Southeastern Sierra: May, 2014

We had a few free days, so we headed off to Lone Pine in the southern part of the Owens Valley.  Unlike our usual back-country "boondocking" trip, this time we stayed in an RV park so that we would have access to Wi-Fi (so that I could stay in touch with my students, who were studying for final exams).  The RV park wasn't lovely (a little too noisy), but it got the job done. And it was well-located, not far from several trailheads.

April 30:  We drove up to Whitney Portal to hike along Lone Pine Creek.  There was a really good cascade just above the parking area. It had snowed the week before, so there was a fair amount of water in the stream, even though this was a drought year.  We crossed over to the south side of the stream and hiked up to the base of the cascade:

At the edge of the falls, the water flowed off in triangles, catching the sunlight:

After eating lunch by the falls, we hiked down the National Recreation Trail alongside the creek. The willows were just starting to put out buds, called “catkins.”  These look spiky but they are actually very soft – each one is about the size of a fingertip:

All along the trail, there were fields of massive boulders that had fallen from the sheer granite cliffs towering thousands of feet above the creek. Here, Felice is standing on a single fallen rock – this is not an outcropping connected to the hillside:

May 1:  We returned to the Whitney Portal area, to hike up to Lone Pine Lake.  The walk up is fairly strenuous – about 1700 feet of elevation gain (from 8300 to 10,000) -- but we were kept entertained by the constantly-changing views of the snowy canyon walls:

As we got up toward the lake, there were sweeping views back down the canyon of the Owens Valley and the White Mountains to the east:

The lake itself was frozen, with only a few areas of open water to reflect the mountains:

After lunch, we walked around the lake.  Felice was intrigued by the texture of the twisted pine trees – these two trunks looked almost like an upside down person:

The jays were very bold, hoping for a handout.   It seemed to us that the jays at high altitude were a lighter and brighter shade of blue – I'm not sure if that's really true, or whether it was just an illusion due to the intense sunlight reflecting off the snow:

Just west of the lake, thick snow covered the trail:

On our way back down, we came across more willows by the creek:

May 2:  We drove up to Onion Valley, above Independence, less than an hour from Lone Pine, and headed up the trail toward Kearsarge Pass. The trailhead is at 9200 feet, so that provided us with a nice head start!

The trail was clear in the beginning, but we soon encountered wide patches of deep snow that completely obscured the trail. We were able to use our handheld GPS to find the trail; although I am not a big fan of the Garmin software (as compared to the easier-to-read National Geographic topos), I have to admit that the Garmin hardware (an E-trex 20) was very fast and precise.

The other problem is that some of the snow was soft and rotting. We would take a dozen careful steps on the crusty surface of the snow and then our boots would randomly plunge a couple of feet (a phenomenon colorfully called "post-holing”), down to the frozen rocks underneath. It was a little awkward and treacherous; on the other hand, it was a huge treat to be essentially all by ourselves, up in the High Sierra, with a lot of snow – it really added to the beauty of the granite walls, and it gave us the spurious sense of being “adventurers.”  We soon put on our micro-spikes (slip-on crampons) and our knee-length snow gaiters, and things got somewhat easier, especially where the trail cut across steep snowfields:

 This is Little Pothole Lake, at 10,000 feet:

We pushed up through the snow to Gilbert Lake, at around 10,400 feet, where we stretched out on a big flat rock for the obligatory after-lunch "boots and micro-spikes" shot:

From our perch high above the lake, we saw what appeared to be bear tracks cutting across the frozen surface of the lake – we couldn't get down there to verify that these were bear tracks, but they were evidently quite recent, since it had snowed less than a week ago.  I doubt that they were a hiker's tracks -- I don't think that a human would dare to walk across rotting ice:

We took a very quick HD video panorama of the lake and the surrounding cliffs -- the rumbling noise is the wind hitting the microphone.  This may be worth watching in "full screen" mode, just to get the feel of the icy lake surrounded by jagged ridges:

Not too far past Gilbert Lake, we came to Flower Lake at about 10,500 feet -- if it's possible, the setting was even more dramatic:

