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What does Mount Whitney have to do with Leavitt Lake in the Sonora Pass area of the eastern Sierra? And, while we’re at it, what does Leavitt Lake have to do with eastern Nevada’s Snake Range? Maybe as I meander through putting this narrative together I’ll answer those two questions. Better hold me to it. I’m pretty good at wandering down different trails.
It was Saturday
morning at home. We had had a fairly miserable Friday afternoon; the kind that
can alter plans. We were up at our usual early time, coffee, breakfast, sort
out the day, the weekend.
“Let’s just
leave,” I said, “and get back Monday in time to drive down to the appointment
in Folsom late in the afternoon.”
“We’re going
to go nuts if we just stay around here.” The Lady was agreeing. “We just need a
couple of things food wise. I’ll go to Safeway.”
Safeway is a
half mile away and the Lady is a whirlwind. I backed the truck out of the
garage and had most everything ready to go when she returned.
“Where
should we go?” I asked as I started backing the truck out onto the road.
“Leavitt
Lake,” the Lady answered.
“That could
be busy. It is a summer weekend and we’ll be getting there around early mid
afternoon.”
“We’ll find
out.”
“You’re
sounding like me.” I replied.
And so we
were off – Leavitt Lake, an unplanned adventure.
It was as
busy as we expected but the Leavitt Lake area is fairly large and can accommodate
a lot of groups. There were several campsites still available. We took advantage
of our new relaxed outlook on life, slowly cruised the area and thoroughly
checked out the opportunities. We found the perfect spot for us, high with a
view and away from others.
With camp
set up we did a slow hike around the lake. A couple of young women were
enjoying kayaks.
Yeah, I know,
no pfd’s and out in the middle of an ice cold alpine lake.
Leavitt sits
at 9556 feet. It was spring time at this elevation with the wildflowers at
their best. We were especially taken with the Rock Fringe.
This area is
an ocean of Whitebark Pine. Whitebarks are a five needle bundle short needle
pine very similar to its cousin the Lodgepole Pine. It has identical bark and
needles but grows in clusters and its cones are larger and placed high in the
tree on the ends of branches likes those of the Western White Pine, another
close cousin. Their lower trunks often show the crushing effects of snow load when they were young trees. It has a close relationship with the Clark's Nutcracker and they
are abundant here.
As dusk came
and the majority of the other campers huddled around their illegal campfires – seasonal fire restrictions prohibiting campfires were in effect and signs wereposted – we slowly walked and watched the day wane………………..
…………… the
shadows climb the ridges………….
………………. last
light hit the ridges to the east………………………
…………………and light
the Sweetwater Range beyond.
It had been
a good move, just leaving for the weekend. A new day coming, with a grand vista
and the light of a rising sun. Life is all anew and refreshed.
I had to
climb high just to try and take this all in.
As I
descended, the Lady met me with our steaming mugs of Peets. We hardly spoke. We
didn’t need to. We were glad we were here, together in this dawn.
A Cassin’s
Finch joined us as we had breakfast.
A few notes
about the Leavitt Lake area. It is reached via a three mile dirt road off of
Highway 108. The road has a few rough spots where 4x4 is helpful. It is evident
that the area has suffered from indiscriminate vehicle use in the past but this
is turning around. The Toiyabe Forest has taken some proper steps to try and
help and manage use. There are barrier rocks placed to keep vehicles off of the
shore and from driving into the lake. Some routes are closed off. Along the
road on the way in, signage reminds us, the public, that cross country and driving
off designated routes is prohibited. Unfortunately fresh tire tracks are found
that show some still try to drive vehicles anywhere they please. Fire rings
abound in this area. This has to be one of the fire ring capitals of the Sierra.
Unfortunately several are visible cross
country and become attractors for people to drive to. My next time in this area
I will consider taking about a day and half with a shovel, rake, and work gloves and
help restore these places. There are abundant choices of campsites right along
the roads. How do we gently help people become aware of or be reminded on Leave
No Trace ethics? Two other items surprised me, the amount of cigarette butts and
spent shell casings. It was disappointing that people do not think of these as
litter and also pretty surprising where people have stood and fired off several
rounds. Smoking outside of enclosed (windows up) vehicles is also prohibited
under current fire restrictions. From what I saw with signage torn down, I get
the feeling there is a segment of folks who use this area who resent anything
they see as infringements on their activities.
