The Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne: August 27-31, 2008

Girlfriend Kim planned this 31-mile backpacking trip. For a detailed description of the route, see Trip 34 in Yosemite National Park: A Complete Hiker’s Guide, by Jeffrey P. Schaffer.


GETTING THERE
Kim and I hit the road about 9:30am, en route to meet friends Jenny and Michael at the Tuolumne Meadows campground. Drove straight through to Bishop, arriving about 2pm. The trip up 395 was spectacular, as usual. Clear skies, stunning views of the Sierras.

We had lunch at a Mexican place, Amigos, on the main drag of Bishop. Real old-school mersh Mexican with a few modern touches. I stuck to the basics, the taco/enchilada combo, and it was excellent. I especially liked how they put the plate under the broiler for a few minutes so the cheese on the beans got kind of brown and bubbly.

We pulled into the Wilderness Center at Tuolumne about 4pm. The ranger on duty gave us our wilderness permit and a lecture about bear safety (keep everything smelly in a bear canister), campsite selection (100 feet from water) and toilet-paper disposal (pack it out).

Next, we drove over and checked into the campground, where we would spend our first night. Our site was small and wedged between two others. Seemed like most of the sites near us were of similar size. It was fine for one night though.

We raced up to White Wolf campground (a half-hour drive), where our hike would end. We left the Element parked across the road from the dining room after sweeping the car for anything that might look or smell like food to a hungry bear. I had a $1 Bud Light from the snack window while waiting for the last YARTS bus back to Tuolumne. The bus arrived right on time, we paid the driver our three bucks each and were on our way. A great deal.

We set up the tarp when we got back to the campsite. Jenny and Michael arrived after having driven a few miles past the campground, the signage being a bit confusing.

They got settled in as the sun was going down, and then we walked over to the lodge for dinner. Kim had made reservations, and we were seated right away in the dining tent. We shared our table with two vacationing Brits who’d been to Las Vegas twice already, though they’d only been in the U.S. a week. Still full from lunch, I had the cheeseburger off the “Light Eater/Kids” section of the menu. A crappy cafeteria-style frozen patty. The beer was cold though.

We tried to get a fire going when we got back to camp, but it wasn’t happening. Wet wood, I think. Broke out the Wild Turkey and passed the jug, then got to bed about 11pm.

DAY ONE: ATTACK OF THE WHISKEY BEAR
We got up at 7am and broke camp. Jenny needed a bear canister, so it was back to the Wilderness Center to rent one. She also got the toilet paper lecture from the ranger. We then stored all our bear bait in the bear boxes at the center and drove over to the trailhead at the Lembert Dome turnoff.

The actual trailhead is at a bend in a dirt road leading to some stables. We parked as close as we could to the dome, but we’d have been closer if we’d parked near the bend. But, hell, what’s 200 yards when you’re walking 31 miles? We set out at about 9:50, starting at 8,500 feet in altitude.

The first mile or so was hot and dusty, and it took me some time to get used to carrying a pack again. My body seemed to be rebelling against the crazy notion of hauling 25 pounds of stuff around. Soon enough the trail dipped into shade, and I settled into a good rhythm with everything finally adjusted correctly.

It was downhill most of the way to Glen Aulin High Sierra Camp, with some beautiful stretches alongside the Tuolumne River. I was carrying three 1.5 liter bottles of water, which added about, what, eight pounds to my load. Probably one too many bottles, but better safe than sorry.

We broke for lunch at the base of a small waterfall at the camp. Glen Aulin was my first High Sierra Camp. It consisted of a few tent cabins, a small canvas dining hall and snack bar and a primitive backpacker camp. Apparently, most people hike in with minimal supplies and mules bring in the rest. Maybe when I’m old. Okay, older. Okay, real old.

I had a tuna salad kit. Delicious as usual. Kim, Jenny and I waded in the river, which was cold as hell but very refreshing.

Back on the trail, it was a long, steep descent on fucking sandy granite steps. I hate descending fucking sandy granite steps. I must have slipped and almost fallen a dozen times. Everybody else, though, skipped down like mountain goats. We passed California Falls, LeConte Falls, and Waterwheel Falls, which wasn’t waterwheeling because it was too late in the year. Michael took a dip in a sweet swimming hole during one of our rest stops.

