her father was beginning to have problems with his legs and was becoming
discouraged. He’s a tough old guy and I
hope he makes it.
After lunch
Conrad and I lagged behind, talking. We
were overtaken by a group of four middle aged fishermen.
“Hello,
where you headed?” they asked.
“The
Postpile. How about your selves.”
“Same. Have
those ice picks come in any good or you?”
They were
referring to our ice axes, which several of our group were carrying. “On Donahue Pass they were life savers, and we
used them climbing Mt. Ritter also.”
“Oh. Say,
has that mob from Toullumne passed you? A big party doing the Muir Trail.”
And thus
was born the name of infamy that spread terror in the hearts of backpackers far
and wide. Mothers would tell their kids
“you’d better eat your spinach or the Toullumne Mob will get you.” That may be
an exaggeration, but the name stuck with us and seemed to fit. This perhaps the start of a feeling of group
unity, a feeling that would grow after we’d weathered a few storms
together. We were the Mob, or the
Toullumne Mob.
We reached
the Trinity lakes and spent the afternoon sitting around, throwing rocks into
the water, and other intellectual pursuits. John, Kevin, Madylin and Wes were
not here and had presumably missed the lakes and gone bombing down toward the
Postpile. Mike put on some running shoes
and ran after them, passing John and Wes and going on after Kevin and
Madylin.
Meanwhile
Mike had returned. He had run down Kevin
and Madelyn, and they were on their way back to Trinity lakes. Kevin showed up shortly and said that Madelyn
was far back and having a hard time of it. Mike had left the two of them at a trail crossing, the other trail going
deep into the heart of the Minarets. This was also the last time Kevin had seen her, since he left before she
was ready to go.
When she
didn’t show up for a while more, Chuck went to help her carry her pack up. It was fully dark by now. After 40 minutes Chuck hadn’t returned so I
went after them, with Nancy waiting
supper for our return. I ran down the
trail to the trail crossing Mike had told me about, then on towards the
Postpile. What had happened, had I
missed them somehow? Had they gone on down to the Postpile for the night? Had
they taken the wrong trail? When I reached a river crossing too dangerous to
cross at night I headed back, calling all the way. About a mile from Trinity Lakes Mike met
me. They hadn’t shown up at camp
either, so all we could do was wait until morning. We assumed they were together, and Chuck
could handle any emergency that came up.
We had an
uneasy night of wondering about Madelyn. It was at this time that I was really struck with my
responsibility. No matter what happened,
I was responsible for the safety of eleven people. I cursed myself for not having made a stronger point earlier about not
going off without a map and with no idea of where you were going.
Saturday: Early in the morning Chuck came into camp.
“Where did
you find Madelyn, and where is she now, at the Postpile?”
“I never
found her. I spent the night at the
river. Ran all way down to the Postpile
and couldn’t cross the river on my way back. No sigh of her here?”
“Damn! We
thought you would have found her and you two would have spent the night
somewhere together. How the Hell could
she get off the trail, anyhow?”
We knew
that she had food so if she didn’t panic she would be OK. I packed up and took off down the trail,
agreeing to meet Mike and the others at the Postpile, where we could search the
place if she hadn’t been found. At the trail crossing some fishermen had seen a
girl in red windpants heading down that morning. Yes, she had come from the Minarets
trail.
I bombed
on, and found her at the trail heading into the Postpile. She was fine, but shaken after spending the
night alone on the wrong fork of the trail. She had discovered her mistake the next morning, and waited for us on
the bridge when I found her. God, what a
relief! We went on to the Postpile and I
bought her breakfast at the café while we waited for the others. Apparently
when Mike and Kevin left her they were so close to the fork that they assumed
she would either remember the way she came or read the sign. She did neither,
and hiked up the wrong fork until overtaken by darkness.
I filled
her in on the happenings of the evening, and she really felt bad about causing us concern. She said that she
had really learned something and would be more careful next time. Chuck and Mike arrived, followed shortly by
the group. A few of us had breakfast and
bought hot showers, and everyone made a raid on the store, resupplying for the
coming week. It was becoming obvious the the food we had packed up for the trip would keep us alive, but to be full and satisfied we needed to buy supplement food in the form of bread mixes and extra lunch foods.
The showers were really heaven and after the showers we went back
to the store in time to see several pies being devoured by almost stuffed
hikers. We had lunch there, and waited for the Powells, who should have been
there by midmorning. I walked down to
the lower campground to see if they showed up, and was joined a while later by
Madelyn. We waited and waited, and the
Powell’s van finally showed up at 2:00. We hopped in and drove to the Postpile store
and proceeded to sort, divide and pack our food for the coming week.
Something
new for us that we tried on this trip was rotating cook groups every food drop.
We hoped to put everyone with everyone else at least once. That would also
allow us to avoid very large personality clashes. At the food drop, the new cook groups had to
get together and divide their community gear (cook sets and grills) and food as
evenly as possible, with each member carrying several meal bags. Each meal was a self contained bag, with
drinks, dessert, and main course for four people in one bag. For lunches, each person had a separate lunch
bag for each day, and in each bag was a complete lunch for one. That way, no matter where people were, they
had their lunch for the day. They could also easily throw a lunch in a daypack
for a day hike on a layover day.
At the food
drop we had to pack our trail lunches, which included meat (dried beef) from a glass jar, a
chunk of cheese, peanuts, raisins, candy bar, and iced tea mix. A lot of people
were buying extra food such as milk, French bread, pudding, bread mixes for
baking, and extra candy for lunches. By 3 PM or so clouds had built up
and by 4 PM we were ready to take off. We
wanted to get away from the Postpile a few miles and make camp before it
rained.
The packs
were heavy but everyone was in good spirits on the climb out of the valley of
the Devils Postpile. We found a small
spring and hurriedly made camp, putting up tube tents and making fires. We had
a good meal of fresh meat and vegetables before retiring early to bed. Everyone was in good shape for rain
protection before it started raining , tents up and gear covered.
Mike and I
put the ends of our tube tents together and had a long talk about the route of the coming week, and general happenings. We had a very large distance to cover, and
would require some 15 mile days. Everyone was getting in good shape, but Madelyn seemed to be having a
hard time and Nancy was having
problems with her boots. Madelyn was
fairly steady in hiking, but just very slow. I was more worried about Nancy’s
ankles. We would be entering the Evolution Valley and that would be a point of
no return for us. Once there we would be
in very bad trouble if anything happened and if her ankles were bothered by the
easy first week, they probably would only get worse during Hell Week.
