Over and Out: From Warren Peak to Pine Creek Basin

Date: July 4, 2017
Place: South Warner Wilderness, Alturas, California
Coordinates (of where we stayed near Warren Peak): 41.378946, -120.215547
Length: 2.5 miles
Level: Strenuous

The second night of our backpacking trip to the South Warner Wilderness we passed on an isolated rocky spur of Warren Peak, high above Patterson Lake. The lake, which was our planned destination, was like the promised land for Moses: we could see it but we couldn't get to it. Not without putting ourselves in serious risk.
We also couldn't go back the way we came: we had no equipment to cross the snow field that covered our trail and neither of us wished to try and bypass it again on the slope above where we had come so close to harm while passing there the day before.
And so we were, all alone in the wilderness with w wonderful view all around, a fantastic wildflowers display, and a patch of snow as our only source of water.
The wind, which battered our tent most of the night had died down by the morning. It was still very chilly when I emerged from the tent and started melting snow to boil for tea.

Warren Peak at Sunrise

Pappa Quail joined me in making breakfast. Unable to put his worries out of his mind, he did not sleep well at night. The chikas too were worried, especially the young one who refused to even think about going back the way we came.
Moving around doing our morning routine I took in as much as I could of the place we were. The view was absolutely striking.

Lassen Peak-A-Boo!  

And not just the view. Despite having photographed all the wildflowers there on the evening before I still found reasons to snap more shots of them. To get more points of view.

'Brain'. Cushion Buckwheat, Eriogonum ovalifolium 

We all felt better in the brilliant morning sun. And once the sun had risen the temperatures did too and we felt warmer.

But there was still the problem of getting back. After a short discussion it was agreed that I'd go ahead and scout for a safer route. I went light, taking only my phone (surprisingly we had reception there), and my camera. I went up the side of Warren Peak where I had started exploring on the previous day.

The beginning was easy and I quickly gained altitude. At some point I turned around and looked back at our campsite. Pappa Quail and the chikas were standing there still, following my progress. I waved at them and they waved back at me. Then I turned and moved around a boulder, leaving my family was out of sight. 

Soon I was up on the narrow ridge leading to the peak itself. There was no where to go left or right so I continued on up the ridge's knife edge. 

After more climbing I had a full and clear view of Patterson Lake. I could see a way down to it - a doable way down among the rocks. I filed that in my mind and moved on up the ridge.

I came upon quite a few obstacles - tangles of trees, large boulders, and slippery gravel slopes. I carefully pushed my way through the trees, climbed around the boulders holding on to them with both hands, and transversing the gravel on my bottom.
I could tell that I wasn't the first human to have passed this way this season: faint footprints were visible here and there. I followed them.

I made it all the way to the other side of the ridge where I had a clear view of the slope down to where it met the trail. It was doable. Scary at points, but not as dangerous as going back past the snow field of yesterday.

View south from the ridge of Warren Peak 

I turned about and made my way back, occasionally stopping to enjoy the wildflowers along the improvised path.

Lewis' Flax, Linum lewisii 

I came back down to the campsite. I was away no more than half an hour, but Pappa Quail hagged me as if I returned from a year's absence. I announced cheerfully that I found an easier way to get back but my family didn't show much relief. My younger chika in particular was worried still. She kept asking me about the way and all I said to calm her down seemed to have worked her up even more so eventually I resorted to simply asking her to trust my and my judgement. Whether she was ok with that or not, there were no other options.
Actually, there was one: I told them that I believed we could go down to the lake and suggested we should do that and stay another night on its shore, just as we had planned. But the rest of my family were unanimously against the idea - they wanted out and back on safe grounds. My younger chika went even further and suggested we get back all the way to the car and back to town, but the rest of us disagreed.

Fremont's Groundsel, Senecio fremontii 

While I was away Pappa Quail and the chikas had packed nearly everything so it didn't take long to finish packing and to get going.
Going up with everybody proved to be a challenge. The younger chika was terrified and had to be guided with every step. She chose to stick with me so I held her hand and directed her moves while Pappa Quail carried her backpack as well s his own, and prevented the elder chika from rushing ahead.
It took a long while as we moved very slowly and stopped frequently to regroup and allow the younger chika to calm down her anxiety, but eventually we made it all the way up, safely.

