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.

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.

Yosemite in October

Light on SaplingsIt wasn’t long ago that outside Yosemite Valley, you could expect to nearly have the park to yourself in October. I remember several fall trips to the top of Cathedral Peak where I was almost alone. Nevertheless, I enjoy the park this time of year. Things are quieter than mid-summer, and there is something special about the lazy feel of autumn days against such a powerful landscape.

Maybe sixteen years ago, my son Drew and I backpacked into Young Lakes, a lovely spot about six miles out of Tuolumne Meadows. On that occasion and one other, I had tried to climb Mt. Conness and failed. With Drew, we simply went to the wrong mountain; 12,057-foot White Mountain, not far away. Another time, on a quick trip up from my sea level home, I simply didn’t have the poop. Despite my 64 years, I hoped Conness would be within my trudging range this time.

With canada viagra buy this significant help of the drug shopping over the web assists ED patients to save their efforts to seek the drug at the local drugstores. Good news is scientists are exploring more effective means to prevent the infiltration of macrophages, disturbing the interaction between heart and kidney during buy tadalafil in australia http://raindogscine.com/project/78-revoluciones/ dysfunction of each or both organs has practical clinical implications. Sexually transmitted sicknesses are not ensured by buy levitra australia super p force. The causes of ED are various, so the treatment has to be different. order levitra canada and similar bills are only for fixing ED caused by lower production of nitric oxide in the penis area. Ragged Pk ReflectionEither way, it would be lovely, and indeed it was. Yes, the flowers are gone, but so are the bugs and most of the people. And the golden hue of the willows and the grasses is a magic all its own. There is something I love about sitting in my Thermarest camp chair, wrapped in my down bag, headlamp on, comfortably reading a book while inches away my water bottle is slowly freezing. I feel like I am getting away with something so comfortably ensconsed in such a wild and magnificent setting.

I made it to Conness with very little whining and barely a tear shed. My entry in the summit register was the only one that day. Among the three Young Lakes or going up and down Mt. Conness, every sight took my breath away.

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.

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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.

Kibbie Lake

Lake Erratic ViewWhen I heard a Yosemite ranger tout Kibbie Lake as the finest overnight backpack site in the park, I sprang into action.  I avoid backpacking in the Yosemite because of the crowds and generally head to the east side, but it’s a long haul.  If Kibbie Lake has the spectator value, reasonable solitude, and is two hours closer to home, I’m in.

W-Kibbie-Shooting-StarsA little snooping around the web was encouraging, so Dave Sellers and I synchronized our calendars and set out.

Kibbie Lake sits just inside the northwestern boundary of Yosemite.  In fact, the trailhead is also an entry point into the southern reaches of Emigrant Wilderness which borders the park there.  Since the trailhead straddles two juridictions (Yosemite NP and Stanilaus NF), a permit can be obtained from either source.  But Yosemite is beyond the driving route to the trailhead.  Since you will pass by the Stanislaus NF office in Groveland, it’s more convenient to get your permit there.

Past Buck Meadows on Highway 120, turn left onto the road to Cherry Lake.  A twisty-turny 30 miles later, over the Cherry Lake Dam to the end of the road, you will finally reach the end of the road.
From the get-go, I was skeptical, but Kibbie Lake scored high.  The hike was moderate (4 miles, 500 feet elevation gain), the setting had all the Sierra bells and whistles (granite walls, lovely streams and gardens), and while there were other campers nearby, we were always alone.

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Two thumbs up for Kibbie Lake.

 

 

 

Chasing Spring

M-Tioga Rainbow1The flatlands are drying up, so it is time to start chasing springtime up the mountains.  Highway 395 on the east side of the Sierra is my preferred portal to alpine country, and Tioga Pass is the most direct route there.  But when will Tioga Pass open?  After the record snowfall this past winter, it will likely be later than usual; I heard one report that it may not open at all.

But Tioga Pass is more than just a route to somewhere else.  There are several places close to the road that are drop-dead gorgeous.  I had seen another photographer’s pictures of Gaylor Lakes, a short walk from the pass, and I decided to look for myself.

From the small parking lot just inside the Yosemite entrance at Tioga Pass, I shouldered my camera gear and made the short steep walk through oxygen-poor air to the ridge above.  The view from there overlooks a shallow valley scoured clean by a long-gone glacier that cradles Gaylor Lakes.  Beyond the valley are the peaks of the Cathedral Range  – a stunning view.
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I set up my tripod and sat patiently hoping for something special as the sun moved lower in the western sky.  It was lovely to watch, but nothing developed that was particularly pixel-worthy.  In an idle moment, I turned back toward Mt. Dana, and nearly did a back flip.  While I sat in a stupor gazing over there, look what was happening over here!

Man, I snapped into action like an EMT at a 20-car pile-up.  Gotta catch this before it passes.  I love this picture, but honestly, a chimp could have taken it.  It just shows that the trick is to just go out there…and every once in a while, turn around.

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