Sunday: This was the first of increasingly hard days. We had eight miles to go to Purple Lake and a lot of elevation to
gain, so we got an early start. We spread out but kept a steady pace past Red
Cones and on. Madelyn was really slow
and I stayed back with her. We piddled
along all day and got to Purple lake before Dark by two hours. There the fishermen, long deprived of
fishing, were off doing their thing. Everyone was quite tired and fearing rain, most slept in tube tents.
A lottery has developed. Wes and
Steve Jepson have a three man tent and so will allow one person to sleep in it
on a night threatening rain. Lots were
drawn, and numbers assigning turns to sleep in it. I got a very low number, so I’m kind of out
of it. High numbers were Chuck and
Nancy. Now they can wait till they think
it will rain and use their tent turn. They can also save their turn and sell it for food. Chuck used up his turn this night, and it
didn’t even rain.
As evening deepened around Purple
lake the clouds were doing some fantastic things to the peaks on the other side
of the lake. They swirled and lifted,
revealing peaks then engulfing them, sometimes letting in brilliant shafts of
the now orange setting sun.
Monday. Big day
ahead. Twelve miles and a pass to cover. Yikes, 4 miles more then yesterday, and that day just about did Madelyn
in. We tore out of camp like lions,
sprinting over the ridge and down down down into Tully Hole. I was last to leave camp, and hiked along
till I caught up with the Mob at the hole. Here we realized that Steve wasn’t
among us. He had left before I, and I
even directed him to the trail. This was
a key day and a several hour delay would blow the schedule of the week to bits.
There was an alternate trail that he could have taken, so Chuck and I were
going to do a pincher movement, Mike staying with the group. Just before we started the search good old
Steve came ambling down the hill. He had
gotten off the trail and had been trying to catch up all morning.
Much
relieved, we continued and caught up with the others for lunch at a small lake
below Selmer pass. Mike pulled something in his groin when stepping over a
stream, but it seemed to be better after a rest and lunch. The lake was small and nice, just below the
big ice fields that we would be climbing in the afternoon.
Nancy was having problems and so was Madelyn, so they took off early. They burnt out on the pass and were really
wiped out by the time the top was reached. We were really strung out now, and
Conrad, Steve, John and I were pretty far back. We were angling down, hoping to make Quail meadows by dark. Several miles the other side of the pass
Steve said that he hadn’t seen Mike come over the pass. I didn’t even know that he’d hurt himself at
that point. John, Conrad and I headed
back up, leaving our packs at a fisherman’s camp. At the pass, no Mike. We went down the other side and found Mike
where Steve had left him. He was OK but
couldn’t carry his pack up the ice field. John carried his pack up and we kicked steps for him and he slowly
reached the top of the pass.
When we
reached our packs on the other side of the pass we divided up his pack and
slowly headed down, with Mike carrying only his empty pack frame. After a while John and Conrad left us,
traveling ahead to bring up a cookset and food in case we didn’t make it to
camp. Without weight and going downhill,
Mike’s pulled groin seemed to improve and pretty soon we were moving along at a
pretty good clip. I was prepared to stop
and camp for the night whenever he had had enough, but he only got stronger.
By the time
it was dark we were moving at a slow steady pace, taking stops to rest Mike’s
groin muscle. An hour or so after John
and Conrad left us we had crossed a river and were going switchbacks when we
heard voices. We yelled, thinking it was
our people at Quail Meadows. We
continued down, and shortly met John and Conrad at a large river. They had been unable to cross it, after
searching up and down for a log or rocks to use to cross. We were really tired by now, and just said
screw it! We would just wade it and to
Hell with it. John took one end of my 120’ climbing rope across, with our
flashlights shining on the rushing water.
In the
middle it was over knee deep and moving fast. The ice axe helped balance and he
made it across and tied the rope to a tree. Then Conrad and Mike went across, tied to the rope and so fairly
safe. I went last, the way lighted by
flashlights from the other side. The
water was like ice and the current really strong.
On the
other side we all felt tired and weak, and now wet, and slowly trudged the ¾ miles or so to
camp, where we were greeted with surprised looks. The three of us had hiked 17+ miles that day,
the others 12 miles. If was now ten
o'clock and they had eaten long ago, assuming that we would camp with Mike
somewhere. The girls made cocoa for us
and we had some soup before bed. The
girls had really had a hard day also and Madelyn especially. It was especially disheartening to learn from the early group that there was a bridge over the river not far from where we forded it.
The plan would be for Mike and Madelyn to go
out to Lake Thomas A Edison to the West, a hike of 5-6 miles. There they would
call someone from Lancaster for a
ride home, and come back up with the next food drop, both of them thus missing
the super mileage of Hell Week, and hopefully recovering to rejoin us
later. I was hoping Nancy would go with them, and take the rest of the week off.
Tuesday: Sunrise on Quail Meadow was beautiful. We were
in fairly low elevations again, and the meadow was a carpet of grasses and
flowers. Nancy had also decided to go with Mike.
Wes and I
headed down to the lake with them, and left them on the shore to wait for a
ferry which we learned later never came. Wes and I said goodbye and then rocketed up the trail after the others,
our destination Lake Marie. After going straight up a mountain for an
hour or so, I passed Chuck, coming back after a compass he had left at a rest
stop a ways back. He told me the others
would be at lunch by now, so I cruised on, passing his pack shortly where he
had left it.
The lunch
spot was at a ranger cabin on a very nice stream. The ranger was a wilderness patrolman, and
Chuck and I talked to him a long time about how he got the job, what his duties
were, and how we could get the job, etc.
We reached Lake Marie before sunset, and camped with a fantastic view of the Seven Gables and the Silver Pass area we had just crossed. We were going through this country much too
fast to really discover it. But it couldn’t be helped this week. Next time, make a food drop at Lake Thomas A.
Edison and go more slowly through the Evolution Valley. It would be worth the time.
At Lake Marie, the fisher folk were pulling
out monsters. Steve was doing the best, and since Steve and I were in one cook
group we said that we’d get supper ready if he just kept pulling them out. Every cook group had a fisherman and got some
fish for supper and breakfast. This lake was quite beautiful and would be very
nice for a layover day. The fishing
continued, with everyone having good luck. We were in cook groups of 3 now that Mike, Madelyn and Nancy had left,
and we had more food than we could eat, and nobody complained about that.