Just for fun (and because we still had a little time before we had to head down), we trudged up toward Kearsarge Pass, knowing we could not make it to the top; but at least we made it up to the treeline, at about 10,700 feet. The walls of the canyon all around us stretched up above 12,000 feet. I'm in the lower-left corner of this photo:

On our way back down, we came across a noisy cascade on Independence Creek:

May 3:  We drove to Big Pine Canyon, someplace we've always wanted to explore. It was about an hour away from Lone Pine. We started up the North Fork trail, but we were a little disappointed by the scenery, in comparison to the spectacular Whitney and Kearsarge areas – how quickly we become spoiled!  So we cut back over to the South Fork of Big Pine Creek, hoping to get to the snowy "headwall" trail (above the cirque) to get a better view of the glaciers in the top right-hand corner of this picture:

The trail was close to the creek, which was flowing pretty well with all of the snow melt:

But when we finally got all the way up to the creek crossing near the headwall trail, the "bridge" (a log) had washed away, and there was no safe way to get across the creek.  Oh, well -- it was a nice hike, anyway.  We headed back down and cut over to the base of First Falls, on the North Fork of the creek:

That evening, we took a short drive into the foothills to watch the sunset; as often happens in the evening, lenticular ice clouds formed in the lee of the Sierra crest. The dark jagged boulders in the foreground are part of the Alabama Hills, a small but rugged volcanic range that pokes up through the alluvial fan, just east of the Sierra:

Palomar Mountain: March, 2014

Tuesday, March 4:

We had a few free days, so we decided to head up to Palomar Mountain State Park, east of Oceanside.  On our way down Interstate 5, we stopped at a rest stop and saw an “MRAP” (mine-resistant armored protected vehicle) with this rather surprising license plate:

Although this looks like a joke, it wasn't – it turns out there was whole squadron of drivers getting trained.

When we got to the campground that afternoon, it was completely empty and silent, and it stayed that way for the next three days -- the nights were cold and dark, perfect for sleeping.  It was a very pretty campground, with lots of huge trees.  Even though our trailer is tiny, we had a hard time fitting into the "RV designated" campsite, and the apron was far from level – we had to pile up about 5 inches worth of blocks under one of the tires, just to compensate for the slope. 

Wednesday, March 5:

On a sunny and cool day, we hiked in a big loop around French Valley, the lower Doane Valley, and the upper Doane Valley – roughly 6 miles in total.  The French Valley area looked like the old West – high meadows (we were at roughly 5000 feet), dotted with oak and pine, with streambeds cut into the valley floor.  At the north end of French Valley, there was a spectacular grove of really ancient California Live Oak trees -- this one had recently fallen:

This tree was easily 12 feet in diameter -- my “wingspan” is over six feet:

At one point, we came across a flat granite outcropping,  punctuated with perfectly symmetrical conical holes full of rainwater – these were clearly "bedrock mortars."  The Indian women would sit near these holes and grind acorns into mush:

Over the next few days, we came across several other groupings of these pre-Columbian Cuisinarts.  These high valleys must have been very densely populated, especially in the summertime, when the Indians would come up to the mountains to escape the heat.  It was easy to envision groups of women clustered around these mortars, chatting in the shade, while the grindstones thumped in the sockets.  I couldn't figure out, however, why the Indians wouldn't just carry the whole acorns back to their villages in baskets and then grind them on raised stones, rather than squatting uncomfortably on the ground under the oak trees and then transporting the acorn flour back to the village.  There must be a good explanation, but I have been unable to find one.

In the moister areas of the Doane Valley, near the creek, there were groves of very large Western Red Cedars – they looked almost like Sequoias:

Thursday, March 6:

We took the Observatory Trail from the Observatory Campground up to (you guessed it) the Observatory.  For much of the way, the trail parallels the road, although the road is screened by trees.  On a busy weekend (with all of the high-performance motorcycles roaring up and down the road), this would be a noisy trail.  On a weekday, it was very peaceful.  At the upper end of the trail, the Forest Service had posted this phenomenally detailed and helpful map:

Everywhere we went in the Palomar area, we saw trees (both dead and alive) that had been peppered with holes drilled by the acorn woodpeckers, who had then stuffed the holes full of acorns:

We couldn't figure out whether the woodpeckers were actually eating the acorns or whether the woodpeckers would wait patiently until the acorns were infested with insects, at which point the woodpeckers would eat the insects.  (And when I got home, my Internet research was inconclusive, too.)

