From PCT mile 879.9 to 894.8 Total: 14.9 miles 7/16
On the 24th day of my PCT Sierra Section trek I hiked north out of Mono Creek via a long climb up to Silver Pass, then descended to Fish Creek in the Cascade Valley and climbed yet again out of Tully Hole to Virginia Lake, decided it was too early to camp and hiked a bit further to Purple Lake. Over that fifteen mile journey I climbed 4700 feet and dropped about 2700, making this one of my biggest days yet on the trail this Summer.
I slept well after yesterday’s long day, but I also went to bed early, which made me wake up early as well. No need to set an alarm for myself, as I only need five hours or so; putting in a solid eight took some effort on my part, to tell the truth. So I woke in the dark, put on my headlamp, and got started on the morning routine. If I eat a hot breakfast of oatmeal (and read my Kindle while eating it) it takes me about an hour and half to begin hiking. This is longer than many thru-hikers, but I didn’t care. Getting up earlier than them solved that problem nicely.

I got started right away as I had about 3100 feet to climb over the next seven miles. Mathematically, this comes out to a mere 9% grade. This is the macro-perspective. But from the ground level, the micro-perspective, the trail’s grade alternated from flat to steep continually, except when on graded switchbacks, which were crafted by surveyors and brute force. That’s when you trudged steadily onward like a proper Hiking Machine. My plan was to get this initial climb over with in the cool of the morning. I’d be sweating later on this afternoon, but for now everything was wonderful.
For about ten minutes, that is, until I arrived at the North Fork Mono Creek crossing. It wasn’t a very large creek, but there really wasn’t a way to cross it without getting my feet wet. Ice water isn’t the way I wanted to start my morning. I checked the Far Out app on my phone, and the latest crowd-sourced info said that there was a log upstream. So I found the tiny use trail in the dark with my headlamp on, and pushed my way through the brush until I found the log. It was very long, and very skinny, and very high up in the air! I questioned the wisdom of my fellow hiker, but I also didn’t want to go to all the time and trouble of taking off my shoes, putting on my water sandals, and putting my shoes back on. I knew that I had good balance, and that I could cross this log safely. But did I think of the consequences of failure? Of course I didn’t! Like a complete fool I willingly crossed that log. If I had fallen I would have been damaged badly. Sixty six year olds shouldn’t imagine that they are still twenty! And therefore indestructible. But I’m twenty at heart, I guess. And I really do have good balance. So I survived the log crossing. But I vowed not to try anything that stupid again. Until next time, that is.


GoPro video as I crossed a high log over the North Fork Mono Creek – I must’ve been nuts!

After that, everything was easy. Although I didn’t think much of the trail for the next mile or so, which was very rocky and had too many knee-busting granite steps. I remembered how much Vicki hated this stretch of trail when we hiked here, back in 2022. Her knees were not amused, and it was at the end of a very long hiking day, down the trail from Mono Pass. It was a great trek, but a tough day for her.



After I passed the turnoff to Mono Pass, the PCT continued up the North Fork Mono Creek valley. It was mellow hiking, and the north fork was pretty as it slid down over smooth granite slabs. It also had a few meadow-like meandering regions, as counterpoint. I was last here back in 2021, when I hiked down from Mammoth Lakes in order to complete this section of Pacific Crest Trail. I had no idea that I would be repeating the entire Sierra in 2024. In fact, this was technically the third time I was here, as I did this part as a there-and-back afternoon dayhike from my tentsite up above near Silver Pass Creek. The 2022 trek with Vicki was part of that plan, in order to connect the Devils Postpile with Piute Creek, which was the final piece in completing my Sierra PCT journey. I’m not gonna lie when I say that I was loving it now, and I would gladly hike the whole thing again, if I still have that many years of hiking ahead of me. Perhaps it might happen if I stop balancing on top of high logs for no reason whatsoever…




At the three mile mark, the PCT turned left, crossing the now-much-smaller North Fork. It’s next phase was the climb up the side of the canyon along Silver Pass Creek. Last time I was here the creek was almost dry, so it was good to see a proper waterfall. In fact, the trail traversed directly below the fall, and it was very beautiful. I love waterfalls, so of course I took too many photos and videos. Then I rock-hopped across the creek and climbed.




