The winter of 2018-2019 was particularly dreary and tough. I was sick with the flu for weeks and Aiyanas faced deaths and losses at work. As the seasons turned toward spring we were worn thin. We had set aside time in May to visit Sophie at Sussex University, but the thought of two red-eye trans-Atlantic flights within 10 days made me reconsider. What about California? Instead of hugging Sophie I’ll mail her a cheese-ball hug and go hiking to recoup mental and physical health. Our drive-hike-camp route travelled through Yosemite, the Owens Peak Wilderness, Death Valley, the Mojave National Preserve, and Joshua Tree; spending our nights camping with a couple nights in cheapo hotels.
Our flight from YVR to SFO was delayed three hours, so we were late picking up our car. After negotiating a maze of highways heading out of the Bay Area, we arrived in Yosemite just as the sun set. While finding our way to the backpackers campground we ran into a Park Ranger who informed us the path to the backpackers campground was flooded knee deep, but we could still camp on dry ground if we walked the long way around. What an adventure to start our adventure! After ditching the car and stashing our food in a bear locker, we set off on foot to find our way. Thank goodness Google Maps to Yosemite Valley “Backpackers Campground” worked that night, because we had a ridiculously useless paper map, it was pitch dark, and the paths were unmarked. The instructions from the Ranger were well intentioned but not very helpful. Boy was I happy to finally see the sweet little backpackers campground tucked into the woods. We slept well in our cozy tent despite the great anticipation of the days to come!
The next morning dawned bright and beautiful. Yosemite Valley does not disappoint!
We set off to find a hot meal, pick up our backcountry permit, and hit the road to Hetch Hetchy. We had chosen Hetch Hetchy for our first backpacking trip for the relative isolation, the easy distance and elevation gain, and the well-established route. Our plan was to hike to Rancheria Falls and back spending one night on the trail as a trial run, but when we picked up our permit, the Ranger asked if we were going to hike the Vernon Lake Loop – well, hellz yeah! We jumped on it! After the standard teaching about bear safety and leave-no-trace, the Ranger did warn us that there was still some snow above 7,000ft and at times the route could still be tricky to follow. “You can follow the footprints” was the advice she gave.
Hetch Hetchy was Amazing!
Hetch Hetchy valley is northwest of Yosemite valley and a natural watershed where a series of stunning rivers and falls drain the icefields of the high Sierras out of the valley via the Tuolumne river. In the early 1900s the O’Shaughnessy Dam was constructed by European settlers to power rapidly expanding San Francisco Bay Area development while ruthlessly and carelessly submerging 1,200 thousand valley acres of the Miwok and Paiute peoples’ carefully managed and highly productive traditional lands. Today the valley is a reservoir within the National Park system with a single access point at the O’Shaughnessy Dam beyond which point one must travel on foot to appreciate the stunning natural beauty of this valley and its towering peaks and thundering falls.
After navigating the winding roads up to the dam, we ditched our car at the backpackers lot, once again stashed our extra food and toiletries in a bear locker, and began our journey by crossing the dam on foot. Immediately across the dam the trail runs through an old rail tunnel cut through a sheer rock face and hugs the valley wall, crossing the relatively mild-mannered Tueeulala Falls, the raging torrent of Wapama Falls, the secretive and somewhat elusive falls of Tiltill Creek, and finally to Rancheria Falls at the 6.3 mile mark. As we had a late start to our hike, camping at Rancheria Falls was our goal. The hike that day was joy filled and perfectly adventurous. We had heard that the snowpack was 175% this year, and expected high water levels. Sure enough approaching Wapama Falls the volume of the water cascades was deafening. People have been washed away into the reservoir crossing at this point, so the warning signs are no joke! I was willing to turn around if it seemed unsafe, but its hard to judge until you’re in it, and then well you might as well go forward as back! The shower of Wapama was invigorating and felt like just what the doctor ordered.
After the stunning beauty of the trail, the campsite at Rancheria Falls was underwhelming. There was a group of grumpy looking youth on an outdoor program and the overly cheerful welcome of their leader convinced us that finding higher ground was a good plan. As the trail meets but does not cross Rancheria Falls, it winds its way sharply up through switchbacks that hug a ridge leading into Tiltill valley, which we knew from recent reports was fairly flooded and not suitable for camping.
