SHR Day 8: Minarets, Ritter & Banner

Day 8: Minarets, Ritter & Banner

We got up in the dark and as the morning light crept into the sky we were serenaded by a coyote from somewhere very near by. Kinda cool. Kinda creepy.

The steep climb up to Nancy Pass was the familiar blend of grassy steps, a dirty scree path and blocky talus with a little bit of bushwhacking thrown in for good measure. The geology of this region was very different from the southern high Sierra and we were presented with talus of a wider variety of shapes and sizes - not as many car-sized boulders, but lots of unstable rocks from microwave to grapefruit to pea size. It required a lot of concentration to navigate, but the colors of the different rocks were amazing and provided good distraction.

On the opposite side of Nancy Pass, we dropped down some steep talus, contoured around several wooded benches and wandered through green meadowlands before climbing up to Minaret Lake. There is a maintained trail that goes from the JMT straight to Minaret Lake and we’d be lying if we said we didn’t kind of wish we’d just opted to take it from the get go. Looking up we could start to see the steep and craggy towers of the Minarets above.

After contouring around the lake you come to an imposing headwall that forms a dam for Cecile Lake above. We climbed up to it and despite all the footprints indicating that it was the correct path, were stumped by how to mount what Roper nonchalantly describes as a short “third class slot”. Without a pack on, the climbing would be fine, but with a pack on it was decidedly more difficult, particularly for those of a shorter stature. As Becky fretted and fumed about being sand-bagged by stupid Steve Roper (Pete still maintains it was really only third class and not all that bad), a group of eight Russian trail angels from Florida (no kidding) with a rope appeared and graciously offered to climb up the 20 foot section and then haul our packs on their rope. They’d backpacked this section many years ago and knew a haul line for their particularly large backpacks would be handy. Becky badly wanted to find a different way around so as to navigate the section independently, but there was no other obvious path so we thanked them profusely and accepted their offer. Had our fellow backpackers not arrived, we would’ve figured something out, either climbing with packs or pulling the perlon guylines from the tent to make a haul line, but accepting the assistance was a nice time-saver.

Soon we were standing at the top, packs in hand, once again thanking the Russians for their generosity. We traversed around Cecile Lake to its outlet and started down what might be the grossest section of route we’d been on. Very steep, very loose, very dirty and with bad runout to a lake below and potentially sloughing cliffs above. We actually wished we had climbing helmets at that point. We descended to Iceberg Lake without incident and stopped at one of the most beautifully positioned lakes we’d seen yet. It was crystal clear with numerous granite formations under the water that you can clearly see and above it tower all of the Minarets. There is also a maintained trail that climbs directly to Iceberg Lake from the JMT and we decided that if we ever do this route again, we’re making a beeline for Iceberg and skipping the nonsense of the previous five hours.

The next four hours had us traversing through a broad, beautiful basin peppered with boulders and streams below Ritter Peak before climbing up gentle benches and slopes to a shoulder above Nydiver Lakes (beautiful lakes!) We took a short break and Becky noted that her feet, ankles and knees were really starting to feel the miles of uneven terrain of the previous week and especially that day. We hadn’t really thought about it until just then, but Pete’s orthotics in his trail-running shoes were basically thick, rigid plastic plates from the balls of his feet back to his heels...no wonder the rocky terrain hadn’t battered his feet as badly as Becky’s.  We fueled up and tackled the last couple of miles to Thousand Island Lake, our final destination of the day.

Before we even set up camp, we threw down our packs and waded into to the thigh-deep, relatively warm lake for a soak. Becky’s feet were on fire with blisters and her knees felt like balloons. This condition prompted us to begin a discussion of what to do next. If we continued on the SHR, we would start another 11 mile, highly convoluted, completely off-trail section the next day before hitting a final 20 miles of trail to get us back to the car. Or we could hightail it over to the JMT, a short two mile hike from where we were and be back to the car in just 20 on-trail miles. Or we could take a zero day at the lake to rest and then proceed with the SHR. This was when we kind of wished we’d brought that extra day of food we left behind at Red’s. Taking a zero day meant eating all of the extra “emergency” food we’d brought so if we had a real emergency later, we’d be hosed. We decided to sleep on it.