That night, we took a walk from the campground down to Doane Pond – the pond itself was covered in low fog, but the stars were very bright.  This is probably our last view of Orion until next winter:

This is a slightly different view of the pond, with a little less fog:

Friday, March 7:

We drove to the Julian area (about an hour away) to take the Cedar Creek Falls hike.  Although it wasn't much more than 5 miles round-trip, it was pretty steep.  It was an "upside down" hike, losing about 1100 feet on the way down and gaining it in the hot afternoon on the way back up, with no shade.  It is hard to imagine doing this hike on a hot summer day.

The falls themselves were very nice.  By Southern California standards, they were terrific – in the Pacific Northwest, this would be a below-average waterfall:

 There was a good-sized pool at the base of the waterfall.  The water was cold – probably about 60 degrees, at most.  We changed into our bathing suits, swam to the waterfall and back, and got out immediately.  Even though this was a weekday, it was pretty crowded – there were about 15 other people. Anyone interested in taking this hike must plan ahead and get a permit -- the Forest Service limits access to 75 people a day.  Since everyone probably shows up around lunchtime, it must get really crowded on a warm weekend day.

When we got back to the trailer late on Friday afternoon, the campground had suddenly gotten very busy (not surprisingly), and it was pretty noisy.

Saturday, March 8:  Before driving home, I walked out to revisit the grove of ancient oaks in French Valley – these are the biggest oak trees we have ever seen.  They have to be several hundred years old -- I am sure that the Indians were grinding acorns that fell from these same trees.  This was the most impressive grouping of oaks:

In this photo, notice my hiking poles (which are almost 5 feet long) on the left side of the trunk, just above my hat – this tree is close to 15 feet in diameter:

While I was shooting the trees, Felice jogged past and posed for this jaunty photo:

This is the obligatory "timer shot," in which I push the button and then scramble awkwardly to get into an ostentatiously relaxed position at the last second:

We left the campground around midday, and we were back home by midafternoon -- one of the shortest "commutes" ever!

January 2014: Quick Trip to the Southern Sierra

We had a few open days, so (of course) we took off for three days of hiking in the Sierra.  None of the high-country boondocking was available, since all of the forest roads were closed; so we stayed at Potwisha Campground, near Three Rivers.  Much to our shock, the campground was about half full.  It wasn't crowded, but it wasn't empty.  The first evening (January 8), we took a walk on a trail near the campground and saw a ring-tail cat, which is apparently very rare, according to a ranger at the visitor center.  (It turns out that ring-tails aren't really cats -- they are more like sleek raccoons, which would be a great name for a rock band.)

January 9:  We hiked right out of the campground to Marble Falls.  The trail wasn't particularly steep, but it climbed very steadily for more than 3 miles.  The trail was above the river; we could hear it but not see it for most of the way.  There was a fair amount of shade.  In the summer, this trail would be terribly hot.  Along the trail, we passed through a small grove of California nutmeg, which looks like a fir tree with very sharp needles.  The nutmegs are fragrant -- but I am not sure they are edible.  It took us more than an hour and a half to get to the top of the lower falls:

Because the water level in the river was so low due to the drought, we were able to clamber through the boulder field toward the upper falls -- this picture makes it look more difficult than it was.  The white stuff on the rocks is not snow -- it is calcite deposited on the boulders:

Near the upper falls, we climbed into a deep overhang carved out of the marble and calcite strata – the marble was much more resistant than the calcite or limestone, creating a "curtain" effect:

The sheets of calcite, which look like sun-dappled snow but have a texture like sandpaper, extended into the “plunge pond” below the upper falls:

This shot of the falls isn’t particularly dramatic because the water is so low, but we took it for the sake of comparison. We are hoping someday to get back to this spot in higher water:

(Warning: you are about to encounter several paragraphs of amateurish geological speculation. You might want to skip ahead if rocks don’t excite you.  But if you like solving puzzles, read on.)

