On the way south from Mammoth Lakes, I stopped by Rock Creek and the Little Lakes Valley for a quick overnight backpacking trek to visit Chickenfoot Lake, where I fished for trout but mainly spent my time gazing at the beautiful High Sierra scenery.
I arrived in the evening and spent the night in the Mosquito Flat Walk-In Backpacker’s Campground, then packed up my gear early the next morning. I was excited to get back into this valley, having spent some time here last year in 2022, when Vicki and I backpacked over Mono Pass on a ten-day trek. Little Lakes Valley is amazing in that you can drive to ten thousand feet elevation, and simply hike through a lake-filled valley without gaining or losing much altitude at all. Easy hiking, in other words, unless you have issues breathing way up there in the rarified air.
I began fairly early that morning, while the air was cool and clear. The trail followed Rock Creek, which was flowing very strong, even in August. But this was 2023, a huge snow year, and I could see patches of snow all around on the nearby peaks. Some of it might even remain unmelted when Winter arrived. I was hiking fast that day, eager to get out there. I entered the John Muir Wilderness, then quickly passed both Mack and Marsh Lakes. Been there, done that. It wasn’t until I arrived near Heart Lake that the amazing views began. Heart Lake was too reedy along the edges, so I didn’t bother fly fishing, but it sure was pretty.
The trail crossed Rock Creek without a convenient bridge, in the zone between Box Lake and Long Lake. Luckily, there were a number of large boulders set firmly in place that acted as a Hopping Highway instead. I put down my backpack, stowed my big DSLR camera in a dry bag, then attached it to the pack. I also got out my hiking stick for balance, then headed across, confidently wearing my hiking boots. I had every intention of keeping my feet dry. I also got out my GoPro camera to document it, just in case.
I didn’t slip, so that was good, but I would have included the video here regardless of outcome. Fact-based blogging.
When Vicki and I dayhiked to Long Lake last year, we stopped here to eat lunch, and also to catch some trout. We managed to do both! This year, since I was making good time that morning, I decided to take a long break by the shore and do a bit more fishing. I got out my ultralight Tenkara rod and attached the line, then walked along the shore casting repeatedly. I caught several trout and let them go. Without Vicki here to eat them, they got a reprieve.
I put away the rod and continued on. I only had a mile or so left to hike, and it was still mid-morning. This was turning out to be easier than I thought. Of course, the trail climbed a couple hundred feet within that mile, but a couple hundred feet is nothing to a Sierra Hiker. Before I knew it I arrived at the Chickenfoot Lake trail junction.
Now, Chickenfoot Lake is a rather comical name, until you look at the map and realize that it is shaped like the footprint of a chicken! The trail to the lake was short, but I left it almost immediately. I decided to avoid the popular spots along the official trail and try to find a campsite somewhere more isolated. I wanted to experience the Peace of the Wilderness, not the bustle of a crowded campground. I headed over the top of a ridge to the lake, then north along the shore toward the leftmost toe of the Chicken. And it turned out to be a good choice, as the view across the lake to the south was truly sublime. And, yes, I will submit that I took a ton of photos, but (for once) I will not admit to taking too many.
After hiking back and forth, combing the area between the left and center toes, I finally chose a spot on the peninsula nearest the tip of the leftmost claw. It was far too hot and sunny at the moment, but there was a wall of skinny pines that would provide shade later that afternoon. I set up my tent and put some of my heavier items inside. I left my water purification gear in the backpack, along with a rainsuit and my fly rod. My lunch, a Pop Tart, was safely stowed in my shirt pocket. It was time to do a bit of exploration.
Since I wanted to get the purest water to drink, I headed for the inlet creek. Naturally, this was at the opposite end of the lake, near the back toe of the chicken. So I was forced (Forced!) to get out my fly rod and fish for trout all along the shore as I hiked there. The burdens we fishermen must bear on occasion. Sadly, I didn’t catch anything along the way. It may have been too sunny, or too breezy. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t me!
