We went on an overnight backpacking trek into the Hoover Wilderness, hiking along the Leavitt Meadows Trail to Roosevelt Lake, visiting Lane Lake and Secret Lake on the high trail on our way back to the car.
We drove south from our recent trip to the Tahoe area, and decided to get in one final Sierra backpacking trek this season, on our way back home to San Diego. One of the many places I’ve been eyeing over the years was Leavitt Meadows, which has trails that lead toward northern Yosemite and Sonora Pass. This seemed like a promising region, especially since it is (initially) at a lower altitude than the High Sierra. Vicki has trouble acclimating to elevation, so remaining near seven or eight thousand feet was a good idea. There were also rivers and lakes, so I would be happy to try my hand at trout fishing. Both of us should be happy.
We arrived at the trailhead in the morning and discovered that the parking lot was at the opposite end of the Leavitt Meadows Campground. It wasn’t all that far, maybe a quarter mile, but why carry the big backpacks when we didn’t have to? I dropped off Vicki and the gear by the footbridge, parked the car, and quickly hiked back. It was time to go! Time to cross the West Walker River.
After crossing the footbridge, the trail headed uphill, overland, bypassing a bend in the river. Then it descended to travel along the edge of the wide valley known as Leavitt Meadows. The river meanders through this valley, which is quite flat. We saw a lonely fisherman wearing the classic chest waders, walking along and through the shallow waters, casting and recasting his fly rig. It looked like fun, but I’m more of a stay-on-shore fisherman, but I can see the “lure” of this method. This section of trail was truly Easy Hiking, and it lasted for about two miles. Very enjoyable. Meanwhile, off in the distance to the south were boiling cumulus clouds scudding along above an impressive-looking mountain that my PeakFinder Earth App called The Watchtower. I liked the name, too. The weather forecast called for a 30% chance of thundershowers this afternoon, so we were keeping our eyes peeled for clouds trailing virga. And hoping to get camp set up in time to beat the rain.
The next part of the trail left Leavitt Meadows behind completely. It began to climb. And climb. It was only about 300 feet total, but it was getting hot and Vicki wasn’t enjoying it at all. She made it about halfway up the hill before pooping out completely. She sat down to rest in the shade. I volunteered to carry her backpack up the hill for her. I told her that she should take a break while I carried my pack up the hill first, after which I would walk back and put on her pack. I would be gone for a while, so she should take a nap or read a book or walk up the hill. But something got lost in the translation, I guess. I made it to the top, stashed my pack, then headed back down. It was about a half mile each way, so it took some time. I met another hiker on the way down, and he said that this woman (who must be my wife) was extremely mad at me. Really? I wondered. I thanked him for the info (not that it helped me much in the end) and hustled down the hill. I met Vicki, who was walking slowly up the slope without her backpack. This was what I hoped she would do. But she somehow got the impression that I left her in the dust, all alone, without telling her what was happening, and she was really mad. Sigh. I was doomed and I knew it. So I went down and found her pack, then carried it all the way up the hill, as I’d planned. There was zero hope that an angry Vicki would thank me for this extraordinary service. I can truthfully confirm that I got zero thanks. But the two packs made it to the top, and so did Vicki, so there is that.
After that fiasco, things calmed down. The trail went down, too. This is a surefire way to make Vicki happier. And the trail was easy to hike, with no steps, so perfect for her sore knees. Soon, we arrived at Roosevelt Lake, which was our final destination. We planned to stay two nights, using this lake as our Basecamp, and tomorrow we would dayhike further to Hidden Lake. That was the plan. Now all we needed to do was find a good spot for the basecamp.
It was a pretty lake, not huge but big enough. It had a companion lake, to the south, called Lane Lake, which was about the same size, with a short creek between them. The main trail went along the western shore of both lakes. We decided to find our own camping spot on the eastern shore, to get a bit more solitude. There looked to be a spot on the far side, but we weren’t sure. So we did what we always do, and put down our packs right there in the first lousy spot we found next to the trail. At least it was a spot, so we “owned” something by right of prior claim, but it wasn’t all that great. We set off, packless, along the fisherman’s path on the east side. It wasn’t much of a path, but we didn’t mind some fun bushwhacking if it yielded a reward.