We had a
group meeting to discuss the plans for the week and confirmed a plan first
proposed at Purple lake. The facts were
that we wouldn’t be able to make the next food drop by staying on the JMT and
going over Bishop Pass to South Lake. We
could only make it by going cross country over the crest and down to Lake Sabrina, then getting rides around
to South lake by Saturday. The hike
Wednesday was the key to the whole ball of wax. We had to get over Selmer Pass and as deep into the Evolution Valley as we could, at least to its first meadow.
Wed: We got kind of a moderate start, crossing Selmer Pass
at 10:00 or so, hiking through Heart Lakes, and down down into the river that
flows out of the Evolution Valley. The
day was nice and cool with pleasant cloud cover but no rain. We met lots of fishermen and saw little of
each other, we were so spread out. Some
people wanted to visit a hot springs off the main JMT, but were unable to cross a stream to reach it. Chuck had bombed far ahead and we never saw
him until we all got together at the first meadow in the Evolution Valley. Then we hiked as a group to a good campsite. The day had been more then 12 miles but we
all felt pretty good. I think we were getting in shape and the extra food
didn’t hurt any.
Thursday: This day we would see what we were made of. After 4 miles on the trail, we regrouped for
a snack and started on the cross country jaunt over a notch between Mt. Darwin and Hickel. The “pass” was dubbed Shit for Brains Pass. Chuck had been over it twice and Mike and I
had been over it once. When we did it we
came from the other side and called it “one way pass”. We would be going the wrong way on One Way Pass today. We called it “one way” because
the tilt of the rock caused all the ledges to slope downward, and they were
covered by loose gravel on the rock, which made the footing very treacherous.
We stayed together and headed first
to a cirque lake below the notch, and from there straight up. Some of the hikers had little experience on
this kind of stuff but everyone remained calm and put one foot in front of the
other. Steve was shaken because of the exposure and the imbalance of the heavy
packs, and we were all much relieved when we did the last move onto the flake
summit. On the other side a snow field
came all the way to the top, covering all the sloping gravel covered steps that
Mike and I had experienced, and after a short rest we glissaded and slid
down. From there it was boulder hopping
for several hours to Midnight lake,
camp for the night. We figured we were
in pretty good shape to get to Lake Sabrina the next day. A short hike would get us
there, and from there we had a day to get to South Lake and our food drop.
The camp at Midnight lake was quite a rest since we knew that we had
done the hard stuff of the week, and the hardest week of the trip. The Mob really did well on the 2nd
and 3rd class rock route.
Friday: We slept in
and consumed as much food as possible so we wouldn’t be carrying it down with
us. Before we left for Sabrina in small
groups of 2-4, we put on the cleanest clothes we had, Conrad sporting a never
been worn red jersey. The rest of us
made do as best we could. After starting
we pretty much bombed down. Since it was a long weekend lots of day trippers
and weekend backpackers were coming up the trail as we bombed down. We must have looked a sight, with patched
clothes, flithy packs, tanned like Indians or burned and peeling, two weeks of
beard, etc.
Chuck and I
bombed down together, getting comments from clean hikers like “there’s another
one Mommy,” or “a fellow just like you passed a minute ago”, referring to
Conrad. Also “there’s another muscle
man,” referring to tank tops or fishnet shirts I guess. We stopped and talked to several people but
usually just passed with a greetings. At Lake Sabrina we entered a new world. Conrad and I
walked on the wooden dam, passing fishermen and little kids and feeling like
visitors from another time. We dropped
packs and regrouped at the cafe for lunch, taking over several tables
and keeping the cook busy for quite a while. We consumed a lot of food.
The plan
was to hitchhike in groups of 2-3 around to South Lake,
where we would regroup at the dam and spend the night. As we had a boisterous lunch we got to
talking with some fishermen who offered us a ride to South lake. Four of us loaded up, Conrad and Kevin
already having gotten rides and left. The young fisherman turned to be a Vietnam vet, and proceeded to fill us in on his Army days. In the middle of Claymore
mines and humping 9 day patrols we saw Conrad and Kevin on the roadside. Their ride had gotten them halfway and then
took another road. The vet stopped and
we somehow crammed two more packs and people into the car.
As we got
out at South lake an old man in shorts bounced up to us.
“Where are
you fellas headed?” he asked.
“We’re
going to spend the night here and then go to Onion Valley.” I replied.
“It just so
happens I’m the camp host, and I’ve been saving a group campsite for a group just
like yours.” He was a Sierra Clubber
from way back, with pins from the Sierra Peaks Section and the 100 Peaks Section
in his hat. It turned out that I had met
him on an SPS trip with the Sierra Club. He knew a lot of the older SPS climbers,
like Wally, Glen Lougee, Ed lane, Dan Eaton, and just about everyone that I
could remember in the SPS from being on a few trips with them as a guest of
Wally.
The old
time mountaineer was Ed Alcott. He and
his wife were working for the Sierra Club and Forest Service here at South Lake as camp coordinators. We told him about our trip, and he said he
could tell we weren’t the usual weekenders by the equipment. Alcott was at one time a real pioneer of
mountaineering, with tremendous experience in climbing all over the Sierra, and
he remains active in leadership in the Sierra club and especially the SPS and
100 Peaks Sections of the Angeles chapter.
He showed
us a campsite that was hidden from the crowds at the parking lot. It was on the lake shore and so hidden among
rocks and trees that no one ever found it. We settled in for the night and Ed and I talked about climbing some of
the same Sierra peaks. When Chuck
arrived he knew Ed and they talked about Chuck’s upcoming expedition to Peru.
When Ed left to join his wife at their trailer for supper he sent his greetings
to Wally and wished us a good trip.
It was
still fairly early in the afternoon so Chuck, John, and I got everyone’s
clothes together for a trip to the Laundromat. We filled two packs with very nasty clothes, and headed for a laundry 5
or 6 miles down the road. We arrived at the small town laundry and put our
clothes in the machines, 4 of them. Chuck put all his clothes in, and was left naked. John and I kept out our track shorts. John and I went to the one café in town to
get soap and ice cream, leaving Chuck jaybird naked in the Laundromat.
