I head out late Tuesday afternoon. It takes 4 hours to drive from LA to Bishop and I get there after dark, my destination - some Bureau of Land Mgmt. land east of town in the desert where dispersed camping is allowed. I drive 3 miles east out Line Rd. past the ranches where the road turns south into the
Dawn, east of Bishop, dispersed car camping
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desert. I go a little further to get away from town and after about 5 miles out, turn off at a flat spot near Black Canyon Rd. where the rolling hills climb from the Owens Valley. By the car headlights, I see trash and spent shell cartridges galore (ugly) but its chilly and dark so I'm hoping the BillyBob's won't come out for target practice tonight. It's very windy as I set up my big car camping tent so I park my car as a wind block and quickly fall fast asleep.
I'm up at 6:30am and get to see the terrain where I've camped for the first time as sun lights up the eastern Sierra. It's nice and frosty out - another perfect weather day. After a big breakfast at Jack's Restaurant, where they always remember my name (Honey), I head over to the USFS White Mountain Visitor Center to pick up my Wilderness Permit. The ranger isn't familiar with hiking on Jigsaw Pass and conditions there, but recommends I bring a rope to lower my backpack and reminds me of the snow forecast for the weekend, possibly up to 1 inch. I always carry a cord and I'm ready for snow, so check and check.
Three young guys behind me are also getting a permit to explore Dusy Basin.
Hwy. 168 west from Bishop
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From Bishop, I drive up to South Lake, 17mi. southwest on Hwy. 168, then turn on South Lake Rd. and take that another 7 mi. to the end, and park at the top backpacker's lot near the Bishop Creek trailhead. I get my pack ready, then hike down to the beginning of the parking lot. All of today is set aside for transit between South Lake and my entry trailhead at Big Pine Lakes. I have to find a ride 7 mi. back to Hwy. 168, 17 mi. back to Bishop, 12 miles down Hwy. 395 to Big Pine and then 10 miles up Glacier Lodge Rd. to the Big Pine Lakes trailhead. I expect it to take 3 or 4 different rides, and possibly all day.
The first likely candidate I ask is an older fellow with a big pickup truck taking pictures with his wife and grown son at the boat ramp. "Sure", he'll give me a ride down to Bishop, they're even going to Big Pine, if I want a ride there. First person I ask, very nice! They're from Chula Vista in San Diego county, just a few miles north of the Mexican border, and have just spent much of the last week fishing in the area, staying at Parchers Resort. They come here yearly to fish the creek and are dismayed by how low the water levels are because of the severe California draught. The conversation gets around to cross-border drug running, and the wife tells the story of how her milk company makes regular delivery runs south into Mexico. This was noticed by some narco-traffickers, who scoped her business out for days, asking surreptitious questions to employees as they left work. Then one day, one of their drivers got busted at Customs coming back into the US with several bales of marijuana hidden in the spare tire well underneath his truck, and spent days in jail. Turns out these narco-traffickers wired the weed under the poor guy's truck while he was at a motel stop in Mexico, preparing to follow him and retrieve it in the US somehow. Audacious. I'm sure they succeed like this many times.
I'm very pleased to get into Big Pine almost as fast as if I were driving. Then comes a long wait in the tiny town, trying to get a ride 10 miles west up relatively deserted Glacier Lodge Rd on a very hot Wednesday morning. I sure don't want to walk up the highway that far, but I will if it seems hopeless. I find a shady spot and pull out the thumb. In the first hour and a half, only a dozen cars are headed west, and almost all are obviously just going locally a few blocks.
As luck would have it, a nice resident named Steve is walking by on his way to the post office, and offers me a ride if I'm here when he returns, which of course I am. So we walk a few blocks to Steve's house, jump in his car and he drives me up to the Big Pine Lakes trailhead at the end of the road, filling
Autumn colors in Big Pine Lakes basin |
me in on local trivia like the endangered frog conservation effort at Sixth and Seventh Lake. Steve is retired from Los Angeles Dept. of Water and Power and has worked as a conservation/land use spokesman for big oil in Alaska. I didn't know the extent of LADWP's holdings, but Steve says they own most of the land in the entire Owens Valley, purchased cheap early in the 20th century to supply water to Los Angeles 230 miles south. For the locals, there's sometimes a love/hate relationship, that a "foreign" entity has such a stranglehold on the land and resources for use elsewhere, while at the same time, this ownership prevents development and for the most part, keeps things the way they are in perpetuity.
So a big thanks to Steve and I'm on the Big Pine Lakes trail by early afternoon - perfect! I couldn't have hoped to make better time. Actually, it's kind of what I'd expected because the people of Owens Valley have big hearts and the many outdoors types who come here are often receptive to helping out backpackers, but I was prepared for a worst case scenario - not getting any rides, or just partial rides.