These are
minor gripes and shouldn’t impact you on deciding to visit this area. Leavitt Lake
is worth visiting. It gets use, but from what we saw this weekend, most folks
were pretty well behaved and happy to be up here. I guess the gripes are a reminder
to practice good stewardship, be nice neighbors, set a good example, help
educate, and bring attention to damage so it can be addressed.
The lady’s
knee is doing well after surgery. Recovery has its ups and downs and worry but
the knee continues to strengthen and improve. Today we would give it a little work out. A use trail to the north leads to Koenig Lake.
Looking back
at Leavitt Lake, the Lady remarked that the Rock Fringe looked like fluorescent
paint had been splashed on the mountainside.
Koenig Lake
sits in a basin, an easy hike of about a mile from Leavitt.
But we
headed even higher. Latopie Lake sits above and just below the summit of
Leavitt Peak. We stopped along the plunging outlet stream.
Steep
sidehills and outcropping of volcanic cliffs reminded us to be prudent with
recovery. We headed back down.
As I
mentioned, the wildflowers were great. Paintbrush with Mule Ears.
And, one we
were unfamiliar with, the Giant Blazing Star.
We were soon
back at Koenig Lake where the Lady iced her knee and I rigged up my fly rod.
It is
amazing that we can walk just a short ways from a busy place like Leavitt Lake
and have this all to ourselves.
We wandered
back down to Leavitt. It was early afternoon.
More knee icing.
I saw no
evidence of fish up at Koenig. If they are there, they are deep. I had done no
prior investigation as to fishing or trout species. This was an unplanned
adventure. Fishing with a couple of nymphs under a PNW strike indicator, I got
no takers. This is a technique I was taught by my cousin, the Big Guy. At Leavitt, the same got two hits which I missed. The afternoon zephyr,
an upslope wind from the east was building white caps on the lake making for difficult
fishing. Since I had seen a couple of grasshoppers on our hike, I tied on my
favorite hopper pattern and gave Gary LaFontaine’s floss bow line technique a try in the wind. The rainbow hammered it near shore; it had length but didn’t
feel heavy on my now bent rod. It ran for deep water. The Lady was up and
beside me, ready for the show, just as it broke free.
“No rodeo
rules on that one,” she said.
“That wasn’t
eight seconds?”
“Not even
close!” Her answer was final but she was smiling.
We made our way
back to camp and popped up some jiffy pop on the stove. We sat in our chairs,
took in the view and ate hot popcorn. This is not normal behavior for the Ski3pins.
“This is
fun, like going to a movie on Sunday afternoon!” The Lady looked out from our
camp.
“I think
this is a little better than a movie, don’t you think?” I asked.
“A lot better
than a movie.”
One thing to
note if you are navigating in this area, you are on the border of two 7.5 USGS
quads, Pickel Meadow to the east and Sonora Pass to the west. The Pickel
Meadow quad uses a 40 foot contour interval and the Sonora Pass quad uses an 80
foot contour interval, therefore 400 feet between index contours. So if you look
west the tendency is to think the terrain sure got gentler and if you look to
the east it is easy to think things sure got steeper in a hurry – there are a
lot more close contour lines.
I saw it as
we were walking back from Koenig Lake, a use trail. I had the Lady pull out our
topo quad map. Ski Lake sits in a high basin about a mile east of Leavitt Lake.
There is no trail shown on the map but here was one clearly visible crossing a
high steep mountainside.
“That looks
like a use trail up into the Ski Lake basin,” I said. “It looks like it starts
out from the area of the Emigrant Wilderness Trailhead near where we are
camped.”
“Great, we
can run up there later this afternoon before dinner!” the Lady added.
Even with a
recovering knee, she is still the Lady.
Icing ‘em up
in Ski Lake.
We returned
to camp and pulled out our John Muir Laws guide.
We
identified birds and wildflowers we had seen and that little critter that had
darted away from the Lady up at Koenig Lake was a Short-tailed Weasel. She liked it's small masked face. The
abundant large hares we saw at dusk were White-tailed Jackrabbits.
It was Sunday night, the end of the weekend. Many had left Leavitt Lake. The south end, our end, was empty except for us, and down in the well used area below us, “The Beer Boys.”
