The route I took on this trip into the Sierras brought me back here, Merriam Lake. I was here 3 years ago when I walked the Sierra High Route, but I didn't see this shot until much later in the day when the light was not good enough to get the shot I wanted, so I set a goal to one day return.

Part 2
Sunrise at Golden Trout lake was free from mosquitoes until suntouch when the warm light chased away the frost and awoken the little blood suckers. I quickly packed up my tent and gear, ate a quick snack and started on trail. As long as I kept moving I was left alone, mostly, but as soon as I stopped I could feel their bites as the swarm closed in on me, their prey. I took my mosquito net out and kept it on for most of the day.
My route today took me on a descending path into the forested Piute Canyon and down to Hutchinson Meadow where I would join the French Canyon trail. The deeper into the forest I got the thicker the swarm became and I dare not take a break. The few quick breaks I did take to hurriedly sip water the mosquitoes where able to land on me and bit through my pants, gloves and shirt. Soon even continuously moving didn't help.
I did not bring any bug spray with me on this trip because 3 years ago I was in this same area at the exact same time of year and there was not a single mosquito to annoy me. This year however was the complete opposite. It was also a late heavy winter, so every thing in the mountains thought it was July, not August, or at least that's what I figured.
When I reached Hutchinson Meadow the swarm was the thickest. Multiple stream crossings were necessary here and one of them I had to remove my shoes and socks to cross, which I did as quickly as I could. When I reached the other side I didn't even bother to dry my feet off before putting my shoes back on and even though I did that as quickly as I could my feet still got bit.
I continued on until I reach the trail that left French Canyon and headed up and out to Merriam Lake. I had hoped that the higher I got away from the river the fewer mosquitoes I would have to deal with, and it looked as though that wasn't going to be the case. Eventually I found a nice spot and I stopped and waited... instead of 100s there were only maybe 10. I took my pack off and sat down in the shade beneath a towering tree. After six miles and an unknown number of hours I finally was able to take my first real break of the day. Here I made breakfast, though it was probably more closer to lunchtime. A breeze picked up and chased away what few mosquitoes their were and I could relax easier.
After an hour I continued onwards and upwards, the forest broke and meadowlands crisscrossed with lazy streams lay ahead. “Great, more mosquitoes”, I thought, but as I wandered across the meadowlands there were none. It wasn't long after that that I reached the lake. I found a nice place to camp in the shade beside a crooked pine that grew up along the shore. After setting up my tent I took a nap.
When I woke up the sun was lower and a few mosquitoes were perched on the outside of my tent. The waterfall at the far end of the lake was a constant drone and grasshoppers buzzed about. I ventured outside to explore a bit. Soon the swarm rose out of the grasses again and I was forced to seek shelter in my tent again just as I had the first night at trout lake. I watched the sunset dance across the sky through the mess of my tent once again. The moon came out and I fell asleep.
...
Morning was frosty and the bloodsuckers had vanished. I headed outside and climbed up the waterfall to the spot where I wanted to photograph sunrise. The peaks lite up just as I had hoped they would and I accomplished one for the goals I had for this trip.

Tags:   lake landscape sierra high sierra wilderness backpacking camping hiking wilderness wandering reflection sunris morning alpine glow water glow mountains mountain rocks barren

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Please take some time to look at more of my photos

