From PCT mile 865.4 to 879.9 Total: 14.5 miles 7/15
My 23rd day on the PCT Sierra Section was a long one, ascending north from the Sallie Keys Lakes past Heart Lake to Selden Pass, then descending to Marie Lake and the long Bear Creek drainage, followed by yet another up-and-over stretch on Bear Ridge to a campsite down in the valley next to Mono Creek.
As usual, I woke up in the dark at 4:30am and started getting ready. I got dressed in my hiking clothes and added my goose down layer, both jacket and pants, to keep off the morning chill. Then I decided to step outside in the pre-dawn light. This was a relatively crowded camping area, and I knew that there were ladies present, so I hurried to find an appropriate spot to relieve myself under cover of darkness. I don’t mention these bodily necessities often here on hikingtales, but it should be noted that I do, in fact, have a body, and it does, indeed, have its necessities. As long as I was out, I took a photo of the clouds to the north, and noted that it would probably rain today, just like yesterday and the day before. I also noted that Greg and Tory were already awake. I tried to take a photo of their red headlamps lighting up the inside of their tent, because it looked cool, but it didn’t come out very well. Then I dove back into my tent.
I ate my hot oatmeal and prepared the day’s snack, then prepped my gear for stuffing into my backpack. I was thankful that my tent stayed dry overnight. Camping up here on a granite ledge above the lake probably helped. I tossed my gear outside, then followed it myself. As I was taking down the tent, Greg and Tory hiked on by. They beat me! I was mildly annoyed, but I knew that they wanted to catch the ferry boat to VVR that afternoon, and therefore really needed to crank out the miles. It was still very quiet, so we merely waved at each other in silence. We didn’t want to wake Metal Tim and Little Engine, whose tent was just down the hill.
By 6am I was fully packed, and I took my usual “starting the day” photo of my backpack and tentsite. I put on my pack and looked down the hill. Tim had just crawled out of his tent. He looked up and we waved. I knew that they were faster than me and would overtake me eventually. They also wanted to catch the ferry to VVR. As I hiked out, I was treated to an amazing sunrise. The clouds I was so unhappy about absolutely glowed with color, all of it reflecting on the surface of the lake, which was spread out below me as I hiked away. A beautiful start to the hike. But I didn’t forget the old saying “Red sky in morning, sailor take warning” and substituted “hiker” in the appropriate spot.
Less than a mile north was Heart Lake. This is just one of several heart-shaped lakes in the Sierra Nevada with the same name. When Vicki and I hiked here back in 2021, I managed to catch two Golden Trout with my Tenkara Fly Rod. They weren’t very big, but when added to the larger one I caught in upper Sallie Keyes, she had herself a meal. Good times. So of course I had to try again today. But there was no love from Heart Lake toward me that morning. I got nothing, and I saw no fish rising. Maybe the fish population didn’t recover very well after the fierce Winter of 2023. So I put away my rod and hiked on.
I continued uphill along Sallie Keyes Creek, and this time I didn’t notice any trout fingerlings. Hmmm. Then I headed onward toward Selden Pass. Hiking at this hour of the morning was wonderful, as not only was the air cool, the canyon was also in the shade. There were still patches of melting snow in the shady spots, and that helped keep everything green, with patches of wildflowers.
I climbed up the last short switchbacks and arrived at Selden Pass. The views were fine, as expected, though mostly in a north-south axis. Sallie Keyes Lake and the South Fork San Joaquin River Valley were behind me, and Marie Lake was down below me to the north. At this point, I had climbed about 700 feet in a mile and a half. Ahead of me was a long, seven mile descent for 2000 feet along the Bear Creek Valley. Then I would climb another 1000, and drop an additional 2000 to Mono Creek. All told, it was mostly a downhill day, but close to fifteen miles. I had changed my initial plans a bit after Muir Pass, and now I was shooting for closer to fifteen mile days rather than twelves. This was partly due to easier terrain, but mainly because I was becoming a true Hiking Machine. I no longer cared about up and down, only mileage. This is the true sign of a Certified Hiking Machine. Finally! I’d been waiting for this, to tell the truth. It happened after only 200 miles this time, because I still had a bit of residual stamina from last year’s 650 mile PCT Desert Section trek. It was nice to know that most of my muscle tone remained after all those miles.
