Anthony Ottati

I was excited all summer to embark on the Sierra High Route. After many intense weekend trips I wanted to try a difficult multiweek trip. Every trip seemed to end too soon, so a two week trip sounded very appealing. Matt, Dan and I had no idea how much of the Sierra High Route we would be able to accomplish in our limited time frame but we were excited to head into the off trail Sierra nonetheless. After a long summer though, it was bittersweet leaving my job at Ridge Runners summer camp. But the Sierra was calling. After my last day of work, my dad generously drove us up to King’s Canyon where we camped on the side of the road for the night.

The first day of the High Route involves a long 6000+ climb up and out of King’s Canyon. The climb is mostly on trail but eventually it departs the trail and as Steve Roper says “the truly adventurous part of the High Route begins” As we began to go up the Grouse Pass and we had to set up our tents in a suboptimal spot which quickly became a puddle. Knowing what I know now I would have kept walking until the storm ended or at least kept walking until we found a better campspot.

The second day of the trip was filled with more stunning beauty and more learning on our part. We crossed two passes, Goat Crest Saddle and Gray Pass. At the first drop of rain we set up our tents and waited out a storm which never materialized. Luckily the weather was great for the rest of the trip after this and it never slowed us down again.

The Sierra high route has 34 passes and on the second day we set out to climb three more, Red, White and Frozen Lakes Pass. Red and White Pass went by quickly and we got our first view of Frozen Lakes Pass across the Lakes Basin.

We were able to glissade down most of the way to Marion Lake. Crossing the Lakes Basin took the better part of the day. We had a quick lunch at Marion Lake in our tents because the Mosquitoes were so bad and then kept heading up towards the towering Frozen Lake Pass. This was the first of the notoriously difficult Sierra passes that we crossed and from far away it looked impossible. Like many of the harder passes however, only as we got close it began to look doable.

The descent down the other side was a little loose but not that bad. We were lucky that there was a lot of snow and we were able to glissade most of the way down.

Finally we made it down to the JMT. We joked about the trail being a highway for the first few days and it indeed felt like one compared to the pass we just came over. After days of not seeing anyone, we suddenly saw a lot of people. We camped just below Mather Pass.

On the fourth day Matt and I split off from Dan as he was really feeling the effects of altitude and wanted to take an easier day.  He stuck to the JMT well we stayed on the High Route. After quickly climbing Mather Pass, we went off trail again and up and over Cirque Pass. Potluck Pass was next and it looked impossible from a distance. Luckily as we got closer we found a doable albeit difficult steep route up it.

We then descended into the Palisade Bowl, and walked beneath 5 of the 14,000 foot peaks in California, what a sight! Our fourth pass of the day, Knapsack Pass, went quickly and soon we were back on trail and descending the switchbacks into LeConte canyon. Where just as all of the light disappeared we reunited with Dan. Dan saw 70 people that day on the JMT but we only saw one on the High Route.

The next day Matt and I were quite tired from doing 4 passes the previous day and we decided to take it easy, and call it early at Evolution Lake.

On the sixth day we set out to climb over the famed Snow Tongue Couloir, but took a wrong turn and went up Alpine Col instead. Alpine Col still crosses the Monarch divide and still gets you out of King’s Canyon National Park and is considered slightly easier, but there is a large boulder field at the bottom with rocks the size of cars that forces you to constantly climb and descend, and this cost us many hours. This coupled with the fact that Matt was not feeling well, lead to a short day.

On the 7th day we continued north towards Lake Italy, ascending passes and descending into a French Canyon, just to climb back out of it. The section just south of Lake Italy was on of my favorite sections of the whole trip.

