The Baxter Pass Trail ascends along the narrow valley created by Oak Creek. Naturally the trailhead area was wider but as I ascended higher the valley walls started closing in a bit. The trail neared ridges of low cliffs and piles of rocks lined below them - the work of water-driven erosion and movement.
The sound of running water was getting stronger again - the trail was now parallel with the main Oak Creek flow channel. I decided that the upcoming creek crossing would be a good place to stop for a mid morning snack and breather break. I was hoping to find a shaded spot there because the temperature was within the 90s now.
There were plenty of oak trees growing by Oak Creek, so shade wasn't going to be a problem. The way down to the creek however, was littered with dead, fallen trees. It took a few basic gymnastic moves (while carrying a heavy backpack on) to pass some of them.
I sat down in the shade by oak creek for a good half an hour. Resting, eating, and filtering drinking water from the creek. I then checked the crossing options. It looked like there were strategically placed rocks and logs that could be balanced on. The creek however, was swollen with recently melted snow, and the flow was high and fast. I decided to not risk slipping so I took the bother of changing to sandals, wading across, then drying my feet and changing again to my hiking shoes.
Creek side, or riparian vegetation consists also of small annual plants that grow right at the edge of the water. Clinging to what little soil and and rotting organic matter trapped between the pebbles, these little plants brave the changing water levels and enjoy a seemingly endless supply of water, at least until the end of their reproductive cycle.
One common creek side wildflower is the seep monkeyflower. Its yellow blossom decorates many creeks and fresh water wetlands throughout California. It was nice to see it here as well.
On the other side of the creek I faced the first real obstacle - the trail on the south shore was nowhere to be seen. I found myself marching up and down the rocky bank, trying to find the a place where I could climb the slope toward where the trail was supposed to continue, but there wasn't any such place.
The south slope rising from Oak Creek near the creek crossing was steep, made of crumbling soil that was held together by thick vegetation. A good part of this vegetation were bushes of wild Wood's rose. The roses were blooming very beautifully. They were also very thorny, and formed an impenetrable wall.
Eventually I spotted a thin line of feet-generated erosion that went straight up the bank under a low branching oak tree. I groaned and swore a bit, but really that was the best option. Very slowly, using my hands too, I climbed the crumbling slope, taking every care to not slip down and hoping that the loose soil won't collapse beneath me. When I finally reached the actual trail (which seemed to disappear into the wild rose garden) I had to take another short break just to catch my breath. All memory of the shaded break and the cool creek water had evaporated from my body, and streams of sweat were streaking my face and underarms.
The trail was now on the south side of Oak Creek, and soon started rising well above it. I knew from the map that there would be another creek crossing higher up, and I hoped it would be an easier there (spoiler - not). For the time being however, I enjoyed the beautiful scenery and the lovely flowers, even if at times I had to push my way through vegetation the grew into the narrow trail.
A flash of pink caught my eyes higher up. Looking there I saw a beavertail cactus (prickly pear) that was in full bloom. Alas, it was too far for me to take a clear photo/ Soon I started seeing beavertail cacti along the trail, but all of them were already done blooming. I consoled myself with the beautiful display that the early Eastern Sierra summer arranged for me there.
I wasn't high enough to avoid the intense heat though. The creek crossing ordeal, together with the break I took before that had cost me dear time. It was now midday and the sun was right overhead. The trail was nearly completely exposed - the few trees that grew along this part of the trail were too small to cast any significant shade. The slope of the trail steepened too, but thankfully, there were switchbacks to ease the ascend.
At that point I was about 1,000 ft higher than the trailhead, and I was starting to see plants that I remembered from higher altitudes on previous trips in the Sierra Nevada.
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| Hoary Pincushion, Chaneactis douglasii |
There were no more oaks now along the trail. I couldn't see them anymore down by the creek either. The few trees that I did see here and there were Jeffrey pines. These too I would soon leave behind.
