Away from the Crowds: Murphy Creek to May Lake at Yosemite National Park

Date: September 17, 2016
Place: Yosemite National Park, California
Trailhead coordinates: 37.834501, -119.462970
Length: 11 miles
Level: Strenuous

I was very fortunate that is mid-September, three weeks into the new school year, I got one last opportunity to go hiking in the Sierra Nevada mountains before the onset of winter. Leaving the chikas in the excellent care of Pappa Quail I took off to the mountains together with my god friends G (who went with me to Arroyo Seco last spring) and Y (whom I backpacked with at Mineral King last August).
My mind was set on Yosemite National Park. I've been there many times before, but here was a chance for me to go beyond the usual highlights of the park. In particular, I wanted to explore some more near the Tioga Pass.
It was already nighttime when we had left the Bay Area. I had not managed to reserve any campsite at the park so I was going on faith, hoping to find one of the park's walk in sites available. When we arrived by midnight at the 120 gate, however, we were welcomed by a sign saying that all the park's campgrounds were full. We crossed the park along the Tioga Road all the way to the other side, where after some searching time during which I resisted all prompting from my friends to park on the shoulder and sleep in the car, we found the last available campsite at one of the Inyo National Forest campgrounds east of Yosemite.
It was about 2:00 am when we finally got to crawl into the tent. There was no discussion of an early rise - none of us was up for that.
We did sleep soundly and took our time in the morning to get ready. Therefore, it was nearly noon when we finally started on our trail.

Our hike as captured by my GPS

We found parking near Tenaya Lake, quite an achievement, considering the multitudes that were visiting that place. We crossed Tioga Road, found the Murphy Creek trailhead and started walking up and into the woods.

Murphy Creek Trail

The forest we were walking through comprised of pine and fir and wasn't very dense. The bright mid-day sun had plenty of access to the forest floor. Despite the relatively plentiful light the forest undergrowth wasn't very rich, probably due to water limitation. 
As expected for mid-September, here was very little bloom to see. We did, however, see some butterflies about.

Tortoise Shell Butterfly

We were walking steadily uphill. The trail meandered through the forest, occasionally crossing wide granite clearings where few trees seemed like popping right from solid granite.
On these granite clearings the trail would disappear and it wasn't always easy to figure out where did it continue on the other side. Sometimes it was a line of cairns that marked the way. In other places it was a single footprint of a previous hiker left in a small patch of gravel. And there were those places where I trusted my intuition. Luckily, it didn't fail.

Whenever the forest opened up enough we could see the huge granite monoliths rising over the little creek we were walking along. Granite is granite - but a closer look would often show the evidence of the geological forces that had shaped the mountains we were walking on.
In the photo below - a white dike running perpendicular through the gray granite mass.

A dike in the granite

We were walking uphill for well over an hour before finally meeting Murphy Creek. The slope leveled somewhat and we took our first break, enjoying our time in Nature away from our daily worries.
It was there, along the creek, that we found a straggling lupine still in bloom.

Lupine (Lupinus sp.)

Yosemite is a very popular park. Although we were hiking away from the major attractions of the park, we were by no means alone on the trail. Every now and then we had crossed paths with other hikers. Most of them were young day hikers. Some of them obviously on a fitness quest. But there were a few backpackers on that trail as well, and they were mostly older, more seasoned folk, and nearly all were men. We would greet each other as we passed by, but occasionally we'd stop and chat a bit. Some of them were regular returnees for whom this area was an annual pilgrimage place, and they happily shared their experience with us. Others were first timers there and had the adventurer look all about them. I felt a sting of jealousy, but I was grateful to be out there even for just a day hike.
We kept going up higher and higher and even though the slope was mild we were ready to take a longer break. I had originally planned to stop an the first trail intersection but coming to a pretty forest pond we all agreed that it was the perfect place to sit for a lunch break. 

Despite the few straggling wildflowers we saw here and there, everything else was way into fall by that time. Evidence for that were apparent all around us. It shan't be long before the first snow now.