We camped just South of Lake Italy. On the morning of day 8, Dan announced that he was going to exit over Italy Pass and would rest and then meet us in Mammoth. Matt and I took off and climbed three passes that day with no more then a few five minute breaks. The next section of the High Route had some beautiful sections like Gabbot Pass and Laurel Pass, but most of the route was very low elevation. Second Recess required a large descent and ascent and walking over a lot of fallen trees. We walked until sunset and set our alarms in order to get into Mammoth at a descent time. On the ninth day Matt and I got into Mammoth in the afternoon and were completely exhausted. We had both pushed ourselves very hard after  Dan left. As it turned out Dan had only gotten into Mammoth a few hours before we did. We all decided to get a room in a hostel and contemplate the next steps.

It was quite weird being in town after 9 days in the Wilderness. Suddenly my phone lit up with one hundred notifications, the bus ride into town felt like a roller coaster. After nine days of only worrying about miles and food, there was a lot on my mind and I felt lost and confused. The main thing that I thought about was the upcoming solar eclipse. I really wanted to complete the High Route in one go, but I also knew that the High Route would always be there whereas the eclipse would only last two minutes. It may have been possible for me to complete the High Route and hitchhike up to see the eclipse but it would have been risky.

Dan and Matt also had other things on their minds, Matt had a lot of work to get done on his solar vehicle project before school started and Dan had a flight back home to Mexico to catch. After much discussion and back and forth we decided that Dan and I would complete the next section to Tuolomne and hitch home from there leaving me with 30 miles and 6 passes to do over Labor Day weekend in two weeks time. This way I would have plenty of time to hitchhike home and I had a sure ride to see the eclipse with my family. Matt on the other hand had too much to do and hitched back to Berkeley.

On day 10 Dan and I descended into Red’s Meadow and climbed up towards Nancy Pass and the Minarets. Both of us were exhausted from the first part of the High Route and our bodies were pretty beat up so we decided to take it easy and camp just past Nancy Pass. After hiking quickly and pushing ourselves so hard south of Mammoth, it was nice to slow down and enjoy the hike a bit more.

We woke up on the 11th day to the stunning Minarets towering above us. We quickly climbed to Minaret Lake and stopped and took in the view.

After climbing up to Cecile Lake we undertook one of the sketchier descents of the trip, descending to Iceberg Lake.

The 12th day was one of the more beautiful days on the trail. We made our way from Thousand Island Lake, over Glacier Pass and past Lake Catherine towards the beautiful Bench Canyon.

We camped just outside of Yosemite that night and although we did not know it, it was my last night on the trail. The next morning we climbed over Blue Lakes Pass and began the 20+ mile on trail section into Tuolomne Meadows. I didn’t take many pictures of this section as it was mostly in the trees. 12 miles from Tuolomne we caught a brief glimpse of Half Dome from a distance and Dan, who knew he wouldn’t be back in California for quite some time couldn’t resist ending his hike in the Valley which was about as far away as Tuolomne Meadows.  We said our goodbyes and I continued northward alone. I considered camping in the wilderness and hitching out in the morning, but I was exhausted and really wanted to get home that night. T

The High Route had been very beautiful but also quite tough. I carried far too much stuff and got large blisters from not taking care of my feet properly. I was excited to go home and rest but I knew I would miss the freedom of the Sierra. As I limped the last few miles to the road, I was already planning next Summer’s adventure, hiking from Mexico to Canada on the Pacific Crest Trail.

A german couple gave me a ride to Groveland, halfway home just as the sun was setting. They told me they were underwhelmed with the Sierras after visiting the Alps. They had seen Tuolomne Meadows and Yosemite Valley but they were not impressed. One really can’t understand the true beauty of the Sierra until they get far away from roads and even trails.

My friend Dan wrote up a trip report as well for this trip as well and shot some beautiful film pictures of the trip: https://acasualvagary.wordpress.com/2017/09/07/the-range-of-light-a-film-essay/#more-590

My friend Arman drops me off on the side of highway one on the California Coast and we say our goodbyes. This is actually happening. Months of homework, tests to study for and dreaming about heading north and now here I am nothing separating me from the biggest adventure of my life. His car rolls away, I put my pack down and stick out my thumb.

