 After weeks of preparation - reading Colin Fletcher, researching the internet, making lists and writing checks at REI, Grandson David and I left Reno yesterday morning and headed south on 395. I wanted David (and his grandpa) to get a feeling for the high Sierra well to the south of Tahoe, to see the unfolding panorama of high mountains and feel the exhilaration of swinging along a high ridge-top trail, a stream crashing through a granite gorge far below. In search of this ideal we turned off on Highway 108 and headed west a few miles to the Leavitt Meadows trailhead. Our goal was Cinko Lake, tucked in a glacial cirque on the east side of the Sierra crest below Grizzly Peak.
We did the final sorting of our gear on the tailgate of the red pickup in the trailhead parking lot next to the west Walker River. After distributing the stuff as equally as possible into what turned out to be forty pound loads, we hoisted our new internal frame Kelty's, and were off. A couple sitting next to the bridge over the Walker said it looked like we were going to have fun and wished us well. I thanked them and said that sitting in the shade with a beer looked OK, too.
The trail took us up an east side valley, fragrant with sage and rabbit brush. White Matilja poppies bloomed in bright clumps, and the Walker twisted in broad rippling curves below. A pack trail joined our hiking trail after a mile or two, with attendant dust, horse shit, and flies. But these nuisances were minor, and did not detract from the scenic lakes and the West Walker gorge as we climbed higher.
We arrived at this site at about 4 in the afternoon after a walk of a little over four miles and a climb of about 1200 feet. We are on a bench under these junipers which is a bit of a scramble above a place where the trail fords a creek, but it has a great view back down the valley we came up, and is largely free of flies and mosquitos.
While David got the tent started I fired up the old Primus stove and got some soup going - a hearty Mama La Guardia chicken noodle from Raley's. Then Mountain House freeze-dried spaghetti marinara, augmented with fresh onion and garlic sautéed in olive oil, and extra linguini. We did the bear bag thing, David did the dishes, and I filtered water and chatted with a hiker coming down the trail from Dorothy Lake. The sole of his boot was loose, and tied on with some nylon cord. I offered him some duct tape, but he said he was OK, for which I was glad, as I'd heard enough about his lung transplant and liver problems. I tidied up the camp and made tea and hot chocolate, and we were in the sack by 8:30. I slept warm and comfortable in my polypro top using a fleece pullover for a pillow.
Yesterday was warm and shorts and Coolmax T-shirt were fine until it was time to crawl into the sleeping bag. This morning, sitting on my foam pad and leaning on my pack, watching the sunlight gradually move down the north side of the valley across from us, my new polypro tops and bottoms, REI windbreaker outfit, wool gloves, scarf, and wool knit cap are comfortable. A mule deer is grazing the steep brush-covered talus slope behind us. David is still snoozing...I'll rouse him out about 7:30 for breakfast...I'm eager to see what we will see today.
Chain-of-Lakes Camp
7-24-99
I'm comfortable and warm with my coffee, leaning against my pack and sitting on my foam pad...a priority item. We are camped in a classic Sierra environment of glacier strewn boulders and sparse, rugged junipers. The elevation is about 8,700 feet.
Yesterday it took lots of climbing to get here, as we started the day at 7,600 feet. The climb brought us close to a beautiful stretch of the West Walker where it is confined in a narrow, granite gorge. Further along where the trail fords the river it widens out, but it still looked swift, rocky, deep and scary to us novices far from extra dry clothes and beds. So we repacked our sleeping bags into garbage bags, took off our socks but put our boots back on for good footing...I had the image of slipping and getting washed down the river, watching our packs bob away. The crossing turned out to be less of a big deal than it had looked.
We rested in the sun for an hour on the other side, letting our boots dry as much as they could (not much). We chatted with a couple of guys who had splashed easily across in river sandals and were heading out for a five-day trip. Earlier we had talked with a relaxed looking bunch on their way back from some successful fishing at Upper Chain-of-Lakes. We grunted the packs back on, and started a big climb up to a side trail to Fremont Lake, which we checked and rejected for a campsite because it was "crowded" with a couple of large tents obviously brought in by pack train. So we inched up a grueling gulch to meet the main trail, then hammered out the last mile and a half to Lower Chain-of-Lakes, thanks to Advil and endorfins.
We picked a spot on a breezy bench above the lake with a view and no mosquitos. The Sierra crest, with Hawksbeak and Tower Peaks, fills the southern skyline. I filtered water for about 45 minutes, needing to stop twice to clean the filter, while David started with the tent. I sat cross-legged in the grass next to the marshy lake, with the filter intake tossed out into the reeds.
