From JMT mile 145.3 to 156.1 Total: 10.7 miles hiked 8/14
On the sixteenth day of my John Muir Trial trek I hiked from Upper Palisade Lake to Lake Marjorie, via Mather Pass, Upper Basin, and the South Fork Kings River valley. It was a relatively easy day, with great views.
Keith and I were becoming old hands at getting out of camp early. We woke at 4am, ate a hot breakfast, packed our gear, and were hiking by 5:30am, at first light. My attitude is that if it’s light enough to take pictures, it’s light enough to hike. Creating a photojournal without photos makes no sense. Plus, I love the mountains when they’re softly lit with alpenglow.
We managed (we think we managed) to get out of camp without waking anyone else, but it’s hard to do. Items clink and clank together every so often. The creek was far enough away that it was very quiet in camp. I have a feeling that we woke up Sabrina, our new friend and nearest neighbor, but she was nice enough not to tell us to shut up. She was heading our way, south, and most of the others were heading north.
We soon left Upper Palisade Lake behind. We had about 1300 feet to climb over the next two and a half miles, and we were hoping to get it done early, in the shade. After yesterday’s roasting noonday climb up the Golden Staircase, were were more than ready for a less sweaty experience.
We hiked along, at a steady pace. We were in no rush, after all. At first the nearby peaks were touched by alpenglow, but soon enough the sun rose and lit up the summits of the peaks to the west. It took a bit longer for the sun to strike the pass itself. Meanwhile, when we looked back down the canyon, we could see the two lakes in the far distance, and also the fourteeners of the Sierra Crest to the north. The trail wasn’t always smooth, sadly. There were a few giant stone steps, true knee-busters, that were unavoidable. Yesterday, on the big climb, we officially named them Bob-Steps, after our dear friend and co-conspirator Bob, who bailed out a few days ago at VVR after ten fun days on the trail. We missed him quite a lot, and steps like these continually reminded us of him.
After a long, direct shot toward the pass, the trail began a series of switchbacks. We stolidly ground up them, not exactly hiking fast. Ok, we were slow. Or at least I was. I think that Keith could’ve kicked my butt up this hill if he tried, but he waited for me politely every so often. After all these years of hiking with Vicki, I’m not used to being the slowpoke. I’ll blame it on age, since I can’t do anything to prevent time passing by. To be honest, the high Base Weight of my backpack is probably more to blame, but I really like all the stuff I carried with me.
The switchbacks seemed like they would never end. They were long ones, so when we were far from the pass, we could imagine that the one we were on was the proverbial Final Switchback. This trail tricked me that way several times. Luckily, as long as you keep on moving, there really is a Final Switchback.
It took us about two hours to hike those two and a half miles to the summit, which wasn’t the fastest known time by any means. Still, we were here, on Mather Pass, and we were the first hikers of the day to arrive. We had the place to ourselves, so I started taking photos and videos, just like always. It was still cool, so we didn’t bother to take off our backpacks. They were keeping our backs warm.
There was a tiny campsite up there. I told Keith about a SOBO PCT hiker I met in the fall of 2023 who told me that he was here in late August when the remnants of Hurricane Hilary tore through SoCal and the southern Sierra. He was in whiteout blizzard conditions, and had to hunker down up here! Snow in Summer. Crazy but true. He said that everything was quite beautiful the next morning, and the snow melted quickly.
We hung out and took a few more photos and videos. We switched phones so we would each have shots of ourselves up here on the pass, looking both north and south.
While we were standing around, Sabrina arrived. I had a feeling that we might have woken her up. She was also heading for Lake Marjorie today. She had very long legs and knew how to use them. Within a few minutes, she was gone! I called out and asked her to save us a campsite, but I’m not sure if she heard me. She was that fast. Then Keith and I began the long hike down into Upper Basin, the headwaters of the South Fork Kings River.
Upper Basin was true High Sierra tundra country. It was mostly rocky residue and glacial erratics, which are boulders that were being carried along within a glacier, then got left behind when it stopped moving and melted away. There were shallow ponds and rivulets of streams running everywhere.
At least the hiking was easy. The trail was smooth and cruisey, all the way down through the basin. Keith stopped to check out the high alpine tarns, but none of them had trout. I told him not to worry, as the river had Goldens, and we’d be there soon, once it managed to collect all the streamlets of the basin into one convenient place. I also pointed out Split Mountain on the far side. It was yet another fourteener, but was rather hazy in the morning sunlight.
Some pines began to appear once we got down below 11000 feet. The South Fork was only a tiny creek up here, but that didn’t matter to Keith. He spotted a trout lurking behind a rock, and the next thing you know it was bagged! He let it go again after a photo. You don’t want to know how many pictures I took of trout on this trip; Keith was a regular Fishing Machine. But he was happier now. We hiked onward. There was a better spot down lower.
The canyon narrowed as we left Upper Basin. All of the water was in one river now. I really liked the way this area looked. There were pine trees and grasses, and the river flowed peacefully nearby. And the trail was smooth, with a mellow grade.