We walked into the café weaning
only track shorts, bearded and probably pretty nasty in appearance. We had a cone, bought soap, then I bought a
cone for Chuck and hit the road back to the laundry. In the laundry Chuck was hiding in the back
room. Apparently a lady had surprised
him in his birthday suit, and he thought she was returning with the cops at my
approach. He had gotten Conrad’s half
washed sweat pants out and was wearing them around.
He took his cone and ate it sitting
on a washer reading a book. I took a
chair and planted myself at the door as a lookout, and wrote some letters. I wrote to Sue and thanked her for the candy
and food she had sent up with the last food drop, and wrote of the happenings
of two weeks to Beth.
We were a pretty odd trio. I was on the porch of the local laundry
wearing track shorts. John was in track
shorts, down at the café rolling dice with the customers, and Chuck was sitting in soaking wet sweat
pants, eating an ice cream cone that melted over his knuckles, and reading the
Wall Street Journal. The final touch was when Chuck looked up and yelled
“Number 1!, Number 1! My stock has gone up since last week!!”. Just then his washing machine started to buck
and I broke out laughing at him.
I went down to the café and John
joined Chuck at the machines. The water in the front loader had turned brown,
and looked like root beer. At the café I
had a delicious apple pie and milk. Fantastic! John came back down
and said that Chuck had ordered dinner at the café on the hiway for us, and
four of the Mob had come down to eat supper also, leaving only Conrad and Steve
at the packs.
We gathered at the café and Chuck
and I had showers and washed up. Dinner was chicken with all the trimmings,
plus a really nice looking waitress.
We got a ride in the bed of a
pickup back to camp, and I forgot my papers and Starr’s guide in the pickup
when we got out. Damn! At camp, Conrad and Steve were pissed. We really hadn’t planned to have a wonderful
dinner while they ate dehydrated food, honest. They didn’t buy it and were pissed as hell. They threw their scalloped
potatoes in the ground and stamped on them, threw their dehydrated peas at us
and were only more infuriated when one of us would grin and pat his stomach or
burp. All John could do was lean against
a tree and sign contentedly, holding his stomach aching with chicken and
potatoes.
To make it up to them they were
promised a free breakfast and shower at the café the next morning, but they still
felt betrayed. I guess if we were
thinking we would have brought them something the night before.
Letter from Mike:
Bob:
Made it out to the
phone at Shaver lake—41 miles. Hiked
7-10, hitch-hiked the rest. Aggravated blisters on pavement hike—pretty
bad now. Sue came Wed 12:00 and picked us up, home again by 6:30. Mom and Dad
due next week. I’ll be up Onion Valley if I can coerce Ken into taking 2 more people (Madeline and I). Big troubles with Peca expedition,
but it you get this, they’ve been worked out. Gaad! Never again!
$150 cask
haft—with $60 owed to Y, plus Powell’s van and other little trips. Not very unlikely we’ll need another $5 or
$10 a head to cover it, but don’t know for sure yet. $150 in Y’s Hikers treasury we might have to
dig into.
First day home was
a blast. In prep for Mom I had to vacuum rug, clean up, do dishes—I’ll make
some girl a good wife.
I enclosed what
extra food I could find to beef up you post hell week week. Not much, but it will help.
Mom and Dad bought
10 acres in Palisade, near Bedford’s
they wrote. The three month stay in Colo
lasted 2 weeks, they’ll be home soon. They went back to Kansas, Grandpa’s, Billies, The Carlton picnic and all.
Peca leaves
tomorrow night (Fri) for S. Lake, and I’m gonna attempt
to help get things in order here—so, see you at O. Valley. Sorry I couldn’t
make it up there, but I couldn’t hike far with you and Peca looks pretty cramped
for room (and I bet someone’s coming back from your group.. am I right?
Your clean and full
bro.
Mike
God it was good to
be full of good food. What a peaceful
sleep we had!
Saturday: Conrad and Steve left early for their promised breakfast and we
all slept in. The Peca brothers arrived
early, accompanied by Madelyn, Nancy, and Wendy’s brother Clay. Madelyn was
going with the Pecas on a two day trip, then would rejoin us the next week at
Onion Valley. Mike was still out of it,
besides, we had lost one of his boots in getting him off Silver Pass.
The Peca’s,
about six of them, planned to go over Bishop Pass, on over Thunderbolt Pass, a
cross country route, and camp at the Barrett lakes on the other side. This was a very hard trip for his group of
young boys and 3 girls. They charged off
with our best wishes, and we liesurely set about our food packing over
watermelon and trail lunches.
During the
packing Conrad went off to buy something at the store and when he returned Beth was with him, much to my
surprise. At Yosemite she had said that
the drive over would be too long and she wouldn’t be able to make it to South
Lake. I agreed that the southern food
drops were too far to drive from Modesto. She had driven up anyway and arrived that
morning. It was a good thing she had met
Conrad at Toullumne so they recognized each other.
She joined
us for lunch, as did Ed Alcott and his wife, and we finished up packing food
and rearranging cook groups. Beth and I walked down to her car and got her
little rucksack together for an overnight camp. She would accompany us to Saddlerock lake for the night, then she would
hike back to South lake on Sunday, and drive home to Modesto.
We left the
parking lot in the afternoon, reaching Saddlerock lake after a leisurely hike
up. Beth was really hard put to make it, no matter how slow she and I went. We got to camp an hour behind the first groups and
set about making fires as the sun went down. Beth, Nancy, Chuck and I ate
together at a camp in trees by the lakeshore. Beth and I slept in a stand of trees near camp after a short fire at the
other two groups’ camps.
Sunday: We had a long day ahead today, so much as I would
have liked to spend the day with Beth we had to be off. The others took off before I, and I walked
Beth down partway to South lake. After
leaving her I charged up Bishop Pass, hoping to catch up to the Mob by noon. On the way I passed the Peca’s, strung out
and wiped out. They had been unable to
cross Thunderbolt Pass the day before, and had bivouacked below it. No wood, no water, no grass to sleep on. The group had eaten cold food and two of the young boys were quite tired
and cold. Madelyn apparently had been
one of the strongest of the group, a fat girl being the main hindrance. They
would camp the night at Saddlerock, then hike down to South Lake.
Letter from Bob to Mike:
Mike:
Everyone
OK here. Madelyn sure surprised me at South lake.
