Hooves on the Ground: Onion Valley to Sixty Lake Basin and Col

August 2, 2024

It had been a few years since we last visited this part of the Sierra and it was time to pay this photogenic landscape a return visit. We started with a night at Onion Valley campground to help these sea-level dwellers acclimate. We were catching the tail end of a week of challenging weather in this region and we caught some afternoon rain, but nothing too intense.

Day 1

We started at Onion Valley trailhead and went over Kearsarge Pass by late morning, then continued on the high trail, rather than the low trail that leads down toward Kearsarge Lakes and Charlotte Lake. Clouds had been forming, and by mid-afternoon rain and some thunder arrived. We set up camp about 0.75 mi south of Glen Pass, nearish one of the tarns that dot this part of the trail.

Conditions were drier than we expected given the winter had brought average snowpack in the Sierra. Already, many creeks and streams were down to a trickle or totally dry, and many of the tarns had visibly shrunk, likely to be gone by early fall.

What was truly delightful about this side of Glen Pass was that the pika population was alive and well, with many critters (so many we lost count!) industriously skipping from rock to rock to gather their stockpiles of vegetation for the winter. From this camping location, we were treated to a 360-degree sound bath of syncopated pika screeches — to our right, the left, behind us, in front of us! The only other place we had seen so many pikas was near Tuolumne Peak in Yosemite (see The Pika Diaries!). It was a big treat to see these hardy little non-hibernating vegetarians doing their thing.

Day 2

We went over Glen Pass early and descended toward Rae Lakes, chatting with a steady stream of JMTers and a few weekenders. Some were visiting from far-flung states — a solo hiker from Florida, a family from Maryland — and were just discovering the incredible magic of the Sierra for the first time. Seeing them in awe was a pleasant reminder of just how lucky we are to live in proximity to the Range of Light.

At Rae Lakes we left the JMT and picked up the trail toward Sixty Lake Basin. As we ascended, the trail afforded beautiful views of Rae Lakes, the Painted Lady, and eventually Fin Dome. It is an easy trail to follow, and as it ascends and then summits to drop into Sixty Lakes Basin, the intimacy of this basin becomes apparent. It feels smaller in scale than many Sierra basins, with each of the many lakes in its own bite-sized, forested valley. We found a great spot to camp on the north end of the long, unnamed lake locally referred to as Finger Lake, just east of Mount Cotter. It is at this spot that the grander views up into the high basin above treeline really open up. We typically don’t camp so close to a lake — it brings colder temperatures, more condensation, and often more wind — but it was a jaw-dropping spot. We stayed two nights.

Impressive trailwork above Kearsarge Lakes

Pothole Lake near Kearsarge Pass

Rae Lakes from Sixty Lake Trail

Not a bad place to call home

The col is in the center of the photo

Scouting the cross-country route

Gardiner Basin

Gardiner Basin (ooohhh!)

Trail-finding toward the col

Shaded trail happy hour

Alpenglow starting over Bullfrog Lake

A lake of one's own (60 Lake Basin)

Above Bullfrog Lake

Day 3

We day hiked cross-country up the basin. This can be accomplished by staying on the west side of Finger Lake. We went high almost immediately to avoid the steep drop-offs encountered along the ledges closer to the lake, alternately following and then ignoring some cairns along the way. The brief description in Secor’s High Sierra was helpful.

We meandered our way up, encountering some class 2 talus and boulder sections. We stayed due south for much of the route, aiming for the tarns and lake before turning west and zigzagging up ledges to the top. A nice surprise was seeing the last lake before reaching the col come into view to the east with each step, which has a beautiful turquoise blue color owing to the glacial melt that feeds it. It was a treat to see this vibrant hue — there are very few Sierra lakes this color.

Eventually, after about 2 slow miles we made it up to Sixty Lake Col, which offers awesome views into Gardiner Basin and its sparse moonscape. Here we lingered over a lazy lunch, watching a group of about 10 hikers on the Gardiner side crossing their way precariously along what looked to us like the wrong (read: exceedingly steep and eroded) side of the lake nearest the col. At the col we spoke with a solo hiker, Carl from Richmond, CA, who was doing a multiday off-the-beaten-path route starting at Baxter Pass. For having the reputation of being a seldom-visited basin, Gardiner sure seemed busy the day we were there! We opted not to go down into Gardiner Basin, and instead headed back and past camp to explore other parts of Sixty Lake Basin, where we picked up the visible trail once more.