I take leave no trace seriously, and just as I was starting to get nervous we would not be able to find a suitable flat spot off trail to camp our path levelled off 1,600 ft above the reservoir. Tucked into the side of the ridge was a magically beautiful spot for our first official night in the backcountry. I do believe I danced about chanting “leave no trace” and “the trail shall provide” I was so excited at our success.
That night my right hip ached so badly it was hard to fall asleep, but nothing could dampen my spirits. The next morning I was just as excited as ever to start the day and see what the trail had to offer. We were rewarded beyond possible expectation. Packed and on our way at 7am the skies were gloomy and the winding pass into Tiltill was damp and quiet. In a gentle sprinkle of rain we saw dozens of wee red lizards; at first Aiyanas spotted the occasional lizard, but after some time they seemed to pop up everywhere! And then Tiltill opened before us, a delight! I spied a mountain bluebird perched on top of a small pine through my binoculars, and I tell ya, it was worth lugging the extra weight of my binocs just for that sighting. Tiltill was where I thought we might see bears, but I guess they heard us coming and made their retreat. We did see a family of mule deer nestled in the brush, and plenty of birds to catch our attention as we started to climb out of the valley and up Mt Gibson, which peaks at 8,412 ft.
Leaving Tiltill Valley at 5,500 ft, the trail runs along the side of Mt Gibson reaching 7,600 ft before dropping again to Lake Vernon at 6,500 ft. The distance from our campsite to the Lake was estimated to be about 9 miles which is a perfectly reasonable hike for newbies. What we didn’t expect was so much snow. We had agreed we would turn around if the snow was too much for our skill level, but like crossing Wapama, once you’re in it, you might as well for forward! As we reached 7,000 ft the snow was so thick we couldn’t see the trail. Once on the snow fields footprints started to run in all directions so before we grasped we were off trail it was impossible to determine by footprint alone which way to travel. This was our first time backpacking and our first time off trail, so it was thrilling and mildly terrifying. I was very happy to have our map and compass with basic understanding on how to use them to guide us in the correct direction.
As we started our descent down the edge of Gibson temperatures rose and we started to posthole, suddenly plunging knee or hip deep into soft snow. A few times we could hear water rushing underneath as we gingerly made our way. At one point Aiyanas postholed through the snow and bashed his shin and ankle on a concealed boulder – the bruise and swelling the next day was impressive.
It was slow going off trail over snowpack down the shoulder of Mount Gibson. After dropping down under the snowline and picking our way over steep and rocky ledges, I whooped something fierce when Aiyanas caught site of the footbridge that crosses Wapama Falls Creek running out of Lake Vernon! I was starting to sweat that we’d miss the footbridge and be stuck on the east side of the creek. Creek makes it sound small, but in reality it was a raging fucking river due to snow melt; death to any dumb enough to attempt fording that ‘creek’.
On the shore of Lake Vernon we welcomed a small fire and some hot food, but it was pretty obvious it would snow that night, and the hike from Lake Vernon runs over the Moraine Ridge topping out above 7,000 ft. In what turned out to be a very smart decision, we abandoned plans to camp at the lake and hiked over the ridge that afternoon. A few times on the Moraine we lost the trail due to snow, but thankfully encountered trail markers on the trees – we gathered this was to guide snowshoers enroute to a backcountry cabin on the north shore of Lake Vernon. That afternoon we started to entertain the idea of hiking back out to the reservoir, but by sunset it was pretty obvious that was a silly plan. We set up camp close to the Beehive west of the trail junction with Laurel Lake and tucked ourselves in as the snow started to fall.
We awoke to storm like conditions with socks and boots frozen solid. Packing up was a cold business but soon we were on trail and warming up. Our first glimpses of Hetch Hetchy were shrouded in mist, but as we descended switchbacks to the valley trail the mist lifted and the sun shone on freshly snow covered peaks. Awe inspiring!
Saying goodbye to Hetch Hetchy as we traced our footsteps across the dam was bittersweet. On that hike I awakened deep respect for immersion in nature and built personal resilience which helped me shake off depression. Little did I know then how much the strength I found on that hike would carry me on the yet to be revealed journey of Dad’s cancer diagnosis and death that summer.
Under the Frosty Sky 