No better way to celebrate the Fourth of July then to head off into the wilderness, the place where liberty and freedom are felt most acutely. I had Friday off for the holiday, and I took Wednesday and Thursday off to make it a five day trip, my longest yet of the year.
Forecaster Noe kindly dropped me off in the Lake Basin Tuesday after work. He left me with a forecast that the weather looked good, except for a thunderstorm the next day. I was heartened to hear that the weather wouldn’t slow me down too much. I had seven peaks on the docket, and not much time to spend hiding under my tarp.
That first evening, I had a very pleasant stroll down to Red’s Meadow. The road hadn’t opened yet, and there was a village of PCT hikers camped out near the hot springs. I took a dip myself, and got to talk to a lot of friendly hikers. I knew I wouldn’t be seeing too many people on the rest of the hike.
I made good time along the PCT the next morning. I knew a storm was coming in, so I didn’t want to dawdle. Before I knew it I was at Thousand Island Lake, getting ready to begin the off trail portion of the route.
I walked along the use trail to North Glacier Pass. As I continued on, clouds started to mass just as the forecaster had predicted. For some reason, I decided to hike up towards Lake Catherine and wait out the storm there.
I found a large rock to hide under and wait out the storm around 4pm. This seemed like great luck at first, but eventually the water began to drip down and slowly soak all of my gear. Next time, I should take my chances with my tarp. My hopes of hiking Davis that night gradually faded as the storm wore on. My predicament was put into perspective when I saw two figures descending down the glacier between Banner and Ritter. It must have been around 7:30pm, just as the storm was finally relenting. They must have been waiting on or near one of the summits during the storm.
I setup my tarp, and set my alarm for early the next morning.
Mt. Davis ended up having beautiful views of the surrounding area. I was glad that I did not attempt it in poor visibility of the prior night.
After Mt. Davis, I returned to my tarp at Lake Catherine and packed my things. I continued on along the Sierra High Route for a bit, but then veered north towards Mt. Rogers. I was trying to move quickly as I saw some clouds starting to gather. I found a rock near the base of the mountain and stashed a few things. Luckily, the clouds had started to dissipate a bit. Unluckily, I bonked my head pretty hard on the rock on my way out. I shook it off and began bounding up the mountain, unsure if the break in the storm was just a mirage. Luckily, the storm didn’t rebuild. I was treated to panramic views of the whole area. The vantage of the Ritter Range was especially unique.
I returned to where I had stashed my pack, and was very careful not to bang my head a second time. The traverse over towards Electra went quickly. Near the final pass, I opted to cross a large snowfield, and ended up doing a fun but uneccesary ridge traverse. I left my pack at the saddle, and walked the final bit to the top. 3 peaks in one day! What a turnaround after my time under a rock the evening prior.
I continued onward until the base of Foerester. I setup my tarp at a luxuriously early 7pm. Stretching, eating and watching the sunset all filled my last hour of daylight before bed.
The climb up Foerester went quickly the next morning. I had been so close to this peak so many times, so it felt great to finally summit. After that, it was down into and across the upper reaches of the Merced watershed, over to the Clark Range.
I was only on trail for a few miles. I saw only one party. The first people I had seen in over 48 hours. (If you don’t count the two people I saw in the distance descending the glacier in the storm). Soon, I slipped off the trail and back into the solitude of scree. I was growing tired, but I climbed Merced peak and descended down the otherside before finding a campspot.
On the fourth day, I went up and over Red Peak with my full pack. Now only one peak remained. On Gray peak, I was able to leave the majority of my gear 1500 feet below the summit, and I continued on to the top with a lighter load. I let out a scream of elation as I summited my 7th peak in 3 days. Now all I had to do was walk down to Yosemite Valley.
The going was quick, down the ridge and through the woods. Eventually I found myself back on a trail. Other than my brief stint on a trail in the upper Merced, I had fully eschewed trails and people for the last three days. I was grateful for the easy tread underfoot, as I trotted towards Illouette Creek. I took a much needed bath there and camped just beyond, enjoying a beautiful sunset on Starr King.
On the 5th and final day of the trip, I arrived to Glacier Point in the early morning to find overfilling trashcans and bathrooms. I quickly left this bizarre wasteland full of tourists, and took the 4 mile trail towards the valley. Even on this popular trail, I only passed a few groups. The descent went quickly and soon I was on the valley floor, staring up at the granite giants in awe.
I debated taking the bus, but I didn’t want the adventure to end there. I took the shuttle to El Cap meadows, and quickly got a hitch a little down the road. Almost immediately a gentleman from Fresno picked me up and drove me all the way to Tuolumne. He told me tales of his time on Fresno SAR. He had been involved in a wild search for a missing bicycle tourist, who somehow almost made it across the Sierra in the snow.
In Tuolumne, I walked into the grill and found my friend George slinging burgers. He graciously made me a nice lunch and I waited till his lunch break so we could hang out. Even after all of this, I was still ahead of the YARTS bus. I was glad to not have parted with the $27.
I stuck my thumb out in the meadow, and got a ride all the way back to Mammoth. My ride was a 70 year old women who was about to set out on the high route alone. She planned to potentially even tag Ritter and Banner. I hope I am still able to do a fraction of that at her age. Like everyone else, she told me the secret was to just keep going. She left her car at Mammoth Mountain, and I drove her down back to town. An interesting role reversal. I returned back to Mammoth feeling reinvigorated, and scheming to hike lots more peaks this summer.
Anthony Ottati 