The going was slow the first day. My mind went through the familiar ups and downs of hitchhiking. After hours of waiting on the side of the road, cautious optimism that I will get picked up soon turns into pessimism and I lose my faith that anyone will ever pick me up. Suddenly I get a ride and my faith in humanity is restored. Unforunately many of the rides I got were quite short. I would wait for hours to only go 15 miles up the road. Finally after waiting for hours for a ride just South of the Lost Coast, I got a ride all the way to Humboldt.

It was my first night on the road though and I wasn’t smart, they dropped my off at a campsite that cost 45$. Of course this was a ridiculous scam and I did not pay it. Instead I walked 6 miles into downtown Humboldt. No one wanted to pick me up as it was well past dark. There was a large homeless population in the town and people mistook me for them and gave me a wide breadth as I passed. After many failed attempts at hitching on the on ramp, I broke down and paid 10 bucks for an Uber to a campground by the beach. This ended up being the right decision, I met some cool people sitting around a campfire and slept in the sand dunes that night.

The second day started out slowly as well, but I was standing on the beautiful California Coast so it didn’t really matter. A few rides later and I got a ride into Oregon and almost halfway up it. This guy and I talked about our whole lives and lots of different political issues for four hours, but I didn’t even get his name. I swore not to repeat my mistake of the previous night and stopped hitching well before dark. I got a great campspot on the Oregon Coast and it was only 6$ (this was one of only two times I had to pay for camping on this whole trip)

I headed north and the Coast only got prettier. That evening I found myself in Astoria, on the Oregon Washington Border. On a whim I threw my thumbout in the middle of a busy intersection with no good place to stop. It had just started to rain and the chances of getting a ride looked bleak, but suddenly a women stopped in the middle of the intersection blocking all of the traffic and motioned for me to get in quickly. Suddenly we were cruising along at 60mph and crossing over the Columbia River and into Washington on the Astoria Bridge.

I camped outside of her RV that night and had the goal of getting to Sequim Washington that day. It was slow going but I linked a few rides together and made it to Forks Washington just outside of Olympic National Park. From there I took a bus into the park and went for a short hike to see a waterfall.

I took another bus to Sequim to stay at a friend from school’s house. I met her through the hiking club and it was very nice of her to put me up for the night and let me shower. I was atempting to cross an international border the next day so showering was essential.

The next morning I boarded the ferry across the San Juan de Fuca straight and into Canada. I had done some reasearch and it seemed that I was most likely to get into Canada by ferry and if I hitched in at a land crossing I may get denied entry. Unfortunately it was the middle of the week and the other people on the ferry were mostly retired. With my large pack, I stood out like a sore thumb.

A 90 minute boatride later and I was in Canada. I nervously awaited my turn at customs and when it came I tried to be as vague as possible in my responses to questions. I knew this was a turning point in my trip, if I got rejected, I’d have to head home. The customs women was less then thrilled with my vague answers and pressed me for specifics I did not have. What hotel was I staying at? How did I hear about BC? Where was I going to see? on and on and on. Of course I could not tell her that I would be sleeping on the side of the road and planned to hitch to Alaska, so I told her I wanted to see Vancouver. Finally after I told her I had a job to go back to in the states in June, and school in August she reluctantly waived me through.

Canada was very different from the United States which I did not expect. I expected Victoria to be a small town but it felt like a big city. My phone no longer had reception and the money was different. But most importantly the people were much more willing to pick up hitchhikers. I took a bus and a ferry to get to mainland Canada and I got 5 rides after 4pm through Squamish Pemberton and Whistler. One time I got a ride 4 seconds after sticking my thumb out. While I was starting to grow tired of the emotional roller coaster that hitchhiking was in the United States, I now felt a lot better about my chances of making it to Alaska. When people asked where I was going instead of cautiously telling them I was going as far north as I could get I began to boldly declare Alaska.