By then, the sun was shining on this side of the canyon, but at least the air was cool. I hiked onward, and I remembered all the switchbacks. The trail was extremely well-made here, with plenty of granite steps, and the switchbacks themselves were relatively short, situated over on the left side of the granite cliffs that the waterfall went over. I have decided that these steps deserve a name, and, since they climb toward Silver Pass along Silver Pass Creek, I hereby declare these switchbacks be called the “Silver Staircase” from here on out. It is a fitting name, indeed. They are a good match for the Golden Staircase alongside Palisade Creek north of Mather Pass.
And so it came to pass that I climbed the Silver Staircase on a fine Summer morning in the High Sierra.





When I reached the top of the staircase I was also at the top of the waterfall. I went off-trail to check it out, but of course you can’t see a waterfall from the top. Still, the view down into the North Fork Mono Creek valley was impressive.


After that, the grade of the trail got easier for a while. I checked the Far Out app and I was about halfway up the long climb to Silver Pass. I was hiking strong and felt good, so I blasted away up the wide valley. There were moist meadows, glaciated granite slabs, and fewer and fewer trees as I drew closer to the treeline.



The biggest basin of all was the one near Silver Pass Lake. The lake was big, but the basin was bigger. I was thinking about trying a bit of fly fishing in the lake, but when I approached it the land was extremely soggy, as if the water table was right on the surface, and the tundra-like plants were extra happy with their feet in the water. But my feet had no desire to get wet, so I went back to the trail. According to my still-in-beta-format PCT Sierra Trout Fishing Guide, there were Golden Trout in the lake and in the creek, and I was sad that I wasn’t going to get a chance to test it out. Oh well, you can’t catch them all.



My original plan was to camp up at the head of the lake, but now that I was such a Hiking Machine, I was cranking out too many miles per day for this spot to make sense. So on I hiked. Silver Pass itself was just ahead of me, and that was my new goal now. The air was getting warmer, but at least my elevation was higher, so I wasn’t sweating much at all. Just hiking onward, like a machine.



I climbed up to the “true” Silver Pass and looked over the other side to the north. It was directly above Chief Lake. Unfortunately, there was a cliff below me, and the PCT continued even higher to find a better spot to descend to the north. So up I climbed to what is called the Silver Pass High Point, and took an actual backpack-off break. It took me five hours to climb 3100 feet in seven miles, and I certainly deserved a rest. I sat and ate some snack while checking out the peaks to the north using my PeakFinder Earth app. It’s a great app, and totally worth the five bucks. How do you think I name the peaks that I write about here? It’s all about putting technology to good use.





After taking my summit photos, it was time for a 1700 foot descent over the next three miles. But first I decided to get in a bit of fishing in one of the many “Native American” themed lakes just north of the pass. Chief Lake, Warrior Lake, Squaw Lake, Papoose Lake, and Lake of the Lone Indian were all around this high basin. The trail passed closest to Squaw Lake, so that’s where I stopped for a fishing break. And was completely shut out.




But I didn’t despair. There were more opportunities ahead of me, downhill along the creek. I stopped yet again at a calm section of water where I could actually see some trout swimming. This sounded like a plan. And I was shut out once again, as the wary fish immediately darted off into shady cover underneath a small footbridge. So I put my rod away and donned my backpack once again. Downhill hiking was almost as good as hooking a trout, I guess.




After the low point, the PCT branched off from the Cascade Valley Trail near a steel footbridge over Fish Creek. Once again, I took videos of the water flowing. I met a few southbound JMT hikers and wished them a good climb up to Silver Pass, and they wished me a good one up to Lake Virginia. I needed it, because I remembered that evil, exposed section of trail. It was only 1200 feet up, but it was bound to be roasting hot.

GoPro video of Fish Creek cascading into Cascade Valley, plus one of me crossing the bridge.


Luckily, I had a brief respite before the punishment, while the trail climbed alongside of Fish Creek. Some parts had excellent granite waterslides, whereas other parts were calm and meadowlike. I found a deep pool in a mellow region and stopped to try my hand at fishing. Third time pays for all, I said to myself. And it did! I caught a fine young Brook Trout in no time at all. I let it go, but not until I took a photo. Pictures or it never happened, as they say.




