Hitting the Trail: Northern Sierras to Crater Lake

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This morning there was a lot of dew on the van windows, and Lance noted a certain coolness to the air that reminded him of fall. This is a bit disconcerting, as it reminds us that there are only a couple weeks left to our adventure. It is mid-August, and Amanda has to go back to work by the end of August. While I am looking forward to certain aspects of my working life, it is difficult to imagine giving up the sense of freedom I have felt for so many months now. In our current daily reality, time has more to do with the location of the sun in the sky, the stages of the moon at night, and a general sense of the season. Driving is about two-lane roads, and slowing down over mountain passes; we worry more about running off the road because we are watching the amazing view than because of a traffic jam. In fact, when we were in a rare traffic jam a few days ago, we realized that we had not been in another traffic jam in over six months. Commuting has a whole new meaning for life on the road. We are pleased, however, to be spending the last part of our adventure back in Oregon, having crossed over the border from California yesterday. It is a nice bookend for the many places we have ranged. Our drive takes us through central Oregon on the way to the northeast corner of the state, where we will do a final backpack in the Wallowas.

At last telling, we were zooming out of Yosemite, on our way north to the Tahoe area. The last part of the twisty mountain drive left us a bit anxious, as we were over an hour late to meet a friend for a hiking trip, but when we arrived at the parking area, she was not to be found, and arrived even later after a far worse traffic filled drive from the Bay Area. Undaunted, we soon put on our packs, and headed off for our appointed lake through the dusk and approaching darkness. Not new to night travel, we told ourselves how much we would enjoy the views of the trail on the way out. Fortunately, the distance was short and a campsite easy to locate, and we were able to compensate for our night-hike by staying up until the wee hours drinking wine and sharing stories. The next day we took advantage of the freedom to travel in the high country without big packs, and roamed across boulder fields, snow fields, meadows, and rock summits. The view from the top of Price Peak, one of the highest in the Desolation Wilderness (just to the southwest of Lake Tahoe), was lovely. We couldn't actually see Tahoe, but were impressed with the range of lakes and peaks in this relatively small wilderness area. The most impressive lake was a huge glacier scraped pool with tons of islands, all the rock forming troughs and ridges which pointed in the direction of the long-gone glacier. On the way down we enjoyed a brief hair-raising scramble over a rather steep snow and rock section that had not seemed so steep from the top, but were rewarded with a fantastic glissade on the far side. The ritual afternoon dip in a mountain lake (thankfully not the coldest of the season) was welcomed by each of us, and happily the Desolation Wilderness seemed to be a place of few mosquitoes, and we could loll about on the shore afterwards in peace. Unfortunately, this trip was all too brief, and after another evening of wine and chocolate (you can carry more extras when the trip is short), and another bagged peak the following morning, on which Amanda and Maria again found themselves doing a bit of rock climbing, it was time to hike out. After a tempting offer of showers, pizza, and internet from Maria, it was rather quickly decided to take a brief detour to the Bay Area, and off we headed to the city (happily, with no traffic issues). Walking the streets of Berkeley the next day, we marveled at the pleasantness of the climate there—cool and crisp with the perfect hint of sunny warmth—no wonder everyone wants to live there, and not in Fresno (even if they do have good fruit in Fresno).

We did have to drive back across the top edge of the central valley on our way to the east side of the Sierras, but we decided it was worth it. We were eager to see these great mountains from the east, and so we found ourselves driving through Yosemite and across Tioga pass for the second time in a week (after never having managed to go this way before). Our destination was Mammoth Lakes, a ski resort area which also gives access to some of the most scenic trails in the Sierras. We again moved through our now well-practiced dance of packing for four nights in the backcountry and procured a permit. The next morning we set out (well, by the time parked our car, took the mandatory shuttle bus, and found the trailhead it was technically afternoon) for Ediza Lake. Even before reaching the trailhead we had been tantalized by views of amazing peaks from the bus window, and the trail was no less rewarding. We wound up into a lovely drainage with the best kind of creek the Sierras have to offer—crystal clear, sometimes slow moving over colorful rounded underwater rocks, sometimes swiftly through narrow rock troughs or over waterfalls. When we made it to the shore of our lake, we were stunned. Not only was Ediza a beautiful lake, but she stood at the foot of three huge peaks, sharp and glaciated, rising imposingly above her shores. No wonder it was recommended to us (a favorite of an aunt and uncle of Amanda's), we thought! Getting to a camping site proved a bit more difficult, however. The incoming creeks feeding the lake lay between us and the camping area, and we had to cross them. Due to high winter snowfall in the area, the creeks were coursing at top volume. We spent some time following the creeks up and down their banks, looking for the perfect crossing spot, but were routinely disappointed. Each spot seemed good from a distance, but up close they were wide and rough. Finally, a spot was found, but the crossing was not made without a moment or two of heart skips as we leaped from stone to stone balancing ourselves and our large packs. We ended up spending the better part of three days in this basin, where lake, ridge and mountain exploring abounded, and the evening views of alpenglow and moonlight across the peaks were unparalleled.

