Wright Lakes Basin

The ocean. The desert. California’s oak-studded coastal hills. They are all beautiful, but each of us has a favorite – a landscape that strums a chord deep inside. For me, it is the glacier-scoured granite expanses of the high Sierra. The occasional tree cover makes for a wide landscape. A wanderer can clearly see distant peaks, and no matter which way he or she may wander, the way is clear. It’s not easy, but when one looks down from the distant view, he is likely to find a gentle stream sliding past a garden of shooting stars and elephant heads. What is this delicate beauty doing amid such rough rocky country?

Wright Lakes Basin is a perfect example, and this image shows why. Gnarly foxtail pines make a living amid granite boulders; a creek tumbles toward the Kern River; the Great Western Divide as a backdrop. Good Lord.  
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Your Landscape

 


When I stood here at the entrance to Miter Basin, I was truly amazed. It was so vast and grand, and it had appeared so suddenly. The urge to enter and explore was irresistible; not only the basin floor but the succession of lakes I knew were nestled above. When my wife, Renée, saw this photo, or when she sees any landscape like it, she dismisses it as barren. It holds no allure for her.

I am interested in the responses people have to different landscapes. I won’t pretend to be a psychologist and guess what they might mean, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they might reveal a good deal about our basic nature. Renée loves a seaside setting or the golden oak-studded California hills. I do too, but they don’t trigger the same spinal tingle that I feel at the likes of Miter Basin.

I came to Miter Basin with four friends, and I was interested to note that the others set up camp in or near the grove of foxtail pines at the base of the slope you see in the picture. I preferred to plunk down near the middle of the basin so that I could feel the immensity of the landscape and see as much of the night sky as possible (the tent was only in case of rain). Mmmm, I wonder.
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Wherever we chose to roll out our bags, each of us was enchanted with Miter Basin. The rim of the basin is surrounded by 13,000′ peaks, and each recess above holds a mountain lake with its own unique charm. Beautiful fall reds colored a ground-hugging mosaic of alpine flora. Daybreak songs of a coyote choir echoed up and down the granite walls, adding to the mystery and magic.

Leave the psychologists out of it, I guess. Let each of us prefer the part of nature we do without explanation. “Why” isn’t important. The gift of just standing there is enough.

 

 

Guided Tour of Early California

Menjoulet CanyonIf you have ever wondered what California looked like before 38 million of us engineered it to meet our needs, allow William Brewer to take you on a guided tour.

In 1860, California’s state legislature named Josiah Dwight Whitney State Geologist and directed him “to make an accurate and complete Geological Survey of the State.” The first man Whitney appointed to the survey was William Henry Brewer, a man he had never met, but who came so highly recommended, he chose him sight unseen.

Over the next four years, the survey traveled the length and breadth of California. Whitney only occasionally joined the field survey team as his leadership responsibilities kept him tied to his San Francisco base. But Brewer was an ideal field leader who chronicled day-to-day events in regular letters sent back east to his brother, Edgar. Those letters have been compiled into a wonderful volume called that creates a vivid picture of a an unsullied state. Imagine Los Angeles, a city of only 3,500 souls. Or Monterey, population 1,500. During his descent of the Salinas Valley and his time on the Monterey peninsula, he is constantly concerned about the threat of Grizzly Bears.

Central Valley Wetland Lite

In early California, after a wet winter, one could almost row from the Coast Range to the Sierra foothills

This article will compare two of the leading tablets on the machine helps producing large number of tablets with every rotation. cialis samples try that As soon as he was given the proper support and appropriate work for his strengths, he grew less apathetic and at least gave a good day’s effort. online viagra soft you could try this out Moreover, we all know about the problem of erection, overdose of http://deeprootsmag.org/2014/12/18/our-christmas-best-to-you/our-christmas-best-spotlight/ cialis viagra can cause serious health problems. Health Benefits of generic cialis uk Medication cialis medication such as Kamagra has been shown to reduce risk of type 2 diabetes. I am early in my third reread of this book, and I am excited about what is in store. If you know some history of the Sierra, you know the story of the famous traverse of the Sierra by Clarence King and Richard Cotter that led to the ascent of Mt. Tyndall. Still regarded as one of the great mountaineering achievements, King and Cotter climbed Tyndall hoping it was the highest peak in the range. When they reached the top, they were disappointed to see a higher peak in the distance; Mt. Whitney. King tells an exaggerated death-defying tale of his climb of Tyndall (I can confirm this as I have climbed it by the same route. It is a simple scramble.) in his classic book “Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada.”

While the assembled letters make this volume eminently readable, don’t quickly flip the pages. It is a book to linger with, to steep in like a tea bag in warm water. You will be truly transported to time never to be seen again.