How’s the
leg? Hurry back. I’m going crazy with this bunch of nuts.
Thanks for
the food, send more. No real problems in
the Evolution Valley, but lots of hard work. Got to go,
Beth is here. Thank God! See you at
Onion Valley.
Bob
Letter from Beth to Mike, July 4, 1971
Dear Mike:
I told Bob I would drop you a little line.
First of
all, I’d like to devote a sentence of two to my observations of the trip. I have never seen Bob so edgy and
uptight. He has always been easy going
and level headed. He said he hoped you
would be well enough to join the trip at Onion Valley or at least come up for a
visit on the food drop. I believe he
needs a little of your brotherly companionship. This is not what I am supposed to write so I’ll get down to other
things.
The group
needs more dried milk. Conrad and Steve
tried to buy some at South Lake but other packers had bought out the general
store. So they are going to do without
for awhile.
Susan might
like to know that Robert had written a letter to her. But when he lost his Starr’s Guide at South
lake the letter and notes and everything else was also lost. So she is not forgotten. He really appreciated the candy. And, he appreciated your dividing up the
cheese. It did save them time.
Well,
enough’s enough. I’d hope your leg is OK, Mike, and Susan’s job is going well.
Sincerely,
Beth
Millerman
I caught up with the group at the top of Bishop Pass, where they were eating lunch. Chuck was just leaving with three others to
climb nearby Mt. Agassiz. The rest of us
had a leisurely lunch before we started on the cross country jaunt over
Thunderbolt pass to Barret lakes. This
pass is not in the climbers guide but is a good shortcut to the Barret lakes,
avoiding Dusy Basin and another XC pass. We had hiked it the previous year on a 9 day trip.
Nancy was
really having a hard time keeping up and we stopped to rest quite a bit. Those of us who had been hiking steadily were
getting in pretty good shape, with all the 10,000 passes and heavy packs. On the top of the pass were three packs and
the camps of some climbers. We waited
here for an hour and a half, snacking and waiting for Chuck. We finally saw them coming much higher than
we had come from, and they acknowledged our yells.
At their
approach we packed up and headed down the ice fields toward Barrett lakes,
romping down and sliding all the way. Above the lake I stopped to guide Chuck and crew to the camp. John and the others went on to pick a good
camp site. I was enjoying the sunshine
and being alone until Chuck showed up on the pass. I flashed them with a mirror and they homed
in on me, then we went on down to what we thought would be a camp.
At the lake we found the lake clear of ice
and dry ground around its edge. We began
gathering wood before dark. By then the woodpile for my group was waist
high and growing, our fire burning higher than I usually have a campfire.
We had lots
of food tonight. Chuck, Conrad and I
talked around our fire until late into the night. I am truly thankful for Conrad’s constant
tranquility. He is never up tight, always
helpful, and always one to be counted on in an emergency.
Monday: A quick breakfast for Chuck and I, then off we went
for the U notch, a notch in the ridge between North Palisade and Polomonium
Peaks. From this side, the south side, it was mostly scree and talus climbing
until the upper third, then onto some more solid rock and talus. At the U Notch
we met some other climbers, a group of three Sierra Clubbers climbing North
Palisade, and a pair of hot dog rock climbers who knew little about
mountaineering.
At the U
notch we had a good view of the Palisade Glacier, since from the U notch to the
north was about straight down to the Palisade Glacier thousands of feet
straight own. From there we would climb
below and upon the ridge of the Palisades to the east, to Polomonium Peak. The first pitch looked reasonable so I led it,
hoping to give Chuck the fearsome appearing second lead. The pitch was quite exposed and after 80-90
feet I anchored with slings and belayed Chuck up. Then he did a pitch about the same as the
first, with fairly easy moves and solid handholds, but very exposed. The third
pitch took me over a jagged notch and to a very small belay spot on a blank
wall, very exposed. Chuck followed and a
few feet before reaching my belay spot climbed up a crack for 10 feet, then up
some 3rd class for 20 feet. It’s a good thing he’s climbed this route before, because the route is
impossible to find by using the climbers guide. The crack Chuck led was
definitely 5th class and exposed, though he used no protection, and
anchored himself with ‘biners and slings. From here I led through house sized boulders, over the tops and between
them, to within 20 feet of the summit. Chuck led the last move onto the summit block of Polomonium Peak, and we
rested. The summit block was dining
table sized, and flat, one side vertical to the glacier below. I definitely didn’t hang my feet over the
edge, and could barely peek over the edge.
We watched
the rock climbers 400 yards to the west, on the other side of the U notch.
“What’s the
big peak over there?” they asked.
“That is
North Palisade. It’s only a scramble
from where you are. You ought to go
climb it.” They had already done the hard part of the climb, climbing the
glacier and the wall of the U notch. They sure didn’t know much about the area if they didn’t know they were
on North Palisade, the most dominant and difficult peak in the area. Mike and I
had climbed it last year, so I preferred climbing a peak I hadn’t climbed
before, like Polomonium. One of them repelled down to the U notch. When he was down the one that was left called
down to him for instructions on how to rappel. Oh boy, that is a very dangerous thing to do with no practice. I guess they weren't so experienced at rock climging after all.
We had a
short snack on the windy summit, then crossed a fluted snow field (8” fluting)
and began the down climb of a notch in the ridge. This was definitely 4th
class and exposed, and coming down last and without protection was
uncomfortable. From the bottom of this notch we continued with 3rd
class scrambling below the crest of the ridge, galloping to the summit of Sill
in 30 minutes or so. It was really great
to be climbing hard at 14,000 feet and not being really tired, just breathing
strongly. On the peak of Sill we opened
the register and what the Hell? A book but no pencil! A quick assessment showed
us having as writing materials: water, powdered tea, chocolate, coffee powder,
and hard candy. One letter at a time I wrote the date and our names with water,
then sprinkled instant coffee on the wet letter. The effect was rather
distinctive, looking like curdled, dried blood.
From Sill
we bombed down to the east in the large bowl created by Sill and the peak we
named Sucker Peak when we had climbed it with Wally, thinking it was Sill. Then we traversed around the shoulder of the
rock to the south , and came around at a point to the east of the Barrett
lakes. Here the snow was soft and we
could tell that our planned route over the cross country pass of last years 9
day trop would be very hard with the snow cover of this year. We sloshed out way back down to the Barrett
Lakes and had supper before dark. A conference concerning routes resulted in a
change of plans. Because of the snow
cover at this elevation, we would bong straight down and rejoin the Muir Trail
some 3 miles below the Palisade Lakes rather than stay high on the cross
country route that had been so nice last year.