The most special day was our first day-hike up above Ediza Lake to see two other high lakes and a mountain pass. We were thrilled to have a low-key day-hike with, finally, very few mosquitoes. We were also rewarded with sweeping spiky mountain views, the kind that make you feel like you have actually nearly climbed the mountain (although you haven't). It was just to the side of Cecile Lake, overlooking Mount Ritter and Banner Peak dimpled with afternoon sun and shadows, that Lance suddenly started waxing poetic and then all at once was down on one knee asking Amanda to marry him. I was a bit speechless and turned to the mountains for comfort in my moment of utter nervousness, but finally smiling Lance noted that his knee was getting cold, and wondered if I was going to say anything in response. Jerked back into reality, I smiled sheepishly at him and said yes. It all seemed a bit surreal, and we shivered a bit at being so decidedly adult, but were euphoric at deciding to get married in such a beautiful place. We celebrated by continuing to meander through our mellow, view-filled afternoon and trundling back to camp to enjoy a bottle of wine (artistically decanted into a nalgene) before dinner. The rest of the backpacking trip we felt a bit of the adrenaline rush of being newly engaged as we hiked around the Ansel Adams Wilderness asking ourselves if this was really true, and then whether we were prepared for such a bold step—rather glad actually that we had several days to absorb our new status before telling anyone else. We hiked a portion of the John Muir Trail, a historic route through the heart of the Sierras, on our way to see Thousand Island Lake, especially enjoying this scenic spot where the rather large lake really does seem to have a thousand scattered islands. The last night we camped at a small out of the way lake where the views were less expansive, but the water was invitingly warm. For the first time in the Sierras, we were able to comfortably paddle around the lake actually swimming for some time, and happily emerge from the water at the end, drying ourselves in the open air without a swarm of mosquitoes. We had a visitor of a different kind during the night, however. I woke up at some indeterminate dark hour to the sound of brush crackling, and an increasingly louder sniffing sound. Suddenly, as the sound approached the side of the tent where I lay, I became aware that it was a bear, and awakened Lance. We listened for a moment, and then Lance turned to look over his shoulder out the mosquito-netted tent door, and was staring directly at the nose and then head of the bear (if you ask, Lance will indicate with his hands just how large he believed that head to be). He exclaimed in surprise, which evidently surprised the bear as well, and much to our relief, the bear trundled off right then and disappeared into the woods. It was a bit difficult sleeping after that; I must have reawakened every hour for the rest of the night, wondering if the great sniffing would return. Thankfully, we had used our bear cans as directed, and all the food was safe and sound. Despite this last minute adventure, we were very sad to leave the Sierras the next day, as it was our goodbye to the Sierras overall, and we had seen and experienced so much in this wondrous terrain.

To make it to the Wallowas in the far northeast corner of Oregon from central California, we determined that we could pass through some less traveled areas, and even catch two more National Parks on the way. Heading up the east side of the Sierras on route 395 (one of our all-time favorite roads), we first managed a strategic visit to a hot springs. The water was lovely, the views across the valley expansive, and the mineral deposits fascinating. A group of volunteers had spent time carefully coaxing the water in particular paths, so that over time small waterfalls of hot water fell into several soaking pools. Later we drove the west shore of Lake Tahoe, enjoying the beautiful blue water, but rather aggravated by the crowds and obstreperous traffic. Then, it was up to Lassen National Park, through a rather unpopulated section of California. We thought to have a good view of Lassen Peak, and perhaps take a stroll to see a few sites while there. But when we arrived at noon and read our park brochure, it turned out to be only a five mile round-trip hike to the top of Lassen, and so on the spur of the moment we decided to scale the peak. After a rather leisurely morning, it was rather amusing to be sitting on the summit of the southern-most Cascade peak by a little after two in the afternoon. A great way to see the park and surrounding cinder cones after all, we decided, as we made our way down, and then pushed on to the north. We crossed the border back into Oregon for the first time since early March the following afternoon, just south of Klamath Falls. It is a little visited but beautiful part of Oregon, and we marveled at the size of Klamath Lake while following its shore to the north. By mid-day we arrived at Crater Lake National Park, the only such park in Oregon. Not especially impressive in terms of square miles, Crater Lake more than makes up for this in sheer beauty. I hadn't been for many years, and it was Lance's first time, but we both felt dutifully impressed as we eased up to the crater's rim for a look over. A huge lake which fills the caldera of an ancient volcano, the unbelievably rich and varied blues which make up the waters of the lake are its most compelling feature. To one side of the lake sits Wizard Island, the cap of the dormant volcanic cone. Rather than our usual hike, we simply spent a few hours gazing at the water, mesmerized by its color, drifting cloud shadows, wind patterns on its surface, and the steep edges of the caldera's rocky rim as it peaks above the waters. Reluctantly, we finally left the rim and made our way further north. We passed through Bend, the new Colorado of the West, and capital of outdoor activity in this area (happy to be able to procure a few backpacking supplies during our stop-over). And finally, just as sunset approached, entered the high desert of Eastern Oregon (thankfully nowhere near as hot as the California desert). This sets us up nicely (in the Ochocos, for those who know it!) for our direct line east to the Wallowas. We look forward to our last big backpack, and hooking up with Gillian again, who will meet us later in the day. So little time until we return to our regular lives; we must enjoy every bit of our last days! Best wishes to all!

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Photos

Amanda and Maria in Desolation Wilderness
Hiker chicas on the Summit

Aloha Lake
Desolation Wilderness

Cecile Lake
The engagement location!

Engagement Photo
Mt. Ritter and Banner Peak for a backdrop.