After another 100 miles of sandy granite steps we reached a small campsite where Return Creek empties into the Tuolumne. It was on the bank of the river right before the bridge at roughly 6,000 feet. So we had descended 2,500 feet in ten miles. We weren’t sure if the site was one of the “unofficial” ones the ranger had warned us about, but it looked pretty established, with a much-used fire ring and logs sawn lengthwise into benches.

We soaked our barking dogs in the river, then pitched our various tarps and tents. Plenty of room for three shelters on the site. I had Enertia Trail Foods’ Switchback Spaghetti for dinner. We built a small fire with what downed wood we could scrounge and passed the jug as night came down.

Jenny heard a rustling in the brush. Michael and Kim heard it too. Me, nothing. Jen jumped up and turned her flashlight toward the noise.

“What do you do if you see a bear?” she asked.

“Stand tall and yell,” I replied. “Scare the shit out of it.”

Jenny advanced toward the bushes, standing tall and yelling. Her yells suddenly shifted to panicked screams, though, and she came high-stepping back into the firelight like a Lipizzaner stallion on crack.

Apparently, she’d seen a pair of red eyes staring out of the bushes at her. Because there was no independent corroboration, and the jug had been passed, the creature immediately became known as the Whiskey Bear.
We crawled into our shelters about 8:30, and I slept soundly, Whiskey Bear or no Whiskey Bear.

DAY TWO: THINGS HEAT UP
According to the weather reports, Friday was going to be a scorcher, getting up near 100 degrees. I was nervous about hiking in the heat and left ahead of everyone right after my Fruit Loops and powdered milk. In this way I missed the rattlesnake the others saw as they came up the trail behind me. I’ve never seen a rattlesnake in all my years of hiking, so I was bummed.

The trail started out mostly in shade, so we didn’t have to deal with the heat too much, but gnats were a bit of a problem. We ate lunch next to a swimming hole. I had pre-mixed chicken salad on crackers. Not as good as tuna, but it did the trick. We all sat in the river for a while after eating before continuing down the Pate Valley.

Before our next rest break we did about two miles on granite or sandy tread with sporadic shade, and it was super hot. I was a little woozy by the time we finally collapsed in a shady spot by the river, but after soaking my shirt, bandanna and hat, I felt much better. Luckily, the trail stuck mostly to the shade after this.

We arrived at the Pate Valley camping area about 2pm. That’s at 4,380 feet, so we’d descended approximately 1,500 feet in ten miles. There was a California Conservation Corps base camp set up in the main camping area, with a generator, a cook tent, a refrigerator, and lots of tents for the crew members, who were out working somewhere. We worried that things might get a little noisy when they returned, so Kim went ahead and scouted out a site a little further along the trail, in a grove of tall ponderosa pines with a thick layer of duff to sleep on.

Michael and Jenny discovered a fantastic swimming hole, a spot with a little concrete shelf you could use to ease yourself into the river. Absolutely gorgeous and so refreshing after the long, hot hike.

Back at camp, I tried to nap, but couldn’t. Tried to read, but couldn’t. So I just lay back, listened to the birds and the river, watched the treetops sway high overhead and let nature wash over me. Kim and Jenny walked back to the CCC camp and met the cook, who gave them a couple of cold Tecates, which they brought back to our camp. He told them the crew wouldn’t be back until Sunday, so no more worries about noise.

Dinner for me was Enertia’s El Capitan Three-Bean Chili. You have to boil the beans for a bit first, and with no simmer setting on my alcohol stove, they boiled over and made a mess. Tasted okay, but I’ll have to cross the dish off my list.

No fire that night. Passed the jug and hit the hay at 7:30, while it was still a bit light out. Kim and I cowboy camped, just spread out the Tyvek and laid our bags on it. It was so warm that I slept outside my bag most of the night. Woke up about 11 and watched the stars for a while. No whiskey bears, but I think I did hear a few deer passing through at some point.