Tuesday: We all got up early for a change and got a good
start. We stayed together in the
morning, hoping to reach the Muir Trail by noon. In midmorning Chuck and Wes got separated
from the main group and went bombing away. We got together above the trail and had a quiet rest and lunch on
Palisade Creek. I left early after lunch
and hiked alone almost to the Palisade lakes, where I stopped to write letters
as the others passed. This trail is
really beautiful with flowers and flowing water, perhaps the best country
covered on the trip so far.
We reached
the Palisade Lakes at mid afternoon and spent an afternoon in the sun, writing
letters and sleeping. Camp was open,
spread out, protected and lovely in a stand of pines. Cheesecake for dessert but not enough food to fill us. We had a good campfire into the night
talking about fencing and swimming then went to be bed hungry. The trouble was, I couldn’t bitch about the
food because I had planned it. Sorry
about that folks. The moon tonight was so bright you could actually read a book
by it. A very lovely view of the lakes
and the moon. Hungry as hell.
Wednesday: We hoped to make much mileage today, if possible
crossing both Mather and Pinchot passes. We were on top of Mather by 10:00 and the Mob bombed off toward Pinchot Pass as Chuck and I split off to
climb Split Mountain. I wasn’t going to
climb it since I had already climbed it twice, and had broken my foot on it
last year. Come to think of it I broke
my foot on that mountain when a loose rock rolled down and smashed my
foot. I had forgotten about that. Split Mtn was a big pile of loose rocks, with
no solid sections like the granite of the Palisades. I waited at the lake below
it and spent 3 or 4 hours napping, waiting for Chuck. At 2:00 I talked to some climbers coming down
and they said Chuck had jogged past them on the way to Split and then was on
his way down before they reached the peak. Last seen he was bounding toward Split’s sister peak, Prater.
Chuck returned to my lake an hour
or so later, and we left for Pinchot Pass at 4:00. We steamed across the high plateau and didn’t
stop until we reached the Kings River. Here Chuck stopped to eat and said he was really wiped out. I don't why, I was feeling just fine. From
the river we climbed out of its gorge and on toward Pinchot Pass. We would not make it before night and would
possibly have to camp on this side of it the way things were going. We planned to stop and rest at Marjorie lake
below the Pass and when we saw the world famous Toullumene Mob there we blessed
them and dropped our butts for a rest.
Apparently Nancy had been wiped out
on the climb out of the Kings River and Conrad had decided she wouldn’t make it
over the pass and down to camp on the other side before dark. They had left the King’s river at 4:00, and
made camp at 5:00. We arrived at 6:00. We had enough food to eat tonight, and Chuck,
Nancy and I made two far out fruit cakes
with chocolate topping. We raided our
trail lunches for raisins, peanuts and chocolate for the cakes. This lake is very high and with very little wood. I wouldn’t camp here again if I needed a wood
fire.
Thursday: We tore
over Pinchot Pass like a group of anemic turtles, with Steve and I bringing up the rear. On the top we watched a pilot buzz the Woods
lake Valley below, again and again. He
was mostly below is in elevation. Chuck and I went from the Pass to climb
Pinchot Peak, a small peak near the pass.
Chuck and I
ambled down toward the Rae lakes. The
scenery around Woods lake is quite lovely and we moved slowly. On the climb toward Rae lake we started
moving out and flew on as dusk deepened. At the lakes we didn’t see our people, but the hordes of scouts kept
pointing us on toward the isthmus dividing the lake. We almost missed our group, which was camped
on the top of a hill in the center of the isthmus. The mosquitoes were bad, but
got fewer as evening deepened. We had fires late into the night with puddings
for dessert and Chuck burnt our popcorn by trying to cook in on a Primus gas
stove.
Friday: The plan for today was to get up before dawn and
have a sunrise breakfast on the first pass of the day, Glenn Pass. Sounds incredible, doesn’t it? Well, for the first time Chuck and I were the
last out of the sac, last to break camp, etc. We got up at our usual time, shortly after down, and by then most of the
group was packed and leaving. We got up
and headed for Glenn Pass, all of us arriving at 8:00 or so for a breakfast
cooked on primus stoves. The side of Glenn Pass which we came up was partly
covered with snow, and for the exercise Chuck went straight up the snow rather
than on the trail. After a short breakfast we
bombed down Glenn Pass and headed for Kearsarge Pass.
We ambled through the dry wooded
area and explored some side trails. We
had agreed to meet at the last water before the pass for lunch, and everyone
gathered there at 2:00 or so except Chuck. Lunch was very leisurely, but no Chuck as of 3:00. The others left and I stayed to wait for
Chuck, since several people had seen him behind us during the day. At 4:00, no Chuck, so I started back, jogging
the 4 miles to the top of Glenn Pass. I jogged back and at our lunch spot where
I had left my pack I met some hikers who bore a message from the Mob. Chuck had gotten ahead of us during the
afternoon and everyone was on route to Onion Valley. That was a relief, but I had just jogged 8
miles in addition to the days mileage.
By now it was dark and I was
tired. By the top of Kearsarge Pass I
was really tired, and nearing total exhaustion as I drifted down the other
side. Chuck met me when i was half way down, on his
way up after me. At our camp in the
campground at Onion Valley we had been rejoined by Madelyn accompanied by two
of her friends. They brought beer and a
party was in progress. We cooked supper and consumed as much food as was
possible, then everyone drifted over to the Onion Valley store. Inside were the cowboys who ran the pack
outfit, and we sat around telling lies about the trip and drinking beer. As the night wore on the refreshment flowed,
and the cowboys sang a few cowboy songs. Kevin was becoming friendly, in a 15 year old Mormonish way, with the 16
year old waitress. The height of the
evening came in the chug-a-lug contest. John and Man Mountain Steve drank against three cowboys, and Steve shut
them all down.
