EISPIRATEN

Part I

Preface: The images in this TR are poor quality as they were taken with my mobile. Apologies.

I’ve got a Tom Harrison map of the Whitney Zone that I unfurl now and then so that I can daydream about all of the nooks and crannies on that map that I still need to visit. One of the places I’ve stared at and imagined for a long time is the Miter Basin. Surrounded by an assemblage of white granite peaks, spires, and domes, and dotted with lakes with names like “Sky Blue” and “Iridescent,” I always found this trackless and relatively remote area irresistibly alluring. And I wanted to visit it.
So I finally conceived a plan and convinced my daughter and a friend from Utah to join me on a romp into the heart of the basin. The loose itinerary involved a loop of sorts beginning at the Cottonwood Pass trailhead. The plan was to spend the first night a lower Soldier Lake, a second night a Blue Sky Lake, and a third night in the Cottonwood Lakes Basin. We’d make the short walk out and back to the car on the morning of the fourth day.

So on a Wednesday afternoon we loaded up and headed for the Alabama Hills where we car-camped at Tuttle Creek. The next morning we were up early for coffee and permits. We didn’t actually have permits reserved, so we had to wait until the Eastern Sierra Interagency Visitor Center opened at 8 a.m. for the lottery. When we got there around 7:45 a.m. there was already a line of about 30 folks doing the same. I sauntered up to the entrance and was innocently milling about when a dude with his girlfriend barked at me for trying to cut the line. I told the guy that there was no line, and that we’d all draw numbers from a hat to determine our order. Shortly after that, a Ranger appeared with a bucket and made me look like a sage. We then all drew numbers. I pulled number 3; the guy that barked at me pulled something much worse. We got permits no problem. I don’t know about the other guy.


Forty-five minutes later we were on the trail and making our way up to Cottonwood Pass. If you’re an old man living at sea level, one of the nice things about the trails departing from Horseshoe Meadow is that you’re already at elevation. You of course still end up climbing with a fully-loaded pack, but it’s a kinder, gentler climb that allows your body a bit of time to acclimate to both the weight of the pack and the less oxygen-nutrient air.
At Cottonwood Pass, we paused briefly for snacks and to snap pictures for a group that had spent a week or so making the circuit around the Big Whitney Meadow area. We then jumped onto the PCT and made our way to Chicken Spring Lake to tank up on water since it wasn’t evident whether we’d have another chance before we reached lower Soldier Lake.



From Chicken Spring Lake, the PCT climbs briefly out of a shallow cirque and then remains relatively level at about the 11,300’ contour until it crests a low rise and begins a slow descent into the vast Siberian Outpost. Here we stopped briefly to admire the stark landscape and the interplay of sun and shadows being cast by storm clouds to the west. A harbinger of things to come.

A mile or so beyond this is a well-marked trail junction. Going south will take you up over the Siberian Pass and into the Big Whitney Meadow area. Continuing west along the PCT leads to Rock Creek and beyond. We veered north on the pleasant connector which ultimately intersects with the path that leads east up over New Army Pass and northwest to lower Soldier Lake. Just before that intersection, the connector crosses a stream which was running strongly and could serve as a good source for replenishing water supplies. We were still good in that regard, so we pushed on to our destination.



The spur leading to lower Soldier Lake is dotted with campsites and a single bear box. There are additional sites immediately adjacent to the lake as well, but we didn’t know when we first arrived. As we inched along the spur, we were somewhat surprised to find that every single site was occupied. One large site housed a group of ten 20-somethings from Ohio State who told us they’d been on the trail for 26 days. The last site before the lake was taken by a sole older gentleman who offered to split the site with us. We gratefully accepted and shared our whiskey with him as recompense. Turns out our camp host was enjoying his first night of a solo hike of the JMT. The following day he was headed for Guitar Lake so that the day after he could summit Mt. Whitney and officially begin his through-hike.

Part II

The next morning we had planned to penetrate the Miter Basin. The intended route was the “short-cut” which follows a use trail that skirts the west side of lower Soldier Lake and then climbs the low rise on the north-west end of the lake. Upon seeing the route, my daughter expressed a bit of trepidation so we back-tracked to the main trail and tacked southwest to the mouth of the Rock Creek drainage.