I filled up my gallon jug with creek water, then headed back along shore at the same easy pace. I met several fishermen along the way, and a few were wearing chest waders, to get a bit further into the deeper waters. One group of older gentlemen arrived via mule train, and had their heavy gear delivered directly to their campsite, without the trouble of carrying it. They were planning to stay for a few days. Maybe I’d do that someday, when I couldn’t carry a big backpack. But not yet! It wasn’t until I was approaching camp that I finally caught a couple of Brook Trout. It was about time! I was starting to wonder if there were any fish in this lake. I felt better after that, and headed up to the campsite on the ridge.
When I arrived, I took a short nap in the tent. I didn’t want to sleep too long, because it was already getting late in the day. That’s when I decided to cook up my dinner. That would keep me busy. I ate my boring ramen noodles and read my book, as always. Some routines are good for you.
As evening arrived, I heard the unmistakable sound of a thunderstorm. I poked my head out of the tent. There were some large clouds to the north, on the other side of Mount Starr, and the sounds came from that direction. I was glad not to be hiking over Mono Pass right then. I also realized that it might rain right here at any time, so I double-checked my tent and gear. It looked fine, with plenty of drainage. I learned long ago not to set up my tent on a suspiciously flat spot. Just a little bit of slope, with my head aiming uphill, was perfection.
I texted Vicki via my Garmin InReach device, as there was no cell signal out here. I let her know that everything was great, and that I might stay another night. She texted back almost immediately. Apparently, there was a tropical storm heading this way from Baja California, and it was predicted to be fairly serious. She asked that I come home early tomorrow, to beat the storm. She didn’t want me out in it, or driving in it. Sigh. I replied that I would do my best. So much for an extended trek in the Little Lakes Valley! Oh well. I would do what I had to do, as always. And then I set my alarm and went to sleep.
I woke up before dawn, just before my alarm went off. I often do this. I decided to make it a faster morning by eating my lunchtime Pop Tart for breakfast rather than cooking oatmeal. Then I packed up all my gear. I only had to hike about five miles, much of it downhill, so I would be sure to get the jump on that pesky tropical storm. I put on my backpack and headed down to the lakeshore where the views were best. It was perfectly calm, and the reflections were fine. Pre-dawn alpenglow is a special time, and only we early birds get to see it.
I hiked cross country, up and over the ridge, and used the GPS on my phone to perfectly intersect the main trail. I passed the Chickenfoot Lake junction and continued downhill to Long Lake. This time I didn’t pause to go fishing.
Why no fishing? Because it was freezing cold down on the valley floor that morning! That’s what happens when there are both calm winds and clear skies in the High Sierra. Yes, there was frost in mid-August up at 10,500 feet elevation. I kept my goretex jacket on as I hiked, and I was glad to have a pair of gloves with me. Once the sun came up it would all melt off, but at the moment it was seriously cold.
Now, normally the experts tell you to cross fast creeks in the morning when the snow isn’t melting so rapidly, but that wasn’t the case on Rock Creek. It was running higher than yesterday, and the rock-hop crossing was partly underwater! Hoo boy. Since I was heading to the car anyway (where I had an extra pair of shoes) I decided to go for it. And it worked out fine. My socks stayed dry inside, even though the outside was submerged a bit. Nice.
It was a peaceful morning on the trail. I only saw two other early morning hikers like myself, and they were dayhiking, as they were staying at the Rock Creek Resort just down the road a few miles. We all decided that the frost was pretty, and a real treat to see on a Summer vacation. Especially when we knew that it would be sunny later on. The tropical storm might get here in a day or two, if at all. Southern California was the real problem, at least for me. But I already knew that I would beat it. It was barely after dawn and I was already nearing my car.
I arrived at the car and got some necessities out of my backpack. I set up the empty passenger seat with snacks and cold cans of soda. It was a six hour drive to San Diego, so I might as well be comfortable. And then I started down the road, sad to leave the Sierra early, but happy to be heading home. This happens to me on every trip. You’d think that I would be used to it by now. I wanted to be home, but as soon as I got home I would be yearning to be back in the Sierra. My own seasonal cycle.
For a topographic map of the hike see my CalTopo Page
For LOTS more photos of the trek see my Flickr Page
hikingtales.com 