From JMT mile 121.2 to 133.5 Total: 12.3 miles hiked 8/12
On the fourteenth day of my John Muir Trail trek I hiked from a lovely campsite on Evolution Lake to a drab one in Le Conte Canyon, but it was gorgeous every step of the way, past several lakes while climbing to Muir Pass and downhill by the cascades and waterfalls along the Middle Fork Kings River. It was a fantastic day in the High Sierra.
It was only three days after the full moon, so when I woke up at midnight I decided that I might as well take a photo or two, with my pixel phone set to Night Mode. It does a pretty good job, and even shows some stars. Then I went back to bed. Yesterday, Keith and I camped up here at 10,900 feet, our highest elevation campsite yet, and the air was quite cool. I left my goose down pants and jacket on when I got back into my wimpy 32 degree bag.
We woke up early, as usual, and started getting ready in the dark. Or under moonlight, except we actually used our headlamps. We tried to keep it quiet to avoid waking our two neighbors, while we cooked breakfast and packed our gear. We had this process down to a science by now, and we were ready to hike before 6am, just as the dawn alpenglow began to light up the nearby peaks. We walked back up to the main trail and continued hiking south around the east side of Evolution Lake.
We arrived at the second Evolution Creek Ford. Unlike the sandy one near the lower end of the valley, this one was made of stones. The trail builders set large boulders across the wide part of the creek. These were massive enough that they wouldn’t shift during major Spring melt events. And they were truly fun to cross! Big steps were often required, but as long as you kept your momentum going, and set your mind into a Zen-like state of concentration, it was a great experience. Did I take photos and videos? That shouldn’t even be a question.
We continued hiking south, and the trail began climbing. It was time to leave Evolution Lake’s bowl and arrive at Sapphire Lake’s bowl. I consider both lakes to be within “Lower Evolution Basin” whereas the region between Wanda Lake and Muir Pass was what I call “Upper Evolution Basin,” but you are welcome to call them whatever you like. Both basins are high above treeline, and consist of molded slabs of glaciated granite, with a smattering of hardy tundra-like plants and grasses growing here and there. The few pines that survived the howling Winter months were stunted and gnarled, as if Evolution was transforming them before our eyes into a new species. Meanwhile, Evolution Creek was down below us, clattering over stones and boulders, creating a constant low music playing in the background.
In less than an hour of hiking, we arrived at Sapphire Lake. If the sun had been high enough, it would have been a sapphire color, but right now it was mostly gray, thanks to reflections of the nearby granite. This lake still called for a break, as it had Golden Trout living in it. Keith wanted to catch at least one trout from every body of water we passed, and there were a lot of them in the Sierra near the JMT. My trusty JMT Trout Fishing Guide told all about them. Plus, I caught some here last year, in 2024, when I hiked 500 miles northbound on the PCT Sierra Section. This year I was only hiking 250 or so on the JMT, so it’s plain that I’m starting to show my age.
Keith caught a few fish, then released them. We didn’t stay there too long, as it was still a bit cool. We continued on, hiking uphill as the trail gained elevation on the west side of the lake. The views got better up there, and the sun began lighting the peaks across the way. It was fun to watch the circular wave-rings as the trout rose to the surface in search of insects. This lake had tons of trout!
We had another mile of steady uphill hiking ahead of us. The sun rose to meet us as we climbed. Luckily, we were up so high at this point that it wasn’t likely to get too hot today. Perfect hiking weather was what I predicted. We hiked along through the tundra, and met some other hikers that were just waking up. Slowpokes. But everybody has their own style. If you want to go fishing for trout, it helps to get up early for the dawn rise, as they often hide during midday.
After taking one last view down into the lower basin, we walked over to Wanda Lake. This lake was quite large. The trail went directly along the shore, which was fun. We noticed that there was a trail crew camped down below us, and there were small flags up here. It looked like they were re-routing the trail away from the lake. I was glad I hiked the shore one last time before it was completed. As we hiked, we looked for trout, but my web research indicated that this lake was purposely designated as fishless, and gill nets had been used to kill the trout. Gill nets aren’t very nice. But then again, maybe fish hooks aren’t so nice either. A percentage of High Sierra lakes are now fishless, and some are being used to help the endangered Sierra Yellow-Legged Frog. I saw gill nets being deployed in Sixty Lakes Basin a few years back. Wanda lake was so high (11,500 feet) that it seemed unlikely to spawn tadpoles, but I’m no expert. The only thing I’m certain of is that trout are tastier than frogs, and much more fun to catch.