Part 23
We worked our way around Sky Blue Lake, until we reached the waterfall on the far side. Here we began climbing up until we found a nice flat spot free of rocks and boulders, with a nice view over looking the lake. It was here we set up camp, with the cascade of the creek only a short walk away. In the time it took us to reach here a haze had filled the sky and all the shadows vanished.
After tents were set up we explored up to the spot that I planed on photographing tomorrow at sunrise. It was this spot and this photograph that was my main goal for this trip. I had been here once before back in 2016 and had seen it briefly in passing. (here is the shot I took in 2016 flic.kr/p/LZZm1h ) I hadn't stopped because I was hiking with two others that day and Crabtree Lakes was their destination. flic.kr/p/2iz7rcR Since that day I have wanted to come back here and photograph this spot in better light, and because of it facing east sunrise would be best.
To reach it we had to climb up beside another waterfall, turn west following the creek until it became another waterfall. Here we had to leave the creek and climb up another corridor. At the top of that was the spot; a beautiful shear peak that in my option resembles a mini Mt. Whitney reflected in a crystal clear tarn. There were a couple other tarns and a lake nearby that I wanted to see, so we continued to explore deeper into the remote landscape.
We climbed over talus and glacial moraine fields until we reach a Z shaped lake with Mini Whitney towering high over the cold water. A red sun peaked through the hazy sky and it was then that we realized that the haze was a layer of smoke. After we spent some time at this lake we headed back to camp.
I now left Hester behind and explored on my own. During this time I reached another lake that I also wanted to photograph at sunrise, but if I did that we would have to spend a second night here. I stayed at this lake until sunset, hoping that the sky to the west would glow pink but because of the smoke it never did. Before it got too dark I headed back to camp for the night.
…
When dawn arrived I awoke and headed up to the spot that I had waited 4 years to return to. I found a composition and waited. The smoke had cleared since yesterday and only a small swirl of clouds hung over the spires of Mt. Corcoran to the south. The peacefulness of the mountains filled me as I waited patiently, excited that I would soon fulfill one of my goals.
The faintest pink glow appeared on the ridgeline just south of the peak. Slowly it crept down towards the spot I wanted it on, and then it faded. So I waited some more. Soon clouds rose over the sierra crest to the east and I was worried that they would block the warm rays of morning sun from illuminating the peak as I had hoped. That wouldn't be a problem though, because if the light didn't work out we would have just stayed here another night and I would have time to try again tomorrow. But soon the sun rays broke through and cast a warm golden glow on the peak. I took as many pictures with as many different compositions as I could as quickly as I could and then, just as quickly as the light appeared, it vanished again. I then took some time to review my shots and I was very happy with at least 4 of the different compositions. Soon the sun appeared from behind the sierra crest, it's warm rays upon my face.
I headed back to camp, overjoyed that I had achieved my goal.

Tags:   landscape sunrise mountains water lake tarn pond rocks reflection morning peak alpine glow hiking camping backpacking wandering high sierra sierra crabtree pass california wilderness