DAY THREE: SWITCHBACK HELL
My watch alarm went off at 4:45am, and we broke camp by headlamp. It was going to be another hot day, and we had ten miles, a 4,000-foot climb and 100 switchbacks ahead of us.

We hit the first set of 50 switchbacks about two miles in. These weren’t that bad, but the second 30 or so, after crossing Morrison Creek, were long and steep, steep, steep. Rough going, at least for me and Michael. Kim and Jenny were small-talking the whole way up. Nice views, though, back down Pate Valley and over to Hetch Hetchy Reservoir.

It was a race against time to reach higher elevations before the day got too hot. Michael was having a tough time, so Kim, Jenny and I transferred some of his gear to our packs to lighten his load. I kept ahead of the group by cutting my breaks short because I prefer to hike alone, especially if I’m dragging my ass uphill, slobbering, cursing and struggling to catch my breath. Who wants anybody else to see them like that? It got to the point where I just put my head down and put one foot in front of the other. A real grind. But, sicko that I am, I kind of liked it. Better than going downhill on fucking sandy granite steps.

One note: Schaffer recommends carrying at least a quart of water on this section of trail. Carry at least a half gallon. You’ll need it.

One beautiful, flat section of trail cut through a grove of aspens, and Kim said that all the leaves winking in the sun looked like a crowd cheering her on. After a final set of twenty switchbacks I reached muddy Harden Lake first, followed shortly by Kim and Jen, followed shortly by Michael, which was amazing, because when I last saw him, he was on his back in the dirt, soaked with sweat and gasping for air. Amazingly short recovery time.

From the lake there was a bit more trail, then a boring, hot walk two miles down a dirt road back to White Wolf. We rolled in about 12:15 and had ice cream, potato chips and beer from the snack window. I drove everybody back down to Tuolumne, where we returned Jenny’s canister and had a hamburger at the grill.

We raced big, puffy clouds down Tioga Pass, their shadows crawling over the mountainsides. About halfway down we passed a pappy-looking guy pushing a baby carriage full of crap down the side of the road. A strange sight in the middle of nowhere.

After checking into the Lakeview Lodge in Lee Vining, Kim and I showered, napped and took a walk around town, up one side of the 395 and down the other. A few souvenir shops, a visitor center, a grocery store, a couple of restaurants and motels. Lots of travelers out and about on the Memorial Day weekend.

We gathered up Jenny and Michael and drove down to Mono Lake for sunset. A strange and beautiful place. We walked along the shore, stirring up clouds of the little flies that swarm at the edge of the brackish water. Lots of photographers were set up, hoping to catch a magic shot of the tufas.

Fun Fact: The first Planet of the Apes shot here, and the Tim Burton one shot at another tufa site, the Trona Pinnacles, near Ridgecrest (also worth a visit).

When the sun dropped below the Sierras, we headed up to the Whoa Nellie Deli for dinner. This incongruous gourmet deli-style restaurant is located next to a gas station at the bottom of the Tioga Pass. You order at a counter and pick up your food when they call your number. The line to order was quite long but moved quickly. I had the lobster tacquitos, which were fine, but not as good as the ribs I ate last time.

We carried our food and pitcher to the picnic tables outside, where a band was playing to a large and enthusiastic crowd, including the pappy we’d seen pushing the baby carriage earlier. Jenny had met him in front of the Laundromat in Lee Vining while taking a stroll. His name was Brother Bob Cadillac, and he was on his way to Reno if he could get a ride and a new tent. I hope he made it.

The band launched into “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” as we toasted the success of our expedition and watched the stars come out overhead.

Back in town, Kim and I tried the door to a promising-looking bar called the Sierra Room (attached to Nicely’s restaurant), but it was locked tight. We went into another bar next door, Bodie Mike’s, which is attached to a barbecue restaurant. Not much charm, but we had a beer while they prepared to close for the night.

THE ROAD HOME
We left for L.A. at 8:30 the next morning. Stopped off in Big Pine for breakfast at the Country Kitchen. I had sausage gravy over biscuits with eggs and potatoes. The dish was obviously made with love and tasted great. No traffic at all on the way back to L.A. Smooth sailing.