The side trail to McGee Pass branched off when I arrived in Tully Hole, a large basin filled with green meadow grasses. I spent the night down here the last time I hiked through, but not today. It was time to climb a thousand feet up the sun-exposed switchbacks to Virginia Lake. I met a couple of sweaty-looking hikers who just came down the slope, and they told me that they were glad they weren’t me right now. Great. But I did this once before, and survived, and I was going to do it again. So off I climbed. The switchbacks were short initially, back and forth across the hillside in the sun. They got longer near the top, but they never stopped climbing. There were a few trees for shade, so it wasn’t all bad. And this time I lucked out when a cloud or two drifted past the sun. I took advantage of these shady intervals by hiking even faster. Yes, I still sweated, but it was over sooner. And at least I had plenty of chances to take photos of the great views down into Tully Hole and its surrounding mountains. Very pretty.








I was happy to arrive at Lake Virginia. It was a huge lake by Sierra standards, up at 10337 feet elevation. It supposedly contained large Rainbow Trout, as well. Last night, my plan for the day was to camp here. I figured that I’d be whupped after all that climbing. I found a good campsite, then realized that it was only 4pm and the sun was still roasting down, making for a toasty tent. Plus, I wasn’t feeling all that whupped. So I put on my pack and hiked onward. I figured that I could make it to Purple Lake without any trouble. And that would position me to arrive in Reds Meadow tomorrow night. Perfect!



The next issue was crossing the soggy upper end of Lake Virginia. Last time, the lake level was much lower. But not now. As I approached, I met a southbound JMT hiker sunning herself and eating snack near the crossing. I asked her how it was, and she indicated with her hand that it was mid-thigh. Mid thigh? I looked at it. No way. There were also some large boulders present. I decided to risk it, and hopped boldly across. I made it! So much for mid thigh. Another couple arrived behind me. I said “See? You can make it without getting wet!” And the JMT hiker smiled an even bigger smile. I said to her “Wait a minute. You’re still smiling. Is there another crossing up ahead?” And then she smiled even bigger than ever. Groan. And that’s when the couple stopped to take off their shoes.
I continued onward, and discovered just how right she was. The big hopping stones were there, all right, but several of them were six inches under water! Crap. So I stopped, put on my sandals, and waded on across. Mid thigh, of course. The water felt good, and my feet certainly needed a wash, so it wasn’t all bad.


After drying my feet and putting my shoes back on, it was time to continue hiking. In retrospect, I was glad that I crossed the water on a warm afternoon rather than a chilly morning, so I was glad about my decision to go further today.
I only had to climb a couple hundred feet to get over the low pass between Lake Virginia and Purple Lake. Since I was already naming things today, I initially thought to call this Purple Pass, because it sounds good poetically. Not because of its views, or anything else. It just sounded good. But then I realized that it was much closer geographically to both Virginia Lake and Virginia Crag Peak, so Virginia Pass is much more fitting. Plus, you can actually see the lake from there. Sorry Purple Lake, no new pass for you this time!



The 400 foot descent to Purple Lake went by quickly, although I will admit that my feet and legs were feeling the strain of a long day. This lake was within a day’s hike of trailheads out of Mammoth Lakes, so it was heavily used by overnight and weekend backpackers. Hence, the forest service made special regulations for camping nearby. It simply wasn’t allowed. That’s one way of solving the problem. But this time they created an alternative. It was around the corner and up on a low ridge above the lake. I sighed. Just a little bit further to hike. And uphill, too. I guess I shouldn’t have told my brain I was finished when I got to the little footbridge. It’s like all my energy had drained away. So I took a deep breath and trudged on.




The campground was mostly full of hikers when I arrived. I wandered around, looking for an empty spot, and couldn’t seem to find any. I even asked people if there were more spots available. Nobody knew. I cast about, and saw a tiny trail heading even further uphill on the ridge. Sighing even more, I trudged up the hill. This time I was rewarded for my efforts, as I had the entire hilltop to myself. Ahhh. Just the way I like it. I set up my tent, then headed back down to a small creek to collect and filter my usual gallon of water. That would be enough to get me most of the way to my destination tomorrow.

I ate dinner, got dressed for the night in my base layer, and zipped up my sleeping bag halfway with my legs inside. I sent Vicki a text via satellite on the InReach device, then updated my notes. I pored over the map in the Far Out app, planning tomorrow’s hike. Hmmm… I had the inklings of a new plan, but only tomorrow’s events could determine its outcome. I decided to sleep on it, as well. And I really needed some, if my legs had a vote in the matter. So I lay back and got out my Kindle for a short bit of reading. Then I was off to sleep, and it wasn’t even sunset yet.
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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