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Part 2
That night I awoke at 2 am. (Back in 2016 during my 40 day journey on the Sierra High Route I came across a little tarn that I thought was really beautiful flic.kr/p/XJvwTq that I wanted to photograph at sunrise but I was there during the wrong time of day, so I added it to my return to list. Today I planned on returning to it, so like I said I wanted it at sunrise so I woke up at 2 am, because it was 3 miles away over a cross country pass that was 820 ft higher than where I was camping.) I put my camera gear and breakfast into my backpack and left everything else in my tent. The sky was moonless and scattered with stars. The air was alive and restless as a strong wind blew through the lake basin. I began to follow the trail that circumnavigated the lake, but in the devouring darkness I soon lost it. I continued on into the starry night guided only by the small circle of light cast by my headlamp.
The formless landscape twisted into strange shapes and dark trees walked beside me swaying in the cold relentless wind. To my left lay the lake, it's waters stretching into an endless black void glittering with reflected starlight. Soon I began to hear, between gusts of wind, the distant sound of water cascading over rocks. As I got closer it got louder and amongst the babbling of the creek the water also sounded like faint drum beats. “Drums, drums in the deep”. I crossed the creek and continued around the far end of Garnet Lake heading to the sloping meadow lands.
All this time the wind blew strong, pulling on my beard and tugging at my clothes. When I reached the meadow lands the landscaped opened and the trees followed me no more. On the other side of the meadows the grass became talus and now I had to climb White Bark Pass, a cross country pass that I did back in 2016 going the the other way during the day. Before trying to navigate my way up the steep pass I took a break and turned my headlamp off. The darkness thickened without the light to hold it back and the stars glimmered overhead, the milky way arcing high reaching from horizon to horizon. Turning my light back on I began to look for the route up the pass. I soon realized I had gone too far west because tall cliffs rose to my south so I retraced my steps until a faint trail appeared in front of me. The pass was easy but finding a safe route up with just my headlamp was challenging. At times the trail vanished only to reappear on top of a ledge that required hands and feet to climb.
There was no relief from the cold wind while I climbed the talus covered mountainside. As soon as I reached the top of the pass the largest gust yet was already there to greet me, trying to push me back down to the meadow from where I had come. I quickly made my way down the other side seeking shelter from the relentless wind. Then appearing as apparitions out of the inky darkness a few crooked pine trees stood against the wind. I quickly made my way over to the closest one and huddled beneath it’s sheltering branches and for the few moments I lied there I was protected and warm while the wind still howled through it's boughs. After a few minutes I ventured back out into the cold wind.
As I made my way by the small circle of light cast by my headlamp the ground ahead of me fell away into a deep, dark abyss, as though a chasm had opened leading deep down into the roots of the mountains to where the drums had sounded. “Drums, drums in the deep.” The landscape on this side of the pass was formed by rolling hills, each hill falling away further and deeper then the last and as I descended down and down the black formless void fell before me keeping it's distance as though it was afraid of my light. Soon I heard distant, rushing water competing with the sound of the wind, and I knew I was close to my destination.
After one final descent I reached a sheltered cirque free from the wind that had been chasing me. After a few more steps I reached a still pond reflecting my light back into my eyes. I followed it's rocky shore downstream and found a spot to stop, here I waited for the dawn. Soon the sky began to lighten and I could see a haze clinging to the high peaks of Banner and Ritter that towered over this small pond. I hoped it wasn't smoke. As the sky grew lighter and lighter and the stars began to fade I could see more and more of my surroundings and I saw that the highest reaches of the two peaks were shroud in thick clouds, not smoke. Soon I was able to see enough that I was now able to start looking for good compositions.
Once all the stars faded and the pale sky was all aglow a bright pink light cast itself upon the high peaks, and a photo that I have wanted to take for the last 5 years finally happened.

Tags:   sunrise alpine glow pink light morning mountain mt banner high sierra wilderness wandering hiking backpacking camping water rocks beautiful clouds stormy glow

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Day 31
part 1
Morning was cold. The sun was still a long way from rising as I headed over to the tarn that I came back here to photograph. The blueberry bushes that I had been eating from yesterday were now adorn with frost and the still surface of the tarn perfectly mirrored Banner Peak.
This side of the tarn was a mosaic of boulders breaking the surface with a few small fingers of grass covered soil reaching out into it. I searched for a composition that I liked as I hopped from rock to rock
while trying to avoid disturbing the smooth surface. I found a spot on a grassy finger next to the outflow creek that I liked the most. Here I sat down and waited for the pink rays of sun to illuminate the towering Banner Peak.
As soon as the first warm glow appeared on the highest point, I started clicking away. It was a difficult spot to find a composition that I liked and I ran around to some other spots I had considered earlier, trying to capture the scene from every angle. As the light dropped lower and lower the more I worried I had missed the shot that I had come back here for. Once the light reached the tarn and warmed my skin I took a few more photos, then I sat down to review the images I had gotten. As I scrolled through the photos, the shot I had come here for appeared on my camera's LCD screen, and I had accomplished one of the goals for this journey.

