There’s a lot to be said about hiking in the dark. As a trudger, there are definitely times when I just need to put my head down and get the job done. Furtive glances at the stars and the silhouetted trees and mountains are about all I can afford without tripping over my own feet. So, with the moon hiding comfortably behind the mountains, and Brent’s headlamp nearby, we emerged from the trees and onto the rough old mining road of Pine Creek. I paced solidly and slow, trying not to let my breath get too far ahead of me, from getting too sweaty in the cold morning air.
My headlamp flashed against the ground, and I pulled up fast before stepping on a tremendous flow of ice in the middle of the road. In the small circle, the ice glowed yellow and white, bulbous flows overlapping thickly. We picked our way up along the side, slipping in the scree, the smell of freshly agitated sage filling the breeze. As I crested a rise, I caught my breath at the sight of a few springs merging along the wall, the ice looking like melting ice cream along the rock. Just below the trees at the bench line, our way was blocked again by a similar flow, forcing us to bushwhack up the slope to the flattest section, then stepping carefully across, our trail runners sticking and sucking against the wet top layer.
With the coming sunrise, grey light permeated the forest, reflecting off the amazing upper creek, frozen in place as if flooding. The log bridge was clear, although a slip off would be quite painful, rather than the usual soaking of summertime. As the first glow touched the tip of Feather Peak in the distance, we came upon Pine Creek Lake, it’s surface opaque and ruffled but clear of snow. Excitedly, we donned dry layers, and I sat down to tie on my skates. Stepping gingerly down from the edge, I dropped to a knee and turned my 7” screw into the lake in order to measure approximate ice thickness, which I repeated three or four times in different locations around the east shore. Around my neck hung specialized picks for reaching back to the ice should I fall through, a prospect which causes me to shiver in the warmth of my apartment.
The sun’s rays illuminated the striped rocks above the lake, and I turned to Brent. “There’s just a point where you have to be brave, you know?” I breathed deep, plotting a course directly across the lake, looking for smoother surfaces and minimal cracks, analyzing for changes in the ice, which could indicate a problem. As I pushed off, the skates rattled and bumped over the undulations, my body bent, my arms outstretched, not exactly the most graceful maneuvers I’ve performed. Reaching the other side, I realized I had been holding my breath, and I reached out for the rocks, gasping and smiling and laughing.
“Ka-CHUNG kachung kachung… kachung…”
The echo reverberated under the ice, and it seemed the walls around us, as I looked back across the lake to see Brent perk up a bit from his camera. The lake was singing at us as the ice settled a bit. I headed out again, this time paralleling the western shore, headed for the inlet at the southwest corner, the ice piled into a soft knoll. The frozen waves made for challenging gliding, especially during the first turns, and I struggled to find a clear path in the lake. “Ka-CHUNG kachung kachung… kachung…”
“Oh, for godssake can you NOT do that while I’m out in the middle here?” I asked the lake, knowing that it’s probably 8-12” thickness (my screw never remotely broke through) would be highly unlikely to shatter. Giggling and whoopsy-ing, I stumbled back to the eastern shore where Brent waited patiently, shooting video and pics. We swapped out gear: I lay the 30ft of cord and picks at his side as he donned the skates, while I threw on my trail runners. Brent had skated as a kid, but never on a lake, and he shot me the same look as I had while he maneuvered down from the edge. In no time, he was getting the old hang of things, although the glide was as difficult for him on the ruffled surface.
“KACHUNG Ka-chung kachung…”
Brent headed back, his eyes wide with excitement. “You want another go of it?” he asked. Without hesitation, the skates jumped back on my feet, and I went hunting for more glide. I have been trying to video snippets of skating, but between the bouncing skates and my arms flailing I could barely capture the majesty of the scene. I turned and started striding back to the north shore, bending slightly and feeling the natural glide sink in, my legs gently pumping against the edges of skates…
Until I realized I wasn’t all that great at stopping! Luckily I didn’t land on the screw or my camera with the ensuing belly flop.
Having enough, Brent and I picked our way down the trail, which was mostly clear save for the giant ice patches we had avoided in the morning, donning microspikes to step across the floes. Later that evening, I joined Brent in Mammoth at the Eastern Sierra Avalanche Center Annual Season Kickoff, a big fundraising event for the center and with Andrew McClean as a keynote speaker. Following the talk on skiing in the Arctic Circle and Antarctica, the organizers moved into the raffle. Just before the end, my number was called for a small bit of schwag, which just about justified the extra $40 I had contributed to tickets. The final prize: a pair of Fischer Watea powder skis. The number was called…
I walked out the door with new skis.
Sunday morning I met Brent at the Alabama Hills Café for breakfast, then headed into the hills themselves for a few hours of climbing. Oh, man, am I rusty. Brent wanted to warm up by walking, so I walked straight to the crag and a 5.1 that I had soloed multiple times in the past. Apparently it had been a distant enough past that I managed to get myself stuck half way up. Great job, Molnar. 1, 3, 5, 7, we worked our way across the face, the 7 giving me just enough nerves and pause, and my knee still not liking any sort of tall step up onto my toes. We worked fundamentals, and then I asked to lead the 5-easy routes to finish the session. Clockwork. Now that was another glide I could remember feeling in the past. You see, it’s all work right now, but my body is remembering.