As you can see in the preceding photos (especially of the cave-like overhang), we noticed that all of the strata were tilted 90° from the horizontal.   We were puzzled by this anomaly – in the very highest part of the Sierra, the remnant metamorphic layers (sometimes called the “roof rock”) are essentially horizontal. By contrast, why were the layers vertically oriented throughout the canyon at this much lower elevation, and why didn't this particular area of metamorphic rock get lifted up by the rising "plutons" (the huge hot bubbles of basalt) that created the mountain range?  And where had the marble come from, anyway?

It took us a while to figure it out by working backwards, but this is our best guess:  in the beginning, ordinary sedimentary rock formed in a shallow ocean, essentially where the San Joaquin Valley is now.  We figured that it had to be shallow water, for several different reasons.  First, we could see that the metamorphic rock (i.e., the compressed sedimentary rock) contained a lot of river cobble inclusions, which must have come out of creeks and rivers.  Those cobbles would have settled in shallow water.  Second, the fact that the rock was originally limestone meant that it must have been formed by the calcium-laden shells of tiny marine animals, such as diatoms.  Those creatures usually grow in shallow, sunny water.

Anyway, after the sedimentary layers were established, sheer heat and pressure (due to the weight of the overlying rock) would have created the marble from the limestone and the sandstone.  We could tell that the marble had not been deformed – the layers were fairly evenly parallel, rather than wavy.

Next, the horizontal layers of marble were pushed up sideways by the rising basalt of the Sierra. Although the marble at the higher elevations was pushed straight up from below, this marble (which was on the western side of the upwelling that created the mountain range) remained essentially in place but was reoriented and rotated by the upthrust.  I don’t know if that’s right, but it sounded plausible to us.

(End of geology sermon.)

January 10:

We decided to see whether we could do some hiking back in the Mineral King area, which is ordinarily unreachable during the winter. The Ranger provided us with the combination to a lock securing the gate across the road at the border to the national park. The road is as difficult as everyone says it is: very twisty and slow and narrow. Not surprisingly, however, since the road was closed, we did not see one other car (or any other people) for the entire day.

After more than an hour of driving, we we came to another locked gate about 2 miles away from the trailhead in the Atwell Grove Campground, so we had to hike to the trailhead on the roadway (which wasn’t unpleasant at all).  The first part of the trail descended gently to the bridge across the river.  The trail was dry, but it got very icy near the bridge; we eventually had to slip on our micro-spikes.  There were young sequoias growing along the creek:

It was fun (and maybe a little spooky) to have the entire forest completely to ourselves -- I am fairly sure that there was absolutely no one within 20 miles of us in any direction.  We hiked through the southern portion of the Atwell Grove, stopping for the obligatory "huge tree and small person" shots whenever we could get a long shot of an entire sequoia (which is very seldom). Felice is in the patch of sunlight at the base of the tree:

All told, including the walk along the roadway, we hiked for about 9 miles, with probably a thousand feet of elevation gain.  Not a big deal, but pleasantly tiring.  And having our own private forest gave us a spurious sense of adventure.

January 11:

We headed up to the Giant Forest area and first took a short hike to Sunset Rock, a granite dome.  We could see an old friend, Little Baldy, off to the West  –  the tip of Felice's pole is pointing right at it:

The next time we hike up to the top of Little Baldy, we will try to locate Sunset Rock off to the southeast.  Sunset Rock would be great for snowshoeing, if only there were some snow.  On our way back to Giant Forest, we cut over to the Beetle Rock trail, which would also be great for snowshoeing.  After lunch, we drove over to the Congress Grove area – this is the McKinley Tree, with Felice at the base:

This is a particularly impressive root ball, especially when you consider that this is just the top half of the root ball -- note the trees growing out of the top:

Along the trail, we found two trees growing closely together, which Felice always loves:

Late that evening, the moonlight was very bright.  This is something of a trick shot – at first glance, it looks like noon, but it's not, as you can see from the stars over the mountains.  The trick is a long exposure at a high ISO rating: