From JMT mile 68.9 to 78.2 Total: 11.4 miles hiked 8/07
On the ninth day of my John Muir Trail trek I hiked from Duck Lake toward Silver Pass, and visited Purple Lake, Lake Virginia, Tully Hole, Fish Creek, Nüümü Hu Hupi Lake (formerly Squaw Lake), and Chief Lake.
Even though we didn’t really have to, Bob, Keith and I got up early, at 4am, in the dark before dawn. We started packing our gear and cooking breakfast. By the time we were ready to hike, it was first light.
Today was going to be an up-and-down day. We planned to climb about 2400 feet and descend 2100 feet, with several bumps and holes along the way. That’s still a decent amount of climbing, but at least it was broken up. It was the final up that would roast us, but we didn’t have to worry about that. Yet.
The first up and down was to swing around the broad ridge between Duck Lake and Purple Lake. We made the climb in the shade while we were fresh, and it was easy. We got some fine views over the Cascade Valley, then headed down the longer grade toward Purple Lake.
After two miles, we arrived at Purple Lake. Keith and I took off our backpacks and got out our fly rods. We could see the trout cruising along near the shore. Bob decided to hike onward, as the next uphill section was longer. We would catch him near the next lake at the latest. We fished and fished. The trout completely ignored us. Keith got a hit (of course) but was unable to land one. Eventually we gave up. It was tough to quit when you could see them there, taunting us. Annoying but true.
We met up with Bob somewhere near the high point between Purple Lake and Lake Virginia. Since it is on the ridge attached to Virginia Crag Peak, and heralds our arrival at Lake Virginia, I have graciously bestowed the name “Virginia Pass” on the picturesque summit. It truly deserves this name.
Lake Virginia seemed huge. There were tons of campsites on the north side, but they didn’t matter to us. We were hoping to go fishing, as there were supposed to be large Golden Trout in there. Keith had yet to catch a Golden, so he was bummed when he saw the breeze blasting across the lake from the west. It’s hard to cast a tiny fly hook into the wind, plus it creates waves so you can’t see the fish.
So we decided to hike on. The tricky part was crossing the inlet creek. I was expecting to have to take off our shoes and wade, as it was thigh-deep on me last year, but we lucked out and were able to rock-hop our way across. It was fun to do. Meanwhile, Keith looked and looked, and never saw a trout. He was a sad fisherman.
We continued on around the lake, and Keith didn’t bother fishing any more. If he had seen a large Golden down below in the crystal clear water, he would have stopped immediately, I’m sure. So on we hiked. There was a very easy rise south of the lake, that took us up and out of the bowl. It was nearly 10:30am by the time we got there, and we decided to take a short break.
The next section was more exciting. We had to descend multiple switchbacks, exposed to the hot sun, all the way down to Tully Hole. There was a small meadow down there, which Fish Creek flowed through. We could see the creek meandering through the meadow, but it was very far away. I’ve climbed this slope twice, and descended it twice, and I can state with confidence that climbing it in the hot sun is absolutely miserable. One of the few parts of the JMT that I would prefer to have avoided. Except for the satisfaction that it was conquered.
It was almost 11:30am when we got to the trail junction at the bottom. We decided to eat some lunch and filter some water. Keith, naturally, got out his Tenkara Fly Rod and headed upstream to a likely looking “hole” where trout would be lurking in an eddy, waiting for a hapless insect to drift down on the nearby flow. Keith provided that “insect” and soon he was pulling in one trout after another. My JMT Trout Fishing Guide stated that Fish Creek had Brookies, but obviously my information was incorrect. Keith caught a couple good sized Rainbows. (I just updated my guide while I was writing this.) I caught a Brookie here last year, so I knew it had them, as well. Live and learn.
Keith caught (and released) so many trout that his hand-made fly began to disintegrate from the stresses of removing it from the fish. He stopped to tie on another one. That’s when Bob and I began hiking down the mile-long Fish Creek Valley. It got steep, and there were many cascading waterfalls along the way. Keith caught up to us down near the bottom, where we crossed the creek.
There was a sturdy metal footbridge across the creek down there. Plus many campsites. This bridge was needed during the early season, when the flow in Fish Creek would have been too dangerous to attempt a crossing on foot. This bridge was strong enough for horses to cross.
