Mineral King - Justin's First Backpacking Trip
We pulled into the trailhead parking lot with just enough light to tarp the car. The blue plastic sheets unfurled, we made quick work, like a giant present to our future selves for finishing the hike. In the last morsels of dusk we threw on our packs, took out our headlamps, and set off down the trail toward the closed campground where a ranger had told us with a wink that no one was “allowed” to camp.
Even in the dark, Justin had no issue setting up his Eureka Suma 2 for the first time. Molly and I used my trekking poles to set up our Zpacks Duplex, and Molly left hers on the picnic table. In the morning we realized some of the night-critter scrambling we had heard had been mice gnawing on the grips of her poles.
Day 2
In the morning the hike began in earnest. The trail starts off somewhat flat and steepens asymptotically up over 2000 feet to Franklin Lakes. Sweaty, hot, and tired, we dropped our packs and scrambled down the embankment to the dammed lake. Justin dove in first, not the least intimated by the icy water. I stepped gingerly, then eventually belly-flopped in. Molly soaked her feet and relaxed on the shore.
Cooled, refreshed, and relaxed, we made our way back up to the trail and started looking for campsites. Other hikers were already claiming spots, adding pressure to the task. Justin and Molly guarded one potential spot, while I dropped my pack and ran up to the upper lake to scout it out. While I was out gallivanting, Justin and Molly made friends with some other hikers, and thought a site near them would be best. The views were spectacular. We watched the moon slowly roll up one side of Mount Florence as night fell.
Day 3
In the morning, glassy Franklin Lake reflected the white and red twin peaks like fraternal conjoined twins. Justin and I sat around our stoves, heating water for coffee, when Molly emerged from the tent with a whiskey-filled water bottle in hand. We both watched in disbelief as she sauntered toward us, casually unscrewed the cap, and took a huge swig of straight bourbon. New trail name: Whiskey.
The switchbacks from the lake up to Franklin Pass (11,900 ft) were fairly well-graded and were just enough to get the heart and lungs going in the morning. From the top of the pass much of the Southern Sierras laid out before us. Far to the Northeast, Mt. Whitney’s spires fingerprinted the horizon.
Descending the decomposed granite slopes to Rattlesnake Creek was a welcome change from all the uphill hiking, and the we eventually sunk below the tree line where both forest shade and swarms of mosquitoes greeted us. We took a brief break at Forester Lake before climbing the hill toward Little Clair Lake, our designated campsite.
After an afternoon break and a nap on a log, we made the final jaunt to Little Clair Lake. The pristine blue water was practically all ours, with only a few other hikers camped on the opposite side of the lake. The mosquitoes abated. And Justin found a bear paw print near where he pitched his tent.
At this point, it was becoming clear that the ambitious final day I had planned was going to be too much for the group. We were going to have to extend the hike for an extra day. Justin, wanting to lighten his pack as much as possible, had left at least a day’s worth of food in a bear box back down at our first campground. The three of us held a group meeting, discussed our options, our hiking speed, and agreed that we’d need to extend the trip. We each laid out all of the food that we had left, and divided it evenly to make sure everyone had enough.
Day 4
With the food evenly distributed, we set off descending to the fertile valley of Soda Creek. Sawtooth Peak showed itself a few times before we dropped to the valley floor where dense foliage offered a welcome respite from the sun. The mosquitoes were hiding from the sun as well, and didn’t show any mercy feasting on our exposed skin. After a few miles we reached Lost Canyon Creek, and began climbing up along its bank.
The creek tumbled over several small waterfalls. Once the trail began to level out, the perfect little swimming hole was too tempting to pass up. We dropped packs, shed our sweaty clothes and took turns dunking into the icy stream.
Back on the trial, it didn’t take us long to find our planned campsite. There was plenty of daylight left, but knowing we wouldn’t cover the entire distance back to the car the next day, we took advantage of a relaxing afternoon. We let our wet clothes dry out on a rock in the sun, explored around the campsite, and just enjoyed each other’s company in the pristine Sierra wilderness, nothing but a babbling creek to distract us.
Day 5
The approach to Sawtooth Pass continues along Lost Creek until the headwall leading up to Columbine Lake, at which point the relatively flat jaunt shifts gear into an interminable dusty staircase. Eventually the steepness gives way, inflecting over to the treeless alpine lake - deep blue-green, trout-filled water reflecting the intimidating Sawtooth Peak. It was a good spot for lunch before the final push up over the pass. It was another three hours before we finally reached the pass, and time for another break.
The view was stunning. To the West, more of the Sierra Nevada; immediately South, the jagged Sawtooth Peak; to the East, California’s Central Valley; and to the North, more rugged, foreboding peaks. Chubby marmots scampered around from under rocks trying to sneak a snack out of our packs. Unfortunately it was around this time that Justin noticed he’d dropped his phone somewhere. He ran down back down the trail a ways but never found it, and ended up just leaving a note under a rock, hoping for a good Samaritan.
The next obstacle was by far the most daunting of any we’d yet faced on this trip. The West face of Sawtooth Pass is nothing more than an incredibly steep hill of sand and loose rock. No defined trail can be maintained, and you’re constantly about to lose your footing and go tumbling thousands of feet down to the valley floor. With some careful route-finding, the three of us eventually made it down, found the trail at the bottom, and followed it over to our last campsite at Monarch Lake.
Justin and I stripped our clothes off and took a final plunge into the cold mountain water. Looking West out over the Central Valley from over 10,000 ft elevation, the sunset was spectacular. We stood and watched as the sky faded through shades of yellow, orange, blue, and purple, passing the bourbon around and reminiscing about the precious days we’d spent together in the mountains. None of us were really ready to get back to reality.
Day 6
The final five miles of our adventure consisted of dropping over 2000 ft of switchbacks through forested canyons. We probably walked a little slower, and took a few more pictures than we needed to. We stopped to filter water even though we probably could have made it back with what we had. Finally the parking lot came into view.
On the drive back we stopped to get some real food at a restaurant in Three Rivers. Molly and I had burgers. Justin did his best to avoid any hint of butter.