Autumn gold

We reached our first trail intersection and immediately continued to the next one of the trail that would take us to May Lake and eventually back to Tanya Lake. Others we shared the road with went on further out into the wilderness, sweating under their heavy packs. My heart went out with them. The rest of me continued with my friends up the May Lake trail, higher and higher, until we broke out of the trees again and were looking upon the roof of the world.

 The continuous climb started to have its effect on us and our little company slowed down. It was a good thing that the view was now open wide because how can one be concerned about the pace when walking in the level of the sky?
The skyline was jagged with tantalizing peaks, many of which require special skills to summit.

View southwest: Mt. Clark (11,400 ft), about 11 miles as the crow flies, image taken in full zoom.

We had no summit plans for the day. We were going up higher and higher, but about a mile before May Lake the trail leveled off into a small, hidden meadow that had some dogwood bushes in fruit and many herbaceous plants.

Western Dogwood (Cornus sericea ssp. occidentalis)

There in that little meadow I saw the farewell greeting of the summer of 2016, now all but gone into memory.

Fleabane (Erigeron sp.)

We didn't linger much at that little meadow. It was already late in the afternoon and we still had much distance to go. I promised my companions a long break at May Lake, and so we went on, and uphill once again.
We turned the curve and saw a glitter far below - Lake Tenaya where we had started and where we would finish our hike.

Lake Tenaya

We were now walking on a huge dome of granite, its outer coat of large slabs flaked off and cracked into large boulders. In the cracks grew trees of a species now familiar to me - the foxtail pine I got to know on my backpacking trip at Mineral King. The foxtail pines I saw ear May Lake, however, were smaller and looked less majestic and venerable than the trees I saw near Spring lake last August.
Still, they were very pretty to look at, and seemed healthy and thriving.

Sierra Foxtail Pine (Pinus balfouriana)

May Lake is nestled in a granite nook on the slope of Mount Hoffman. While we weren't going on the immediate slope of that mountain, we were still quite impressed by the wall of granite that towered over the trail.
It looked like something that, given enough time, we would have had fun climbing.

A few meters up that wall grew a stunted and deformed foxtail pine. It must have been at least 200 years old, likely older, all gnarled and twisted by the elements, and still much alive and vibrant.
It reminded me of some of the Bristlecone pines I've seen in the White Mountains earlier last summer.

Sierra Foxtail Pine (Pinus balfouriana)

There's granite and there's granite. Most if the granite we were walking on was the grainy type composed of bits of quartz, white feldspar, and black biotite.  Every now and then, however, we saw other rocks which, while made of similar mineral composition, were obviously formed under different conditions. My geology is lacking but, hey, there's room for growth here :-)

Not the usual Yosemite Granite

We were going up still. We knew that May Lake isn't far at hand, but the trail seemed endless and the sun was already westerning.
Two men passed us quickly from behind. They didn't have backpacks, but each carried an armload of dead and downed wood and they told us that they were camping by the lake. There was no collection of firewood there, so they went down to where it was ok to collect to gather their wood. Encouraged by their promise that the lake wasn't far off we continued on with renewed spring.
Pines are very beautiful trees, and the pines of the High Sierra are the most beautiful of all. Even their old, used up cones are pretty.

And wherever there are pine nuts there are those who would eat them. We encountered a small squirrel that was hopping about between the rocks, careful to keep out of full sight. I was happy to see a completely wild squirrel that observed people as a threat and not as a potential food source.

Golden-mantled Ground Squirrel

At last we'd made it to the highest point of our hike. The view opened up again and we could see far and wide. I stretched my zoom to get close up of some of the interesting-looking peaks to the east.

Tresidder Peak

I am not a rock climber. Not by a long shot. The most I'd do is scramble up a rocky slope where there's plenty of hand and foot holds. These peaks, however, looked so beautiful and inviting that I have my plans to see which can be ascended by plain hiking and go there next summer. I already told Pappa Quail that he and the chikas will be coming along :-)

Cathedral Peak

It was getting late and we pressed on. I already knew that we wouldn't complete the hike before nightfall but I wanted to be down and by the road by then. I didn't share my thoughts with my friends yet, but I was driving them hard, promising them a long, nice break when we arrived at the lake.

Where did the sun go?