With the
Lady’s summer break from school; our traditional vacation has been a long multiday
backpack trip somewhere in one of the West’s high mountain ranges. We have
racked up some great ones over the years. We have been lucky enough to enjoy
trips into the Cascades, Wallowas, Beartooths, Wind River Range, White Clouds,
Sawtooths, Sangre de Cristos, San Juans, and many others. While, as a young
man, I enjoyed adventures in the classic southern high Sierra, the Lady and I
have not backpacked there. With notches in her belt for many more difficult
Colorado 14teeners and other lofty summits, the Lady has not been to the top of
Mount Whitney. Last February (6 months prior) we learned the ins and outs of
the Wilderness permit reservation system and secured a permit for 9 days
entering from Horseshoe Meadows, summiting Whitney, and a cross country route
back. That was to be this year’s big trip. No regrets about canceling out due
to the knee, patience and a careful recovery will assure many more trips in the
future. With her recovery looking good, we changed our plans to visiting one of
our favorite places for new adventures and discovery – eastern Nevada’s Snake
Range. We would do dayhikes out of our camper base camp with the possibly of an
overnight with light backpacks. We were to leave this Sunday, this Sunday we were at Leavitt Lake.
That thought
was far from our minds as we lived in the moment and enjoyed another sunset at
Leavitt Lake.
It was Sunday night, the end of the weekend. Many had left Leavitt Lake. The south end, our end, was empty except for us, and down in the well used area below us, “The Beer Boys.”
They had
come in behind us in a clattering diesel F-250 4x4 crew cab, its bed filled
with traditional camping supplies. They made camp in close proximity to others
in the large camping area at road’s end. There was four of them, early middle
age, and we passed by them on Saturday afternoon while circling the lake. Their
camp was set up, cooking area and tents, with the four of them in the middle,
comfortable in their chairs, two without shirts. It was time for a beer, most
likely several. They were happy to get the Lady into conversation. They tried
hard but lacked a certain element of class. They would never reach Ted’s smooth
sophisticated style. It appeared theirs was a trip “to get away” and maybe not
so much to visit Leavitt Lake. We dubbed them “The Beer Boys”.
“The Beer
Boys” had music the previous night. They had even run the big diesel for awhile
to charge the battery to make sure the tunes would last well into the night.
This night they must have thought they were alone since the close neighbors
were gone. The music was louder – and why is it the stuff played at times like
this is of questionable taste?
The Lady
began her before bed rituals of fussing in the camper. I walked off and found a
high spot above their camp where I could see all four of them and they could
see me if they ever looked up from their campfire. I found just the right spot in
the setting sun. I worked on my best Clint Eastwood silhouette. An Ennio
Morricone score built in my head. Why couldn’t they play something interesting
like Ennio Morricone? I yearned for a stick of dynamite and then I yearned for
the good old days before Homeland Security, back when it was all right to have a
few sticks around. Handy if you needed to blow up a stump or a big rock or
celebrate New Year’s Eve by blowing out (by accident, of course) all the
stained glass windows on the north wall of Saint James Lutheran Church.
The Lady
found me. “You’re thinking about dynamite, aren’t you?” She had me, pulled me
right out of my fantasy. She went on, “Explosives are prohibited during fire
restrictions. Come to bed. You can’t hear it in the camper.” She was right.
It turned
out to be a wonderful quiet night. A few drops of rain woke us about two. Later
we could see distant flashes in the night but too far away for thunder to be
heard. That changed right at dawn. Thunder echoed in the basin adding an appropriate
soundtrack to accompany the flashes of lightning. Rain built on the roof. Our
windows were open and the smell of rain and wet earth filled our camper. And
then it passed.
It made for
an incredible morning, the kind of morning we live for.
It was time
to head home. There had been so many special moments. I think the best moments were
when we walked through lupine and mule ears and coyote mint, the scent so
powerful it stopped us. We closed our eyes and breathed it in.
We made our
way home and headed down to the specialist in Folsom. A few days before the
Lady had noticed a change in a mole on my back. A quick stop for a routine look
by my doc led to a center punch biopsy, a poor pathology report, a specialist
to excise ASAP being sure to take wide margins. The Doc's urgency was unnerving.
Now as I write this I have a stitched up, stapled, and bandaged 5” incision across my back. It feels
like I stepped on a meat bee nest in the ground and got stung about a hundred
times. I am cautioned about not moving at all. “You are a lot stronger than
those staples holding you together,” I am told. We look forward to getting these stitches and staples out and await another pathology
report.
But in the
big picture of things, we will take this on as another unplanned adventure. We
will put all our skills to work. What’s around the next corner or over the next
ridge? We will find out.