Day 9: Donahue Pass

SHR Day 7: resupply, Superior Lake

Day 7:  resupply, Superior Lake

We started the day with a four mile hike through forest and an old burned area down to Red’s Meadow Resort where we’d dropped off a box of food and supplies one week earlier. While collecting our cache we discovered the manager of the resort was from West Salem and had a house just a few blocks from where Pete had grown up. Small world!

We sorted food and gear while inhaling potato chips and fruit juice from the general store. Based on our pace from the first 55 miles, we decided that we could complete the next 45 mile section in five days instead of six and we ended up leaving behind quite a bit of food. We would kind of regret that a little bit later on.

Red’s was the lowest elevation we’d been at in a week - 7750 feet and departing that elevation at 11:15am to start our climb up to a lake at 9500 feet meant just one thing - it was going to be hot. And it was. We got back on the JMT for a few more miles before turning east to catch the trail to Superior Lake. This was a an extremely boring, dry, dusty climb through the forest. We were encouraged by thoughts of swimming in what was sure to be a lovely alpine lake if it had been named “Superior”...right? Wrong. It was a green, algae-filled, muddy, grassy-banked pond that had no good entry points for swimming. There was nothing superior about this body of water, but it was water and we needed some so we put down camp for the night.

The next section of the route would go completely off trail and once again we found ourselves staring up at the slope we would have to ascend in the morning thinking “Really?” Looking at the map we knew we had a long way to go the next day so we set the alarm for 5:30am in order to get us on the trail by 6:45am.

Day 8: Minarets, Ritter & Banner

SHR Day 6: Duck Lake, Deer Lakes, Mammoth Crest

Day 6: Duck Lake, Deer Lakes, Mammoth Crest

We were definitely not in the remote high country of the Sierras anymore. The next six miles of the SHR shared the trail with the JMT. In the previous five days, we’d seen a grand total of 16 people. In the first two hours of hiking on the JMT we saw 30.

We turned off the JMT at the Duck Lake trail intersection and climbed 2 miles up to the very lovely Duck Lake. We continued climbing up to Duck Pass, a popular Mammoth area day hike and then veered off the trail to walk cross country over to the small, colorful, almost Caribbean-looking Deer Lakes. We took a long break at Deer Lakes to filter water and completely cool off as the next six miles would climb up and over the completely waterless and largely treeless Mammoth Crest. The climb up the crest was very warm, dry and dusty, but periodic breezes from the west kept things reasonably comfortable. We had great views on all sides though it was a little strange to look down on the civilization of Mammoth Lakes after five days in the remote backcountry. We had line of sight to the cell towers on Mammoth mountain so we were able to check in with friends and family before continuing on.

The trail we’d been on veered east to a trailhead down toward Mammoth Lakes, but we needed to continue north so we followed a faint path through increasingly dusty and squishy pumice. Our final descent was down a steep drainage of ankle deep pumice that was truly awful. The gaitors won MVP piece of gear that day. We camped at McLeod lake that night which, being only two miles from a major trailhead, felt a bit like camping in a city park with the number of people around. At one point a woman walked by video-chatting on her iPhone while walking her dog as Pete filtered water from the lake. Weird.

Day 7: resupply, Superior Lake

SHR Day 5: Big Horn Pass, Shout-of-Relief Pass, Lake Virginia

Day 5: Big Horn Pass, Shout-of-Relief Pass, Lake Virginia

Sure enough - the steep, grassy couloir goes! A mixture of grassy steps and minor scrambling brought us to Big Horn Pass overlooking Rosy Finch Lake. Nothing technical, but we wouldn’t have enjoyed doing the climb in wet conditions. From Big Horn Pass, we looked across a ½ mile-wide basin of big boulders and steep buttresses to another pass on the opposite side. We spent the next hour+ negotiating our way up, down and around the obstacles. Again, nothing technical, just slow and methodical.

We climbed up to the aptly titled Shout-of-Relief Pass, so named because when you look over the other side you let out a shout of relief at how easy the terrain for the descent is. We started the day under overcast skies (a welcome relief from the hot sun of the previous day) so we fired up the weather radio one more time to see if the clouds were going to become something more sinister. We got the all clear for sunny weather through Friday, 9/5. We high-fived each other and started our descent towards Tully Lake.