Humphreys above BishopTo mark the 150th anniversary of the survey, Tom Hilton has created a blog (http://upanddowncalifornia.wordpress.com/) with posts linking dates 150 years apart. He includes maps, photographs, and links to related historical and natural history resources.

While California has changed dramatically, the California Geological Survey just wasn’t that long ago. My 96-year-old mother has lived 2/3 of that time span. Amazing. It just wasn’t that long ago.

Open Space and Freedom

Distant Nevada Mtns

Keeping us Free

I have just cracked Ian Frazier’s book On The Rez. I have always admired Frazier as a writer, but steered away from this book for the very reason he states on page one that readers might be deterred: the story of the lives of present day Oglala Sioux on the Pine Ridge Reservation seems bleak.

It has quickly become apparent that in his hands, bleak will become bright and interesting. He is a master. After only one chapter, he has dazzled me and turned some of my long-held beliefs on end. In that opening chapter, Frazier reframes the story of European/Indian interaction to show how Europeans have adapted to Indians ways, not how they have been forced to adapted to us. He cites many examples, but the one that has stuck with me is the role Indians played in shaping the freedom we enjoy in the United States.

What the…? I know. I had the same response, but bear with me.

Frazier points out the tendency across all American Indian traditions toward “disregard for titles and for a deep egalitarianism.” He further writes, “The Indian inclination toward personal freedom,…made for endless division and redivision among tribes.” When tribe members couldn’t get along, some left and went on their own. To make the point, Frazier lists the many subcategories of Sioux, a result of groups diverging to pursue their preferred way of life.
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When Europeans came to the New World, they had no experience with freedom or democracy as we know it today. Through history, they had lived under the rule of potentates. Frazier says, “In the land of the free, Indians were the original “free”; early America was European culture reset in and Indian frame. Europeans who survived here became a mixture of identities in which the Indian part was what made them American and different than they had been before… Thanks to Indians, we learned we didn’t have to kneel to George III.” He cites Benjamin Franklin’s admiration of the confederacy of the six Iroquois nations who remarks what a fine (and new) model it might be for a union of states.

What lay beneath the Indian “inclination toward personal freedom” and decentralization of power that rubbed off on European settlers? According to Frazier; open space – lots of open space. If you aren’t happy here, you are free to go over there. And for early settlers in America there was a lot of “over there.”

I have always been aware of the great personal sense of freedom I feel in wide open spaces, but I never thought of open space as a force for freedom across society as a whole. Frazier skillfully connects the dots from the Indian influence on early European settlers to the principles set down in our Constitution; the founding document of the world’s first democracy.

This adds a new dimension to the significance of open space. It’s not just a sanctuary of peace and personal freedom. The DNA of freedom as a force in the world resides in open space. It was born there and is sustained there.

Path to a Favorite Photo

W-Chorten-CholatseAt the Sherpa village of Gokyo (15, 580 ft.), we decided to split up. My sister, Scott, and one porter would decend the Dudh Kosi drainage to its junction with the Imja Khola, then ascend that river to the village of Dingboche. Rather than go down and around with them, I would go with our guide and a porter over Cho La, the pass that connects the two drainages, and we would reunite at Dingboche. Our guide had never been over Cho La, but it all looked straightforward.

We parted ways just below Gokyo. Ratna, our guide, the porter, and I crossed the Ngozumpa Glacier and began our ascent of the pass. It was steep, but pleasant going under a bright sun over solid rock footing. At the top of the 17,780-foot pass, things changed. Instead of rock, we were now walking on a glacier. Instead of sunshine, we were wrapped in a low cloud dusting us with gentle snow flurries. But, no problem; the route was clear and there was a gentle magic about walking through a delicate snow flurry in the Himalayas.

We reached the lone trekking lodge at Dzonglha (15,912 ft.), our destination for the day. All of the lodges we had stayed in before were primitive, but each had a coarse quaintness and a bright open feeling. Not this one. In a room so dark it felt subterranean, I rolled my sleeping bag out on an unclaimed portion of a long common sleeping pad where all visitors would spend the night. The luxury of resting after the day’s effort trumped any concerns about the accommodations.

Ratna came in and tapped me on the shoulder. The porter did not feel well, and we would have to pack up and go lower. Ratna carried the porter’s load, and I carried Ratna’s load so that the porter could walk unburdened. The pace of the earlier snowfall had increased, and now it was nearly dark. Off we went.
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Our destination was Tuglha, about three miles and 1,000 feet down the slope. Each of us walked through the snowy darkness in our own envelope of silence. After a while, it was clear to me we had walked longer and farther than the distance to Tuglha. Where were we, and where were we going? I can’t remember the conversation I had with Ratna, but all we could do was keep walking. Finally, I heard nearly the sweetest sound I have ever heard: Yak bells. We were just outside Lobuche. Instead of three miles, we walked five. Instead of dropping lower, we climbed higher.

