Sierra Reflections 2012

Ediza Lake - photo by Robert Weldon

"Whoa!" - for an instant my concentration lapses, feet flailing in the air, a quick flash of puffy white clouds in a clear blue sky, a golden brown hillside cluttered with very large boulders, twisting as I fall, the next instant I hit the ground hard . . . pain shoots through my left hip, "damn!"

My immediate thought, “Oh no . . . will I be able to get up, how will I get down this mountain?” Descending the mountain with hiking pole in one hand and fishing rod in the other, a slower pace, very unpredictable. A habitual quick check padding my pocket; camera, fishing rod, my ankle, my back, nothing broken. Ok, let’s try to get up. My partners, Robert Weldon and Brendan Laurs were further up the mountain photographing the majestic view completely unaware of what just happened. For me, this moment was the culmination of all my training and instincts converging in a painful flash. It was day two of our high Sierra adventure.

We had backpacked to Ediza Lake from the trailhead access point near Mammoth Mountain Lakes. Feeling rugged, we departed about 9:30 am ready to tackle any obstacle nature would throw our way. The air was fresh, with the sweet smell of the pines. Our expectation, good weather, and mother nature did not disappoint.

This sojourn began in golden meadows among fallen trees from recent mountain storms. Initially, our backpacks felt very heavy however, months of training had paid off, I felt surprising strong, my breathing was steady, no gasping for air in the high elevation. Unbidden, I took the lead as we began our ascent from 8,000 to 10,000 feet. The views were exhilarating, clear blue sky outlined with the craggy mountain peaks. With every footfall puffs of dust arouse from our boots, the peaceful sound of a gentle breeze murmured through the trees . . . pause for a deep breath, the crisp aroma of the pines. Yes, we were free from the bonds of civilization once again. We were independent creatures like the wildlife that inhabited the meadows, streams, and lakes. Nature was once again our companion.

Around each bend new views would recharge our spirit and strength. There were numerous stops along the way to photograph the changing scenery. This first day was extremely challenging, the climb appeared endless. After six hours of climbing, we were ready to stop. “Not yet," Brendan reminded us, "just a couple more hours to reach the lake.”

As the sun dipped behind the mountains finally, Ediza Lake, it had been nine hours. We precariously picked our way to the designated camping area through an off-trail route, a short cut of massive boulders.

Mercifully, we arrived, . . . to our utter astonishment the first group of campers we encountered sat quietly reading a book, in their lounge chairs, under a canopy, with a large table, and a dual-burner Coleman stove! They must have seen my jaw drop in complete disbelief. There were no roads, much of the trail we had just traversed was very narrow and extremely precarious. “How in the world did you get all that gear up here?” I asked. An overwhelming expression of ignorance and embarrassment must have been obvious to our fellow campers.

“A mule team, we’re here for a week,” was their response. “We’ve been here for two days.” No kidding! However, as we walked away a renewed sense of pride came over us, We made it under our own power, no mules, just determination, guile, persistent, consistent effort. "Let’s pitch camp and get settled.”

. . . “Coffee’s ready - you guys awake?” It was 5:30 am, before turning in we had made a pledge that we would photograph first light in this beautiful valley nestled beneath the peaks. The Minarets, the range of mountains that John Muir had dubbed the “Mountains of Light” came alive that morning with a warm golden glow. Lake Ediza provided a reflecting pool that merged the sky and the mountains together as one, what a spectacular sight!

Where's Patrick? - by Robert Weldon

That second day just kept getting better. Free from our heavy backpacks we explored the area then decided to take an afternoon hike straight up (1,000 foot elevation gain) from our campsite to Nydiver Lakes. “All we need are the 10 essentials and our fishing rods, the fishing pressure at Nydiver is minimal.”

Yes, the trout fishing was superb, catching one right after another. After catching our supper I was eager to descend back to camp. Feeling rather bullish I started down the mountain then whomp, I hit the ground hard! Slowly I got up, checked for my companions and patiently descended back to camp.

In my haste I had forgotten the first rule of wilderness camping, stay focused on the task at hand. No matter how strong you become, a simple fall can cripple your body in an instant, how fortunate I was to simply pull a muscle that day.

Today, as I reflect on this Sierra adventure I’m reminded once again of natures potential; exquisite solitude, exhilarating experiences, a beautiful companion, the delight of discovery, yet contrast with the harsh reality of survival.

“We don’t remember days, we remember moments.” - Cesare Pavese.

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