We were descending towards the lake. I didn't see it yet, but I could tell by the leveling of the ground and the change in the vegetation that the longed for  body of water was near, hidden among the trees just ahead.
We curved with the trail and suddenly we were walking through a red carpet - the best show of fall the Yosemite forest put up (I won't say for us but we certainly felt it was). The photo doesn't do it justice at all - the red was so intense and lovely! Despite being pressed with time we stopped to appreciate this beauty and to take photos. It wasn't a large area but it was definitely a highlight of that hike.

Red mats of Dwarf Bilberry, Vaccinium cespitosum

When we finally saw the lake we made straight for it on a narrow unofficial path through the woods. There on the rocky shore of May Lake we sat down for a long-awaited break.

May Lake

I sat closest to the water on a large, flat-topped rock. Suddenly I noticed some movement on the rock face. I watched, mesmerized, by an inch worm that was inching along the rock and I though how that rock's surface that felt fat and smooth on my behind was actually a rough terrain for the little critter that was transversing it. All of a sudden I became very appreciative of that tiny bug, making such a long journey to get to, I don't know where, but must be a better location to justify all that effort. And then again, it might have been, just like us, simply going on a fun hike.

Inch Worm

It was a cool, beautiful time that I wish could have lasted longer, but the sun was already quite low. The light grew dim for awhile when the sun went behind Mount Hoffman.

The sun hiding behind Mount Hoffman

The evening sun rays skipped across the lake's gentle ripples. I could have watched this sun dance until nightfall, but we weren't about to camp there. It was time to move on.

At last, we were going down hill. Not so noticeably at first - at the south tip of May Lake we came upon a resort of permanent tents, huts, and other structures. The resort was already closed for winter but there were quite a few people hanging around there. Some were day hikers who had stopped to use the still available restrooms and water spigot, and others were obviously planning to stay for the night near the lake. We didn't stay there more than we needed to - we had 3 more miles to go.
As we left the resort area the trail dropped into a steep grade. All that altitude we had slowly gained for eight long miles we were now about to lose in three.
We were still high up when we cleared the trees and the view opened up to the south. At last we could see and appreciate Mount Clark in all its grandeur.  That peak is now on my agenda for next summer.

Mount Clark

But it was another buttress that had made my heartbeat skip - for now we were in clear view of Yosemite's most famous monolith - the Half Dome. Morning the eastern edge of the lower Yosemite Valley, Half Dome is a signature sight of the park, and the most popular peak to summit. And there are quotas of permits to go up there, which is one of the reasons why I haven't been all that eager to go there. As much as I'd love to climb Half Dome, I don't think I'd relish doing so with hundreds of other people.
From the distance we were at, however, we could barely see the line of cables with a pair of strong binoculars.

Half Dome zoomed close

I don't know when, if ever, i would ascend Half Dome. I have, of course, seen it from below many a time, and I had plans to take my friends over there on the morrow. But for now, we were enjoying the spectacular view as we were trotting quickly downhill.
Indeed we had to rush, for the light was quickly fading.

Last sun rays in the tree tops

The May Lake trail has an upper parking lot that's about a mile and a half from Tioga Road. One of my companions had slowed down considerably - she had feet pain. When we arrived there I suggested to run quickly down on my own and get the car up, but they declined, opting to go down all together. And so we went on, albeit slower.
Before long darkness was upon us. The trail from the parking lot to Tioga Road used to be an old road too that had fallen in disrepair, but was still wide and clear and easy to walk on, so I wasn't concerned about getting lost. We could still see the way clearly even in the dim dusky light.
My camera was sensitive enough to capture some photos even in that poor light, so I snapped a few shots on the stride. Some of them even came out in focus :-)

Finally we were in clear view of the road and of Tenaya Lake. Above the lake, Tenaya Peak was still painted with the last light of the dying day. We halted to savor the moment, then rushed down towards the road.