After a short break to take photos and videos on the summit of the pass, I began the long downward cruise toward Marie Lake. It was a relatively shallow lake, which spread out over a high granite basin. A huge ice field probably sat right here, 20000 years ago during the Ice Age, occasionally oozing its way down into the Bear Creek Valley, scraping flat the surface of this basin. Glad I wasn’t there at the time! It’s much prettier now.
Last time Vicki and I were here, I tried to catch a large trout, as Marie Lake supposedly had big ones. But it was too windy that day, and I had no luck. Maybe today would rectify that. So I headed out to the huge boulder midway down the shore and got out my fishing gear. Once again, I got shut out. In fact, I never saw a single ring of waves resulting from a trout breaking the surface in search of bugs. Nothing at all. Maybe I’d have better luck with a full-sized fishing rod. But not today. So I packed it back up and hiked on, taking photos of everything as always. Fish or no fish, it was a beautiful lake.
I descended into the valley which contained the West Fork of Bear Creek. It was largely marshy, but at least the trail was relatively dry. Provided I took measures to avoid any soggy puddles, that is. This stretch must have been mostly underwater a few weeks back during the big Spring melt. Good thing for me I waited for it all to go away! Just the same, there were plenty of mosquitos out and about, doing their usual early morning patrols. I definitely appeared to be a tasty morsel, so I stopped to apply some DEET repellent after I realized that I was trailing a veritable cloud of the bugs in my slipstream. My pants and shirt were designed for fishermen; they were a tight weave of quick-drying nylon, and thus impenetrable to mosquito proboscii. My hands, face, and neck were not. DEET really works! I hiked on, still trailing plenty of bugs, but they couldn’t land on my skin. I just had to make certain that they didn’t appear in my photos!
Eventually, I arrived at the Bear Creek Ford. This spot was notorious for being one of the toughest crossings on the PCT. In fact, a month earlier a hiker got knocked off his feet and pummeled by rocks as he was swept downstream. He stopped himself on a small island of rock and his buddies used a hiking pole to help him ashore. It was hip-deep in the raging center of the creek at that time. No thanks! But it was only shin-deep for me a month later. Yay! I took off my shoes and put on my sandals. Across the way were Greg and Tory, who were just finishing putting theirs back on. We waved to each other and then they hiked on. I never saw them again, sad to say, but I heard from Metal Tim that they had a fun time at VVR. That’s life on the trail. Partners come and partners go, and we simply enjoy the time we have together.
Once I was safely on the far shore of Bear Creek, all I had left were a few side creeks to cross, and a whole lot of rushing water nearby for me to enjoy. Lots of photos and far too many videos were taken, as flowing water was made for videos. Or is it the other way around?
As I hiked, the sun disappeared behind some clouds, and soon it was lightly sprinkling. It didn’t seem that bad, so I whipped out the el-cheapo poncho and threw it over me. I like the poncho because you get plenty of air underneath, so you don’t sweat as much while hiking. But when it really rains, you start getting cold and damp. And that’s exactly what happened. So I had to stop under a sheltering pine and put on my rain suit. It was warm inside, but it was much better than hypothermia.
These are GoPro videos as I crossed the two parts of the Hilgard Branch of Bear Creek in the rain
Not surprisingly, the rain let up soon enough, and I took off my rainsuit. This happens in the mountains. I kept on hiking along the creek, which was cascading right along, but now I was searching for a suitably calm and deep pool of water. My prototype PCT Sierra Trout Fishing Guide informed me that there were Golden Trout in the upper stretches of Bear Creek, and Brook Trout in the lower regions. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get a Golden. But either way I was intent on catching something, after getting shut out so thoroughly earlier. I found a fine spot, and had a strong feeling that many earlier fishermen had stood here, patient and calm, intent in the Way of the Deceptive Fly. It didn’t take long to get a solid hit, but I caught a Brookie, and let it go. No Goldens today, but that was good enough for me.
