From PCT mile 983.6 to 997.6 Total: 14.1 miles 8/9
It was Day 33 of my PCT Sierra Section Hike, where I hiked over the final bump of the Yosemite Washboard, climbing out of Stubblefield Canyon, then descending to Wilma Lake, after which the trail turned north and continued upstream along Falls Creek until I arrived at Dorothy Lake, right next to the northern border of Yosemite National Park. This would be my final full day spent hiking in Yosemite, and it turned out to be a great one.
I woke up that morning before my alarm went off, but not so far before it that I bothered going back to sleep. Plus, I wasn’t tired anyway. I had a big day planned, hiking into places I’d never seen before. In Yosemite! It doesn’t get much better than that. So I started the process of packing up. I was extra-quiet as I had neighbors nearby, but I was also getting good at this process. I ate my two packs of instant oatmeal, readied my snacks and lunch in my pockets, and got the rest of my gear together.
The last thing I did was tie my shoes onto my backpack, remove the lower part of my cargo pants so I was wearing shorts, and strap on my sandals. Then I put on the backpack, got out the GoPro, and filmed myself crossing the creek by the light of my headlamp. I wasn’t sure if it would come out, as GoPro’s aren’t known for night vision, but it came out well enough. It was brighter using human eyes, at least, but it was still full dark. Dawn wouldn’t be here for some time yet. I sat on a log on the far side and dried my feet, rezipped the pants, and put on my socks and shoes. After that, I was ready to crank out the next fourteen miles!
It was less than a half mile downstream when the trail left the creek entirely. It was 1200 feet uphill for about two miles, and it took some time. The sun rose while I was climbing, but the air was cool. This was the time of day when I felt that anything was possible. I had fresh energy, and hiking hard really helped to stop my hands from being so cold. I was wearing my fingertip gloves for warmth in the beginning, but not by the end.
I was still cold when the sun arrived, and it felt good on my face. Too bad the trail was in a valley of its own, and the sun rarely reached in there. So I hiked harder, and eventually I crested this bump on the trail, which was called Macomb Ridge. Let’s face it: After toiling uphill on 4000 foot climbs like the one to Muir Pass, this one was a pleasure. It even had proper stone steps, not those nasty stacked rocks that I hated so much. Yay!
The downhill side of the bump was different. It went down for 500 or so feet, then flattened out for a while. There was an intersection with the first of two trails to Tilden Lake, and then easy hiking through some pleasant forest with occasional shallow lakes. Quite lovely. My internet sources didn’t mention these nameless ponds, so I added them to the list on my phone, which eventually became my PCT Sierra Trout Fishing Guide, here on hikingtales. Sadly, the lakes also had no trout in them that I could discover, and I was here at dawn during what should have been feeding time, also known among fly fishermen as the Morning Rise, when the trout rise to the surface in search of hapless bugs. Just the same, the lakes were beautiful in the morning light, and I took many photos. I cared more about beauty than trout, to tell the truth, and there was plenty to see here.
I descended the final bit of trail and arrived at Wilma Lake just after dawn. The air was calm, and the reflections on the water were quite good. Too bad there weren’t any clouds, but I suppose a blue sky would do. I took some photos and videos like I always do. As for the Sign saying Wilmer and the maps saying Wilma Lake, well, I found on the internet that Wilma was the daughter of Clyde Seavey (I crossed Seavey Pass yesterday) who was a member of the Sierra Club, and knew the original cartographer, whose assistant spelled it wrong. The Seavey family worked hard to get the name changed on the maps, but the rusty metal signs are a bit older, made in the mid-1950’s, and still haven’t been replaced. So, Wilma it is! Mystery solved.
My guide mentioned that there were fairly large Rainbow Trout in this lake, so of course I stopped to go fishing. After hiking past the reedy shoreline, I found a great spot, if shallow, where I could safely cast my fly. I cast and cast, but I saw no fish. Oh, they were rising all over the place out in the middle of the lake, but there wasn’t much going on around here. Finally, I saw a big one swim by, so I tossed out the line. And it hit it! But I was too slow, and he spat the fly out. Then there was nothing. I cast a few times, half-heartedly, and got ready to quit. That’s when the same fish returned. I dangled the fly right in front of it, and it hit it again. This time, I had better luck, and I landed the fish, who was quite strong. Seeing the flash of color and light as you bring in a fish is beautiful, though maybe less so for the fish. I wet my hands in lake water to protect its slime coating (which protects its skin from infection) and held it up for a photo. Then I removed the hook and back into the water it went.