Sunset over Tenaya Lake

The road wasn't the end of our hike for we still had almost a mile ahead to get back to the car. We walked briskly, getting on a trail that seemed to be going in our direction.  When we reached the water, however, the trail disappeared and we found that there was no easy way along the shore. Soon it was too dark to make out any obstacle on our way such as fallen logs or deep ditches. Also, we had no flashlights (which I would probably had avoided using anyway since they impair the natural night vision). Eventually we made it back to the road and walked along the shoulder hoping that no car would run us over, all the way to the parking lot.
We crashed wearily in the car. What ever plans we had for the rest of the evening were now moot. We filled up on water at Tuolumne Meadows and drove back to our campsite where we lit a fire, had dinner and crashed into our sleeping bags (after drowning the fire, of course).

I loved that loop trail. I wish that we had had more time to do it. That we wouldn't have had to rush our hike. But it was my first Yosemite hike away from the usual and expected in a long, long while, and I cherish it. And from that trail I've seen the potential of many, many more to come.


Thank you, Pappa Quail, for identifying Mt. Clark for me! Next summer we'll see it from up close :-)

Emerging From A Dream: From Cliff Creek to Mineral King

Date: August 5, 2016
Place: Mineral King, Sequoia National Park, Three Rivers, California
Coordinates: 36.497937, -118.615552
Length: 5 miles
Level: Strenuous

This is a post about the fifth and last day of my backpacking trip with my friend to Mineral King last August. To read about this trip from the start, here's a link to the first day post.

On August 5 my friend and I woke up to the last day of our backpacking trip in the Mineral King area of Sequoia National Park. As in each of the previous mornings we got out of the tent before sunrise. The couple that camped at the prime location were already out and about. Everyone else who had arrived late on the evening before were sleeping still.
Sunrise wasn't any dramatic or spectacular as it was on our previous mornings. The dim light just grew slowly stronger and brighter until we could see sun spots on the forest floor. The water of Cliff Creek was bitterly cold. Much colder than any lake we've camped by so far. It was pretty shallow, too, and the flow was fast. I washed my hands and face but passed on a more thorough bath.

Sunrise at Cliff Creek

We got organized silently and efficiently, but the best of our efforts were no match for the prime couple - they were already packed and ready to go when we had just sat for breakfast. They were on their way out as well. "See you at Mineral King," they had told us before departing, but we knew there was no chance in the world we could overtake them on the way out.
But the moment they vacated their prime location my friend suggested we'd go and have our breakfast there, and that's what we did. We ate slowly, looking over the rushing water, talking softly, not hurrying to leave.

View of Cliff Creek from "The Porch" at Cliff Creek Campground

But we didn't want to delay too much. We still had a good hike ahead, and much of it uphill. We finished our breakfast and finished packing.
All of our neighbors were still in deep sleep when we were ready to go. I looked upon the tents and the hammock and wondered how many people could fit in to that small camping area at the Cliff Creek campsite. Being the first (or last) campsite for many backpackers in that area it was a heavily used spot. While the place itself was mostly clean and not too scarred, going in the bushes had sadly revealed that not everyone was following the "Pack it in -Pack it out" rule. Not when it came to toilet paper :-(
I didn't feel any particular attachment to that place, and no twitch of the heart when we finally took off.
Immediately we had to face our first obstacle - we needed to cross Cliff Creek. The river was shallow, but not enough, and it was flowing fast. A row of large stones has been laid across and we've seen the prime couple cross the river hopping on these stones. I didn't feel I could do that without getting my shoes soaked and I didn't feel like hiking all day with wet shoes. So I took my shoes off, rolled up my pants, and waded in the water.
I lost all sensation in my feet within seconds of stepping in the water, and a few long minutes to recover it after crossing and wearing my socks and hiking shoes back. All and all, it was after 9 am when we finally started our hike out of the Cliff Creek valley.

From (almost) Cliff Creek to Mineral King, over Timber Gap. Trail end is at the red mark (I turned my GPS on late and forgot to turn it off at the end)

We were facing an uphill hike again, but we weren't concerned. I was facing a more daunting task - to stretch my camera battery life to last the day. Only a few minutes up the trail and the battery indicator dropped to one line - less than 1 fifth charge.  

No problems, I thought to myself. What could we possibly see on the way out?  At least on the first part of the ascend we didn't see much that was notable, and no wildflowers. It seemed that all the undergrowth  plants had gone to fruit a while ago.