The higher altitude didn't help much with the heat, though. Not yet,
anyway. I kept expecting the heat to ease up as I ascended the trail but
at least it seemed to not be getting more intense. Still, I had to slow
down my pace and I stopped for short breathers under every but of shade
I could find. The pine shade wasn't very good - sunlight filters easily through the thin pine needles. For most of the trail there were no trees at all, not even pines.
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| Baxter Pass Trail |
The flora changed again, and the shrubs seemed more lush here - the winter snow was a more recent memory, left in moisture absorbed by the soil.
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| Sulfur Buckwheat, Eriogonum umbellatum |
Most of the wildflowers I've seen so far were quite colorful and conspicuous - they advertise themselves to the would be pollinators, attracting them with colors, shapes, and calories such as nectar and pollen. Then there were also the small, hardly visible wildflowers. Clearly, these weren't advertising to the human eyes.
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| Wilcox's Woollystar, Eriastrum wilcoxii |
The trail was narrow to begin with but got even narrower higher up. Shrubs were growing into, and even right onto the trail. In many places the trail was more like a goat path. In some places it was so faint that I found myself going down a gap between shrubs only to have to readjust back to where the actual trail was.
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| Baxter Pass Trail | |
I was getting tired. It was getting close to lunch time and I was hungry too, but I didn't feel like sitting for a break in the baking sun. I did pause for quick water sips though, each time I came upon a new wildflower blooming.
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| Ferris' Sandwort, Eremogone ferrisiae |
I needed I break though, and I decided that I will have one in the next shaded spot that I find. Looking ahead however, didn't look very promising on finding any shade.
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| Sulfur Buckwheat, Eriogonum umbellatum (yellow), and Wavyleaf Paintbrush, Castilleja applegatei (red) |
The mountains looked closer now, but I had no direct view of the pass itself. It definitely seemed cooler up there.
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| Baxter Pass Trail |
Every now and then I walked through an area that was mainly rocks and soil, with very little vegetation. A different set of wildflowers bloomed there, most of them represented by very few plants.
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| Bridges' Pincushionplant, Navarretia leptalea |
It was actually harder to tell where the trail was in those areas. This was truly a less traveled on hiking route.
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| Brewer's Fleabane, Erigeron breweri |
A bird flew across my path and settled on a nearby dead branch. It had a finch-like thick bill which held something that looked like a maggot. It seemed to be aware of my presence, and wouldn't swallow its catch while I was watching, so I snapped a couple of shots and moved on.
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| Fox Sparrow |
The trail continued to rise above Oak Creek. Occasionally I crossed small tributaries, all of which were already dry. On more than one occasion the path of a shallow dry tributary appeared clearer and easier to walk on than the actual trail. More than one I could see the footprints of previous hikers using the dry creek as the hiking path.
In some cases, where the trail became invisible I found myself doing the
same - walking up the path of a long dried up creek. Nearly always I'd
reach a dead end and I'd have to side step or backtrack a bit in order
to realign with the trail. All of these little detours added up to more
delays in my over all progress west and uphill.
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| Starry Bedstraw, Galium stellatum |
I knew there was another creek crossing coming up about a mile ahead, but I started being more careful with my drinking water. The heat was intense still, and I didn't want to run out of water, so I spaced out my hydration pauses and took fewer sips each time.
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| Rothrock's Keckiella, Keckiella rothrockii |
The heat didn't seem to affect the butterflies. I saw many butterflies that day, and most of them were very active. I was very happy when a pair of checkerspots decided to interact on a monardella inflorescence.
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| Edith's Checkerspot butterfly on Flaxleaf Monardella, Monardella linoides |
Noon time came and passed. I was quite hungry by then and I wanted a good rest. I kept plodding away, keeping my eyes out for any suitable place to take a much needed break.
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| Naked Buckwheat, Eriogonum nudum |
Eventually I saw it - a pine so small that a mahogany bush was towering over it - right by the trail. The shade was small but just large enough for me to sit underneath. The mountain mahogany was already past blooming. It was covered by feather-like seeds that shone in the brilliant midday sun light, giving the entire bush an angelic aura.
