|
From our high perch
above Second Lake, the sun accosted us early.
Far too early for my liking, if you must know. I
rolled over, pulled the sleeping bag off of my face,
rubbed the sleep granules out of my eyes, looked up
and was absolutely floored. Towering above us
was Temple Crag -- a fin of granite so colossal, so
sunlit and so perfect it was as if we had woken up on
another planet. OK, we were in Berkeley just a
few hours earlier, so this wasn't too far from the
truth.
Mesmerized by the
crag, we somehow managed to pack up our gear and hit
the trail. We were looking for a sizable group
of friends camped at Third Lake, including Fred, John,
Nate, Nils, Jenn, Sandra and Jay. We encountered Nils
and überdog Soleil near the patchy snowline at
the outlet of Third Lake. Nils reported that the
snow up above was unfrozen, unsupportable and
basically shit. We hiked another few hundred yards to
the camp, where the mood was despondent. There's
nothing more depressing than a group of skiers who
have hiked six miles over dirt with full gear
and packs lamenting the quality of the snow. The
discussion even turned to not skiing (oh the horror!),
and instead hiking the snow-free south-facing slopes
above the Big Pine valley. Since our packs were still
crammed with gear and firmly positioned on on our
aching backs, our group of four decided to keep
trudging up the valley to establish a higher camp near
the foot of the Palisades Glacier.
We hit consistent
snow about 100 feet above Third Lake, at the bottom of
the climb to Sam Mack meadow, where we were mercifully
permitted to remove the skis and boots from our backs
and put them on our feet. Once at Sam Mack meadow, we
had a Hobson's choice: climb the nearly vertical
chutes at the end of the meadow to reach the glacier,
or gain the ridge to our left which led up to the
moraine. We chose the latter because it looked
marginally easier. But let me tell you, there
was absolutely nothing redeeming about the climb up
out of Sam Mack meadow. The word "arduous" kept
repeating itself in my mind. Chris muttered once or
twice that we were teetering precariously on the
frontier of what Fred would call "Type 3 Fun".
| |
"The Three Types of Fun" -- by "Sierra" Fred Hochstaedter:
- Type 1:
It’s fun while you’re doing it and fun when
you look back on it.
- Type 2:
No fun while you’re doing it but fun when you
look back on it.
- Type 3:
No fun while you’re doing it and not fun when
you look back on it.
|
|
Ultimately, after
some borderline Type 3 Fun, we made
it out of Sam Mack's private hell and onto the ridge,
whereupon it was smooth sailing up towards the
moraine. I hiked about half way up towards the
moraine and called for a halt at a nice flat spot on
the ridge at 11,500' -- a perfect campsite, with views
of the entire Palisades Massif, as well as down the
chain of lakes we had just ascended, and out to the
Owens Valley and the endless ranges of desert
mountains beyond. Just as we arrived, Fred, Nate
and the Third Lake group arrived with their day packs.
Nils and Jenn had bailed for the more promising
pastures of Mammoth, but the rest of the crew was
ready for a high tour up on the glacier.
|
)
)
)
)
)
BACK