The late afternoon light and the yellow water lilies tempted me to pick up the camera a time or two, and a sleek black water snake with racy yellow stripes stopped by to give me a good looking over, apparently assuring himself I wasn't a tasty frog.
David had assembled the tent by the time I got back to camp, and we were deciding on a proper spot to stake it down which would be kind of level and free from rocks, when a gust of wind sent it rolling. David quickly chased it down, but not until one of the fiberglass poles had snapped. Thanks to the extra cord we had we were able finally to get it set up, and eventually dinner was cooking...more of the good chicken noodle soup and lots of beef stroganof. David washed the dishes then took a scramble up the rocky slopes above the camp while I snuggled in a cozy spot with my book. I think we were both in bed reading by 7, and I was snoring by 8 and slept until 7!
West Walker River Camp
7-25-99
We slept last night to the pleasant sound of the river which passes next to this fine campsite, about three miles below Chain-of-Lakes. Earlier in the evening, after a good dinner of soup, stew and apple crisp, I had sat with my book for a long time next to the river where I am now...the pack leaned back against a tree, my sit pad nestled in a little hollow scooped out for my butt, and my legs stretched out on an accommodating rock a foot or two above the riffles...an environmental recliner.
The river squeezes through a little rapids just upstream, then widens into a pool before eventually disappearing around a bend in front of an escarpment lit by the rising sun. A water ouzel just passed by, hopping from rock to rock, his head bobbing up and down, pausing to stick it under the water in search of breakfast. Later an otter hopped across a log and splashed through the river just downstream.
Yesterday morning after a leisurely start we were off with day packs on a two and a half mile hike on a level trail to Upper Long Lake. Six miles would have gotten us to Cinko Lake, our original goal, but the altitude and the energy already spent in getting as far as we did made everything a bit of a chore, and the real goal was to have a pleasant trip. So we took this walk through a park-like setting of lakes and alpine rock gardens. David spotted a fine campsite between a granite cliff and Upper Long Lake...perhaps Hilda and I could get ourselves packed in there for a week of fishing, day hikes, reading and mellowing...what a treat it would be.
We broke camp about one and headed back down over a very scenic trail with views across the West Walker Gorge and up a side canyon carved by glaciers into a classical "U"-shape. Obviously much Forest Service effort had gone into trail construction here...there were many granite steps, and in several places the trail was paved with granite cobblestones to prevent runoff from gullying it.
The river crossing went quickly and with dry boots this time. I crossed in my river sandals, then tossed them back to David in a rock-weighted sack - they actually got there without sinking to the bottom of the river. While getting our boots on a large group passed through, heading in - the first of several groups we saw on this Saturday afternoon - reinforcing the wisdom of starting on a Thursday to have a choice of campsites.
Later...
Our last day we had a six mile mostly downhill walk back to the trailhead. I had a hard time keeping up with David, whose pack was lightened by the food we had eaten and fuel we had used. Also maybe because Gramps is pushing 60 and David is pushing 16. Lagging behind and slowly slogging up one dusty grade I looked up and saw a leathery looking man working on the trail with a pick and rake. It turned out he was a partner in the Leavitt Meadows Pack Station, and was maintaining the trail as required by their permit with the Forest Service, because, he said;
"Otherwise, you hikers would be up to your balls in rocks!"
I stifled my urge to mention that we were already well buried in mule shit, flies and dust. But the idea of getting spot packed to a base camp was looking more attractive after a few days of lugging around my forty pound pack, so I learned from him what I could about their services, which are surprisingly inexpensive.
Two people could get a weeks worth of gear (at backpacking subsistence level - the Jacuzzi is extra) packed in about 12 miles and out again for about $300. On this Sunday hike out, we saw many heads up cheerful people enjoying the view walking in carrying just daypacks and doing just that. Also other sweaty groups slogging up under huge packs staring sightlessly down at the trail who weren't.
We got to the West Walker bridge near the trailhead about two in the afternoon, and congratulated ourselves on having planned and carried out a successful and enjoyable adventure. It felt great to dump the packs, splash water on our faces from a faucet, then sit on actual cushions as we headed back to Reno in the little red pickup.
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Juniper Camp
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West Walker River Gorge
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Nearly across the raging torrent
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Lower Chain-of-Lakes
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Upper Long Lake
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David holds up a glacial erratic
with Hawksbeak Peak in the background
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Cobbled trail below the
Fremont Lake Junction
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David filters water at our
West Walker River camp
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