Day 4

We hiked back the way we came, going back down toward Rae Lakes and over Glen Pass. Once again, we spoke to many hikers along this fairly busy path. We opted to dry camp along the high trail to enjoy one more quiet night on the trail. We found a delightful spot a little over a mile west of Kearsarge Pass, on a promontory ledge with gorgeous views of Bullfrog Lake and the Kearsarge Pinnacles, where we soaked in the afternoon sun and enjoyed a trail happy hour before an early dinner.

Day 5

Enticed by the promise of a hearty meal in Lone Pine, we hiked down at a steady pace. We saw a pair of rather large and healthy-looking sooty grouse foraging near the trail. It was already fairly hot at these lower elevations by the time we reached the trailhead by mid-morning, and we were glad not to be among the hikers just starting their uphill trek!

This area holds a special place in my heart. Onion Valley is it is the first place I ever camped. In preparation for my first night in a tent, I did a great deal of reading about camping in bear country, acclimating to being at altitude, having the right gear etc. Despite my over-preparation, on the morning after my first night I reached into my jacket pocket to find two single-serve packets of honey that I had forgotten to take out of the tent. I thought myself lucky not have been visited by Winnie the Pooh or any other honey-loving ursine!

Look at that pretty moon

The first of many pikas we'd see

The first of the 60(ish?) lakes

Studying the cross-country options

Negotiating talus

Did someone say snack?

Turquoise lake near Sixty Lake Col

Oh deer!

A pair of sooty grouse

Mother Nature's art

Above Kearsarge Lakes

Hot afternoon, cool shade

Trail happy hour

Days: 5 (July 2024)

Mileage: 37 mi.

Elevations: Onion Valley trailhead 9,200’; Kearsarge Pass 11,700'; Glen Pass 11,969’; Sixty Lake Col 11,700’. Total elevation gain 9,678’.

Camp locations: tarn south of Glen Pass; Sixty Lake Basin (2 nights); High Trail ~1 mi west of Kearsarge Pass.

Cresting Phantom Overlook, with the South Rim towering above

Hooves on the Ground: Grand Canyon's Clear Creek Trail and Cheyava Falls

January 5, 2024

Some destinations keep tugging at your sense of wanderlust year after year. For us, Grand Canyon is one of those magical places. There are so many grand places to see that you could spend your whole life exploring its endless nooks and crannies and still have something new (and yet so very old) to experience.

Our intent this time around — our ninth time backpacking below the rim — was to visit the tallest falls in Grand Canyon, 800-foot Cheyava Falls. The falls flow only occasionally (indeed, “cheyava” means “intermittent” in Hopi), just when a significant amount of rainfall or snowmelt brings them to life.

Clear Creek Trail

pothole along Clear Creek Trail, with a snowy South Rim in the background

cottonwoods glowing in the sun, Clear Creek

BYOS (bring your own shade)

side canyon surprise!

canyon treefrog visiting camp (or more likely, wondering why we're camping in its home)

thar she flows! Cheyava Falls

negotiating a creek crossing

We were joined by our friend Sarah and were excited that this particular route would be her first overnighter below the rim. This trip combined a classic corridor experience (down South Kaibab Trail, staying at Bright Angel Campground on nights 1 and 4, hiking out via Bright Angel Trail), with an off-the-beaten-path visit to Clear Creek and Cheyava Falls in between.

We arrived to our first night’s camp around noon, giving us plenty of time to lounge around under tree shade sipping iced tea at Phantom Ranch — a good thing given our arrival coincided with a heat wave. That night we dined at the canteen for the first time, enjoying a convivial time chatting with hikers visiting this wonder of the world from many different states and countries.

South Kaibab

Phantom Overlook

resident deer at Bright Angel campground

impressive trail-building work at Phantom Overlook

layers of flora and geology

collared lizard sunbathing

Phantom Ranch canteen looking quite inviting

Western redbud just starting to bloom

camping at Clear Creek

Popeye and friends

snow lingering near the rim

smelly and happy hikers heading for pizza

On our second morning we took the North Kaibab Trail for a short distance and then headed east along Clear Creek Trail, where we exchanged trail updates with a couple of hikers returning the other way. They reported the falls had been “just a trickle” when they visited the day prior. Undeterred, we figured we might as well try anyway. After all, how else would we spend our time if we didn’t go through with our plan to hike through the Clear Creek narrows, up some side canyons, bushwhacking the deepest few miles of the cross-country route that was to come?

As luck would have it, suffering under the hot spell was not for naught. To our delight, the combination of above-average temperatures and stubborn perseverance prevailed, and the falls were flowing beautifully.

