From PCT mile 1042.7 to 1058.6 Total: 16.1 miles 8/13
On the 37th day of my PCT Sierra Section Hike I started at Asa Lake in the Carson-Iceberg Wilderness and hiked north with my two partners through Noble Canyon to Ebbetts Pass, where I became a solo backpacker once more, then headed north from the pass into the Mokelumne Wilderness, hiking above the Kinney Lakes and below Reynolds and Raymond Peaks. All told, I hiked 16 miles while climbing and descending 3000 feet, all within the 8-9000 foot elevation range on a mostly smooth and cruisey trail.
Since this was my final morning hiking with Metal Tim and his wife Little Engine, I slept in late, all the way to 6am! I hadn’t been that much of a sluggard this entire trek. But that was OK. We ate breakfast and packed up our gear. Tim and I walked down to the northern shore of Asa Lake, hoping for some good dawn reflections. But we were too late for the alpenglow and too early for good lighting on the lake itself. It was pretty, but not postcard-pretty. A few high clouds would have helped, as well. You can’t have everything!
We went back to camp and put on our backpacks. The PCT was up above the campground area, so we walked up the steep slope and soon we were hiking on a mellow trail, tending uphill at a good angle. I like climbing in the early morning, as the air is cool. Getting warmed up after packing away your jacket is a plus.
We left the Carson-Iceberg Wilderness and entered a region of Stanislaus National Forest. Down below us in the distance were the Highland Lakes, which had a car-accessible campground. Wilderness designation means no wheels and no motors, so that’s why its boundary line was over here, where hikers rule the forest.
All told, it was a 700 foot climb over two miles of trail, so it wasn’t too steep. It went up to a saddle above Noble Lake and Noble Canyon. It should have been called Noble Pass, of course. Although Highland Pass might also work, since there was a nearby Highland Peak. I like the sound of Noble Pass better. Can I name it? Of course I can! Goodness knows I’ve done it on a few other spots within the Sierra Nevada. If I ever become famous, perhaps someone important will humor me. But not until I’m dead, of course, thus limiting my satisfaction.
Meanwhile, the view from the pass was excellent. I also read in the Far Out app that I might get cell signal here. I turned the phone off airplane mode and sent out some texts. I updated the app itself. Then I called Vicki back in San Diego. We missed each other, and I still had a week left before getting to my car at Donner Pass. It was good to hear her voice. There would be more opportunities over the next few days as I neared Lake Tahoe, so we didn’t talk for long.
We soon arrived at Noble Lake. There was a small campsite nestled in under some pines on the northeast end. We all agreed that we should have stayed there last night. Even the morning photo ops would have been better here than at Asa Lake. But it was too late now. The morning light was mostly gone already, and the daytime breeze had disturbed the calm reflections.
Noble Canyon turned out to be more impressive than I expected. It was made of eroded igneous rock, and the trail switchbacked into it steeply. There were Sierra Junipers thriving in this soil, and the morning light was striking them wonderfully. I took a ton of photos, just like I always do. And, just like always, some were crappy and some were good.
Down at the bottom, the trail crossed a creek. Tim got out his fancy mirrorless camera and did some long exposure shots on a cascade into a small pool. I took a photo of him, instead. After that, the trail climbed another 400 feet, and this time it was on the sunny side of the canyon. We trudged on, and by now we were sweating a bit, as the heat of the day started to arrive, at 10am.
The trail continued on, going up and down and in and out of the small ridges, valleys, forests, and meadows on the way toward Ebbetts Pass. Tim and his wife hiked faster than me, as always. And I caught up when they stopped for a drink of water. As always. When it was flat I kept up with them, but they didn’t call her Little Engine for nothing! She really chugged up those grades. And Tim’s legs were even longer than mine. Just the same, fast or slow, it was a fine morning to be hiking in the Sierra.
As we neared the pass, we came upon a Trail Crew, led by a Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest Ranger. She was carrying a six foot sawblade, so you know they meant business. We talked for a while, and she made the call to honor my wilderness permit that I got from the Inyo National Forest, out of Mammoth Lakes. Thanks! I probably should have gotten another one in this forest, but I had no printer to print it out even if I made one online. This insistence on paper permits is so “90’s” in my opinion, and they should offer the option to have it on ones phone. Everybody has a backup battery these days, after all. OK, my rant is over. For now.
About a third of a mile from the actual pass, the side trail down to the trailhead parking lot branched off from the PCT. This meant that my hiking partners were leaving me! They had two cars, and left one of them here, just like I left mine up north at Donner Pass. I had already warned Tim not to offer me a ride to Donner Pass in his car, because I knew that the temptation would be strong. And it was! I definitely wasn’t looking forward to hiking solo once again. But I also knew that if I went home I would almost immediately want to get back up here on the trail again. This happens to me every time. So instead, we all shook hands and gave small hugs. Tim and I did the Official Heavy Metal Handshake. This was mandatory. And then we waved goodbye.
