Part 6: Sequoia: Hiking the High Sierra

 This is part 6 of my Road Trip Across America.          

 

Sequoia National Park is about four hours from Monterey. I woke up, had breakfast, and set off.

 

            After spending two days in Monterey, this day was the last day of the non-quota season of backcountry hiking in Sequoia. This doesn’t mean much other than that the hike is free during this season and they don’t limit the amount of people on each trail. Around noon I stopped for lunch at a restaurant about an hour from the park. I arrived to the park around 2PM.

 

            To hike in the backcountry, you need to fill out a permit. There is a desk where the Park Rangers will explain the rules and regulations of the hike. They will also answer any questions that you may have. I asked them quite a bit. They probably got tired of me asking. I asked where the campsites were and if the water along the trail was safe to drink. They told me that I need a bear canister. This is a somewhat bulky can that you put your food into which prevents bears from getting into it. I had to rent one from the park. Enough about these details, on to the hike.

 

            The High Sierra Trail begins at Crescent Meadow. You can leave your car at this parking lot, but they tell you not to leave any food items (or anything that has a scent) in your car so that bears won’t try to break into your car. They have bear boxes that you can leave things in. I had a ton of stuff that bears might be interested in; I made several trips to the bear box. I got my backpack all situated and set out. Around 3PM, I started out.

 

            My goal was to make it six miles in before sundown. This would bring me to the first major campsite along the trail. From Crescent Meadow, you pass many of the huge sequoia trees. All of them are huge, but some are incredibly huge, or “big boys” as my friend would say. Early on in the trail there are some smaller sequoias that have fallen across the trail. Some you have to walk around and others you have to straddle and get over. Luckily, these particular trees were not the “big boys” that my friend describes.

 

The High Sierra Trail isn’t incredibly difficult at this stage, but it is a gradual incline up. With a backpack on this is pretty tiring though. I took many small breaks to rest. Eventually I made it to the campsite. This campsite is on a creek. I can’t remember exactly which creek this is, but Panther Creek seems right. There is a laminated map as you get to the creek that points out where the bear box and campsites are, but, as the vast majority of most park maps are, it falls short of actually being useful. I saw a few people setting up camp and asked if they knew where the box and campsites were and they didn’t know either. I climbed up to a viewpoint to see if I could see anything obvious; I could not. Eventually I saw someone further up the slope and made my way over to them. They pointed me to the bear box. I found a hiking group that was sitting around it eating. As I was making my way back to my stuff, I saw some marmots scurrying around. They aren’t exactly afraid of people, but will run away if you make big movements.

 

I found a place by the creek to set up camp and eat. The view was great, but I chose possibly the worst place of all to camp. My tent was on a slight incline and the grass was a little wet. Nothing seems out of the ordinary until you try to sleep. My sleeping bag kept sliding down to the bottom of my tent. To say that I slept like a rock that night would be true only if that rock was forever tumbling down the side of mountain.

 

Eventually morning came and my misery of failing to sleep was over. I made my breakfast and sat in my chair. This site was great for anything other than sleeping. I faced the bottom of the creek and ate. I heard something behind me. Right behind me was a small ledge. On top of the ledge was a marmot. It was probably three feet from me. I looked at it for a bit. It was unmoved. We were pals until I tried to walk over and grab my camera, but the marmot had had enough. Off it went. I never did get any pictures of a marmot. I packed my things and headed out. I needed to hike nine miles that day.

 

About five miles further in is Bearpaw Meadow. There are some cabins here that you could book if you wanted to camp the fancy way. There are also some regular campsites as well. I just stopped here to have a break and eat lunch. At Bearpaw, the scenery starts to open up. There is a good vista that is just beginning at this point. At some point, I heard a plane overhead and looked up. I saw the plane, but saw something even stranger. There was a rainbow around the sun. I could only catch glimpses of it because the sun was so bright. My eyes watered for a few minutes after trying to catch brief glimpses. As best I could, I took a picture with my phone. After eating, I started out again. I needed to hike another four miles to get to Hamilton Lake.

 

After leaving Bearpaw, the trail is on the side of a cliff. Don’t worry. It’s not that kind of cliff; you won’t fall off. It is a valley below you, and, on the opposite side, the mountain is a rocky face. The vistas and scenery are incredible. There are five waterfalls in one direction. Two are side by side and feed another pair below them. To the right of these is a really tall waterfall. I’d guess this water fall was 300 feet tall. It was hard to press onward because you want to take in all of the scenery. Eventually you start to go down. You have to cross a river. But at least there is a bridge well above it so you aren’t climbing from the very bottom.