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| Curlleaf Mountain Mahogany, Cercocarpus ledifolius |
I took my time on this well needed break. I ate, had more water, and rested. I also managed to cool off a bit in the shade. I had the thought of maybe closing my eyes a bit for a few minutes nap but I wasn't able to dose off so I simply looked around. At one point a turkey vulture swooped by. I assured it I was nowhere near dying and it flew away.
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| Turkey Vulture |
From my sitting place I had a nice view east to Owens Valley, whence I came. I could appreciate how high I was already above the valley floor, and how much altitude I gained from the trailhead.
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| View East to Owens Valley |
The heat was intense still and I was reluctant to leave my tiny shaded spot, but I had to move on. My water was running low and I was still quite a distance away from the pass, which I still hoped to go over that day. I pulled myself from under the small pine and hoisted my backpack. Standing up I got a nice view of the midday crescent moon, sinking slowly to the ridge on the west.
The narrow trail leveled off along a fairly steep slope. For a while it was clear to see where the path was, and I took the opportunity to increase my gait and cover some distance at a good, steady pace. A blessed breeze came in in short, occasional gusts and each time it blew by me I raised my arms and my hat to allow the wind to better cool me off.
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| Baxter Pass Trail |
Eventually I got once again a direct view of Oak Creek. It was flowing nice and strong, far below me. Somewhere up ahead the trail and the creek would meet, but I was still about a mile away from the second creek crossing.
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| Oak Creek |
All of a sudden I started seeing mariposa lilies, and my spirit soared - mariposa lilies are a very nice highlight of my hikes. It was only at home when I analyzed my photos that I realized that these mariposa lilies were of a species I've never seen in bloom before - the Pinyon Mariposa lily.
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| Pinyon Mariposa Lily, Calochortus bruneaunis |
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That part of the trail featured other plant species that although not new to me, it was the first time I was seeing them on this trip.
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| Bridges' Penstemon, Penstemon rostriflorus |
There bloomed also the first and only lupine species that I saw that day. The lupines seemed to be already past their peak bloom but there were plenty of open flowers still.
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| Narrowflower Lupine, Lupinus angustiflorus |
I saw more mariposa lilies up the trail, and these were of the species I knew well from previous High Sierra trips - the Leichtlin's mariposa lily.
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| Leichtlin's Mariposa Lily, Calochortus leichtlinii |
For a while it felt like I was making good distance, yet not getting much closer to the creek. I did have now a more or less continuous view of that narrow strip of water gashing down from the mountain heights. I still had no direct view of Baxter Pass.
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| Oak Creek |
Buckwheat is a big genus in California and I was seeing many buckwheat species blooming that day, each at a different altitude. Now I was at the height of the Inyo wild buckwheat - another species that I didn't recall ever seeing in bloom before. They were blending very nicely with the stones that covered the slope I was on.
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| Inyo Wild Buckwheat, Eriogonum latens |
The trail remained level for a while, with only minor uphill bits, some thing I was glad about. The creek wasn't too far below now.
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| Baxter Pass Trail |
It was still quite hot and I sweated profusely. There were maybe two sips of water left in my last bottle. I needed to get to that creek soon. I was making decent time now though. Other than the intense heat and the overgrown parts of the trail the only thing that slowed me down were the wildflowers.
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| Western Hawksbeard, Crepis occidentalis |
By then I was pausing only briefly to take photos, especially if these were common wildflowers I was already familiar with. Others however, I gave a much closer attention. Even wildflowers that didn't look big and fancy, but were unique, or that were lifers for me.
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| Hedgehog Cryptantha, Cryptantha echinella |
I turned another curve of the trail and my heart sank. There used to be a forest up ahead, a pine forest of which only a few trees were living still. A fire, I don't know when, had ravaged that forest. The charred remains were standing erect or slanted, like a broken pin cushion.
Once again the trail became an obstacle course. One aspect of a trail not actively maintained is that fallen trees aren't removed from the path. Sometimes bypassing them is easy, but on many other times it meant crouching under, climbing over, or scrambling around through thick shrubs of crumbling soil. Either way, going past these hurdles slowed me down again considerably.
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| Baxter Pass Trail |
The fire removal of the living pines resulted in the flourishing bushes and many herbaceous plants as well. Here too, the trail disappeared in lush, green vegetation.
Following the thin line where it looked like the trail was I pushed my way through the vegetation. I was wearing a short sleeve T short and needed to raise my arms high - large patches of these plants were stinging nettle - an invasive plant that sadly had made its way to the eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada.
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| Milbert's Tortoiseshell butterflies on stinging nettle |
I was nearly level with the creek now but coming down the north bank was a bit challenging - the creek side experienced a calamity of floods. I had to slowly climb down piles of debris that included rocks and piles of dead vegetation, carefully testing each step for a stable foothold. Then there was pushing through the beautifully blooming creek side shrubbery too.
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| Red Osier Dogwood, Cornus sericea |
When I reached the creek I let out a groan - crossing it wasn't going to be easy. Here too it run high and fast, and unlike the first crossing, it was also pretty narrow, making the stream shoot through the rocky passage at a powerful force. It was, of course, not narrow enough to hop across.
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| Oak Creek |
I decided to take care of the most important thing first, so I found a rock I could sit on, took my backpack off and went to the water to filter, drink, and fill my bottles, drink some more, and top my bottles off. As I was treating my drinking water I noticed a log that stretched across the creek like a bridge. It even looked chafed on top, like people already balanced their way across it. I imagined that if I'd use that log as a bridge I would butt-scoot across rather than try balancing. Taking a closer look at the log though, I ditched even that idea - a long and deep crack stretched along the wood. Perhaps it would hold the combined weight of myself and my backpack, but I didn't want to risk it cracking under me.
Here too I had to walk back and forth a bit along the bank before deciding on where to cross. It worried me that nowhere could I see where the trail was picking up again on the south bank. When I was ready to cross I changed to sandals again, rolled up my pants and extended my hiking poles. My heart stopped for a moment when I stepped in the water - it was snow-melt cold! I had to steady myself - the stream was strong. The creek wasn't wide, but I took my time crossing it, making sure to come across with no more than wet legs.
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| Chocolate Drops, Caulanthus pilosus |
I took some time on the south bank too to dry my feet and change back to my shoes. Then I had to face the worst problem since I started the hike - I was stuck near the water, and all around my on the land side was a wall of impenetrable vegetation - tall, thick and thorny. In the vegetation were buried piles fallen logs and flotsam that got deposited there by floods. I literally spent a good part of an hour figuring out how to free myself from that green cage and climb above the wall of bushes and over the pile of flood debris. Then I was facing the challenge of finding where the trail was. Once again I had to call in my path finding experience - following a faint, almost invisible line of broken stems - left by someone who walked there before me some time ago.
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| See a trail there? |
There were beautiful wildflowers along the way but what truly slowed me down here was having to dule and triple check all the time where I was to go.
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| Desert Figwort, Scraphularia desertorum |
Among all the native vegetation I had to push my way through were also large patches of stinging nettle. As careful as I tried to be I did end up petting one accidentally with my elbow. It was quite painful, but thankfully wore off after a few long and sore minutes.
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| Star-flowered Lily-of-the-Valley, Maianthemum stellatum |
When I finally could see what looked like a trail I was worn out. I didn't want to stop again for another break so I continued slowly, meandering between the knee-high shrubs that covered the gentle, north-facing slope I was on at the time.
A strong sweet fragrance filled the air - before me was a large field of gorgeous ceanothus bushes in full bloom. The trail disappeared again and I had to exercise again my path finding skills. Ceanothus can be quite prickly and I was glad that despite the heat I chose to wear my thicker pair of hiking pants that day.
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| Mountain Whitethorn, Ceanothus cordulatus |
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It was pretty hot still, but it felt to me like the edge of it wore off a bit. I welcomed every whiff of breeze that blew by my.
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| Convergent Lady Beetle on Mountain Whitethorn, Ceanothus cordulatus |
I entered a sparse grove of pine trees and found a place to sit for a short snack and hydration break. I used the break time to check my map. I had just made the second creek crossing and it took me a great deal of time and energy. It was about 3 pm now and the pass was still well over two miles away and a good 3000 ft higher from where I was. For the first time I started doubting that I'd get over the Pass that day.
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| Baxter Pass Trail |
It wasn't merely the distance and the elevation gain. The trail was very difficult to traverse. 'Unmaintained' is an easy word for the plethora of obstacles I had to tackle, and nothing guaranteed me that the rest of the way would be any easier.
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| Roundleaf Snowberry, Symphoricarpos rotundifolius |
When I resumed my walk I was already rolling in my mind the thought of finding a campsite near Oak Creek and tackling the pass on the morrow. Ahead of me I could finally see Diamond Peak - the mountain that was the headwater of Oak Creek. Baxter Pass would be on the south side of Diamond Peak. I decided to continue for a couple of hours more and then take a decision whether to go over or remain on the eastern side of Baxter Pass.
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| View west |
I admired the colorful quilt of bushes that covered the lower areas of the mountain slopes. Each bush species formed a distinct patch and together they formed a beautiful natural tapestry.
A bright pink spot caught my eyes and I jumped with excitement - it was a blooming beavertail cactus! It bore only one open flower - all the rest were still in the bud stage, but I was thrilled to see that flower.
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| Beavertail Pricklypear, Opuntia basilaris |
The sun was definitely moving west now. I zoomed my camera on Diamond peak but its slopes looked hazy in the afternoon light.
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| Diamond Peak |
I was beginning to see high altitude wildflowers now, such as the phlox. The phlox plants I saw were already past their peak bloom but had a few open flowers still.
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| Granite Prickly Phlox, Linanthus pungens |
Another signature high altitude plant I started seeing was the foxtail pine - a majestic pine species typical of the High Sierra tree line.
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| Foxtail Pine, Pinus balfouriana |
My hope of possibly making better distance before the end of the day fell when once again the trail disappeared in thick vegetation. At least this time they were ferns and not stinging nettle.
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| See the trail? |
As soon as I got out of the fern thicket I found myself in a jungle of tall willow bushes. Seeing the trail didn't matter much because the long willow boughs closed over it. To get through I had to find the path of least resistance, hoping that I could catch up with the trail on the other side.
Diamond Peak didn't look any closer on the other side. The wind became a bit more consistent now though, and the heat seemed to be slowly subsiding. I could finally breathe better, inhaling air full of ceanothus and chinquapin aroma.
The chinquapin aroma isn't my favorite, but it wasn't very strong, thankfully. I did like the sight of these lovely khaki colored bushes.
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| Chinquapin |
Between the bushes were more wildflower. Here too I was seeing some species for the first time on this trip.
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| Scarlet Gilia, Ipomopsis aggregata |
The trail reached Oak Creek again and disappeared in the rocks that made the creek banks. I didn't need to cross the creek again, thankfully, but one more time I had trouble figuring out where the trail was, and make my way there with careful steps on rocks that weren't always stable.
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| Oak Creek |
The trail began ascending at a steeper slope now. I was also beginning to feel the effects of the altitude and of several hours of strenuous hot day hiking. My steps were smaller now, and I took frequent breather pauses. Occasionally I turned to look east and appreciate the distance and altitude that I've gained. Owens Valley was a different world that I left behind. I was now entering the realm of the High Sierra
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| View East to Owens Valley |
I heard the sound of cascading water, and looked around. I found a tributary waterfall flowing down an eroded cliff side south of the trail. The trees were hanging at the very edge of that steep slope - the next flood or two might carry off the soil underneath them, sending them tumbling down to join their dead relatives that littered the banks of Oak Creek.
The trail was gone again and this time I couldn't see at all where it continued ahead. My navigator was of little help - I didn't know how updated the superimposed trail display was, but I've already figured out that all to frequently it didn't match what I was seeing on the ground. The issue wasn't about navigation - I was perfectly clear on where I was and which direction I needed to go. It was the 'how to get there' on the 1:1 scale. I pulled my topographic map out again and studied the contours. Looking around I identified the massive rock ledge where the trail would climb, according to the map. Now I needed to find the path of least resistance to get there, hoping that the trail would indeed bee there, or that otherwise I'd find a good way up.
The main problem here was scree. those sloped fields of loose rocks is difficult to walk on - they don't provide complete foot hold and they wobble and shift underneath the body weight. Nothing spells 'twisted ankle' to me more than a scree hike. Yet, crossing the scree I had to now. That I did with the west sun directly in my eyes.
It was a slow ordeal, having to test foothold stability with each step, while feeling out for the best passage through the scree slope. There was no one disturbance pattern that suggested where other people before me might have walked - there were several of them, as if everyone who might have walked there recently was just as unsure on the best way to traverse it as I.
Very little grows on scree slopes. The terrain is too unstable to support rich plant life. With time, trees can establish themselves here and there and provide some stability. Rocks might stay put long enough to allow annuals and small perennials to set root.
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| False Rock-loving Cinquefoil, Drymocallis pseudoruperstris |
Scree slopes are also good habitat to numerous rodent species who find shelter between and under these rocks. I've seen quite a few squirrels, but none of them cooperated with my camera. I also identified marmot scat, but the animal itself evaded my eyes. I stayed focused on the wildflowers and on being steady on my feet.
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| Mountain Pride, Penstemon newberryi |
By the time I reached the rocky ledge the sun was behind the ridge. I was relieved to find the trail that was ascending the ledge. By then I also knew that there was no chance I'd be going over Baxter Pass today. Once over that ledge I'd have to look for a suitable place to build camp for tonight.
I surprised a young buck that was resting near the trail. The buck studied me with what I interpreted to be an offended expression - he clearly wasn't expecting any humans to be there. He then trotted off to a more discrete hiding place.
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| White-tailed Mule Deer, male |
The buckwheat species changed again - I started seeing the high altitude cushion buckwheat plants, and they were blooming nicely here, at their lower distribution elevation.
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| Cushion Buckwheat, Eriogonum ovalifolium |
As I ascended the large rock ledge the sun descended behind the mountain ridge. All of a sudden, all the heat of the day was gone and the temperature dropped. Moreover, the wind was now stronger and consistent, not merely occasional gusts of refreshing breeze. I could hear Oak Creek nearby. It was obscured by the tall riparian vegetation but I figured I could find my way to the water so I started searching for a suitable place to camp.
The trail leveled and it didn't take long to find a suitable campsite. In fact - it was a campsite used well before me. It even had the markings of campfire. I had no plants to light a campfire though. I took my backpack off and pitched my tent - that was it for today's hiking.
I found a thin foot path leading to the creek. Lovely bloom of the western Labrador tea bushes welcomed me when I walked there to fill my bottles and my cooking pot.
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| Western Labrador Tea, Rhododendron columbianum |
A lovely small waterfall was perfectly placed so I didn't even need to crouch down to fill up my containers. I also took the opportunity to wash my face and hands and remove all the sweat and grime from today's hot hike.
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| Oak Creek |
I had to place my camping stove beneath the large boulder that bore the marks of old campfires to protect it from the wind. I ate slowly, watching the sun set and the day darken. I could feel every bit of my body after today's strain. I walked about 4.5 miles only, but that number didn't speak of all the path finding and obstacles and hurdles I had to negotiate, all in intense heat. After my dinner I did some stretching and went into my tent.
I usually have a hard time sleeping through the first night on my backpacking trips. This time however, I was so worn out and so relaxed that I fell asleep quickly, and slept well through the night.
