Three years after that first trip, in 1976, I wanted to do something like that again. Maureen didn’t like
the idea of being left at home with a two-year-old son, but she figured
that maybe if she let me go for a week long trip, I would get it out of
my system. My plan was to go in mid-September, take a bus to Yosemite
Valley, spend seven days crossing the range, and have my mom and dad
pick me up on the east side at Silver Lake. Like the previous trip, my
route included enough off-trail hiking to add some adventure.
The bus ride took most of the day, with a couple hour wait
for a connection in Merced. In Yosemite Valley, I got my permit and
something to eat, and as it was getting dark, I found a secluded spot
near Happy Isles to put my sleeping bag. I was so excited about starting
out that I was up at first light and soon on the trail up out of the
valley past Vernal Falls and along Illilouette Creek.
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| Nevada Falls |
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| Illilouette Creek |
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| At Ottoway Lakes trail junction |
My plan had been to camp somewhere along the creek, but I was going strong and it seemed early to stop, so I kept going. I thought I could stop at Merced Pass Lakes, but after wandering around a bit I couldn’t find a lake, and there was no water around. I was very tired by now, but I needed a place with water, so I pushed on to Lower Ottoway Lake. I was in pretty good shape in those days, but after 18 miles and 6000 ft. of climbing with a heavy pack, I was about as worn out as I’ve ever been. My hips were so sore that I was having a hard time walking.
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| Lower Ottoway Lake and a couple of Synanon people |
I soon noticed that there was a group of about a dozen people camped nearby. They were a group from Synanon, a organization that began in the 60’s to help drug addicts, and expanded in the 70’s to help people with any kind of problems. Their approach to group therapy was called “the game”, and it featured an attempt at total honesty with a lot of verbal abuse aimed at each other. A few years before, I had been in therapy for a couple of years, and for a few months, I had gone to Synanon meetings at their Oakland clubhouse, so I knew something about it. In later years, the organization fell apart in very nasty power struggles, but in the mid-70’s they were still doing pretty well. They invited me to join a “game” after dinner, so I did. They were pretty hard on each other, but they took it pretty easy on me as a guest, and I enjoyed their company.
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| Me with some of the Synanon group at Red Peak Pass |
The next morning, I hiked with several of them up to Red Peak Pass,
where I said goodbye and continued on my way. Late in the afternoon, I
stopped for the day in a meadow along the Triple Peak Fork of the
Merced.
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| Triple Peak Fork |
The following day, I left the trail in the canyon of the Merced
and climbed beside cascades over smooth granite to the meadows of the
Lyell Fork of the Merced. It was still early in the day, but it was such
a beautiful spot, and I was ahead of schedule after my 18-mile first
day, so I decided to stay there. There were 360 degree high mountains,
but Mount Ansel Adams dominated the view, a sharp pointed well shaped
spire at the upper end of the meadows. It is not the highest peak in the
area, but it was well chosen as the namesake of the photographer
because it is so impressive. I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering
around the meadows looking for good photos. As it got dark, I started
to feel lonely and worried about bears, but none showed up.
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| My camp at Lyell Fork of the Merced |
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| Evening at Lyell Fork of the Merced |
In the morning, I started off again, heading for the big unknown of my planned trip. I was going to try to cross the divide that forms the southeastern border of Yosemite just north of Electra Peak. I chose that spot because on the the topo map the contours looked a bit less dense there, and it looked like it might work. I knew that there was a passable cross country route just south of Foerster Peak, but I had always been intrigued by the basin south of Mt. Lyell, which the map showed as filled with many little lakes. I made it past several of the lakes up to lake 10702, and then headed for the divide. I found that although there were indeed a lot of lakes, it was a pretty sterile environment. I had pictured meadows and trees, but it was all barren rock.
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| One of the lakes in the basin south of Mount Lyell |
Near the top, there was some steep scree that I had to scramble quickly across to avoid sliding over a cliff edge, but I made it. The other side looked pretty scary with cliffs everywhere, but first I wanted to climb to the top of Electra Peak (12442 ft.) since it was so near. The view was awesome, especially to the southeast where the Ritter Range rose straight out of the deep canyon of the North Fork of the San Joaquin.
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| On the way down into the canyon of the North Fork of the San Joaquin |
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| Further into the canyon of the North Fork of the San Joaquin |
Then I looked for a way down to the east. At first the cliffs had looked like a solid band, but looking more closely, I noticed that at one spot big blocks of talus reached nearly to the top and I could make it down. Then there was a long slope of talus and meadow. As I walked down, I started thinking about the last few days. I began to realize that exciting as it was, this solo backpacking was also pretty lonely, and I missed having someone to talk to. My thoughts were brought back to the present when I found myself on the edge of another band of cliffs that hadn’t been visible from above. Far to the left, they looked a bit less steep, so I made a big detour and continued down. This big upper basin of the North Fork of the San Joaquin was a pretty wild, desolate place with lots of colorful rock and barren lakes. At Twin Island Lakes I looked around, and I could see a flat area a couple hundred feet below in the canyon that looked like a good campsite. I didn’t pick the best way down, and I was pretty tired, so it was a bit of a struggle. There were a few scrawny trees, but it didn’t feel like a very welcoming spot. I did appreciate the late afternoon light on the mountains above making them gold with purple shadows, which reminded me of a Maxfield Parrish painting, but soon it was just another lonely night.
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| Twin Island Lakes |
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| North Fork of the San Joaquin — 4th night's campsite |
The next morning I was climbing the far side of the canyon, roughly following a cascading stream. It was steep, but there were no real problems. After a long climb I reached Ritter Lakes. It was a beautifully wild scene of bright snow, dark rock and sparkling water. It had been about four days since I had seen another human, but then as I crossed a snowbank, there were footprints. And then, as I was rounding Lake Catherine, there was a guy sitting on a rock. He looked like a larger version of myself -- mid-thirties, long blond hair and beard. He asked if I had a map, and I showed him mine. In an amazing coincidence, he had also started in Yosemite Valley, and was following a similar route. So we hiked together over North Glacier Pass and down to Thousand Island Lake, where we camped together. We talked a lot about our similar experiences and it was nice to finally have some company.
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| On the way up to Ritter Lakes |
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| Ritter Lakes |
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| Fellow Hiker at Lake Catherine |
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| Thousand Island Lake |
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| descending from Agnew Pass |
The next morning, we made the long descent to Silver Lake, where we said goodbye, and he hitch-hiked away. I was a day early for pick-up by mom and dad, so I just hung around the general store for a few hours until evening, and then looked around for a suitable place to sleep. I found it in a clump of junipers a quarter mile or so above the road where I figured no one would bother me. The next day, mom and dad showed up as planned, and my trip was over.
It was a great trip and it satisfied my appetite for mountain adventure for quite a while. It also taught me that although solo backpacking can be fun, it was not something that I wanted to do much of again. I had always thought of myself as something of a loner, but I realized that mountain adventure was a lot more fun with friends along. In following years, I did many camping and backpacking trips with Maureen and the boys, and with other friends, and I found that although they were not as adventurous as my solo trips, they were a lot more fun.