 

After this point, the hike gets difficult. It is about two more miles to Hamilton Lake, and it is almost entirely steep switchbacks. I was not loving life here. How in the hell can hiking be relaxing if it is so difficult? But, man, is it oh so worth it.

 

At some point the trail disappears into the top of the upper pair of waterfalls. You can see what looks like the trail to the left of a log just before the water, but it dead ends. I didn’t understand what was going on, and none of the maps I had showed this. There was only one thing to do; I laid my things down, took my shoes off, and stepped into the water fall. The water was icier than your ex’s heart. Luckily, it was only ankle deep. I still had trouble finding the trail. I looked all around. I started making my way back to my stuff and found the trail. It was somewhat overgrown, but there it was. I crossed back over to my stuff, and crossed the waterfall one more time to get to the trail. Everyone I met on my way back, I would tell how to find the trail through the waterfall so they wouldn’t struggle as I did.

 

It was probably yet another mile to Hamilton Lake from here. I was getting really damn tired of these switchbacks. At one point there is a smaller lake. I thought this was Hamilton Lake, but it was only one of those lakes full of false hope. It was pretty though. But it didn’t compare to Hamilton Lake itself. Hamilton Lake is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen in my life.

 

Hamilton Lake is a high mountain lake. Surrounding it like a bowl are mountains with rocky faces that reach down and cradle the lake. Packs of snow linger on these faces. A few waterfalls feed the lake from these mountains. The lake itself reflects a mirror image of this beauty.

 

As much as my eyes told me that this was real, I still couldn’t believe it. As much as my eyes told me that this was real, it didn’t seem like this should be a real place. It didn’t seem like this could be on planet Earth, much less California. It seemed like something ripped straight from Valhalla or some painter’s depiction of what a place on Earth could be. The sun began to set just after I arrived. The stony faces were given a golden hue by the sun’s touch.

 

There were a few people fishing in the lake. We all talked together for a bit. Each of us agreed that this was just incredible. I set my chair down, refilled some water, cooked my food, and admired the scenery. I had to go to sleep soon. I would reverse my hike the next day and make my way back.

 

The scenery was just as incredible the next day. When I set off, I saw some deer. I’m not sure what breed they were, but they weren’t whitetail deer. Their fur was thicker and light brown. They looked right at me with no concern at all. 

 

My goal was to make it to my original campsite that day. I also wanted to stop on a river just past Bearpaw to have lunch. This would be a great spot to take a break. When I got there, a couple had taken my spot. In life it seems like you make plans, and inevitably it always turns out that people crush your dreams and ruin them. I had to take the less good spot about twenty yards from them. They were over there relaxing like they have never relaxed so. I could tell that they were basking in the enjoyment of depriving me of my desire. They waved at me as if they were totally ignorant of what they did. I waved back. It was like a diplomatic meeting of foreign heads of state; I hate you and you hate me, but we’ll shake on this to make everything seem just as perfect as can be. I had my lunch. They left before me, leaving open that spot to anyone who wanted to waltz in. But they were leaving just as I, and I would catch up to them eventually

 

They were an older couple; I think in their 70s. They were going slower than me. I passed them and made my way to Panther Creek. I was the first one there. I ended up finding the actual campsites this time and set up camp. I wouldn’t be sliding around all night. The campsites were a little way above the bear box. After some time, I looked down and saw that couple setting up camp below me near the bear box. When I took my items to the box, I talked to them for a bit. I made sure to mention their misdeed of taking my lunch spot. They were pretty cool people. He showed me a picture of a Grizzly Bear that they saw while hiking. It was literally 15 feet below the bear box that we were standing at. The bear didn’t care about them at all. I believe they were from San Diego. I think he said he did the Pacific Crest Trail in the ‘80s.

 

The next day I made it the last six miles back to my car. This was four days and three nights of backpacking and about thirty-three miles of hiking. I was wiped out. 

 

Next stop: Nevada.

Hamilton Lake

Hamilton Lake at sunset

The vista after Bearpaw Meadow

Deer

Scenery after leaving Hamilton Lake

The lake just before Hamilton Lake