We left Wanda Lake behind, and began the final approach to Muir Pass. I pointed out the Muir Hut to Keith, but it was very far away. We climbed steadily across the stony basin. The smooth slabs of the lower basin had given way to loose boulders, left behind when the Ice Age glacier finally stopped advancing, and simply melted away.
The highest lake in Evolution Basin was called Lake McDermand. It was named after Charles McDermand, who wrote the 1946 book “Waters of the Golden Trout Country” describing his journeys while fly fishing the Sierra Nevada. Supposedly, this lake was now being managed as Fishless, which seemed wrong, somehow. Was this decision made purposely, in order to cause the author to spin in his grave? Total disrespect, in other words. Meanwhile, when I checked on Amazon, there was a single used copy of his book available for almost $300! I would say that the book was almost as rare as Golden Trout in Lake McDermand, except for the fact that Keith discovered that the trout were back! And he caught a real beauty. I sure hope they don’t try to kill them all over again now that I’ve published this. Maybe they could pick a different lake, one that isn’t on the main hiking corridor through the Sierra Nevada and also happens to be named after a fisherman who loved the Golden Trout, the State Freshwater Fish of California. Just a suggestion.
Well, we were pretty stoked after finding the Goldens in that lake. It also meant that Wanda Lake (just downstream) probably also had trout. But we weren’t hiking back there to find out.
The next part of our plan was to reach the summit of Muir Pass. So on we hiked. At 10,955 feet, this was the highest we’d been on the JMT thus far. I wasn’t breathing too hard, or at least not suffering much more than I would on any steep hike, so I’m guessing that we were getting acclimated. It often takes a week or more to change your body’s red blood cell production, thanks to erythropoietin, although in the short term your body increases hemoglobin concentration by lowering blood volume. We were well into the long term now. I predicted that we would have minimal trouble summiting Whitney, at 14,505 feet. But that remained to be seen.
We arrived at the Muir Hut, on the summit of Muir Pass, on the Muir Trail. I love saying that. We took photos of it and I posed by the door. This was my third time visiting it. In fact, I sheltered inside it last year, because it was raining. I spent a very pleasant night.
We went inside the hut and signed the register. I noticed that they had installed a new window, new glass in the door, a new fireplace grating, and varnished the door properly. Nice work! It was in pretty sad shape last year in July. I could still smell the varnish. And it was great that the window now opened to let in fresh air. The fireplace was always kind of stupid, because there was absolutely no wood up here at 12000 feet. Back in those days they made horses haul their wood. Or maybe the architect called for a fireplace, and they had no choice but to install one. It had been bricked up for years, but now it had a vent. I wondered what would happen now, and whether snow would get inside. I’m not likely to find out, either.
It wasn’t even 10am, so we didn’t bother to eat lunch. We picked up our packs and started hiking downhill, into Le Conte Canyon. The trail dropped about 4000 feet over the next eleven miles. I know this number all too well, because I climbed it last year in one day. Brutal. But this time we were only dropping a little over halfway down the canyon. Easy hiking, I hoped. But not right away. It was just as stony and rocky on this side of the pass as the other. We had to choose our steps with care.
About 400 feet down was Helen Lake. We decided that this was a good spot to eat some lunch. Plus, Keith discovered that his sleeping pad still had a slow leak, even after repairing a hole a few days ago at Lake Edison. We set down our packs and he blew up the pad, then dunked it into the icy water of the lake. He didn’t go swimming this time. There was still a bank of snow melting into the lake. While his pad was drying out, I threw a snowball toward some passing hikers. They laughed, because I missed so badly. Once the pad was dry, he tried putting some of my Tenacious Tape on the hole, as his patch kit was depleted. It turned out that the patch held!
Below Helen Lake, the headwaters of the Middle Fork Kings River flowed downward through endless tons of loose stone and talus. Glaciers and freeze-thaw cycles had done their work over the past thousands of years. There was very little in terms of plant life up there, There were also patches of late-Summer snow still melting on the northern faces. I thought the terrain was wonderfully stunning and dramatic as I descended. I didn’t remember feeling this way last year, when there was even more snow, and I was trudging uphill for thousands of feet. What a difference a change in direction made! Life was truly beautiful today, and I was hiking with a big smile on my face.