Technically, Wilma Lake drains into Falls Creek, via a narrow outlet into a wide channel that is more like a pond of its own than a creek. There were tons of trout rising in this body of water, but I already got my fish, so I hiked onward. There was a crossing just ahead. When I got there it turned out to be a knee-deep wade across a sandy bottom, much like the one I crossed in the dark earlier. I was not amused. I got out my phone and checked the comments in the Far Out app. Once again, my fellow PCT hikers provided a solution for me, stating that there was an easy rock-hop just upstream a ways. They were right. I crossed it, then realized that I could probably use a bit more water for the long uphill climb in front of me. So I filtered enough for the day. I met a few southbound hikers and directed them to the easy crossing, then continued onward.
I had about nine miles to hike and fourteen hundred feet to climb in order to make camp at Dorothy Lake. That’s only a three percent grade! Oh yes, I said to myself. Finally, an easy day on the trail! It might be hot and sunny, but at least the hiking would be mellow. I was quite stoked, as you might imagine. I set out with renewed vigor.
An hour or so later, I neared the second side trail to Tilden Lake. My guide said that it had great fishing, and it was quite large on the map, but I was a PCT hiker on a schedule. I had to meet Metal Tim and Little Engine at Sonora Pass two days from now. It was true that I snagged an extra day of food from the Tuolumne Meadows hiker box, so I could have spent an extra day in Yosemite, but the thought of hiking with some good buddies rather than being alone was all it took to dispel that idea. Instead, I sat down and ate my lunchtime Pop-Tart, even though it was only 10:30am. Waking up in the dark will do that to you. I also sent Tim a text via InReach that I was still on schedule. The two of them were finishing up a multi-day trek elsewhere in Yosemite at the time. After lunch, I continued hiking along, marveling at the beauty of Falls Creek, which had many moods, going from calm and wide to stony and cascading. I hadn’t seen any waterfalls (it was Falls Creek, after all) but maybe they were far downstream, or up ahead somewhere.
Along the way, I stopped at a wide, conveniently slow curve in the creek and got out my fly rod again. I knew that the Rainbows would be small up here, but I didn’t care. I mostly just wanted to take a break and try my hand at fishing in creeks. My main experience was in lakes, so this “flowing” action was a new thing. And then I hiked onward.
The rapids of one part of the creek soon gave way to wide meadows and large slow water flows. This was a beautiful canyon! And yet again, my research on the internet turned up another misnaming on the map. This canyon was called Jack Main but it was named after a sheepherder whose real name was Jack Means. Go figure. You’d think that Yosemite, the reigning monarch of the national park system, would have its nomenclature up to par. Tsk tsk. Such a shame.
The miles went by. Life was good, and the canyon was wonderful. No wonder that sheepherder spent all his Summers here! I took a mid-afternoon break in the shade and took off my boots to let my socks dry out. I read my book with a fine view over a meadow. Yes, this was living, all right. I only wished that Vicki was here. This was the kind of trail she liked.
You can’t tell from the photos, but I spent over four hours hiking up this canyon. I walk about two miles per hour on average, including rests, so it was truly an all-day event. But even mellow canyon hikes come to an end. And in this case, the trail got much steeper as it climbed toward Dorothy Lake. The Bond Pass Trail headed off to the left, and then there was less than a mile to go to reach my planned campsite at the lake.
I climbed over the hilltop surrounding Dorothy Lake and walked down to the shore. This lake was quite large, bigger than Wilma Lake, and it supposedly had trout proportionate to its size. But that was for later. For now, finding the right campsite was most important.
According to the app, there was one campsite on a nearby peninsula, and another at the far end of the lake. There was no one present at the first spot, so that’s what I chose. It wasn’t even 4pm, so more folks might show up later. I chose a flat spot under some trees and put up the tent. I set up the air mattress and spread out my sleeping bag so the down would have time to reach maximum fluffiness. I wandered around on the peninsula, and found a small streamlet leading into the lake. I decided to filter my water from this source. There was too much surface crud being blown onto shore around there and I didn’t want to clog my filter.
There was quite a breeze on the lake, but the trees kept the wind down in camp. The waves were large enough to make it impossible to see any trout, or whether they were rising anywhere. I decided to wait until evening to fish, hoping for less wind. So I took a nap, then ate my typical dinner of ramen noodles. I only had one more night of my original food in the bear canister, and now my pack was lighter than ever.
I tried to fish later on, but I can’t report much success. All I got was one strong hit, so the fish was probably large, but it also didn’t hang around for long. Any buddies it might have had left me alone, as well. That’s life.
Back in the tent, I settled down for the night. I had a sixteen mile day planned for tomorrow, and much of it was uphill. I would also be leaving Yosemite National Park first thing in the morning. Dorothy Lake Pass was less than a mile away, and it was the northern border of the park. There was a whole new wilderness out there, just waiting for me to explore it. And photograph it. And eventually write about it. Yes, I had my work cut out for me.
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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