The view north from the ridge of Warren Peak. 

From there we went down the slope, meandering between the shrubs and trees until we reached the trail. I believe that our mutual sigh of relief could have been heard all the way down to Eagleville.
My family wanted to stop and rest but it wasn't a good place for that and we have already spent a lot of time getting over the ridge, so I urged everybody to move on.

Going down the trail was fast and easy. We now walked quickly, leaving the trail only to bypass the snow piles that blocked it here and there. Still, I could tell that these snow piles had shrunk since yesterday. I wondered had we stayed at Patterson Lake another day would we've been able to get out of there by the trail itself. But I knew we wouldn't have risked it. That much snow would probably not have melted that quickly.

We did stop to rest at the intersection with the Pine Creek Trail but not for long. Now that the big weight of getting back on track was off our chest we all felt lighter and more energized. Besides, we were going downhill.

A Brook of Cornlilies

We continued on Pine Creek Trail at a fast pace. I was in the lead now, racing down the trail with the elder chika close behind me. At a good distance in the back came the younger chika with Pappa Quail bringing up the rear.
He took the time to find a bird on a nearby tree:

Clark's Nutcracker

This time I didn't stop often to photograph wildflowers individually. I had photographed most of them on the way up. I did, however, take many wide view shots, snapping them as I walked, not even slowing down. The air was clearer than the day before, and the view sharper. Shasta, making its appearance  around the mountain side looked less ghostly than yesterday.

Shasta Peak-A-Boo

And then I came upon the small patch of fritillaries I remembered from yesterday. Now almost all of them were open. I stopped, dropped my pack and sat down to photograph them from up close. Within a few minutes all my family had passed me, leaving me behind, lying on the dusty trail in attempt to get an inside photo of this pretty flower.  Eventually I wearied of it, got up and continued marching on, hoping that at least one of the photos came out right.

Mountain Fritillary, Fritillaria atropurpurea 

Down, down, down. I caught up with my family and passed them again, heading for the lead. The chikas wanted a lunch break but I urged them on, wishing to stop near a running creek.

The sun was bright and the colors vibrant. Although I rarely stopped for individual flowers on my way down, I did try to capture the lovely combination of bloom colors. 

Flowers weren't the only colorful beings there. Many butterflies filled the air, hovering over and around the flowers, sometimes coming to a stop.

Tortoiseshell Butterfly

 The bloom was at the peak, but for some of the butterflies the season was nearing its end.

Looking back, I could see no more snow patches. We left all our snowy adventure behind, now only in memories and photographs. The scenery was as green and summery as could be.

I did stop for another flower, one that I didn't photograph on the way up and I wanted to make up for this omission.

Nevada Pea, Lathyrus nevadensis 

My family had passed me by again. When I caught up with them they were all seated under a tree near a small but very lively brook. Pappa Quail had the food sack out and they were all waiting for me to pull out the cooking gear which I carried.

Silvery Lupine, Lupinus argenteus

Was had a hearty lunch and a nice, long break. Then it was time to move on. Before long we were going in and out of the mosquito-infested aspen groves.

Somewhat lower, and we were back inside the conifer forest, the trail taking us through thin groves and sunny patches where forest shrubs were blooming too.

Mountain Snowberry, Symphoricarpos rotundifolius 

A colorful patch of mule ears, geraniums, and Indian paintbrush, which filled a large sunny patch marked our arrival at the bottom of the Pine Creek Basin. I remained behind for a few seconds to enjoy the sight, then hurried after my family all the way to the place where we had camped on our first night out. 

The place was not occupied so we happily set our camp there once again, then went exploring a little. I found another trail in the forest, one that was not labeled on my map. I followed it to a little lake in the woods. We've seen that lake from the main trail on our first day's hike and now I got to see it up close. I returned to the campsite and brought the chikas back there with me to enjoy the nice view.

