On our first day in the Eastern Sierra, we drove north from San Diego in the wee hours, arrived in Lone Pine by morning, saw Mount Whitney, then headed north to Big Pine and hiked to a lava tube near Crater Mountain, after which we went trout fishing at Glacier Lodge, and again at the Owens River, followed by camping along Onion Valley Road at the Upper Grays Meadow Campground.
We left San Diego and drove through LA in the dark, until most of the traffic was left behind, then stopped for breakfast. Now that we’re older, we like to take a break every two hours or so, to get out of the car and stretch the stiffness from our bodies. At least we didn’t have to stop every hour. Yet. That time might come, but for now we were happy to enjoy the sunrise at a Jack in the Box in Riverside.
Then we continued north along US 395 across the Mojave Desert. It was one of those drives with endless vistas containing nothing but a few hardy plants and bone-dry mountains. It didn’t change much within the Owens Valley, either, at least in the southern part. The only green was within the valleys draining the Sierra Nevada to the west. The Los Angeles Department of Water and Power (LADWP) drank most of that life-bringing water before it reached the valley floor. Further north, they let it reach the floor but simply owned the rights to the Owens River, instead. I planned to catch one of their trout later on, with a bit of luck.
After stopping briefly in Lone Pine for a shot of Whitney, we bought some gas and continued north. Earlier, back home, we printed out a list of potential sites in Owens Valley that I found on Google Maps. Now that we were here, Vicki chose to begin our adventure with a visit to the Lava Tube near Crater Mountain, just west of the town of Big Pine. We let Google Maps take us there, too. But it could only do so much. We ended up on a dirt road about a half mile from the tube’s location. The phone showed a lame-looking dotted line to the tube, obviously not following a trail. Why? Because there was no trail. So we parked and got ready for some bushwhacking through the minimal bushes. More like GrassWhacking, really. Or LavaWhacking.
As we climbed up the long slope toward the tube, I kept a GPS track running on my CalTopo App, which helped to keep us going in the right direction. I had also downloaded offline maps of the entire Eastern Sierra to my phone for use on Google Maps, which turned out to be a good idea when our cell signal disappeared thanks to Crater Mountain blocking our view of the highway. Google had a couple of photos of the tube, but we really weren’t sure what we were looking for. So we spread out, staying in sight of each other, and scanned the lumps of chunky lava from side to side as we walked.
Either Google’s location for the tube was wrong, or both our phone’s GPS sensors were off. But we eventually spotted what appeared quite promising. We knew what they typically looked like, thanks to our trip back in June 2023 to Lava Beds National Monument, which had many excellent lava tubes. We hurried over to inspect it. There was a raised hump of lava with a collapsed section showing a dark hole. Sadly, the hole was full of errant Tumbleweeds! They had random-walked their way into it, and now they were all stuck together in a giant lump that was immovable by anything short of a hurricane. Vicki was more adventurous than I and headed over there. Not me. I learned a long time ago that tumbleweeds were armed with tiny prickers, like nettles or certain cactus species, that embed themselves into your hands and are the devil to remove. I warned Vicki to only touch them by the main stem at the bottom. She moved a few out of the way and entered the mouth of the tube. She said that she could feel air blowing out of it, but that it was very shallow and that it would be too cramped to continue further without crawling. No thanks! So we took a photo and she escaped without finger damage.
It also didn’t look like the pictures on Google Maps. Since we knew that lava tubes run for some distance, most likely downhill from Crater Mountain, we continued along the humped region that resembled a low ridgeline. Soon, we came upon another obvious lava tube. But this one was even smaller than the last. It also didn’t look quite right. So we took another photo and moved on.
About fifty feet downhill was the other end of the one we just visited! This time, it looked like the photos. We found the Lava Tube! Vicki told me that it was my turn to crawl into a narrow cave. I agreed with her logic, in principle, but I wasn’t that excited. Still, I climbed in for a photo, then ducked down inside. It was quite low in there, but there was room for two people to sit down. I invited Vicki to join me. From inside, once our eyes got used to it, we could see some light from the far end of the tube. It was possible for a dedicated spelunker to crawl through the tube, but we weren’t dedicated enough. So we took some more photos and videos. Of course.
And that was pretty much it for the mighty Owens Valley Lava Tube. Not so mighty compared to others, certainly, but it was a unique lava tube, at least around here. We decided to head back to the car, walking down the long grassy slope. We both liked the views of the snowy High Sierra from there. I remembered being on the other, western, side of Spilt Mountain back in July while hiking the PCT, but there wasn’t any snow at the time. Fourteeners are always worth seeing. Climbing them is worth it, too, but we weren’t about to try it today.