Trout-wise, this was what Keith called a Freestone Stream, meaning that it didn’t plunge into deep pools where trout would be lurking. The trout in here were trickier to catch. We decided to take an extended break, as it was really pretty right here. I sat down on a rock and ate my Pop-Tart lunch and read my kindle. Keith got out his fly rod and headed upstream. Both of us were happy. The trout, less so.
After lunch, we headed south along the river, until the trail crossed it at the low point of our day’s hike. We just finished descending over 2000 feet via six miles of trail, and it was high noon. Our timing was terrible, as we had to climb uphill now. We paused by the water, but we didn’t need to filter any, so we hiked onward.
We had about 1200 feet left to climb over the next three miles, and we had all afternoon to do it. We didn’t feel rushed, in other words. So we began climbing up and out of the South Fork Kings River Valley toward Pinchot Pass. The pass would be tomorrow morning’s problem. For now, our goal was to camp next to a lovely lake. The lake was why our day was shorter than usual. I’ve hiked past it twice, once in 2020, and again last year, in 2024, and both times I wished that I could camp there. Just like last night’s camp at Palisade Lake. This was the year I finally did it. And I was happy about it, too.
The first part of the climb was a bit steep, leaving the valley proper, but then it leveled out. We met up with the Taboose Pass Trail junction, and then the side trail to Bench Lake. I told Keith that there were supposedly Brown Trout in that lake, as well as Rainbows. Maybe I’ll hike there some day. I’ll bet it’s rarely visited. Why? Because the Taboose Pass trail starts down in the roasting zone of Owens Valley, at 5400 feet, and climbs 6000 feet over the next seven miles! That’s a serious Barrier to Entry. Chemists call it Activation Energy. I call it Not Recommended. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try it…
Now that it was after noon, the cumulus clouds began to build again. I doubted that it would rain on us today. In the High Sierra, if it’s already getting cloudy in the morning, you are almost certain to get soaked that afternoon, but with cloud formation this late our chances were low. Unless we were on a big mountain like Whitney, which generates its own weather. I liked the clouds because they made the photos come out so much better. Yes, I took too many pictures, and they showed a lot more sky.
The trail was almost flat in the vicinity of Lake Marjorie. We hiked along happily. Keith wanted to fish some of these small pools, but he also wanted to set up camp and pick a good spot before other hikers arrived. We already knew that Sabrina must have snagged the best spot of all, just like yesterday.
It was only 2pm when we arrived at the lake. This was going to be the highest spot we’d camped at yet, at 11167 feet elevation. This was serious High Sierra tundra country, although there were a few scraggly pines surviving near the lake. Sabrina was there, and her tent was in a nice flat spot. Keith and I cast around for a while, and found acceptable places not too far away. Then it was time to do some serious relaxing.
I told Keith that my JMT Trout Fishing Guide stated that there were “skinny brookies” living in this lake. After all the Goldens we’d been seeing lately, a boring old Brook Trout was a novelty. Brookies, contrary to their name, don’t need a brook to spawn, so they do better in lakes like this one. Keith soon caught a few. He seemed to agree with the description, but thought that maybe they just had large heads, instead.
I hung out near shore and read my book, or talked to Sabrina. She was here from Germany, where the JMT got famous due to a book by some hiker, or so I gathered. Her English was quite good. She said that her hiking partner had to leave the trail for a job interview (via video phone call) and now she was temporarily solo while the partner caught up to her. Her itinerary was similar to ours, so we agreed to camp together again tomorrow. She was way too fast to trudge along with us, but that was OK. Enjoying the wilderness was the important thing, and having known, safe companions at night was a good idea for a solo lady hiker. Keith and I, two old married geezers, were about as safe as they come.
Not surprisingly, Keith took a swim in the icy lake later on that afternoon. The water was super-clear, and it was deep, so he didn’t have to go very far from shore to submerge himself completely. I decided not to join him, being a wimp. But he never called me that. I just tried to stay downwind of him whenever possible, so that he wouldn’t call me anything else! Yes, I was pretty ripe by now. I was beginning to stink like a PCT Thru-hiker, and I preferred to be proud of it rather than freeze my butt off.
The sun went down behind the ridge to the west, and the air grew cool. I put on my night clothing and cooked up some ramen noodles, which I ate in my tent. Afterward, I put on my down jacket and went outside to hang out. A few other hikers arrived, and they had to find less desirable campsites. The three of us planned to get up early again tomorrow, but Sabrina wasn’t quite ready for the 4am routine. She knew that she would catch up to us later on.
Tomorrow’s plan was to climb over Pinchot Pass in the early morning, then descend 4000 feet over the next eight miles to the suspension bridge over Woods Creek. Then we would have yet another roasting afternoon climb up toward Dollar Lake. But we’d deal with that when it came. For now, life was good, here at Lake Marjorie.
For a topographic map of the hike see my CalTopo Page
For LOTS more photos of the trek see my Flickr Page
<< Back to Day 15 Onward to Day 17 >> 
hikingtales.com 