At this point the SHR veers left to stay off trail for the one mile descent to Tully Hole. We opted to veer right to catch the McGee Pass Trail to Tully Hole as we had a date with our favorite lake from the JMT, Virginia Lake, that afternoon and we wanted to get there as fast as possible. Getting back on a major trail immediately reminded us of one of the few downsides to Sierras trail travel - ubiquitous horse shit. Almost all the trails are pack trails and they get frequent use. Still, a small price to pay for efficient travel to our next destination.

We had a brief stop at Tully Hole to cool off and filter water before starting the final 1000 foot climb up to Virginia Lake. This section of the route coincides with the JMT. Coming from the north, as we had before, you descend a series of long, hot, dry switchbacks. We congratulated ourselves in 2010 for getting to descend and not ascend this section of trail, and yet here we were, four years later climbing those damn switchbacks. Oh well. They actually weren’t so bad after what we’d just traveled across in the previous days.

Virginia Lake was just as pretty as we remembered it. We found an awesome campsite out of the wind and away from the trail and spent the afternoon laundering our clothes and our bodies in the lake. It was extremely relaxing.

Day6: Duck Lake, Deer Lakes, Mammoth Crest

SHR Day 4: Gabot Pass, Mono Creek, Laurel Lake

Day 4: Gabot Pass, Mono Creek, Laurel Lake

We left Toe Lake and climbed easy slabs and meadows towards Gabot Pass, so named as its in the saddle between Mt.Gabb and Mt. Abbot. While the descent was technically easy, we had about a mile of clamboring over huge car sized boulders forming the old terminal moraines of the glaciers below Gabb and Abbot. After about 1400vf of descending, we’d reached the meadows of Upper Mills Creek Lake. We both wondered about the couple we’d met and how long it would take them to carry their dog, Lily, through all those boulders.

Easy travel through meadows past the Mills Creek Lakes brought us to our next puzzle. From the lakes to Second Recess canyon, the ‘track’, when we could find it, wound down 1,000vf through steep scree, sand, and brush with a waterfall on one side and 5th class slabs on the other. Once in the canyon, we passed by more inviting swimming holes, some with waterfalls pouring into pools of perfectly cool water, but again, the swimming needed to wait till later.  We plodded through the forest down the long, low-angle valley to Mono Creek.

Once at Mono Creek, we reloaded our water bottles, soaked our feet and enjoyed some shade before we began to chip away at the 2,000ft climb in the afternoon heat. We reached the lovely Laurel Lake by mid-afternoon and Pete nearly made himself sick chugging many, many liters of water trying to correct a bad case of dehydration.

Once again, we stared up at improbable-looking slopes that were to be our ascent route in the morning. We thought we spied a path through a steep, grassy couloir, but we wouldn’t know for sure if it went until the next day. All the other improbable-seeming climbs worked out so we took it on faith that it would be fine and spent the evening enjoying an amazing sunset. 

Day5: Big Horn Pass, Shout-of-Relief Pass, Lake Virginia

SHR Day 3: Feather Basin, White Bear Pass, Lake Italy

Day 3: Feather Basin, White Bear Pass, Lake Italy

We were up early and heading towards Feather Pass. As was often the case, staring straight on at a climb always makes it look worse than it really is, and as we climbed towards a gully flanked by steep slabs, we were relieved to find the crux was a few hundred feet of very easy scree-covered track with the occasional 2nd class scramble. Once above the steepest section, we had a series of slabs and benches to ascend to Feather Pass. From Feather Pass, we got our first glimpse at Mt.Ritter and Banner way in the distance. Tuolumne Meadows is twenty miles beyond those peaks, so this gave us a good idea of just how far we needed to go over the next week and a half.  At the pass, we flipped on the weather radio, but rather than an alpine forecast, we got a Bay Area surf forecast. So much for knowing if the clouds we saw would produce rain, but at least we knew the seas were calm in the Farallon Islands.

The descent from Feather was time-consuming but easy - more boulder hopping over the moraine of a long since disappeared glacier. On our way towards the Bear Lakes we met a party of four who were returning the way they’d came yesterday. They’d had a longer trip planned but a couple of their partners had pooped out the day before, so they were returning.  

For the next few hours we descended open grasslands and slabs past Bearpaw, Ursa, and Black Bear Lakes then climbed to White Bear Lakes on our way to White Bear Pass. The views of the many surrounding 13,000ft peaks were outstanding.   