Back at the car, we had to decide what to do next. So many choices! We looked at the list and ignored everything. Big Pine Creek was just up the hill on Glacier Lodge Road. Vicki and I hiked up into the North Fork of Big Pine Creek back in 2020, and we wanted to revisit the trailhead area. That was a fun backpacking trip, deep into one of the prettiest spots in the Sierra Nevada. And that’s saying something! But today our plan was simple. We would check out the creek and campground, and maybe I would get lucky and catch a trout.
We found a parking spot at the end of the road and I grabbed my Tenkara Fly Rod. We walked over to the man-made fishing pond at Glacier Lodge. This pond was regularly stocked with rainbow trout by the California Department of Fish and Wildlife. My fishing permit helped pay for these fish. Of course, they were right next to a campground, so these fish had seen almost every trick in the book, bait-wise. But maybe they hadn’t see a fly rod lately, I reasoned. Also, the camping season was over, and they were probably hungry. I cast my fly and almost immediately landed a modest-sized rainbow trout. Woo hoo! This was exciting. Vicki put it into a plastic bag to keep it alive, while I continued fishing. It was looking like a tasty lunch for Vicki!
After that, I’m afraid that the rest of the fish in the pond were thoroughly on their guard. They totally ignored my fly as I drifted it right in front of their noses. They’d seen too many of their buddies unceremoniously dragged from the water flipping and screaming. I even got out a spinning reel and cast a small lure out there, just to change the presentation. But no. That lone fish was the only one dumb enough to bite a hook that day.
I kept on trying, of course, but that didn’t stop Vicki from cooking the first one. It didn’t take long before she was tenderly removing the ultra-fresh meat from the tiny rib bones. And then she ate like a queen. All Summer long I was hiking solo, catching fish along the Pacific Crest Trail, but Vicki wasn’t there to eat them, so every last one was returned to the water afterward. But not this time. These stocked trout, fresh from the Fish Hatchery, were born to be eaten. And to make Vicki happy.
We decided to check out a couple spots along the Owens River, just south of Big Pine, on our way to getting a campsite for the night. The first was the Owens River itself. We were shocked at how strong it was flowing. Was Los Angeles really drinking the water that fast? It appeared so. Ten million people can drink small rivers dry quite easily. They had other sources, as well.
I also knew that there ought to be big Brown Trout in this water. So I tried casting my tiny Tenkara fly out there, but it was too small and the water was too swift and cloudy for success. Oh well. Then we visited the nearby Tinemaha Reservoir, which had been releasing all that water. The dam was fenced in with barbed wire, so we merely viewed it from a distance.
After that, the afternoon was getting on, so we headed south on 395 to the town of Independence. Onion Valley Road headed west from there, climbing steeply uphill toward the towering peaks of the Sierra. We decided to get a spot at the Upper Grays Meadow Campground, which was part of Inyo National Forest. Our lifetime senior pass meant that the camping fees were only half the regular price, making USFS campgrounds particularly compelling to frugal campers like us. We drove in and all around the two loops. There were plenty of empty spots, as this was mid-week and off-season. We chose a good spot and got our “camperized” Rav4ready for the night. Vicki usually deals with dinner, while I deal with the air mattresses and down sleeping quilt. It takes a similar amount of time. And then both of us got to eat!
After dinner, the sun descended behind the tall peaks in the west, and we changed into warmer clothing. Then we took our evening Constitutional around the campground. We spoke with our neighbors, who were parked next to the now-vacant Camp Host spot. The host was already gone for the year. They had a big RV, so had a generator and true luxury. We knew what these were like, as Vicki’s parents once owned a big trailer, and the two of us were happier in our tiny car. It was more the size of a backpacking tent, and we were backpackers, after all.
After checking out the pre-sunset clouds, we decided to hit the sack early. We had woken up at 2am that morning, and done a lot of driving all day. It was time for some serious shut-eye. Then we cracked the windows of the car for ventilation, and headed off to sleep.
Later on, about midnight, we woke up and visited the restroom. This happens more often than you’d like as you get older. So we both put on our extra layers and went outside. The full moon was shining down through high clouds, and everything was lit up around camp. We walked out to the main road and enjoyed the cool night air, and the stark mountains cloaked in deep shadows. It was truly a beautiful experience. And then we went back to bed. We weren’t done sleeping, after all.
For a topographic map of the hike see my CalTopo Page
For LOTS more photos of the trek see my Flickr Page
Onward to Day 2 >> 
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