At noon I strode up the NRT out of the Lone Pine CG, finding a pace I could maintain with a slightly elevated breathing rate. If I got going too fast, I’d stop and grab a few leaves of sage, rubbing them vigorously between my hands and breathing deep of the desert; or I’d stick my face into the sharp needles of the pinion pines and breathe equally deeply. While it was a workout, I took my time to really look around at the clarity in the Valley, watch the water tumble under the shimmering ice shields that branched from rock to rock. I semi-jogged the road to descend, it being in sun, and even stretched on the side for a few minutes to close my eyes, then peer down into the canyon from whence I had come. All the while, I was under the watchful gaze of Her Majesty at 14K, and I smiled up to her east face.
Now if it would just snow so I could try out these new skis…
Southswell: and POW skis at that! Sheesh. Took them up to Mammoth Mountaineering today to get some bindings fitted on those boards. I'm already trying to figure out someplace to go in February to try them out! (WA? NM? CO?)
And as for novelty, heck no! I'm having so much fun (albeit extremely SCARY fun) on the lakes I might give up peakbagging. Well, ok, not so much, but I am definitely looking at maps for lakes right now...
And imagine my surprise as I was walking down to the lake on Christmas Eve, only to hear, "Moose?" I look up and two rangers are skating towards me:
I was so excited to learn that Laura and Rob Pilewski (from Crabtree) had scored the Tuolumne Backcountry job this winter. If it ever does snow, you can bet there will be a supply trip up there!
Its amazing - you bring the thumping of the heart in your words and make me dream and yearn again to hike in those beautiful mountains! Krishna from the flatlands of Chicago
Ms Moose - I was flicking through your Flicker book of lovely photos. Thankyou for taking so many good pics of so many great places (aren't they all great) in the backcountry. Question for you - in your set of photos dated July 14 from "Six Days Over Kearsarge Pass" , where are you located when you took pictures #17 through #36ish ? Its incredibly classic Sierra beauty and I've never been in that spot. I'm guessing its the southern side of Kearsarge Pinnacles in Bubbs Creek drainage but I'd really love to know if its not too much trouble for you. Its very Bierstadt-esque. Thanks very much Mr Moon
Yay Laura! Thanks for posting one of your awesome trip reports once again. I've missed reading those here. I hope you will keep posting them up here for your "cyber fans" to enjoy! It looks like you have a great time!
Howdy, Krishna! Great to hear from you, and thanks! What grand adventure do you have lined up this year?
Mr. Moon: I think, if I counted correctly, that those pics were from day 1, Onion Valley to Kearsarge Pass to Junction Meadow via Bubbs Creek. Indeed one of the prettiest grand vistas from a pass here. Even the drop to Bubbs/Vidette Meadows has tremendous views of East Vidette, Center Basin, and the long approach to Forester Pass. The sunset pics are of the south/SW face of Mt. Bago, which, if you haven't slogged up to its Class 2 summit, has an amazing view down into Bubbs Creek, up to East Lake, and the northern end of the Great Western Divide. We were all really bummed we couldn't get across Bubbs Creek on that trip.
Howdy, Sierra Cement! Thanks for your kind words. I do plan on posting here and on my blog. In fact, with my patient census being disturbingly low right now, I'll be headed out tomorrow on a bit of an adventure! Stay tuned!
Higher quality skating from John Dittli , Steve White, and Jeff Griffiths:
These guys took me out for my first lake skate a few weeks ago on Crowley. Amazing teachers, took time to show me the ropes. Can't wait to skate more with these guys next year (the ice is getting pretty old and chunked up everywhere now).
Laura, this video was excellent! The quality is great, and I loved idea of backpacking up to these lakes to skate. How much do ice skates weight? I'm guessing they had some pretty hefty packs.
As well done as this video is, I'll bet it doesn't even begin to depict how very beautiful and peaceful Garnet Lake was at that time of year. It just seems that skating on that beautiful lake with no other sounds had to have been almost a spiritual experience; I felt it.
There were a few scenes at Shadow Lake that almost looked as if they were skating on water - so beautiful with the reflection of the mountains and trees.
...and I loved it when they saw the fish swimming under the ice!
"What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal." Albert Pike
thankyou Ms Moose indeed thats the back(southern side) of Mt Bago! wow would've never guessed thats how it looks on "the other side" . i gotta get down into Bubbs for sure!
Yeah, John is pretty amazing. Same guy who wrote your JMT book, which I couldn't recommend more highly. I dropped by his place the other day to show him the new skis and talk skating trips. Kinda hoping the weather stays put (ACK! BLASPHEMY!!) so I can pack in somewhere, although the surface quality now is nothing like the mirrors of early season.
As for weight, I'll have to check out my own skates, but maybe around 5 pounds? <shrugs> I suppose with my knee I should kind of pay attention to that now...
Mr. Moon, Bubbs is a wonderful place, both from above and below. A bit bear-heavy, though (look for plenty of scratch-trees). You may consider the Rae Lakes loop to get the full experience!
Watched the video, saw the pictures, my eyes are as big as saucers! Can someone please give me the details? I am now obsessed with the solitary beauty of frozen mountain lakes. This message board has some amazing people on it. I long to join their ranks.