(I didn't want to link any songs to these photos because I didn't listen to music while out there, except for one night, but this song is a favorite of mine and is half of the inspiration for this photo's title
Artist: Bear McCreary
song: a promise to return
www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1S81JN7rLk )

Tags:   Banner peak high sierra mountain tarn water lake reflection wilderness grass ansel adams wilderness backpacking camping hiking landscape alpine glow pink

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Part 8
I counted the many switchbacks into Laurel Canyon and lost count after 99. Just before the trail leveled out I saw a very nice campsite on the downhill side, with a fantastic view of mono canyon and the recesses on the other side all lined up for one grand view. Next time I would love to camp here. Now the path turned into the canyon and paralleled a roaring creek through thicker forest than what mono creek did far, far below. Soon the landscape opened into meadows surrounded by high ridges on 2 sides and 3 pointed peaks at the far end. The roaring creek became calm and lazy as the trail turned to cross it, once on the other side the trail disappeared. The meadows in places were marshy as my feet sunk into the saturated soil, then a small rise would dry it out completely and sandy, rocky earth replaced the sogginess. Soon I crossed the creek again and entered mosquito infested forest. The trail reappeared again but remained spotty. From here it climbed up an exposed hill to the next level of meadows. By now the sun began to blaze hotter and the temperature rose more than it did the day before despite the higher elevation. For the next mile there was no shade and the temperature crept higher and higher.
Soon I reached a good place to leave the trail. My goal for today was to reach a lake called Rosy Finch, that I had been to while on the Sierra High Route back in 2016. I wanted to photograph it in the alpine glow of sunset which I had not done the that time since I was just passing through. There are no trails from here to Rossy Finch, so my only choice is to take an unnamed pass above a small unnamed lake.
By now the heat was almost too much but I at least wanted to reach the no name lake. The trailess mountainside I now climbed was sparsely treed, so in the heat I would “tree hop”, take a break in the shade of a small tree, hurriedly hike to the next and take a break, again and again until I reached the top. At the top the trees stopped and I left them behind and made my way over rolling ravines and rocky outcrops, hoping that the small lake was just over the next one. But it wasn't and I started growing impatient. Finally I topped a rise and laid eyes on the lake. It was about 175 feet below me. I had climbed too high, and now had to go back and go down.
When I at last reached the lake I refilled my nearly empty water bottles, washed my hands and face, and dunked my head in the refreshing water. Then I headed over to a small stand of crooked pines that grew now far from the outflow creek. Here I undressed and sat in the shade on a large rock for several hours while a light breeze and the shade kept me cool. While here I decided to unofficially name this no name lake, “Lake of the Wilderness Wanderer”.
Several hours passed and the heat subsided slightly. I got dressed and continued, now following the same route I had taken in 2016. Easily follow-able meadow corridors led the way to the last gravelly climb to the top of the pass (11200). When I reached the top I let out a shout of relief. It was now about 3 pm, I had began climbing uphill at 630 am at an elevation of 8700 ft and I was now at 11200 ft. Just over the other side was a trail cam that I waved too.
Now I began to climb downhill at last. Then came the contouring of the mountainside and navigation of steeply sloping talus fields that swiftly fell away from me. Off in the distance was a ridge that became my target because around it on the other side was my goal of Rossy Finch Lake. At one spot on the talus a large block shifted under the weight of my step and I tweaked my knee. The pinch in my knee slowed me down and made traversing the steep talus more challenging, but I kept pushing forward. Soon I reached the ridge and rounded the corner. Here I got my first glimpse of the lake in many years, now all that was left was to figure out how to climb down to it. I searched for a way down and found the best possible route. I carefully worked my way down the steep chute to the bottom of a ravine, then the final short climb up that and I reached the lake. Patches of late season snow still blanketed the ground even though this was July. Jagged spires rose sharply and crowned this lake on it's northeastern shore. I made camp right where I was, too tired to look for another spot, but this was perfect.
That evening the spires glowed pink and I got the photo I had planed this trip for. I even set up the GoPro to get a real time sunset video. youtu.be/XVJQfgryF9A That night I had the whole lake to myself, and it was completely silent, not a sound was heard in the cirque of the lake. The sky was moonless and crystal clear, and both the lake and sky glistened with countless stars.

Tags:   landscape lake snow sunset alpine glow high sierra wilderness wandering hiking backpacking camping mountain rocks

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