Chipmunks and Marmots and Deer... Oh Wow.

Being the long weekend (Labor Day, don't you know) me and some folks from work and some friends decide on a little hiking trip in King's Canyon, in the High Sierra. Well, actually, I was rushing to get 120 handouts photocopied on a broken copier so I could train a bunch of people in half an hour (I hadn't realised it was in the morning), when Paola says "Hey Clint, how about a hike at the weekend?" "Uh... yeah sure, sounds nice", I replied, and rushed off. Turns out to be a 3-day expedition into deepest bear country. Well, if I'd known that... I'd have jumped at the chance.

5 go mad in bear country (photo by a kind stranger).

Basically, the plan was to get down to Kings Canyon on Friday night, staying overnight at the Cedar Grove campsite at the head of Cal Highway 180 (or wherever we could get a space to doss down), pick up a permit in the morning (hopefully), and head off to the high country. Here's a map of our route to the mountains (from Mapquest).

So, Friday night we set off, at about 7.30 pm. We took 2 cars down I-5, by way of 580 (after missing the turnoff), then across Cal Highway 152 (stopping for tacos in Los Banos), and down 99 to Fresno (renowned as the ugliest city in California), before turning onto 180 and up into the hills. The Sierra Nevada rises up like a granite wall out of the billiard-table flatness of the Central Valley (After the Central Valley, any change in the scenery is a relief!_{pun intended})

The Volcanic Lakes (photo by Jan).

Pretty soon, we're climbing steeply, up to 6,000 feet before arriving at the canyon floor and Cedar Grove, having travelled about 250 miles in total. By now it's gone 1.00 am, so we locate a vacant camp site (by extreme good luck), lock the food up in the bear locker provided (of course), spread the sleeping bags out, and doze off under the spectacular sight of the Milky Way in all its majesty. Well, Laurie slept in the car due to an unforseen shortage of sleeping pads...

The backdrop to Camp 2.

As soon as the sun's up, we are. (Well, pretty much.) First thing is to get a permit; they only give out 20 per day. Kim nabs Jan's car to head off for a permit, causing Laurie some surprise when she wakes up with her bed moving. Unfortunately, all permits have to be claimed in person, so Kim comes back for the rest of us; only snag is she can't find us (until Jan and I run after the disappearing car and flag it down). Eventually we're all rounded up, break camp in a hurry (ie. roll up the sleeping bags) and head back up to the ranger station, getting there not long after 7. We got our permits, hired a bear canister, and we were set!

So we went off for breakfast in a caf� Well, it'll be our last one for a while. We got to the caf�area, but then got lost in the car park. Finally finding the right building, we found ourselves walking up this huge expanse of gently-sloping ramps, and then realised we'd gone the wrong way... at this point, I was wondering if thin air improves one's navigational ability, because if not, we were in trouble.

On the ascent (photo by Jan).

So finally we made it to the trail head, hoisted the packs onto our shoulders, and we're off. The plan is to head north, up the Copper Creek trail, to Granite Lake. (Here's a map.) The map shows lots of hairpin bends, but Paula keeps telling us that it's easy. So, packs on backs, off we go; we finally leave the valley floor, 5,000 feet above sea level, at about 10.45 am (it was a good breakfast, and we bought some sleeping pads).

The path starts off with a big series of major hairpins, zigzagging up the wall of King's Canyon, before heading off up a side canyon. It's steep going, but not too bad. We arrived at Lower Tent Meadow, which at 7,600 feet is the last organised camp-site, by lunchtime, ate there, and moved on.

We made it! On top of the ridge, near sundown (photo by Jan).

We had been hoping to find some easier going, but the path just keeps on zigzagging up by immense hairpins. We started looking for places to camp, but couldn't find anywhere that was more flat than vertical; although we did see some marmots.

Up, and up, and up... basically, this path is just one long series of switchbacks, some longer than others, but more or less uniformly steep. After the upper tent meadow, we're into sparser, rocky woodland, praying that each switchback is the last. Spirits, legs and lungs (in the noticeably thinner air) are flagging by now, so Kim decides to cheer us up with jolly tales of the Burma Road, when in World War II (apparently), a load of refugees had to march 21 miles per day across country to escape persecution and death. Thanks, Kim.