There were icy unnamed lakes, there were waterfalls and cascades, and there was snow touching the trail itself. Last year I had to cross several slippery snow patches. The puffy cumulus clouds were building up above, but they were still at the pretty stage, when photos come out so much better than a simple blue sky alone. The trail crossed the river a time or two, but they were easy crossings, and fun to rock-hop.
The only sad part was that there were no trout for Keith to catch. The good part was that we kept on hiking rather than stopping to fish. And the canyon continued to impress me with its stark beauty. As we got lower, stunted pines reappeared along the watercourse. They liked water, too. And all around us was the sound of the river tumbling over stones, a constant background sound that was only loud when you thought about it. Or when you drew too near.
The canyon widened as we got lower. A few small meadows appeared. More pines were in evidence, but it was still a harsh place to live all year. It was probably under snow and ice for six months at a stretch.
We finally reached the spot I was waiting for: The zone of big waterfalls. This was worth taking a break near. I took about a zillion photos and videos. The view was photo-worthy no matter where I stood. By this point, the river was a collection of many side streams, and there was a decent amount of water tearing down the slope. This was the main headwall of Le Conte Canyon. Below us, to the east, was the rounded valley bottom of the Middle Fork Kings River. Glaciers had obviously done their work in that canyon.
There was a section of trail where they must have used dynamite to make a safe path down the steep granite slabs. It was like someone chopped out a half-tunnel along the slick face of the rock. Impressive. I love hiking on trails like that. Man versus Nature, and Man won. At least for now.
We hiked down some switchbacks through a steep talus field. I remembered roasting half to death coming up that in the afternoon, back in 2021. But now it was shady. The cumulus clouds were still building, and were beginning to take over a larger percentage of the sky. I hoped that they wouldn’t turn into thunderheads, but you never can tell. It didn’t matter, as we had to keep hiking anyway.
We passed by the famous Rock Monster, which is now labelled on Open Street Map and the Far Out app. They got the location wrong, but that’s OK, as it’s close enough. You can camp next to it, if you dare.
The trail got mellow as we neared Big Pete Meadow. The canyon was wide now, and made a right-hand turn. It had been heading east and now it turned to the south. Langille Peak was standing there at the pivot point, looking down upon us. As we turned the corner we looked ahead, and there were dark clouds, with obvious trails of virga descending beneath them. Rain! I stopped and looked at it, trying to determine which way it was drifting. It appeared to be stationary. Then we heard a distant rumble of thunder.
Our proposed campsite wasn’t much further away, less than a mile. When the app told us we were there, we left the trail to check it out. The sites were sloping and lumpy, and there was horse manure all around. Not very exciting. The app said there was another spot 0.2 miles further on. We hiked there in no time at all. These sites weren’t much better than the last ones, and there was still some manure. We decided to take it anyway. We wanted to get our tents set up before the rain came. Being safe and dry inside a tent is so much better than being cold and wet while setting up camp in a downpour.
The cloud and virga never did reach us. We got our gear set up and then I headed to the river to filter a couple gallons of water (Keith’s filter was slow and partly clogged, so we mainly used mine). Keith got out his Tenkara rod and started fishing. He just kept on catching them, one after another. And then he moved downstream a bit and caught some more. Rinse and repeat. I watched him fish while I waited for gravity to push the water through the filter. It was a mellow time, now that we were in no rush whatsoever. Life was good again, here in Little Pete Meadow.
We ate dinner a short time later. Both of us really enjoyed the past two days. Evolution Valley, Evolution Basin, Muir Pass, and upper Le Conte Canyon were amazingly beautiful examples of High Sierra Wilderness. And then we headed for bed, even though the sun hadn’t set.
Tomorrow was looking to be another fine day. We had to hike downhill through the rest of the canyon, then head uphill yet again along Palisade Creek. Our goal was to camp near the Palisade Lakes, just below Mather Pass, but in order to get there we had to climb the dreaded Golden Staircase. In the heat of the day. Sometimes your timing works out well, and other times you have to do what you have to do. But that would be tomorrow’s problem.
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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