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| The Miter Basin |
I’ve got a Tom Harrison map of the Whitney Zone that I
unfurl now and then so that I can daydream about all of the nooks and crannies
on that map that I still need to visit. One of the places I’ve stared at and
imagined for a long time is the Miter Basin. Surrounded by an assemblage of
white granite peaks, spires, and domes, and dotted with lakes with names like
“Sky Blue” and “Iridescent,” I always found this trackless and relatively
remote area irresistibly alluring. And I wanted to visit it.
So I finally conceived a plan and convinced my daughter and
a friend from Utah to join me on a romp into the heart of the basin. The loose
itinerary involved a loop of sorts beginning at the Cottonwood Pass trailhead.
The plan was to spend the first night a lower Soldier Lake, a second night a Sky Blue Lake, and a third night in the Cottonwood Lakes Basin. We’d make the
short walk out and back to the car on the morning of the fourth day.
So on
a Wednesday afternoon we loaded up and headed for the Alabama Hills where we
car-camped at Tuttle Creek. The next morning we were up early for coffee and
permits. We didn’t actually have permits reserved, so we had to wait until the
Eastern Sierra Interagency Visitor Center opened at 8 a.m. for the lottery.
When we got there around 7:45 a.m. there was already a line of about 30 folks
doing the same. I sauntered up to the entrance and was innocently milling about
when a dude with his girlfriend barked at me for trying to cut the line. I told
the guy that there was no line, and that we’d all draw numbers from a hat to
determine our order. Shortly after that, a Ranger appeared with a bucket and made
me look like a sage. We then all drew numbers. I pulled number 3; the guy that
barked at me pulled something much worse. We got permits no problem. I don’t
know about the other guy.
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| Car Camping in the Alabama Hills |
Forty-five minutes later we were on the trail and making our
way up to Cottonwood Pass. If you’re an old man living at sea level, one of the
nice things about the trails departing from Horseshoe Meadow is that you’re
already at elevation. You of course still end up climbing with a fully-loaded
pack, but it’s a kinder, gentler climb that allows your body a bit of time to
acclimate to both the weight of the pack and the less oxygen-nutrient air.
At Cottonwood Pass, we paused briefly for snacks
and to snap pictures for a group that had spent a week or so making the circuit
around the Big Whitney Meadow area. We then jumped onto the PCT and made our
way to Chicken Spring Lake to tank up on water since it wasn’t evident whether
we’d have another chance before we reached lower Soldier Lake.
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| Horseshoe Meadow |
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| Cottonwood Pass |
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| PCT |
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| Chicken Spring Lake |
From Chicken Spring Lake, the PCT climbs briefly out of a
shallow cirque and then remains relatively level at about the 11,300’ contour
until it crests a low rise and begins a slow descent into the vast Siberian
Outpost. Here we stopped briefly to admire the stark landscape and the
interplay of sun and shadows being cast by storm clouds to the west. A
harbinger of things to come.
A mile or so beyond this is a well-marked trail junction.
Going south will take you up over the Siberian Pass and into the Big Whitney
Meadow area. Continuing west along the PCT leads to Rock Creek and beyond. We
veered north on the pleasant connector which ultimately intersects with the
path that leads east up over New Army Pass and northwest to lower Soldier Lake.
Just before that intersection, the connector crosses a stream which was running
strongly and could serve as a good source for replenishing water supplies. We
were still good in that regard, so we pushed on to our destination.
The spur leading to lower Soldier Lake is dotted
with campsites and a single bear box. There are additional sites immediately
adjacent to the lake as well, but we didn’t know when we first arrived. As we
inched along the spur, we were somewhat surprised to find that every single
site was occupied. One large site housed a group of ten 20-somethings from Ohio
State who told us they’d been on the trail for 26 days. The last site before
the lake was taken by a sole older gentleman who offered to split the site with
us. We gratefully accepted and shared our whiskey with him as recompense. Turns
out our camp host was enjoying his first night of a solo hike of the JMT. The
following day he was headed for Guitar Lake so that the day after he could
summit Mt. Whitney and officially begin his through-hike.
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| PCT Views |
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| Rock Field |
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| Siberian Outpost |
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| Connector to Lower Soldier Lake |
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| Camp View at Lower Soldier Lake |
The next morning we had planned to penetrate the Miter
Basin. The intended route was the “short-cut” which follows a use trail that
skirts the west side of lower Soldier Lake and then climbs the low rise on the
north-west end of the lake. Upon seeing the route, my daughter expressed a bit
of trepidation so we back-tracked to the main trail and tacked southwest to the
mouth of the Rock Creek drainage.