I took a detour to go to Banff and Jasper instead of blazing through central British Columbia. It was a bit difficult to get a ride out of Kamloomps but finally an eccentric older gentleman picked me up. He had a different women in every town and he stopped frequently to offer to buy things that were not for sale from people’s homes. But a ride is a ride and I did not complain. As soon as I neared the National Parks the rides began to come very quickly. I made the mistake of  getting let out in Lake Louise where the rangers told me if I camped I would get eaten by a Grizzly bear. Not sure what to believe I caught a ride down to the town of Banff at the last light. I got picked up by a family as I was walking around the town, even though my thumb was not out. The man was very loud and a bit drunk and told me that his seven year old had just been driving the car. I was a bit apprehensive about getting in the car with him but he offered me a free place to tent at their camp spot so I took it. Upon returning to his camp spot his girlfriend was less then thrilled that he had picked up a hitchhiker with her two and seven year olds in the car, but she quickly warmed up to me. He on other hand did not get along with her and they always seemed to be at odds which created a very uncomfortable dynamic. He broke all of the rules in the campground including having hard alcohol, playing loud music at night and leaving food out at night. When the ranger informed him of this he replied that he would shoot any bear that tried to get his food. His girlfriend and the ranger were not happy and she quickly apologized on his behalf.

They kindly gave me a ride the next morning though and I was back on the road in one of the most beautiful places on earth.

That night a very friendly Canadian couple picked me up along with four other hitchhikers. They let us camp in their campspot next to their RV and even cooked us a fantastic meal. We stayed up while into the night talking. It didn’t get fully dark until midnight but when it did we were treated to a glimpse of the northern lights.

I would have liked to stay in Jasper longer but my sights were set on Alaska so I got back on the road. After a quick hitch out of the park and past Mt. Robson, I was again stuck on the side of the road for four hours. A cop came by and I thought she was going to give me a hard time, but after 15 minutes of running my documents she drove off. Luckily I soon got the longest ride of my trip so far from Hank a very interesting gentleman who was heading out to the middle of nowhere in Northern BC where he was attempting to build a settlement and move his family there to live off the land. His sister generously let me stay in her backyard for the night and the next morning he dropped me off at the base of the Stewart-Cassiar Highway in Kitwanga BC. It turned out to be a good thing he gave me a ride through this section as the Prince George to Prince Rubert stretch of highway is notrious for being a dangerous highway to hitch on, dubbed the  “highway of tears”. Many signs were put up to discourage hitchhiking.

A tow truck driver gave me a ride an hour up the highway to Meziadin Junction. This to me was another key turning point of the trip. I stood on the empty road for a while and only about one car was going north every hour, the prospects seemed grim. I mentally readied myself to wait a few days on the side of the road and potentially having to turn around after having come so far. The one bright side though was that it was a 16 hour drive up to Whitehorse and there were only a few small towns in between. If I got a ride it would be a long one. Luckily a gentleman named Billy picked me up and we he drove me for 2.5 days.

Billy had been driving for over 20,000 km and had been on the road for months, visiting most of the western United States. After two and a half good days on the road with good company and not worrying about getting a ride, Billy dropped me off in Whitehorse. Luckily not more then an hour later a gentleman named Andy picked me up and he said he would take me all the way to Alaska.

Andy worked seasonally in Alaska and drove up there in his vegetable oil powered car every summer. He told me a lot about places to visit, since I didn’t know if I would even make it this far, I didn’t do much research on Alaska itself.

Andy dropped me off on the Kenai Penninsula and after hitching around there for a while and seeing the glaciers and going backpacking on the coast I headed north. I stayed at a hostel in Anchorage to charge my batteries and rest. It is never really dark in Alaska so it was good to sleep in the dark for one night. I hitched up to Denali National Park. After 55 rides I became less eager to tell my story and hear the story of every person who gave me a ride and more comfortable sitting in silence.