I was really gonna miss those two. Plus, I still owed Tim a sandwich.
A short hike later, I arrived at Highway 4, somewhere near the “official” point of Ebbetts Pass, which was a bit further west, and uphill. But as far as the PCT was concerned, this was the place. I took a few photos and hiked onward. All alone. Solo. I thought about running down the road to catch Tim before he drove away, but I got my impulsiveness under control. No, John, I said to myself, you are going to finish the PCT Sierra Section. No matter what!
I had 108 miles left to go, about a fifth of the entire Sierra Section, so it wasn’t as easy as it sounds, but I was also a Hiking Machine now. Ups and downs no longer mattered to me, only miles. Plus, the biggest climbs were back in the JMT regions, not up here. Everything was a bit smoother and mellower in the northern Sierra. Bigger miles were possible now, but I also didn’t want to change my plans too much. Enjoying the trek, not turning it into a sufferfest, was the whole point, after all.
So I hiked on, through a region with small lakes and ponds. The trail was mostly on good old glaciated granite, the Sierra mainstay, and it was easy hiking. These ponds were too shallow to have trout in them, as they would freeze solid in the Winter, so I didn’t bother trying to fish.
It was getting near noon when I arrived at a spot overlooking Upper Kinney Lake. This lake was stocked with Rainbow and Lahontan Cutthroat Trout, or that’s what my as-yet-unpublished PCT Sierra Trout Fishing Guide indicated. Did I hike down and try my luck? Nope. There were roads to these lakes, and I figured that they were far too heavily fished. My little Tenkara fly rod didn’t stand a chance against serious anglers. But that was OK, as I had a lot of miles left to hike. Instead, I sat down and enjoyed my Pop-Tart lunch. Life was good again.
Shortly after that, I entered the Mokelumne Wilderness, since there were no roads on the west and north sides of the lake. There were pretty meadows, and a lot of that crazy-looking agglomerate igneous rock in the formations above me. Reynolds Peak was up there somewhere, and the ridge between it and Raymond Peak was rife with volcanic crags. They were cool looking, but much too loose for climbing.
The high meadows and lack of trees provided good views, and even a steady breeze. I was hot, hiking in the sun, but I was cool in the winds, which were mostly coming from behind me. I took a bunch of photos, looking across the big valley where the highway runs. Luckily, there was very little traffic in this out of the way location, and I didn’t hear anything but the sounds of grasses swishing and aspen leaves giggling in the breeze.
Video of what Vicki and I call Giggling Aspens, because of the way the leaves flutter
Mostly the trail stayed up in the meadows, crossing the high land above Silver Creek, Raymond Meadows Creek, and Eagle Creek. They were all down below, flowing in their own wrinkles in the land below Reynolds Peak. The hiking was super-easy in this section, and I flew right along.
Six miles after Ebbetts Pass, and several hours later on, I arrived at Pennsylvania Creek. This was the last spot with reliable water until sometime tomorrow. So I had to filter most of a gallon, and carry it afterward. Uphill, of course. There may have been a seep or trickle a bit further on, but I liked getting water from solidly running streams, when possible. This was one of them. So I sat and read a book on my Kindle while gravity filtered the water for me. This method is the best thing yet. It’s lazy and it gives you a break at the same time.
I had about two and a half miles left to hike, and most of it was uphill. It was getting on towards four in the afternoon, so at least the sun was less fierce. And the trail swung around to the northwest, so now the breeze was more or less in my face. I wasn’t sure this was what I wanted, but at least it kept me cool. Sweating while freezing, in other words.
By this point, I was getting tired. I kept checking the Far Out app to see how much further I had to go. The comments in the app were for the junction about 0.2 miles further, but people helpfully wrote about some great spots in some trees. So that meant I didn’t really know where these spots would be. Somewhere up ahead was about the best I could get. I crested a bleak ridge with gusty winds blowing at me, and there, just ahead, was a stand of pines. Surely they must be the place, I thought. And I was right! I sighed with relief as I entered the trees and felt the wind drop away. It was like a pressure on the brain, I had been hiking in it so long.
I was the only one there at 4:30 that afternoon, and I was fine with that. Meeting other hikers wouldn’t make up for losing the company of Tim and his wife. And I was too whupped to care. I set up my tent, inflated the air mattress, and spread out the down sleeping bag so it had time to refresh its loft. It was already getting cold now that I was in the shade. I placed my gear in the accustomed spots both inside and outside the tent. I could reach everything without getting up. Just the way I liked it. Then I changed into my night layer, and also added my full down layer. I was feeling chilled. Maybe I got too much sun that day, which can cause a chill in the evening.
I was happy in the tent, in my own little well-organized world. I cooked up some hot ramen noodles, and this improved my attitude. After that, I snacked on some chips, drank my Gatorade, and ate some candy corn for dessert. It wasn’t much, but it tasted good. I updated my notes and texted Vicki via InReach. Then I settled down into my sleeping bag and read a book on my Kindle as the sun headed into the west. I was asleep before it set.
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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