Aspens |
It's little windy but a beautiful clear Autumn day as I start out the North Fork trail along playful Big Pine Creek. The leaves are turning all over the mountains, with the gold from the aspens fluttering in the breeze, catching the sun. In no time, I've climbed the first switchbacks, past First Falls, a cascade hidden beneath rocks and trees. There's no one to be seen as I cross the big plateau between above First Falls and start up the steep switchbacks west. |
At the top of Second Falls is the sign marking the entry into the John Muir Wilderness and
Sign above Second Falls
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soon I'm passing the silent era movie star Lon Chaney's cabin in a small clearing, marked on my Nat. Geo map as a place called Cienega Mirth. The big cabin, finished in 1930, is shuttered and closed to the public, but you can see the workmanship that went into the stone chimney and foundation, and the big front porch. Gurgling Big Pine Creek is right at the doorstep and 11,630' Mt. Alice rises above it. I'm a little surprised at the somewhat confined location it was built, surrounded by big shady conifers that thoroughly constrict any view. Maybe the trees have grown up considerably in the last 100 years, but there are certainly many more dramatic spots in the Sierra for a rich Hollywood superstar to have built an extravagant cabin in the 1930's. Although he and his guests camped in the area for many years, apparently Mr. Chaney got to stay in the finished cabin only a few seasons before he died. The Forest Service initially thought to tear it down when this land became their jurisdiction, but that was decided to be too much trouble.
First & Second Lakes
First Lake is mostly hidden from the trail, but a glimpse through the trees show it to be pretty much run-of-mill and nondescript. Second Lake is definitely scenic destination material, with it's dramatic blue color and a full view of 13510' Mt. Gayley and 12976' Temple Crag to the southwest. It's the biggest of the nine in Big Pine Lakes basin. Much of the shoreline is steep rockfall slope and giant boulders, but the north side where the trail passes by has ample camping opportunities.
Third Lake
From Second Lake, the trail climbs dramatically around the mountain, high above the lakes, closer to the big peaks. Almost 4 hours out from the trailhead, Third Lake comes into view, and its aquamarine color is startling in the late afternoon sun. As the trail climbs west, more dramatic views open up and most of the lake is visible, directly beneath the jagged spires of Temple Crag. Like Second Lake, the shore is mostly moraine and boulder but at the northwest end, there's a flat area to camp. I meet a solo hiker lady, a tough, wiry 60-something French native, who's been exploring at the glacier, and camped at Third Lake. Getting down to Third Lake from the trail involves a steep descent on a use trail.
Four way intersection near Fourth Lake
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Fourth Lake
The higher you climb in Big Pine Lakes basin, the more dramatic the scenery. Beyond Third Lake, another trail intersects that leads south to the Palisades Glacier and Sam Mack Meadow. By early evening, I've climbed to the 4-way junction for Fourth, Fifth, Summit and Black Lakes. Fourth Lake is a few hundred yards
Fourth Lake peninsula |
through the forest, but the others are out of view. Some guys are camped on the finger peninsula that sticks into Fourth Lake. It looks like an idyllic spot to camp at first glimpse, and the natural place any hiker would gravitate to. They call out a hello as I walk by and even though its several hundred yards away, our voices echo clearly. I ask if they know of any camping at Summit Lake and they say there are 1 or 2 spots, and that I'll have it all to myself.
Summit Lake
After almost 6 hours of non-stop climbing up the trail, I'm kind of beat and looking forward to making camp,
Dusk arrives at Summit Lake |
but it's still a long steep climb to Summit Lake. The wind has picked up dramatically and big gusts slam through the treetops. On the way, I scout a large empty stock/horse camp high above Fourth Lake that could easily hold dozens of tents, but there's no water. I'm really pushing myself up the last big hill to Summit Lake and find that indeed I have it all to myself. Summit Lake, as expected, is surrounded by steep embankments and massive boulders. After a look around, I find there's really only one readily accessible clearing that could hold 2, maybe 3 tents, somewhat sheltered from the wind in some trees. I'm glad I don't have to share.
Crazy wind
After I set up camp, I have a few minutes to look around before dark, admiring the suns last rays on Temple Crag. After dinner, I boulder hop around the lake by the light of my headlamp to grab some star field shots. The wind gusts are now somewhat crazy, sustained blasts of 35-40mph that go on for five long minutes, then die down for five more. All night long, the wind rips through Big Pine Lakes basin, racing across the lake, ripping through the trees. The straining branches and rustling leaves of every tree within miles echoes across the high basin, a kind of dramatic roar that I haven't heard in all my years of hiking in the High Sierra—not a howling shrill noise, but kind of a thunderous softened woosh that fills the air like a hundred freight trains wearing fur coats.
It's a little unsettling to hear all that unrestrained power hour after hour, because there are trees above this, the only campsite. But they're all sturdy and healthy looking, so rather than concern myself with the sleep I'm losing, I find myself marveling at the dramatic sound. Those poor guys down on the peninsula at Fourth Lake - I bet they're wondering what they were thinking setting up in that exposed spot on the water now!
I'd overlooked when packing that my $160 ultralight sleeping pad had developed a slow leak, too small to be detected with water. It's been great for years, but may have seen it's last days. I had tried to convince myself when it began deflating on previous outings that it was just the sensitive material reacting to the change in air temperature. But now there's no denying - it's leaking. Every 3 hours I have to struggle to pull it out from underneath me, blow it back up, and then struggle to put it back. arg.. |