At that we
left, all but Kevin, that is, who stayed for a few minutes to talk with the
waitress. After 5 minutes I went in after him and we went back to camp, swaying
all over the road. I had visions of Kevin’s parents showing up, and wondering
what the hell kind YMCA trip we ran. I
had a feeling that some parents might show up tomorrow to resupply clothes and
food. As Kevin and I staggered toward
camp, a car pulled up that looked suspiciously familiar. A window came down and my Mom’s head came out
and said “Hi, Bob.” I tried very hard to talk rationally and not with any
slurs, and got in the car to talk for a while. Kevin went on to camp and beer
cans there were hurriedly collected and stashed. Back in the car I chatted with Mom and
Dad. They had returned from Colorado
where they had bought property. Mike was
coming back on the hike for the last week, his muscle apparently doing better
and with a new pair of boots supplied by Kelty.
Ken was also on his way to join us for the last week. Jim Lawrence and Roger Bell were coming for a
weekend backpack in the area.
John came
down from camp and said hi to my folks, then I went with him back to camp. Kevin’s parents were on their way, we
learned, and would have a cow if they found their 15 year old son drunk. I told him they were coming and to start
thinking of getting sober. Actually he had only had four beers, but that was
more than he had ever had, and he was definitely tipsy. We were all in bed my
11:00, and just as I was getting comfortable lying in the desert sand between sagebrush, a figure was over my head
whispering “is this the Muir Trail group from Lancaster?”
“Yes” I said
as I slid deeper into my bag. “Where is
Kevin Anderson?” The air was silent
except for a wind in the sage around us. “I think he’s over that way,” I directed them. They found him and talked in low tones for a
few minutes before they left.
“Hey, Kevin,
what did your Dad say?” someone asked.
“He said my
Mother and brother are here and will have breakfast with me in Independence
tomorrow.”
“Is that
all?”
“Yeah. I don’t think he smelled my breath. He didn’t say anything.”
We finally
got settled down again and I let the wind off the desert take me off to sleep.
Saturday: We would go in the cars of Ken Primmer, my folks and Kevin’s family to Big Pine for breakfast, and to restock
on extra food and to replace worn out equipment. I had a fantastic greasy breakfast, and it
totally filled me. We milled around town buying socks and shirts, and lots of
breads, cakes, pudding, powdered milk, and candy, to supplement our prepacked
menu. We then returned to Onion Valley by noon, bought more food at the store, and proceeded about
the large job of unpacking our food bundles and dividing them up into cook
groups. It seemed that all the pressure
was off me now that Ken and Mike were with
us. Chuck had told us the previous night
that he would not be going on for the last week, but would go get his car and
go home.
Sometime in
the afternoon we were finally ready, and ambled the two or three miles to Flower
lake. There we discussed plans for the
week, the fisher folk fished, and we just lazed in the sun. At supper we had spaghetti and Steve Jepson
spilled 100% of ours on the ground. We
dined on bread pudding and drinks. Steve
felt very bad, we felt very hungry.
Sunday: The plan was
to get over Kearsarge Pass and as for up Bubbs Creek as the highest wooded
campsite. Ken,
Kevin, Mike and I left early and hiked fast to the Bubbs Creek area. Ken and Mike
had much trouble keeping up with Kevin and I, because we were in awesome shape
and used to the heavy packs. At the Bubbs Creek we dropped packs and climbed
University Peak, a big scree pile. The
run down was fast and furious, with lots of rocks in your socks. Back at the packs we found an unintelligible
note from Conrad, something about right turns and river crossings. We found them at a camp half a mile upstream
from us, and we set about a filling supper with dessert. We hoped to get an early start on Forester
Pass, so we went to bed early.
Monday: “If we’re
going to get an early start, we’d better get up,” said Madelyn to me.
“What time
is it? Its still dark!” I said sleepily.
“5:00” said Madelyn.
“Christ!” I
exclaimed, and rolled in my bag to catch at least another hour of sleep.
Madelyn
wasn’t making any friends on this Monday morning. After trying to get me up she went to the
members of her cook group. She told
Conrad that she was going to the stream for water and if he wasn’t up she’d
pour water on him. He wasn’t up so she
did pour water on him, a full quart of ice cold water, and from his own water
bottle at that! Later that day Madelyn
requested to be in another cook group, so we put her in with me and food
spilling Steve Jepson!
After the
excitement of Conrad’s baptism we did get a good start and churned up Forester Pass. We met a large pack train coming down this
side of the pass with the brand of a triangle inside a circle, which we learned
was three corner round. They had spent
two or three days cutting the path in the snow fields for their mules to get
down. It sure is easier to be on two
legs once in a while. On the pass we had lunch and Ken found a pure white Polomonium, the purest white I’ve ever see this high
altitude plant, which is usually blue.
From the
top of Forester we straggled out and headed for the night’s destination: the
first water and wood on the other side, the Wright lakes. As a group we hiked
very slowly this afternoon, although Ken and Mike and I did some bombing as we left 30 minutes behind everyone from the
pass and passed everyone before Wright lakes. We were all fairly tired at these lakes, and lazed around a few hours
before supper. The fishermen scouted the
area and saw a few fish in holes to be tried the next day, which was a layover.
Tuesday: Today’s layover was to be a good chance for
everyone to get away from everyone else. Mike left early.
Mike and I
planned to meet at one of the high Wright Lakes, but when Ken and I got there he wasn’t to be seen. I
sunned while Ken fished, and after an hour or
so we heard a shout, very far away. It
was Mike, but he was very high up on a wall to the south of the lake.
Ken stayed
and I went up to meet Mike. He had found a section of rocks which was pulling
away from the main wall in a 20 foot slice, just like a piece of cheese being
cut off a block. Where it was coming off
a trough was formed, ten feet deep vertical walls that looked like Mayan
masonry. We were joined at the
stoneworks by Kevin, who had been hiking by himself in the area. This young
fellow is very mature for his age, and will be a fine mountaineer if he keeps
it up.
We all speculated about the
mysterious stone walled trench, then headed together toward Bernard
Pk. This
was a class 1 walkup, but the view was fantastic. In the registers, which dated back to the
1920s, we found lots of Norman Clyde signatures, 3 or 4. There was no wind, and
the view of Whitney was very good. To
the north east stood the mighty Mt. Williamson,
a very imposing peak from any angle. To the west the Kaweahs shimmered in the
distance across the Kern Trench. We had
lunch and ran out of our short supply of water, then headed down through much
scree and a field of nice polomoniums.