The valley widened, and the creek went further away. I met up with a Trail Crew In Training, who were digging a hole in a perfectly good campsite. OK, maybe it wasn’t that good, as it was too close to the trail. You are supposed to camp at least 100 feet from the trail and from water sources, per the regulations. There was a Sierra National Forest Ranger there, instructing them in the art of shovels and prybars. I asked what they were doing, and she said they were “Iceberging” this campsite. When I drew a blank she explained that they were going to bury a big boulder right in the middle of it. That would be the end of this spot. I could’ve come up with better things for a trail crew to do, but nobody was asking me. Instead, I got asked to show her my Wilderness Permit. That’s what I get for being friendly, I thought. So I showed it to her (of course I had one), and then I moved on. Iceberging. A new concept in making the wilderness less backpacker-friendly.
After that, I got to enjoy some truly awesome granite water slides. The creek was simply blasting down them. It was going much too fast for my butt to slide on them, but it was an interesting option for the imagination. Maybe it would be best to sail sticks and logs down, instead. You’d have to run downstream full tilt to keep up with them!
What with all my fishing exploits, and all the photos and videos I was taking of the creek, it wasn’t surprising that Metal Tim and Little Engine caught up to me once again. We were happy to see each other, and hiked together for a while. Tim and I really got along well, and both of us were sad to part ways. So, before they headed down the side trail to VVR (Vermilion Valley Ranch) for some zero days and a resupply, we exchanged contact information. Plus, it was important that I text him the triple-selfie that I took of us. We hiked onward together for a little while, as the PCT began climbing the big hill after leaving Bear Creek behind, but they were faster than me, and were in a rush to make the boat, so pretty soon they had vanished into the distance. Goodbye! Maybe we’d see each other again one day, I thought. Hope springs eternal, as they say.
I was truly a Solo PCT Hiker now. It was a bit sad, but I only had a few more days and I’d be home with Vicki for our 40th anniversary, so being solo was only temporary, and really was more of a state of mind. There was enough nature out here to provide me with company, it seemed. That would have to do.
Meanwhile, as a Proper Hiking Machine, I continued plodding along to the top of Bear Ridge. That’s where the side trail to Lake Edison and the ferry began, heading downhill to the left (west). I was hoping to get a final glimpse of Tim and the Engine, but no such luck. They were long gone. Off to the right was a very faint trail, which the Far Out app indicated went to the summit of Volcanic Knob. I remembered seeing the knob last time Vicki and I were on our way here, en route from the Mono Creek Trail. It really looked like a volcano with its top blown off. And there were large chucks of volcanic rock all around me on the trail. There were also some fine views both north and west, now that I was up high again.
As the trail began to descend into the Mono Creek Valley, it swing around to the right. I got a few views toward tomorrow’s big climb up to Silver Pass. Then it was nothing but down, down, down. Two thousand feet is a long way down, and it took almost four miles to do it. Which meant that it wasn’t very steep, which is pleasant on the feet, but it sure was long, which wasn’t. That’s about two hours at my typical pace. I was feeling like a Hiking Machine that was running out of gas by the time I got to the bottom!
I walked along the valley floor until I found the turn off to the campsite that Vicki and I used back in 2021. Nobody else was around, which seemed odd, but I didn’t care. I plopped down the too-heavy backpack and got out my water containers and filter. Then I headed over to the footbridge that crosses Mono Creek. I took some photos, and remembered what a zombie Vicki was when she crossed it at the end of a very long day last time. I’d like to think that I was far less zombified today, but I was still pretty whupped. I collected my water, filtered it, and headed back to camp.
The sky grew cloudy as I set up the tent. This made me double-check the site for good drainage. I like to keep the tent on a gentle slope, with my head uphill, just to make sure. I’ve seen folks get flooded out in a “flat” spot during a big downpour. I thought I felt a few tiny drops, but by then the tent was up. I looked at the sky, and it appeared that the main thunderhead action was off to the east, miles away on the Sierra Crest, so I didn’t bother worrying about it. Then I finally got to sit down and take my shoes off. Ahhh! Happy feet at last!
The record on my sportwatch said that I may have napped at that point, but if I did it wasn’t for long, and I didn’t remember doing it. Let’s call it a light doze. A Power Nap, if you will. And then I sat up, refreshed, and cooked some ramen noodles for dinner. I texted Vicki using my InReach device, to let her know that I hiked further than I planned originally. Maybe I could make it home a day early! That would be excellent. And then I fired up the Far Out app to see if I could make this happen. There’s nothing like determination and a plan when you are a smoothly functioning Hiking Machine.
For a topographic map of the hike see my CalTopo Page
For LOTS more photos of the trek see my Flickr Page
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