M-Himalayan Pass

Cho La

The next day, the porter was fine. We marched down the lightly snow-dusted valley to Dingboche where we rejoined my sister and Scott. Over lemon tea at a village tea house, we shared our misadventures and then found lodging for the night. The next day, low clouds chilled the morning air, but as they began to dissipate, they luffed and danced on the surrounding peaks revealing them in the most artistic and spectacular ways. As I walked through Dingboche, I looked up to see a Stupa appear in front of Taboche and got this image; my favorite from the trip.

Can I Buy You a Beer?

B&W Bristlecone Lite

Excuse me, do you have time for a beer?

When I am on the trail, I often run into people or “lower” life forms that impress me. I am moved to think that it would be great to sit down with those creatures and talk. Not talk actually, but listen. There is something about the people that venture into the wild and the things that live there that fascinate me and arouse my curiosity.

To wit: When my son and I walked the John Muir Trail, we regularly bumped into Rose along the way. Rose was from England, she was approaching middle age, and she had come to the United States by herself to take a 220-mile three-week walk through the Sierra wilderness. Only a very special woman sits on her sofa in England and says to herself, “I think I will go to America and walk the John Muir Trail alone. Yes, that’s a good idea.” I would like to sit down with that woman, have a beer, and just hear what she has to say. Rose, I am not going to talk, I am going to listen. I want to hear the musings of a spirit like yours.

Another woman, Joanne, who lives in my home town divided the John Muir Trail into four sections and hiked one each summer for four years. This past summer, Joanne completed the last section of the trail. That means she hauled a pack over 13,200-foot Forester Pass, then walked another twenty-five miles to the summit of 14,495-foot Mt. Whitney. Joanne is 82 years old.
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Wouldn’t you, wouldn’t anyone love to sit down with Joanne and simply listen to her say whatever she chooses to talk about? I know that in the course of drinking a beer or two with Joanne or Rose I would be immeasurably enriched. How could it be any other way? What’s more, on the trail, I frequently meet people with bright spirits like theirs. In a world where it is easy to lapse into cynicism, the people I meet like Rose and Joanne make me proud to be a member of the human race.

This beer-buying urge even occurs with creatures, trees in particular. Have you ever walked past a massive tree on an exposed alpine ridge gnarled and twisted by ages of holding fast against hail and snow pushed by a raking wind and wondered what it has seen during its life? Pick any bristlecone pine from the White Mountains. The Methuselah tree, still alive and well there, was 3,000 years old when Jesus was born.

What have these ancient monarchs seen? What do they have to teach? I would like to know. My gray matter is extremely thick, but very slowly I am beginning to learn their language. I will never be fluent, but I will continue to listen.

Glimpse of the Past

It must have been a sight to see. Two hundred years ago, the Great Plains nourished Serengeti-like herds of bison and pronghorn. The Rockies were bursting with wolf, beaver, grizzlies, moose and other mammals that fill the journals of the first Europeans to come to the American West. Now, the west that seemed so vast is fully mapped and managed, and most descendents of the long gone herds are confined to a few parks and preserves.

Sunrise Moose LiteWhile the lost wildlife of the wild west is fuel for sad reflection and even cynicism, a recent road trip lifted my spirits and gave me a glimpse into that vanished past. Though it is mostly limited to locations circled on the map, within those boundaries there is still beauty and amazing drama happening every day.

We camped by the Madison River. The night before, we had taken a walk past the beaver lodges and dams near the shore. As we left our campsite the next morning, we decided to take one last look at the river. Good thing. The low fog cast a gentle morning spell and revealed shifting silhouettes of the conifers across the lazy river. Softened by the fog, an orange disk rose through the pines warming the steel-gray setting. Just as still and peaceful, two moose stood motionless in the middle of the river. I have never (nor am I likely to again) seen such a sight. Utter stillness and peace in a moody monochromatic setting; cool fog, warm hazy sunrise. Man, oh man.
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Wolf Kill liteIt wasn’t there when we drove through the Lamar Valley the day before, so we knew it happened last night. An elk carcass lay near the road, its chest cavity empty and its ribs picked clean. As I stared at the scene, I shuddered at visions of the drama that occurred right here only hours before. At the prospect of seeing one of the culprits, we walked the open slopes a short distance away. Sure enough, a wolf pranced along the top of the next knoll. I can’t say for sure, but he seemed to exude a cocky self-assurance and the satisfaction that comes from a full stomach.

No question, we have corralled and tamed what remains of the wild west. But get up early, look around, and you might catch a glimpse the wild that once was.

Denali

 

Denali1Stop! Can I get off?