The sun was setting slowly. The chikas got to play by the creek while Pappa Quail and I rested. Then we had a nice, quiet dinner, cleaned up and went into the tent. That night all four of us slept soundly, without any worries.

The Colors of Life at the Pine Creek Basin

Date: July 1, 2017
Place: South Warner Wilderness, Alturas, California
Coordinates: 41.362254, -120.243023

We had arrived at Pine Creek Basin with plenty of day time left. For a moment the idea came up to continue on to Patterson Lake but almost instantly it was struck down. We were to stay the night at the basin and use the time on our hands to relax and explore.

And so we dropped our packs by the trail and wandered off. Pappa Quail was off after a bird he'd seen flying into a group of trees ahead, the young chika went down to the creek, the elder chika walked to the shallow pond, and I looked around for flowers.

Lupine, Lupinus sp.

I didn't have to look far. The creek side was colorfully decorated with blue bells, groundsels, lupines, columbine, and others. The slope behind where we left our packs was a dazzling display of mule ears and Indian paintbrush.

The Indian paintbrush was the dominant red on the slope and on any bit of land that was a little higher and drier.

Wavyleaf Indian Paintbrush, Castilleja applegatei

On the slope near the trees bloomed some scarlet gillia, standing out in their darker than Indian paintbrush shade of red.

Scarlet Gillia, Ipomopsis aggregata

That gillia wasn't attractive only to me. In fact, it's lovely red color and deep nectaries were not at all meant for my enjoyment. Later that day Pappa Quail caught on camera the true user and steward of this pretty flower.

Rufous Hummingbird, male

There were many pine trees around the basin, and a few were growing within, grouped in small groves. And then there was this huge pine cone that seemed to be growing out of a rabbitbrush. At first I thought that it somehow got stuck there or that another hiker might have placed it there. When I approached the rabbitbrush, however, I noticed that the cone was still attached to its parent pine - a small rabbitbrush tree that produced a single, very large cone. Now that's aspiration!

Lodgepole Pine, Pinus contorta 

A small grove of larger pines grew on a small dome of land and rocks nestled in a curve of Pine Creek. The bird that Pappa Quail had noticed has flown in there and he followed it with his camera ready. I don't normally include people's photos in my blog posts but I think this one is showing the scale of the place, and also the remoteness of this nearly people-free wilderness.

Gone Birding

Pappa Quail was very pleased when he came back. He had spotted a pair of lazuli buntings and below is a beautiful capture of the colorful male.

Lazuli Bunting, male

When Pappa Quail returned from his birding exploration I went on a different one - to find where to creek and where does the trail continue on the other side, because it was not visible from where we were. There  was a place for camping right above where we had stopped but I wanted to see it there was any better location on the other side of the creek. 

The spillway of the basin's pond

I went down to the creek and started scouting along its bank. The elder chika tagged along and made her own suggestions. She also pointed out some more wildflowers for me.

Eaton's Daisy, Erigeron eatonii 

Plants with a tall white inflorescence towered over the shrubbery by the creek. They looked magnificent and later I found out that they have a very suitable name: the Monument Plant.

Monument Plant, Frasera speciosa

I didn't just pass them by . They deserved a closer inspection. 

Monument Plant, Frasera speciosa

There were numerous peony plants blooming by the creek and I was thrilled when I saw them because up until then I didn't get to see them in bloom. The peony has such a short bloom season that any time before when I've seen them it was already too late. 

Brown's Peony, Paeonia brownii

I found a number of suitable places to ford the creek but it took a while to find the place where the trail continued on the other side. The trail was anything but obvious for fresh spring grass and carex had grown high, rendering the trail invisible. The only things that gave it away from the south creek bank were the footprints of other hikers on the opposite shore and a small rock cairn that was raised in the middle of the field beyond the lovely yellow buttercup patch.