Gooseberry, Ribes sp.

We were climbing up a narrow forest trail. The slope was steep, but the trail had switchbacks with long, low grade stretches. We walked in a slow but steady pace and didn't stop much for breathers. At least in this sense we did much better than on our first day, going up to Monarch Lake.After 4 days above 10,000 feet we were sufficiently acclimated.
I could hear birds in the trees, and even got to see a steller's jay. But the only evidence I have of their presence there is this photo of a feather that was lying near the trail.

Feather of a Steller's Jay

We were going up higher and higher. Our trail was going along Timber Gap Creek, a tributary of Cliff Creek. We could tell there was water running down below but we couldn't see any of it, not that early in the hike.
Even bland then the slope became somewhat steeper and the trees opened up a bit so we got a view of  the mountains to the north. I looked longingly at the bare granite peaks, knowing that they weren't really bare. That they held an ethereal beauty, observed only by those who would make the effort of walking up those sheer slopes.

These occasional openings also gave us a good view of the forest near us. It didn't reveal anything I didn't know but it was no less sad to see the casualties of the long California drought and the boring beetle attacks. 

 Casualties of the Drought

The forest we were walking through was of mixed conifers, dominated by red fir and sugar pine. The cones of the sugar pine are quite impressive. There were many of them on the ground near the trail.

Sugar Pine Cone

Little brown birds were hopping in the branches of a dead fir near the trail. With some patience I succeeded in getting a reasonable photo. The reddish dead needles aren't the best of backgrounds for the gray-crowned rosy finch.

Gray-crowned Rosy Finch

After an hour of continuous ascend we came out of the woods into a clearing. The clearing wasn't clear at all, just of trees. a thicket of willows and other shrubs crowded a small brook that flowed through the clearing, running hastily to join the creek way down below. Crossing this clearing we had walked between two green walls of vegetation

Willow Pass

We were walking high above the creek and for brief moments we could even see glimpses of the water below. I didn't dare approaching the edge as I didn't want to see that creek from too close. The shoulder of the hill was neatly landscaped, better than any human gardener can do. The most prominent color after green) being the fireweed purple.

Fireweed, Chamerion angustifolium

My friend and I weren't the only being enjoying the wildflower display. Many insects hovered busily from flower to flower, foraging for sweetness.

Bee enjoying the fireweed

At last the trail came close enough to the edge and we got a clear view of Timber Gap Creek. Not far downstream the water disappeared in the woods. Shortly after, so did we.

Timber Gap Creek

It was on this part of the trip that we finally made complete transition from spring to summer. There were a lot of wildflowers still, but many plants that I've seen blooming along Cliff Creek have gone to seeds on the sun-washed slope we were on.

Sierra Bog Orchid, (Platanthera dilatata),  and Pacific Mountain Onion, (Allium validum)

I didn't recognize all of them. Definitely not the composites, which I have hard time identifying even while blooming. It was tempting to blow their parachuted seeds into the air like I used to do as a child but I resisted the urge, letting Nature dictate the timing of seed dispersal.

Parachute seeds!

As we were climbing higher our pace got slower and slower. We didn't take many breaks but we did ease the effort. We were coming to terms with the fact that this was our last day in the wilderness. My friend thought we might stay the night at the Cold Springs Campground at Mineral King and drive home on the morrow. I thought that if we'd made it out at a reasonable time we should drive all the way home. We had a bit of a discussion about what would be a reasonable time. I set my limit at 5 pm, arguing that if we'd leave later I would not have the energy to drive much that night. My friend doubted that we'd make it out by 5, but I was optimistic. This time I felt much more confident about what we could accomplish. At least based on how I was feeling.
But while still immersed in Nature, I tried making the best of it. Even of the tiniest bits of it.

A spider on a Ranger's Button (Sphenosciadium capitellatum)

The trail went in and out of the woods in a steady, low-grade ascend. The day progressed from warm to hot and we were sweating and panting as we walked. We moved much slower now and took short breathers more frequently.

A 'Guardian of the Forest' (fake name I just made up), fungus.