Staring down the next 1,000 vf from the pass to Brown Bear Lake didn’t immediately look too tough and we congratulated ourselves on how easy the first 200 vf were...then it just got bad.   Loose scree on steep slabs hemmed in by 4th and 5th class slabs on either side. We followed the route description but it was still another huge time suck. Pete saw a faint track through waist-high brush and we crashed through it standing on vegetation several inches above the actual ground. Once through the brush, we found a faint track through scree slopes and slabs and slowly made our way to the basin below. Two hours to descend 1,000 feet and maybe one mile of distance, and we arrived at Brown Bear Lake. We filtered water, Becky tended to her feet, and Pete went for a swim to try and ice his back and legs.  

The rest of the day was relaxing and easy compared to the morning. We descended to the Lake Italy trail and then hiked the lake’s two-mile length towards our next pass, setting up camp at Toe Lake just below Gabot Pass.

That evening a couple from the Bay Area hiked by and we chatted for a bit. They were doing a week-long loop out of Mosquito Flat covering some of the same ground as us. They had an adorable dog, an energetic weimaraner named Lily, who handled the trail sections easily, but they did have to pick her up and carry her through some off-trail sections.

The rest of the day was spent like the others, reading, laundry, and lots of stretching.  

Day4: Gabot Pass, Mono Creek, Laurel Lake

SHR Day 2: Puppet Pass, Le Salle Lake

Decision time...we were waiting until this morning to see how Pete’s back was and then figure out what to do. He really didn’t want to pull the plug on the trip before it had even started, but the Aleve was barely putting a dent in the pain. Mica graciously offered to take any unnecessary gear with her when they returned to North Lake that afternoon. In the end Mica took the camera tripod and Becky offered to carry the SLR while Pete carried the compact camera.  No night photography on this trip, but it would be nice to still have the big camera around.

We decided to keep going. The SHR runs east of and high above the Muir Trail, but it was relatively easy to access the JMT at many points along the way. If Pete’s back was still bad a couple days from now, we could depart the SHR and hit the Muir Trail and cover the relatively easy trail miles to our resupply point at Red’s Meadow Resort outside of Mammoth within a couple days, and from there we could catch a bus to Tuolumne and retrieve our car.   Hopefully we wouldn’t have to bail though.

We hugged our friends goodbye and set off towards our first pass, Puppet Pass/Carol Col.   Easy travel through the grassy, rocky Humphreys Basin brought us to the pass by mid-morning.  Most of the passes we’d encounter on this trip were easy to access on the south aspect, but considerably rockier and steeper on the north aspect. Steve Roper recommends traveling from south to north, and we appreciated that despite the passes being tough, at least we were down-climbing them rather than spending hours scrambling up the north sides.

While looking for the best route down, we met a friendly Bishop local who was waiting at the pass for a friend to catch up. It was welcome to get his regular shouts of route information as we descended to keep us on the most stable boulders and ledges. It took us about 30 minutes to descend through the worst of it to Puppet Lake below. The descent wasn’t that tough, but we now knew the passes would be a time-suck as we expected. Lots of scrambling over car-size rocks, stepping on scree-covered benches, avoiding steep drop-offs - generally unpleasant stuff. Once in the Puppet Lake basin, we took a bearing on a waterfall across French Canyon to the north and began our descent through meadows and open forest to the canyon below.

The swimming holes in French Canyon were inviting and the heat of the day was on us, but we needed to cover some ground towards our next pass. We were briefly on the French Canyon trail for all of a half-mile before we headed out cross-country again up towards Merriam Lake. Supposedly there is a faint trail, but the best we could find was an occasional boot-print in dirt that confirmed someone had gone this way before.  

By early afternoon we’d climbed back to treeline and had views of Merriam Lake to the west.   We didn’t want to tackle another pass that day, so we climbed towards La Salle Lake just below Feather Pass. We only met one other party that day, a group of three traveling southbound. We chatted briefly, but afterwards realized that we’d completely forgotten to ask for any beta on how the next couple passes were.  

The afternoon was spent reading, washing socks, and as would become the regular routine, Pete would find a big flat rock slab and do a ton of back and leg stretches trying to keep the back ache manageable.

Day3: Feather Basin, White Bear Pass, Lake Italy