Finally the switchbacks ended, the ground levelled out, and we could, at last, see over this immense wall of rock that we'd been climbing for 7 hours. We collapsed against a rock 10,347 feet above sea level, and debated making camp; but it's rather exposed, and we're quite short of water, having found none since lunch. So after a brief rest we continued in search of a less exposed campsite.

Camp 1, below the ridge (photo by Jan).

Crossing the ridge, we get a glimpse of Granite Basin as the sun is going down; a huge, beautiful wilderness of jumbled granite, with the lakes at the bottom. It's too far down to the lakes, though, so we soon find a sheltered nook among the granite outcroppings and pitch camp. It was pretty cold (the valley where we'd started was baking!), but didn't get to freezing (we had been warned that it could). After another, more thorough, collapse, we brewed up and had some burgers, some of us struggling to find the energy to eat them. We had climbed a total of 5,300 feet, over nearly 10 miles, in 7 hours.

Looking down into Granite Basin from Camp 1.

(For those who don't know what a bear canister is, it's at the front-left of the Camp 1 photo. (It says "Rental".) Basically, you have to secure all your food -- and toothpaste, sun cream, etc. -- so that bears don't raid your camp and steal it; partly because that's a pain -- I heard of at least one group that had to hike a day out with no food that weekend -- but mainly so the bears don't get used to getting food off people. Kind of like not feeding the pigeons, except that these pigeons weigh 400 pounds. So you can hang it from a thin branch on a tree, but the bears usually get wise to that; or use a bear canister, which they can't get in to.)

Camp 2, by Granite Lake. Notice the patch of snow down by the lake.

We hung what food didn't fit in the bear canister (picture a girl perched on the shoulders of a big East German guy tying 4 carrier bags of food to the branch of a tree, in the high Sierra, by torchlight...). All the same, no bears came visiting.

Surveying the landscape from Granite Pass.

Next day, we just had a short hike down to Granite Lake, for some water, a dip, and new campsite. There's some snow on the opposite shore of the lake; technically, we're camped above the snowline! (Well, a snowline.) The lake is beautifully calm, with just the odd fish rising to disturb the water; the whole place is totally peaceful. We walked on up to Granite Pass, for a look at the view, and that was it for the day. I'm still suffering from a bit of altitude sickness; and the air is decidedly thin! Walking on the level is fine, but as soon as the path turns upwards, even slightly, the going gets pretty tough.

The sun sets, creating a magical view over Granite Lake...

... and then the whole sky caught fire...

We spent the evening relaxing, eating a splendid gourmet meal that the girls cooked up (with some chipmunks for company), and stargazing again. After watching a splendid sunset, where the whole sky, and a group of distant mountains, turned red. Still no bears to disturb our rest (or our food).

On Monday, we hiked out again, back down the same route. Much easier going downhill, but it's hard on the legs, catching your weight with every step for 10 miles. At least by lunchtime (at a mere 7,600 feet) there was even enough air to breath, which made a pleasant change. We finally made it back to the cars, and headed for civilisation.

The valley floor, from about 1,700 feet up the trail.

We only had a mild adventure on the way home... Jan's car broke down in Fresno, and had to be left there. We dropped it off at a garage and went for a rowdy dinner at a nice restaurant called Porky's (or was it Perky's?). Our relief to be back in civilisation must have showed -- the couple at the next table asked to be moved (maybe it was the cannibalism stories that put them off...).

So, well stuffed with food, we packed five people, plus their huge backpacks, into my little Geo -- and I mean packed -- for the 200-mile trip home. We managed to get three packs behind the back seat, by tilting it forwards to a very uncomfortable point. That then sat three people, with Kim's huge pack across their laps; Kim being in front with another pack wedged in front of her. (Bear in mind that this is basically a Suzuki.) Being the driver, of course, I was fine.

So we eventually made it back, at around 2.00 am. Jan eventually got his car back, by the way, and I didn't have to drive him down; the train down with Amtrak only cost $27, which wasn't too bad. The repair was something else.

Copyright (C) 1995-2006 Ian Cameron Smith.
visits since 18Aug05. Last modified: Tue Sep 19 23:57:32 BST 2006 ($Revision: 1.12 $)