The next morning I headed into Denali National Park on the mandatory bus. It was beautiful and we saw lots of wildlife.

 

As the bus returned back to the main road, I got off at the Teklanika River and headed north into the Alaskan wilderness. There are almost no trails in Denali National Park and I did not see anyone for the next 3 days. I had a rough plan of heading north from the road and trying to get to the Magic Bus completely off trail. Off trail travel was hard in Denali and my feet were constantly wet. It was beautiful however, and I walked across a big mountain range and had sweeping views of the park. My legs got very scratched up but a day and a half later I reached the bus.

I decided returning off trail would be far too difficult so I elected to take the less beautiful Stampede trail which is mostly in the trees. It was much quicker then off-trail and that night I crossed the mighty Teklanika river, which luckily was not very high.

I got a little lost the next day and went the wrong way for a few hours, discouraged, I finally got back to where I started around 3pm. At this point my body was falling apart and it hurt to walk. I had huge blisters on both feet and I had no idea how to take care of them. Nevertheless I walked out and just before I reached the road I ran into an Australian guy who was trying to get to the bus. Since he had no food or shelter I told him to turn around, and luckily he agreed, we walked out together and he gave me a ride into Healy. James had been travelling around the US trying to see the most touristy things possible including, 8 mile, Walter White’s house and he even appeared on the People’s court. His last planned stop was the bus but it did not pan out. He then drove me to Denali to return my bearcan and took this very staged picture of me hitchhiking in the snow.

The park was closed due to snow so he drove me back to Fairbanks. James was my 55th and final ride of the trip. I tried to get a ride up to Prudhoe Bay but I was unsuccesful. This truck driver offered me a ride on Craigslist but he never showed up at the Walmart we planned to meet at. I camped the night there and then went to the Fairbanks airport the next day.

There is so much to see in Alaska and I barely scratched the surface. I really want to move there one day!

My friend Matt and I had our eyes on Mt Shasta for a while and the last weekend of the semester was a perfect time to go. We posted on our school’s outdoor mailing list and met Ellese and Louise who also wanted to climb Mt. Shasta. On the night of the last day of classes for the semester we drove 4 hours north to Bunny Flat at 7000 feet where we would sleep and acclimatize for the night.

We all made some mistakes on this trip, Matt and I especially but it proved to be a great learning experience.

We got to Lake Helen at around 3 and dug out a camp. There were about 50 people there that night and almost all of them planned to summit. Stupidly, Matt and I decided to go without a tent as there was no chance of snow or rain, we would later come to regret this decision.

As soon as the sun set the winds picked up tremendously. There were gusts over 80 miles per hour. Unfortunately this meant that snow was being blown onto Matt and I and we both got very cold and got very little sleep that night. It was so windy that when I stood up to go to the bathroom, my inflatable pillow blew away immediately and the wind ripped a huge gash in Ellese and Louise’s tent. We had originally planned to alpine start at 3am but it was clear that was not happening.

We woke up at around 7am and saw a lot of people higher in Avalanche Gulch turning around due to the wind. We met a guide and her client who had turned around when the client was in tears because of the high wind. We debated turning back but ultimately decided to give the summit a go. Luckily as the sun rose the winds died down slightly. Whenever a gust came we dug our ice axes into the snow and held on tight.

It was a long long slog up avalanche gulch but we finally made it to Redbanks, by this point we had split into two groups, with Matt and I in the first group. Misery hill was even more difficult due to the altitude, but finally around noon Matt and I reached the summit.

As we descended we ran into Ellese coming up, Louise had to turn around due to the high winds but Ellese pushed on and made it almost to the top.

Upon returning to Lake Helen I packed my stuff up and skied down to the parking lot. 15 minutes later I was at the car. Since the rest of my group was on snowshoes I waited for them for about two hours, and finally they got back and we all returned to Berkeley.