There is supposed to be an obvious use trail
leading up drainage, but it wasn’t obvious to us. We ran into a couple of young
ladies looking to do the same thing we were doing and we all fumbled around a
bit looking for the non-existent use trail. Finally, we forded Rock Creek and
began ascending the west side on something that kinda, sorta resembled a faint
use path or game trail. After bashing through brush for a bit and climbing
obstacles, our female companions apparently called it quits because we didn’t
see them again. Determined or obstinate, we continued forward for about ¼ mile
when we burst into a wide, open meadow bisected by Rock Creek. One the east
side of the creek, we finally saw the well-trod use trail we’d been searching
for and jumped the creek to beat its path.
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| Meadow Near Rock Creek Junction |
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| Rock Creek as it Flows Out of the Miter Basin |
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| The Meadow - Use Trail to the Right |
From here, the route forward was pretty simple: continue up
the basin. We occasionally lost then relocated the use trail, but it’s pretty
hard to get truly lost here as there is only one way in and one way out. Ok,
that’s not entirely true, but practically speaking it is for most mortals, and
that included us.
The scenery here is as sublime and glorious as I had
imagined it. The Major General sits high on your right. Mt. Corcoran, Mt.
LeConte, and the Shark Tooth, all 13,000’+ dominate the skyline to the
northeast. The spikey Miter scrapes the sky to the north. And an unnamed granite
spire and 12,000’ solid granite walls hem you in on the west. Our intended
destination Sky Blue Lake, sits in a bowl above a series of cascades sandwiched
between the Miter and Peak 13,221’.
But about ½ mile out, as we approached the final ascent to
Sky Blue Lake, the sky after which the lake is named became ominous. The wind,
which had been still throughout the day, began to howl. The temperature
dropped. We started to hear the crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder.
And then the heavens opened up and it began to rain. Then it hailed hard enough
to coat the ground with tiny balls of ice. Then it rained again, harder this
time.
We stopped to evaluate the situation and ponder the night
ahead. My trail companions looked dubious. My daughter, the more level-headed
of the two of us, was reluctant and urged retreat to lower ground. Dejected, I
relented and we started to beat a retreat back to Soldier Lake.
On the way out, we bumped into a young lady that
was part of the Ohio State contingent. She had gone into the basin on a day
exploration and was retreating to Soldier Lake as well. When we discovered that
she was returning via the “shortcut,” we stalked her all the way back to the
lake which in fact shaved off a fair amount of distance and time.
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| Granite Cliffs Abound |
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| Pushing Deeper Into the Basin |
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| Typical Basin Views |
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| Lower Soldier Lake from Atop the Shortcut |
Back where we started the day, we set up camp lakeside on
the peninsula of sorts that juts into the lake on its south side. As soon as
our tents were up, the rain began and we took shelter. And then it rained, and
it rained, and it rained. And it hailed again. And then it rained again. For
three straight hours, the rain relentlessly pummeled our sad little fabric
shelters which finally wetted out despite a valiant struggle to keep us dry. At
dusk, the precipitation finally subsided and the clouds gradually began to move
along and ruin someone else’s party.
The next morning was brisk and clear. We took our time
breaking camp in order to allow our gear to dry some. Then we were back on the
trail ascending the stunningly gorgeous valley that climbs to New Army Pass
from the east. As the climb stiffened, and the suffering began in earnest, the
beauty of my surroundings began to fade. Actually, the surroundings didn’t
change at all. It was just my frame of mind. The Buckeyes were in front of us,
and I tried to use them as my rabbit, but I couldn’t keep pace with the
youngsters, including my daughter who blasted the ascent with no problems.
Finally atop the 12,310’ pass, we stopped to refuel and to immerse ourselves in
the moment. It was chilly and breezy at the pass and billowy clouds were
starting to accumulate on the horizon.
The climbing for the trip complete, we descended the spare
cirque that cradles appropriately-named High Lake. A fair number of hikers were
struggling up as we came down, including a guy attempting to prod, poke, and
cajole a group of adolescent boys up to the pass. We offered encouragement, but
the boys just looked at us with utter contempt. I laughed because I knew how
they felt. At Long Lake, we stopped again to pump water and solidify our plans
for the evening. Charcoal gray thunderheads were now boiling up over the peaks
to the northwest and the skies to the east and south were darkening.
Remembering the onslaught we endured the night before, we determined to admit
defeat and walk the rest of the way out. Midway back it began to rain again.
Back in Lone Pine, we figured we’d salvage the
remainder of the trip by getting eats, beer, and firewood for another night of
car-camping at Tuttle Creek. But even here, the weather refused to cooperate.
While we were in town, the wind kicked up and the sky turned black. Lightning
cackled and thunder thundered in the distance. We knew our fate was sealed. So
we jumped in the car and made the long drive back to predictably and reliably dry
civilization.
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| Lower Soldier Lake Campsite |
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| Climbing to New Army Pass |
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| Approaching Near New Army Pass |
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| Mt. Langley from the New Army Pass Trail |
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| High Lake, Long Lake, and South Fork Lakes from New Army Pass |
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| Descending the East Side of New Army Pass |
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| Stunning Rock Formations |
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| Long Lake |
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| Cottonwood Lakes Basin |