Every time we stepped out of the woods we found ourselves in a field of wildflowers. A couple of times we crossed little brooks that run down the mountainside to join with Timber Gap Creek. Each time my friend would bend down and wash her face in the fresh creek water while I admired the wildflowers.

Columbian monkshood, Aconitum columbianum

Many of the plants have already finished blooming but their fruit were just as beautiful, like elaborate ornaments.

Twin Berry, Lonicera involucrata

One time we stepped out of the woods not into a wildflower field but onto a dry, rocky clearing. From there we could see the opposite range an the north and realized we were quite high already. We were nearing the gap.

We stayed there only for a short while. I wanted to make it all the way to Timber Gap before stopping for lunch, but we did have a short snack break, and to stretch our limbs.
And to admire the trees, of course.

California Red Fir, Abies magnifica

After that clearing the trail became steeper. We couldn't see the top of our ascend but upon consulting the map I figured it wasn't much further up. The forest thinned out and the undergrowth vegetation was thicker and greener.
Fallen trees created clearings too, also making room for new saplings to grow up.

Decomposition

Two backpackers, a father and a son, came down the trail and stopped to have a shot chat with us. we welcomed the break and the assurance that the gap wasn't all that far away. Half a mile, maybe, the older man told us.
After they moved on my friend noted that they were the first people we had met that day since early morning. I thought that was very odd, considering that it was Friday. I had expected many more backpackers to go into the wilderness for the weekend.

Brewer's Fleabane, Erigeron breweri

We were walking close to the creek now. It was still quite far below but the trail came close to the drop.
A light brown blob in the grass caught my eye and I moved the vegetation with my pole, uncovering a huge mushroom.

We kept going on. I half expected to see the gap around each turn of the trail but we weren't quite here yet.

Coulter's Daisy, Erigeron coulteri

We crossed another tributary. According to the map we were to cross it again a bit further up the trail. I was glad to see the creek because it was a good marker of our location. I was less pleased to realize that we still had quite a way to go - we weren't as close to the gap as I had thought based on the other backpackers' words.

Double Honeysuckle, Lonicera conjugialis

We were now walking along the border of the forest, enjoying alternations of sun and shade. It was past mid-day but the sun was high and there was no wind. I felt the sweat running down my shirt.
The narrow dale

And then we were right on top of the creek again, and now the creek was not so far below. It was also very narrow and was flowing a trickle. We were approaching the source.

Timber Gap Creek

Another turn of the trail and I stood in my place, gasping, because I was beholding the most amazing beauty, the most wonderful spot along that day's trail. I was standing before a wide and open mountain dale glistening in bright sunlight and displaying the most intense bloom I've seen on the whole trek. All colors were represented there. So many wildflowers that my head was spinning. And scores of butterflies were fluttering over the flowers.
My friend came up from behind wearing a huge smile. She, too, was uplifted by the wonderful sight.

I stepped further around the curve, raised my camera, clicked and ... yok. It was there, at this most spectacular place that my camera battery finally exhausted. No more juice left for even a single shot more. 

As if to taunt me, at that moment a pair of sooty grouse stepped onto the trail and stood there for a few long seconds while I tried frantically to squeeze another shot from my dead camera, to no avail. 

The grouse eventually slipped into the vegetation. I think I might have emitted a swear word at that point, the only time in the entire trip. 

I was glad my friend didn't say anything, although I could guess what she was thinking. With a sigh I took my backpack off and tucked the now useless camera in it. At least it would not burden my neck any more. 

I pulled out my phone and turned it on, setting it for the energy-saving flight mode. There was no hope now of getting any decent close up of the flowers, or of anything.

But I could at least get some passable images of the places we walked through after that. Including that amazing bloom field. So all the photos from now to the end of this post were taken with my phone, pardon the poor quality.

Up near Timber Gap

Then we crossed the creek one last time, and where we had crossed it it was already dry as a bone. All the water running in it came from springs that were now below us.