Vicki liked the new spot. It was up on a granite outcropping, above the lake and with a fine view. I told Vicki to wait with my heavy DSLR camera while I walked back to get the backpacks. It didn’t take long, but I also didn’t want to do it twice, so I carried Vicki’s pack in one hand while I wore my monster pack like normal. The bushes may not have liked this, but I had momentum on my side, and soon I was back with Vicki. At least she could see me the entire time, and didn’t get angry at me. Whew! Dodged a bullet! Good communication helps. Plus Line of Sight.
I opened up my pack and got out the tent. The clouds were looking a bit unsettled, so we needed to be prepared for rain. We set up the tent on a slightly sloping spot, one that promised good drainage without being too sloped for sleep. We always put our heads uphill, as that is what really matters. We also deployed our cheap vinyl tablecloth (we call it the Bathtub) on the floor with the excess plastic curling upward along the walls. Even with a two inch puddle out there, our stuff would stay dry inside. Naturally, the moment the tent was up, it started sprinkling. We shoved our packs under the vestibules and got inside. Perfect timing! We sat and listened to the rain. It was pleasant, and it didn’t last very long.
We spent a lazy afternoon doing little or nothing important. Vicki read her book while I did some fly fishing. I never got a bite, and never saw a fish. Not even a circular ripple where a trout rose up for an insect. There was nothing happening, fish-wise in this lake. Sad but true. But it sure was pretty, and very peaceful over here on the quiet side of the lake. We ate some dinner later on, then headed for bed early. It was already getting cold, thanks to the clouds and occasional sprinkles. But it was cozy in the tent.
Later that evening, we were woken up by thunder and the sound of rain on our tent. The rain grew stronger and the thunder much louder. Soon, the rain was pounding, and it turned to hail. Lightning flashes occurred with an increasing tempo. There was obviously a Super Cell storm up above us! Both of us sat up and listened. This was truly worth experiencing, and who could sleep through it anyway? As gusts of wind blasted the rain against the tent, I had to get out my GoPro for a video. We didn’t turn on our headlamps hoping to catch a few lightning flashes, but I’m not sure how well that worked. Many of the bolts were further off, cloud-to-cloud, and at the most made faint flashes and long-lasting rumbles of sound. The storm went on and on.
Eventually, of course, it drifted away and the rain slowed down to a light drizzle. The thunder was quieter and the light show was over. Wow! Usually Sierra storms happen in the afternoon, not the evening. It turned out that this storm was created by moisture from the remains of a tropical storm near Baja California. Vicki and I checked the tent for leaks and found that only a drop or three had leaked in near a corner, but our vinyl bathtub saved the day. Of course. We were about as dry as we could be, so back to sleep we went.
Everything was soggy when we woke up the next morning. The tent was wet on the inside and the outside, from our breath and the rain, respectively. I got dressed in some warm layers and levered myself out of the tent carefully, trying not to get my goose down jacket wet. I got it wet anyway, reaching back inside for my camera. It was beautiful out there! The post-rain mists and fogs were drifting across the lake, and the sun was lighting the clouds and hills across the way. It was a magical morning, indeed.
We were in no rush, so Vicki came out to enjoy the morning with me. We held hands looking out over the lake. Then the morning hunger struck. Vicki prepared a breakfast while I went down to the lake to watch for trout rising on the calm waters. Nope. Not a ripple. If there were any trout in that lake then they weren’t hungry. No sense in disturbing their repose, I supposed. I sat down next to Vicki and we read our books while waiting for the freeze-dried meal to soak, and also while eating it.