From the Kantishna Roadhouse at the end of the 92-mile road into Denali National Park, I boarded a van heading out for a guided hike on the McKinley Bar Trail. As we climbed out of the Kantishna Valley, Denali came into view beautifully reflected in a perfectly still Wonder Lake. Up ahead, we came to peaceful Reflection Pond, another stunning foreground to Denali in the early morning.

I couldn’t stand it. I asked our guide if she would stop the van and drop me off.

If you are getting your driver’s license at the tadalafil canadian amerikabulteni.com earliest. Nitric oxide promotes muscle relaxation in the corpus cialis 20mg no prescription cavernosum region of the penis. Here is a list of cheap generic viagra some other top supplements for aphrodisiac: 1. Laurie is also the author of The children’s fantasy novel The Dream Dealer, who will be discussing about try that tadalafil purchase online the different type of diets and it’s advantages and disadvantages. Photography is a double-edged sword. The dogged pursuit of a perfect image can sometimes distract a person from being fully present in a breathtaking setting. On the other hand, photography often expands our vision allowing us to see a place in a whole new way. Denali is usually obscured by clouds, but on this peaceful morning it was visible from base to summit. I could not let such an opportunity pass.

Denali Detail1

On a short visit to Denali National Park like ours, one is usually on a shuttle bus or part of a group. Time alone is rare. Out of the van, I enjoyed a rare moment of solitude in the midst of a silent immensity-not simply to photograph Denali, but to wander the tundra at my whim. Between impassable thickets of alder, I was able to drift freely through the reddening bearberry, blueberry, and dwarf birch bushes in any direction I chose.

On this morning, I enjoyed the best of both worlds. I got photos of Denali that pleased me, and I was able to relax and enjoy the setting like a tea bag steeping in warm water.

 

Just You

W-Evolution-Lake-TentA manic rush of hail drummed the ground sheet we pulled over our heads as temporary shelter against the sudden cloudburst.  My son and I scooted under the cover of a whitebark pine, but the tree’s struggle against timberline conditions left only a few sparse branches and little protection.

It was day 12 of our trip down the John Muir Trail, and we had not experienced a single day without rain or hail.

Confronted with this predicament at home, we would simply step inside, take off our wet clothes, and turn up the thermostat.  Problem solved.  But in the midst of this hail storm, our shelter was rolled up in our packs.  We had wet and windy work to do before we would enjoy warmth and comfort.
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I truly believe that moments like this in the wilderness – truly alone, where one’s hold on basic comforts is so tenuous – change a person in a profound way.  In our day-to-day lives, we face few situations that are elemental – where our resourcefulness and ingenuity can mean the difference between life and death.

We venture into nature to see the world just made.  Out there is deafening silence, staggering beauty, and restorative peace – maybe even a glimpse across the transcendent void.  But we also get a chance to test ourselves against the challenges that a powerful and indifferent force can summon.  Get through a fearful crisis in the middle of nowhere, and watch yourself grow.

Mountain Vista

W-Lyell-Sunrise2I knew it was up there; I just hadn’t taken the time to go. And I knew that sunrise would be the best time to record it, but that meant spending the night. Today I would set aside all the reasons I hadn’t gone to photograph Mt. Lyell and Mt. Maclure from the Kuna Crest and go.

Above Tuolumne Meadows, on the way to Tioga Pass, is the Mono Pass trailhead. From here one can take day hikes to a variety of sights along the Sierra crest: miner’s cabins, alpine lakes, Sierra bighorn sheep habitat. It’s only a few miles to historic Mono Pass which drops down Bloody Canyon to the Mono Basin.

As you walk that gentle trail toward Mono Pass, the Kuna Crest is the high wall on your right. The Lyell fork of the Tuolumne River and the John Muir Trail are on the other side. At he end of the Lyell fork, Mt. Lyell and Mt. Maclure reach to over 13,000 feet. I was chasing the view of those peaks from the Kuna Crest.

I walked the Mono Pass trail for only a mile or so until Mammoth Peak (not Mammoth Mountain) was on my right. There, I turned right, left the trail, and made my way up. The sights along the way were classic alpine Sierra settings: just-born creeks twisting through high alpine meadows brightened by gardens of heather. All this sat softly beneath a steep slope of granite scree. The juxtaposition of delicate beauty and the cold indifferent rock above was striking.
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I scrambled up rock, then across a snowfield to the ridgeline. Then, a short ramble to the crest.

Amid the jungle of boulders that comprised the summit, there were several flat sandy spots that would easily accomodate my sleeping bag. I rolled out, sat, and just looked. On my left, Lyell and Maclure with their bright glacier looked back at me. Straight ahead was Tuloumne Meadows and all the familiar peaks of the Cathedral Range. On my right, Tioga Pass and the Sierra crest. I sat and watched until the sun set.

The next morning, I rose in time to get my shot. I was back at the car by lunch time. The picture is a favorite, but it was one of those outings where everything was perfect, especially the sitting and looking.

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