Pine Creek

I took my shoes off and crossed the creek. Brrrrrrr, the water was cold! The water was shallow, but the current swift. I used my poles for stability but the elder chika simply hopped across like a mountain goat.
I also took the chance to look closer at the buttercups. And I wasn't the only one interested in them :-)

After fording the creek I verified that the trail indeed continued where I had seen the cairn. Then I went about looking for a suitable campsite. I found it in a nook behind a small land crest surrounded by some pine trees and large boulders. It was the perfect spot, and clearly well used previously as it had a fire ring of rocks, a makeshift bench of downed logs, and most importantly - a nice flat area of where to pitch a tent. It was distant enough from both creek and trail but not too far. I turned around and went to fetch the rest of my family.
I didn't hurry much, though. There were more wildflowers to appreciate on the way.

Copeland's Owl's Clover, Orthocarpus cuspidatus ssp. copelandii

And wherever there are wildflowers there would be butterflies too, flying dots of color to complement the spring festival below.

Painted Lady

Everyone eventually got together and we hoisted our packs and went down to the creek. There we all removed our shoes again, forced the creek (cries of 'oh! so cold!'), then sat down on the not very dry northern bank to dry off our feet and don our shoes again.
At the campsite I cooked some lunch and Pappa Quail pitched the tent. Then we all split once again, Pappa Quail rested a bit, and then continued on with birding, the elder chika went down to the creek to the pond to look for fish, and I went further into the basin to explore, this time taking the younger chika along.

We didn't cross the creek this time. The creek however, curved its way through the meadow and wetlands, so we met it frequently during our scouting.

There were also plenty of little brooks criss-crossing the meadow on their way to merge with Pine Creek, and other flooded or muddy areas. Our progress was slow and careful, trying not to get our shoes too wet.
Looking down to avoid the bogs we found the little flowers, hiding in the taller grass.

Toad Lily, Montia chamissoi 

I found some more bog orchids in that meadow and was just as pleased to see them as I was earlier along the trail. Orchids are royalty among wildflowers. Even the simpler of them.

Sierra Bog Orchid, Plantathera dilatata

Other flowers also grew taller than the surrounding grass and rushes. Some of them were new to me. Or at least, it was the first time I've truly noticed them.

American bistorta, Bistorta bistortoides 

But then, the shootingstars were quite familiar, and very numerous. So numerous that they made some lovely patches that stood out against the meadow's greenery.

As my younger chika and me were making our way slowly back to the campsite I noticed something bright in the grass and frowned. I got closer and to my dismay I saw that my first guess was right - it was a stray mylar balloon, probably a party escapee that got carried away in the wind and deposited out in the wilderness. Such an ugly sight! We collected it of course, and tucked it away in our trash bag. It is some years now that I avoid using mylar balloons (and even rubber ones I hardly use) for that very reason. I had explained it in words too my chikas, but now she could see for herself the downside of these things.

Party Pollution

We didn't go back to the campsite at exactly the same way. Rather, we meandered along the little brooks, circumventing and sometime crawling through groves of creek willows. They were already past their bloom, and their light, feathery seeds filled the air.

Willow, Salix sp. 

We crossed the brooks with care, trying to keep our feet dry, but also trying to stomp as little as possible. There was life everywhere and little critters were in and over the water all around.

Waiting for Gnats

At the campsite we rejoined Pappa Quail and the elder hike who came back from the pond. Pappa Quail had photographed some of our neighbors: a family of Belding ground squirrels.

Belding Ground Squirrel

And also a small dark-eyed junco who made us feel right at home in that remote wilderness.

Dark-eyed Junco

We ate dinner and as Pappa Quail and the chikas were getting ready to sleep I went out for one more round. A shorter one - just to appreciate the sunset.

By then the basin was taken over by mosquitos, so after making order at the campsite and tucking my camera away with the battery out (a lesson I learned on my backpacking trip to Mineral King last year), I too entered the tent and closed my eyes. I expected a long day on the morrow, ascending to Patterson Lake. I didn't expect the ordeal and hazard we would face on our way there, so I rested easy, bothered only by the younger chika's constant shifting in her sack. She must have had some premonition. Or simply yielded to the slight slope of the tent.