After yesterday’s geology experience, we decided to head back into the High Sierra for a lollipop loop west from Mammoth Lakes. By doing so, we would traverse part of the Ansel Adams Wilderness, touch the iconic Pacific Crest (PCT) and John Muir (JMT) Trails, and set foot (ever so briefly) in the John Muir Wilderness. 😃 There would also be a beautiful lake, an expansive meadow, ducks 🦆 in a creek, and (later in the day) lots of other people.Continue reading “Crater Meadow Loop (Sierra Nevada, CA) 08-Aug-2022”
June Lake, Gull Lake, Silver Lake, and Grant Lake form a curved line of waterbodies that drain melting snow from the Sierra Nevada into nearby Mono Lake. Rush Creek connects the High Sierra lakes of Waugh, Gem, and Agnew and funnels their waters into Silver Lake. The Rush Creek drainage, and its lakes, hasen’t been fully “natural” since the early 1900s, when dams, penstocks, and a power house were built to channel it’s water and hydroelectricity to Los Angeles.
I hadn’t been back to Rush Creek since we ice climbed there in the mid-1980s and I’d never gone far enough up in its drainage to seen either Agnew Lake or Gem Lake. So, after waiting out a day of rain 🌧😁 with visits to nearby Lee Vining (Mono Basin Visitor Center, Mono Lake Committee) and Mammoth Lake (Mammoth Mountaineering Supply), we were ready to tackle the short, but steep, hike up to Gem Lake.
The popular Rush Creek Trailhead is located at the north end of Silver Lake, tucked in between an RV park and a pack station. An early start gave us the trail mostly to ourselves on the way up; it was considerably busier as we were coming down.
The trail climbs gradually, but steadily, from the trailhead to where it crosses the cable tram tracks at about 8,000 feet (2,438 m). Not much of this trail is shaded, so going up in the cool of the morning was a plus. 😊 Along the way, we had a good view of anglers maneuvering their boats on mist-shrouded Silver Lake.
This cable tramway was built in 1915 to haul all the materials and supplies needed to build the three arch dams in the Rush Creek drainage. With an 18% grade in some places – and no way to stop if the cable broke – this looks like the scariest roller coaster ride you can imagine. 🥺 It was more than amazing that they hauled tons and tons of heavy stuff up this grade one little carload at a time. The system was supposed to be upgraded to a self-contained diesel-powered tram but, since the cable was still there, we couldn’t tell if that actually happened.
Past this first crossing of the tram rails, the trail steepens as it surmounts granite buttresses. It crosses the tram again, then levels out a bit before finally reaching Agnew Lake.
We rested in the shade of an ancient, twisted old juniper to gather our strength for the final push up to Gem Lake. Getting there was one of those illusory situations where we could see our goal which, despite heavy breathing and much sweat, never seemed to get any closer. 🙄
Part of the trail between Agnew and Gem runs on top of the penstocks that feed water from Gem Lake to the power house below near Silver Lake. As we plodded upward, it was hard not to think about the effort expended, 100 years ago, to dig a 1.5 mile (2.4 km) long ditch in solid rock up a steep slope at altitude – then haul up sections of large diameter pipe to stuff in that ditch. 😲 Not exactly a wilderness experience, but an amazing piece of history nonetheless.
Illusions aside, we did soon reach Gem Lake and the eastern boundary of the Ansel Adams Wilderness. We took a lengthy snack break on a rocky ridge overlooking the lake, marveling at the stunning scenery before us. Yesterday all of this had been shrouded in mists and (welcome) rain; today it was full bluebird for as far as the eye could see. 😎😍 We counted ourselves fortunate that today there were no wildfires nearby (as had been the case in past years) befouling the skies with smoke.
The third dam in this system is at Waugh Lake, about three miles (4.2 km) farther along. Since going there would have made today’s hike a lot longer than we wanted, we passed on visiting yet another dam. So, as other runners, hikers, and backpackers started arriving, we decided it was time for us to head down – an activity which gave our knees a good workout.
We got back to the trailhead around noon. This was good as the cool of the early morning had given way to a warm (but not too hot) day. We passed a number of hikers and backpackers – including a troop of Boy Scouts on an 8-day outing – all laboring up the trail in the sunshine and rising heat. 😅
So, at 6.3 miles (10.1 km) with 1,900 feet (580 m) of gain, another great hike on a wonderful day for one! Not exactly a pure wilderness experience, but nonetheless a good walk past some classic pieces of Sierra Nevada history. And the Rush Creek power house? Well, it continues to pump out 5 megawatts of carbon-free hydroelectric power, as it has for almost 100 years. 😁
The other day The LovedOne brought home a small book from the “free” box at the library. It turned out to be a 5th Edition (1953) of Starr’s Guide to the John Muir Trail and the High Sierra Region (purchased from the still extant Vroman’s Books in Pasadena, California). The guide’s paper dust jacket was still in good condition, so it was somewhat of a rare find (at least for us trail guide geeks). Even rarer were the notes I found inside: Log of the John Muir Trail Hike by Gary Croan (August 1956). These detailed the backpack Gary’s Scout troop did along the Muir Trail that summer from Yosemite Valley to Florence Lake. Also included were his personal gear list and a brochure for Dri-Lite Foods, one of the pioneers in freeze dried foods. His troop appears to have been based in the Los Angeles area, which meant they got to Yosemite Valley on [now old] Highway 99 since Interstate-5 didn’t exist in 1956. I’ve found brief notes in old guidebooks before, but this is the first set I’ve found detailing a backpack on an iconic trail in the days before permits and crowds and freeways. That he described the same backpack I did in August of 1972, sans scouts and going as far as Piute Creek, is a remarkable coincidence. I am not, however, reproducing Gary’s notes here as some nostalgic paean to the “good old days” – as hindsight tends to accentuate the “good” and edit out the “bad” – but merely as a look at a young person’s outdoor experience in a now bygone era.Continue reading “Gary Croan’s John Muir Trail (August 1956)”