For more attempts on Shasta the next year, read here.

After going to Zion and completing my first 40 mile day hike(a story for another post), Evan(a person I met through the hiking club), Jeb(my roommate) and I decided to head to Death Valley in order to spend a few days backpacking in a much less crowded place.

On my high school’s trip to Death Valley we entered through Marble Canyon hiked to the racetrack, across Saline Valley, into the Nelson Range, back across the bottom of Saline Valley and eventually exited over Towne Pass. I figured that a trip entering at Marble Canyon, cutting down to Cottonwood springs and then out Towne pass would be a good introduction to desert backpacking for Jeb and Evan, without having to carry a ridiculous amount of water.

Emma and Powell, the other two people on the trip generously agreed to drop us off at the mouth of Marble Canyon and meet us at Towne Pass in three days time.

The Marble-Cottonwood loop is the most (and really only) popular backpacking loop in Death Valley. It is a good first route because there are two reliable springs, most of the navigation is in canyons and it is a loop so no hitchhiking is needed. As it was spring break we did see a few other groups out there, but none after deviating from the loop at cottonwood springs. Cottonwood Canyon is much wider the Marble, and has no narrows, as such I chose to exit over Towne pass instead.

Navigationally speaking, most of the route is quite simple because it follows Marble and Cottonwood Canyons, however the crossover can be quite difficult for those not adept at desert navigation. With a map and compass, we had little trouble finding the route but we met a group of people about our age that told us they had gotten lost in the hills between the two canyons for over a day. This potentially deadly predicament could have been easily avoid if they had brought even a map and a compass and learned how to use them.

We rested at Cottonwood springs during the heat of the day and then made our way south towards Towne pass. Just before setting up camp I climbed a steep hill and was treated to a beautiful view of Panamint Valley.

Once we made it up to the ridge of Towne Peak the next day we were shocked by how fast the winds were. Death Valley was experiencing a massive windstorm, much bigger then usual. It was difficult to move along the ridge and what should have been panoramic views were obstructed by the dust blowing around in the valley below.

Upon reaching Towne Peak Jeb was very tired and wanted to go down, Evan and I wanted to see the site of the Albatross plane crash only a mile south of the peak, thus wee split ways, admittedly not a good idea in the desert.

Upon arriving to Towne pass we did not see Jeb, I mistakenly thought he may have gotten lost on the way down. However it turns out that he had just gone into the closest town to get out of the wind. Evan and I were very worried though. Some people gave us a ride to a place where we could call him, and we soon found out he was safe. The moral of the story is not to split up, especially with a new backpacker. It was still very windy and it was getting dark. Emma and Powell were still nowhere to be found. It turns out they were delayed because they had to plow sand off some of the roads from the windstorm. We turned down multiple rides but eventually decided to go to Panamint Springs to get some food and wait for them. Unfortunately this caused more confusion but eventually they found us. Good bye Death Valley.

I met Tim and Eric through CHAOS (Cal Hiking and Outdoor Society), when Tim posted about a trip he wanted to do to Mt. Lassen. At this point I had some back country ski experience but no snow camping experience and not very much experience with crampons and an ice axe. I told both of them this before the trip and they were nice enough to teach me a lot during the trip. Because of this, I learned a lot on the trip, how to snow camp, and how to use crampons, an ice axe, and avalanche rescue gear.

We camped at the parking lot the first night about 10 miles from where the summit is. The next morning we set off and started skinning up the road covered in snow towards Lake Helen

By mid-afternoon we made it to Lake Helen and dug out a camp, there were a few other parties in the same general area also attempting the summit the next morning. Because the snow is more stable at night, we planned to get up at 3am the next morning to summit under stable conditions.

Upon returning to Lake Helen we rested for a bit and then skied down the road. It was mostly pretty flat but there was one shortcut we took near the end that resulted in a fun ski run. We then got back to the parking lot and returned to Berkeley.