Timber Gap Creek, the dry beginning

Eventually we plunged into the forest again and walked the last quarter of a mile in the thin shade of large, healthy pines and firs that were far enough apart to let considerable sunlight through. the undergrowth there, however, was thin and grayish, and not all too inspiring - there was shortage of moisture there, no doubt.
My friend was slowing down. She was hungry and had pain in her knees. I left her lagging behind and sprung forward, sensing that the top is right around the next switchback.
And just like that, I was there. I walked into a wide, flat clearing between some large red fir trees that looked like an ancient pagan worship place. I dropped my back pack to the ground, threw my arms in the air and screamed at the top of my lungs. Then I run back to the trail and called to my friend to come up. That finally, we were at the gap.

Timber Gap

We had a really long break there. We rested, ate, and chatted. We also explored a little, checking out the view, the clearing, where there obvious signs of people previously camping there, and even lighting a fire although forbidden at that place, and most sadly - inscriptions on the tree trunks. I don't know how is it that some people feel the need to vandalize nature's beauty. In my opinion it is sacrilege.
After that long break we got up to go down. For some time we were walking in a relatively dense forest where I took no photos. Then, after about half a mile, we broke through the trees into the open, and the beautiful and familiar valley of Mineral King was before us.

Mineral King basin

We had a long way down still, but our pace was quicker. We went down open slopes coated with fragrant Artemisia and crossed through small groves of pine and fir.
Every now and then we crossed paths with hikers that were going up yet, even this late in the afternoon. We were now inside the radius of day hikers.

Down and down and down we went, and my body started rebelling. I had pain in my knees, pain in my crotch, and sore spots on my feet. But the worse was yet to come - as I went down the soles of my feet started flaring up in pain. Soon i felt like I was walking on hot coals.
My friend wasn't doing much better. Her back and knees were hurting and she had slowed down considerably.

I slowed my pace, trying to match my friend's, but my feet were burning whether I walked or stood still, and I was eager to get down and take my shoes off. I had my phone in my hand and tried to document as much of the beauty I saw around me, to distract my mind from the pain.

Finally we came upon the trail intersection where five days before, on our first day of the trip, we had decided to go up to the Sawtooth Pass.

There was no more debate as we made the right turn to the final, half-mile trail down to the parking lot.
The last stretch was the most painful. I nearly run downhill, yearning to get to the car and relieve my poor feet from the shoes. My friend, on the other hand, was taking baby steps, easing the descent as much as she could on her sore knees.

Mineral King Valley, view west

The first thing I did when I got to the car was to drop my backpack to the ground. Then I pulled the tarp it was wrapped in and got my sandals out of the trunk. Then I sat on the ground and took my shoes off. I feared to see what my feet had turned into but to my surprise, other than a few spots where I could see a blister forming, my feet looked quite normal. The burning sensation was alleviated and I put on my sandals and finished unwrapping my car. I then went to the bear box where we had stashed our excess food before going on the trek and got everything back in the car. It was then that my friend finally arrived. She let her pack drop down and went to the pay phone that was in the parking lot to call her family and inform them that she was still intact and hadn't been consumed by bears.
We didn't really discuss what's next - we were both weary and ready to get home as soon as possible. So we finished arranging everything in the car and then said goodbye to the realm of beauty and freedom that was our world in the past five days and then embarked on the long drive down the mountain and back to the Bay Area.

It was my third time in Mineral King and my second backpacking trip there, and as I was driving away I was already musing about when i should go there next and which trail should I take. My friend didn't comment on that. For her it was the first time there, and very likely the last time too, as she and her family were about to move out of California this fall. For both of us, each with her own reasons, this trip has been an essential getaway, a transition into a world of peace, incredible beauty, and complete freedom. It was the greatest balm to all of our spirits' sores.

It was well after midnight when I dropped my friend at her house and made it to my home. I sneaked quietly into the house trying not to wake anyone up. Those were my last quiet moments in the month of August. On that morning I would wake up to a full house and on the following day embark once more on a trip to the Sierra Nevada, this time with my entire family including Grandma Quail and Pappa Quail's nieces. A busy trip that had started at the Calaveras Big Trees and ended at the Devil's Postpile National Monument. A trip in which I would cover much more ground but walk much less and lose all of the peace of mind I had found at the peaks of Mineral King.


Many thanks to members of the California Native Plants Society for their help in identifying plants!