Back at camp we found that the
fishing had been fantastic, and Kevin hurried to go get some fish at a higher
lake. Ken had caught lots of fish, thrown most of them back and apparently all the cook
groups had enough to add to their meals. We had a campfire around a huge fire built by John. Its very stupid to have such a large fire. White man build large fire, stand far back,
Indian build small fire, stand close.
The topic of the evening was what
our plans for the next few days would be. The itinerary decided by the group at Flower lake would have us move the
next day to the Wallace lakes for a layover there, then to the top of Whitney
friday night, and down to the cars on Sat. Some people thought that the trip from Wallace to Whitney was too hard. This group wanted another layover here at
Wright lakes, Thursday to Hitchcock lake, Fri over trail crest to the
portal.
Some of us didn’t care for this
plan because it would mean a layover in the same place for two days, plus missing
the beautiful scenery, climbing, and fishing of the Wallace lakes, where we had
been before a few years earlier on a 9 day trip. Its advantage was that it evened out the
mileage. The final split was mostly
old time hikers opposed to newer hikers, and the perfect solution was the
splitting into two groups. To go to
Wallace lakes were Ken, Mike, me, Chris
Hughes, and Conrad. We were to meet the others at the top of Whitney and spend
the night there, then hike down to the Whitney Portal together.
Wednesday: After a fast breakfast came the parting of the
ways. We got one cookset together, and the five of us
took off for Wallace Lakes.
Conrad and Chris were sorry that the other two fishermen,
Steve and Kevin, would not enjoy the incredible fishing we hoped to find. We cross countried most of the way, and found
the camp that we had used several years earlier when with Wally Henry and Jim
Lawrence. There we dropped packs and
took lunch to the upper Wallace lakes. There we fished, sat, and sunned. The fish were spawning and the outlet
was a black mass of fish that churned the water white when they were startled.
I caught one by hand by swimming in the stream and grabbing a trout slowly by
the gills in a rocky pocket. That evening we had very large trout, as many as
the five of us could eat. Mike headed
over toward Wales lake, where he took pictures and hiked till evening. The area was much drier
than when we had been here last, but the view of the Kaweahs was fantastic.
Thursday: The plan was for Mike and I to climb by
priorities: Russell, Constitution, Carillon, and Possibly Tunnabora. Ken and
Chris wanted to climb Bernard, and bake cakes in the afternoon, and Conrad
wanted to fish and bake. Mike and I left
and hiked up the granite trough below Wales
lake where two years earlier we had left Wendy and Byron when we climbed
Constitution.
Wales lake looked the same as always, spectacular. At Tulainyo Lake the clounds were dark above us and a cold wind whipped us. To climb Russell we went up a 3rd
class rock wall south of the lake, then hung a sharp right and started on some exposed
2nd and 3rd class to the first summit. This we signed in at the register, and
continued to the true summit as the clouds swirled in on us, then were swept
away by wind. The main mass of clouds
was over Mt. Whitney,
and I was watching for lightning there. Usually all the clouds that reached the
summit of Russell were wisps and fragments of the big clouds massed over Mt. Whitney. We took the register to an overhang and read
it over lunch, interrupted by runs out to look at rainbows and rain on the
Kaweahs and Owens Valley and stuff like that. We got a small amount of rain and small hail.
The register was a good one, rich
in old time climbers and mountain history. In 1943, the register said, a man
signed in, followed by the signature of a ranger looking for the same man, who
went missing. The ranger assumed he had
headed down the north face and would look there for him. The next entry was a
further explanation. The Ranger had found the man’s body at the bottom of the
north face, which he had tried to descend and had apparently fallen to his
death. We had passed the place where he
fell, and would pass it again on the way out. That was kind of creepy.
When the clouds cleared for a
minute we packed up and left, moving as fast as possible while remaining safely
on the rock and the route. Before going to Tulainyo Lake we climbed nearby Carillon,
signed in fast, and continued to Constitution Pk.
There we found that one Raul DeSoto had
climbed the peak since our ascent in 1969, and left a piece of paper. We left a notebook and pencil in a bandaid
can and entered our ascent of 1969 as the first recorded ascent, entering
DeSoto after us, then adding an explanation of the placing of the register. We
covered the register with a few rocks on the highest point, which is where
other climbers would look first for it.
We descended down Constitution,
crossed to Tunnabora, and drew in the awesome view of the entire Owens Valley below us. Near exhaustion we started back to camp,
which we reached before dark. There we
were surprised by the fantastic breads Ken had
baked, one with chocolate topping that he had made out of the chocolate bars
from our lunches. We had one bread for
supper as the sun turned the Kaweah Peaks orange, and after supper made another bread, the best of all, that we planned
to carry with two others to the top of Mt. Whitney the next day. After the bread baking we went to bed,
planning to get up early for the long day to the top of Mount Whitney.
Friday: It had rained a little bit during the night and when
we got up shortly after first light the clouds were resting on the peaks of the
crest and the Kaweah ridge. During breakfast a rainbow formed that arced across
the entire valley we were camped in, and the day promised a cool hike as we
started the two miles of cross country down to the John Muir Trail. There we talked with passing Sierra Clubbers
and continued in intermittent sunshine toward Crabtree. We had rain before we reached Crabtree
meadows, and at the last wood below the pass we sat down and cooked dinner,
planning to eat trail lunches and our breads on the top of Mt. Whitney.
After
dinner we gathered wood and filled our packs to overflowing with all the wood
we could carry, planning to use it to cook with on top of Whitney. With packs heavier than anything we started
up the pass, stopping at a stream to fill every container we had with water. We trudged in a cold breeze for a long time,
and after seemingly endless switchbacks reached Trail Crest, the top of the
pass. From there it was a mile or so of more of less level walking to the
peak. As we reached Trail Crest we met
Steve, John and Nancy going down the other side of the portals. They and the rest of the group had decided
not to spend a night on the peak in bad weather, probably a sane decision, but
not the most rewarding. We were well
enough equipped to survive any weather, although rain or snow would certainly
be uncomfortable. The five of us had
been looking forward to sleeping on the top too much to give up the plan.
As we
regrouped at Trail Crest the cloud cover showed signs of breaking up, and the
sun finally fought its way through to us. The warmth was really a blessing as we hauled on packs and continued
carrying these water and wood filled packs at 14,000+ feet, toward the top of