There is supposed to be an obvious use trail leading up drainage, but it wasn’t obvious to us. We ran into a couple of young ladies looking to do the same thing we were doing and we all fumbled around a bit looking for the non-existent use trail. Finally, we forded Rock Creek and began ascending the west side on something that kinda, sorta resembled a faint use path or game trail. After bashing through brush for a bit and climbing obstacles, our female companions apparently called it quits because we didn’t see them again. Determined or obstinate, we continued forward for about ¼ mile when we burst into a wide, open meadow bisected by Rock Creek. One the east side of the creek, we finally saw the well-trod use trail we’d been searching for and jumped the creek to beat its path.

From here, the route forward was pretty simple: continue up the basin. We occasionally lost then relocated the use trail, but it’s pretty hard to get truly lost here as there is only one way in and one way out. Ok, that’s not entirely true, but practically speaking it is for most mortals, and that included us.

The scenery here is as sublime and glorious as I had imagined it. The Major General sits high on your right. Mt. Corcoran, Mt. LeConte, and the Shark Tooth, all 13,000’+ dominate the skyline to the northeast. The spikey Miter scrapes the sky to the north. And an unnamed granite spire and 12,000’ solid granite walls hem you in on the west. Our intended destination Sky Blue Lake, sits in a bowl above a series of cascades sandwiched between the Miter and Peak 13,221’.

But about ½ mile out, as we approached the final ascent to Sky Blue Lake, the sky after which the lake is named became ominous. The wind, which had been still throughout the day, began to howl. The temperature dropped. We started to hear the crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder. And then the heavens opened up and it began to rain. Then it hailed hard enough to coat the ground with tiny balls of ice. Then it rained again, harder this time.

We stopped to evaluate the situation and ponder the night ahead. My trail companions looked dubious. My daughter, the more level-headed of the two of us, was reluctant and urged retreat to lower ground. Dejected, I relented and we started to beat a retreat back to Soldier Lake.

On the way out, we bumped into a young lady that was part of the Ohio State contingent. She had gone into the basin on a day exploration and was retreating to Soldier Lake as well. When we discovered that she was returning via the “shortcut,” we stalked her all the way back to the lake which in fact shaved off a fair amount of distance and time.
Back where we started the day, we set up camp lakeside on the peninsula of sorts that juts into the lake on its south side. As soon as our tents were up, the rain began and we took shelter. And then it rained, and it rained, and it rained. And it hailed again. And then it rained again. For three straight hours, the rain relentlessly pummeled our sad little fabric shelters which finally wetted out despite a valiant struggle to keep us dry. At dusk, the precipitation finally subsided and the clouds gradually began to move along and ruin someone else’s party.

Part III

The next morning was brisk and clear. We took our time breaking camp in order to allow our gear to dry some. Then we were back on the trail ascending the stunningly gorgeous valley that climbs to New Army Pass from the east. As the climb stiffened, and the suffering began in earnest, the beauty of my surroundings began to fade. Actually, the surroundings didn’t change at all. It was just my frame of mind. The Buckeyes were in front of us, and I tried to use them as my rabbit, but I couldn’t keep pace with the youngsters, including my daughter who blasted the ascent with no problems. Finally atop the 12,310’ pass, we stopped to refuel and to immerse ourselves in the moment. It was chilly and breezy at the pass and billowy clouds were starting to accumulate on the horizon.
The climbing for the trip complete, we descended the spare cirque that cradles appropriately-named High Lake. A fair number of hikers were struggling up as we came down, including a guy attempting to prod, poke, and cajole a group of adolescent boys up to the pass. We offered encouragement, but the boys just looked at us with utter contempt. I laughed because I knew how they felt. At Long Lake, we stopped again to pump water and solidify our plans for the evening. Charcoal gray thunderheads were now boiling up over the peaks to the northwest and the skies to the east and south were darkening. Remembering the onslaught we endured the night before, we determined to admit defeat and walk the rest of the way out. Midway back it began to rain again.

Back in Lone Pine, we figured we’d salvage the remainder of the trip by getting eats, beer, and firewood for another night of car-camping at Tuttle Creek. But even here, the weather refused to cooperate. While we were in town, the wind kicked up and the sky turned black. Lightning cackled and thunder thundered in the distance. We knew our fate was sealed. So we jumped in the car and made the long drive back to predictably and reliably dry civilization.

Thanks for the detailed report and photos, bummer you had weather issues but it still looks like quite a trip!

Yeah, still a fun trip for sure. I don't know that there are bad trips. Just different shades of good.

Super pictures. Thanks for posting. I just can't get enough of the Sierra. We will spend some time in June Lake in a few weeks if the fires don't get too bad.

Mother nature punished you for cutting in line. Just kidding. Thanks for the report. I've never been to the Miter Basin. Sounds like a cool getaway spot.