It was time to review our plan for the day. Our original plan was to dayhike around and stay here another night. But after last night’s storm, and the promise of more to come, we decided to bail. We’d been away from home for two weeks now, and our soft bed sounded great to us. So we decided to pack up everything and hike back to the car. As a sop to me and my desire for additional adventure, Vicki agreed to try the extra climbing that visiting Secret Lake would entail. At least that way we’d make this trip more of a loop than a boring out-and-back hike.
We also decided to make our exit via Lane Lake, rather than the bushwhack that we did yesterday. All those plants we pushed through yesterday were dripping with water right now, and we would get soaked. So we headed south toward the waterway between the two lakes. The path was much better, too.
Along the way around Lane Lake, we met a family of campers. All of us were agog at the sheer enormity of last night’s storm. At least one of their tents flooded, because they didn’t camp on a slope, but somehow they made it through the night without freezing. Lane Lake turned out to be roughly a twin to Roosevelt Lake in size, and it was quite pretty in the morning sunlight.
Soon enough, we were back on the main trail. I should also mention that there appeared to be no trout in Lane Lake, either, so I never bothered getting out the rod. It was easy hiking along the lakes, and we met other campers on the western side as well. It made us glad that we chose the site we did.
The trail climbed steadily after that, north from Roosevelt Lake. It was still cool, and Vicki had no trouble this time. We turned right on the trail to Poore Lake, then made a left almost immediately onto the Secret Lake Trail. The original trail sign was gone, and the trail itself was difficult to see. But we’re experienced in this sort of thing, being wise old woodsmen, and after a rough start, the trail became easy to follow. Not surprisingly, it continued to go uphill. Sorry, Vicki!
The sun was getting hot by the time we arrived at Secret Lake. I took some photos, then decided to try some fly fishing. Surely one of these lakes would have a trout! But no. I cast and cast until it was obvious that I was wasting my time. I had fun anyway, because hanging out near a High Sierra Lake is almost always worthwhile. Just before we left, Vicki soaked her head and shirt in lake water, as we had even more climbing to do. I did not volunteer to carry her backpack this time.
We had already climbed about 300 feet to reach Secret Lake, and the trail climbed 200 more to summit the high ridge. This wasn’t much at all by Sierra Trail Standards, but that didn’t mean Vicki had to like it. She did it though, because she’s stubborn. It helped that there were more and more views to be had, and shady spots to stop and see them from. Poore Lake, which we didn’t visit, we saw down in a valley to the south. We also got views to the east, where US 395 headed south to the southern Sierra, as well as views west, looking down onto Leavitt Meadows and the West Walker River. All in all, we were glad that we climbed the extra distance. This trail was much prettier than the main trail, down below us near the river.
Eventually, the trail dropped back down the hill. We joined the main trail a short distance from the trailhead. Vicki was happy to descend this final slope, and even happier to cross the big footbridge. The river was flowing even stronger today, what with last night’s rain, and this time the water was cloudy with sediment. Sigh. I had hoped to try fishing in it on the way back out, but what good was casting a fly when the fish couldn’t even see it? Totally pointless to bother trying. Maybe I could try again some other year.
Once again, Vicki waited as I hustled over to the backpacker parking lot for the car. I drove back through the campground, which had quite a few open spots. The rain must have driven everyone away. Plus, it was mid-September, when the Summer crowds are long since gone. I asked Vicki if she wanted to stay here tonight, but she said no. We decided in the end to drive a few hours south to Bishop.
At least Bishop Creek was known to have trout, I thought, especially in Lake Sabrina, and we had camped there on the way north. In particular, it was known to have trout that I could actually catch! This was a big plus. And, with that logic, we headed south. We would be Home Sweet Home by tomorrow evening. I fully expected to be wishing I was back in the Sierra by next week, but that couldn’t be helped. This was our final Sierra trek for the 2023 season and I knew it. It would be cold and snowing soon. My best bet was to begin planning new hikes for 2024! Plus writing these Trip Reports all Winter long. A man has to keep busy, after all.
For a topographic map of the hike see my CalTopo Page
For LOTS more photos of the trek see my Flickr Page
hikingtales.com 