We met up with another trail junction, which turned right and headed down into the Cascade Valley. I was glad we weren’t heading any lower. Unfortunately, it was now time for the biggest climb of the day. Silver Pass was 1700 feet above us, and almost four miles away. This wasn’t an overly-steep grade, less than ten percent, but Bob was not amused. It was just after noon, at the hottest part of the day. Thus far, he had been having what could only be called a “Good Day” and that was about to change. I told him not to worry, that it was still early, and we could take as many breaks as we wanted. Let’s face it: We were three old geezers, and this wasn’t a race. So we took a deep breath and started trudging on up that hill. And, yes, we took many short breaks, in the shade whenever possible.
It was 4pm by the time we reached Squaw Lake. We had climbed about 1100 feet and two miles or so in a little over three hours. It wasn’t great time, but it wasn’t that bad either. Vicki would have taken over four hours, for example. Uber-fit PCT hikers would have taken only one hour, or less. But none of that mattered. Bob was feeling absolutely whupped. He found a shady spot next to a bush and lay down for a rest.
We were still about 400 feet and a mile short of Silver Pass, our original goal, but I told him that it didn’t matter at all. We could camp right here if we wanted. We could easily summit the pass in the morning, and after that it was downhill all the way to the VVR Ferry boat. Plus, just take a look at that view! We could see distant mountains to the north, and had a beautiful lake right next door. Bob and Keith both agreed. This was a fine spot. Now all we needed was a place to pitch our tents.
Keith and I wandered around the area. He brought his fly rod with him, because he already spotted some trout in the outlet creek. They were doomed to be caught; the siren song of the “Trout Whisperer” was impossible to resist.
Squaw Lake was recently renamed to Nüümü Hu Hupi Lake by the USGS, in accordance with recent policy changes. All of the lakes in this vicinity have a Native American “theme” to their names: Chief, Warrior, Papoose, Squaw, and Lake of the Lone Indian. From my extensive years of reading books (including countless paperback Westerns), the word “Squaw” merely meant female Indian, the counterpart to Warrior. It had absolutely no negative connotations associated with it. However, it appears that the kind of books I read have little to to with life near certain western Indian Reservations, where men of questionable character have since used Squaw in a derogatory manner. Sad but true. The explorers who named it originally didn’t feel that way, I can assure you. I’m not sure that I can even pronounce this new name correctly, nor would I try, for fear of giving offence. I’ll use the old one when talking out loud, because I won’t be using it in an offensive way.
Apparently, there is currently a push to rename the John Muir Trail itself, to Nüümü Poyo (the Paiute Road). This is largely a fantasy in the minds of people who’ve never hiked it, because many parts of the JMT were blasted into existence with dynamite, through places which the natives did not or could not use. The other parts which they did use were never linked into one long path. Of course, there is also a push to discredit John Muir himself, because he described some natives he met in a negative light, which might be considered racist today, even though he also described others in a positive light, and particularly their way of touching the land lightly. The good that John Muir did far outweighs any bad, and if anyone deserves a trail named after him in the Sierra Nevada, it was surely him.
Anyway, Keith and I found a campsite away from the lake, and closer to the top of the headwall we just climbed. There were great views from there. We walked back, told Bob the good news, and carried our packs to the new spot. We set up camp and filtered water from the outlet creek.
Soon, Keith and I got bored. Bob opted to stay in camp while Keith and I climbed up the hill to Chief Lake, which we probably wouldn’t have time to fish in the morning. It took a while, but Keith finally caught a good-sized Brookie in the shade of a pine near the shore. The other ones he caught were very small.
On the way back to camp we got some great views to the north. The Minarets, Banner, and Ritter were far away, but reminded us of Garnet and Thousand Island Lakes. I got out the Peakfinder Earth app and took some screenshots of the peaks.
We came back to camp and all of us cooked our dinners. We hung out and watched as the sun went down behind the ridge to the west. I asked Bob how he was feeling. Had this been a Good Day, or a Bad Day? He gave it a semi-bad rating. That last hot climb really took a toll on him, and he was glad we stopped right here.
We talked about tomorrows’ hike. We had about 700 feet of climbing to do in order to reach the high point. Silver Pass itself was at a lower spot, but we still had to make the full climb. All told, we had about nine miles to hike. After the pass, we would be descending about 3000 feet, and I told them that most of it was smooth, but not all. I remembered some big stone steps down near Mono Creek that Vicki positively hated, regular knee-busters, and that’s when Bob groaned. He wasn’t looking forward to that. But he was certainly looking forward to taking the ferry boat to the Vermilion Valley Resort. It felt good to know that civilization was within our grasp.
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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