Cheyava Falls flowing in their 800 feet of glory

Moving through Grand Canyon means walking through geologic time. But on this trip we were lucky to also move through the seasons over the course of a few short days. Walking, watching, and listening in nature means you sometimes get to witness the changing of the seasons, and we were fortunate to be present for the leap into spring. As we sauntered, the warming trend awoke the canyon out of a long, snowy winter. In the days that followed our descent, we would get to witness that transition in ways large and small.

One way we saw this transition was in water. When we arrived to Clear Creek on the second day, the stream was indeed flowing clear. But the water was soon loaded with increasing levels of sediment as tributaries upstream swelled with snowmelt. In this vast, arid, sparsely vegetated land there is little to prevent silt and sand from being transported by water — sometimes hundreds of miles away. It’s precisely these erosion and displacement mechanisms that we have to thank for exposing the layers of earth at Grand Canyon.

Clear Creek flowing clear when we arrived

Sediment-filled water a day later

Clear Creek was increasingly loaded with sediment when we visited. Our usual reliance of Aquamira drops and/or using bottle-top filter like the Platypus Quickdraw wasn’t going to cut it. Here’s what we did.
1. Filled a collapsible Sea to Summit bucket with water.
2. Diluted some alum powder per John Ladd’s detailed instructions, and mixed the solution into the bucket.
3. Let the sediment settle for at least 90 minutes.
4. Filtered the water through a Platypus GravityWorks filter.

Another way we saw the seasons change was in the flora. The out-and-back portions of this route meant we hiked back along the same stretch of trail a couple of days apart. In the space of just two days, a burst of wildflowers greeted us on the way back that weren’t there when had first arrived.

Experiencing these rhythms of nature puts the human heartbeat in sync with the planet. We are tremendously fortunate to get to enjoy wild spaces that, under different circumstances, would have been developed, dammed…and damned.

With thanks to our hiking pal Sarah for joining us on the hike and for snapping some of the photos in this blog post!

winding Mariposa lily blooming along Clear Creek Trail

bighorn sheep, formerly

along Bright Angel Trail

shade is a precious commodity

Days: 5 (April 8 - 12, 2023)

Mileage: 44 mi.

Elevations: South Kaibab trailhead 7,260'; Bright Angel campground 2,480'; Clear Creek 3,600; Bright Angel trailhead 6,860’. Total elevation loss/gain 6,913’.

Camp locations: Bright Angel Campground; Clear Creek.

Enjoying watching the Colorado flowing its natural chocolate brown

Rock bench at Phantom Overlook, a part of the trail originally built by the Civilian Conservation Corps circa 1935

Tree ghost mimicking the rocky peaks of Miter Basin

Hooves on the Ground: Miter Basin

July 19, 2023

A five-day Sierra trek with beautiful weather, no wildfire smoke, and no mosquitoes? Sometimes you get lucky. This time, we were in the John Muir and Golden Trout Wildernesses and in Sequoia National Park, maximizing our time enjoying a cross-country jaunt of Miter Basin.

We’ve never met a Sierra basin we didn’t like, and Miter is one we’ve been meaning to return to for some time. Our first visit to Miter was brief — a scramble from Soldier Lake for a few hours, as part of a loop of Cottonwood Lakes and Pass that included summiting Mt. Langley. What an indescribably transcendent place, we thought to ourselves. We knew we had to go back.

Sky Blue Lake with the imposing formation of The Miter dominating on the right

On this trip, we were joined by our Czech pals Jana and Marek, who were interested in a “Wild West wilderness experience,” as they put it. We met Jana in the Himalaya in 2018 while hiking the Annapurna Circuit.

We sometimes forget how fortunate we are to experience nature as we do in the American West, and hiking with Jana and Marek helped remind us. Having large swaths of land protected from development means we have the freedom to roam for days or weeks without stepping into a modern building or crossing an asphalt-covered road. Returning to the comforts of modernity means experiencing them with new eyes and appreciation — which, for us, over the years has tended to be one of the longer-lasting effects of wilderness travel.

Ascending New Army Pass

Geology of New Army Pass

A zipper tree, perhaps?

Trail nap

Miter Basin grandeur

Underwater rock garden

Napping at 12k'

Iridescent Lake

Our route began at Cottonwood Lakes trailhead (10,040’) — a thin-aired start for sea-level dwellers. To help us acclimatize, the night before the hike we camped at the walk-in backpackers’ campground near the trailhead (which was virtually empty when we arrived in the afternoon and very full by the evening).

Day 1

From Cottonwood Lakes trailhead, the trail first leads west and then north as it passes through equestrian areas, before entering into Golden Trout Wilderness. Passing on the edge of a meadow near Cottonwood Creek, it climbs up and heads west once more. Here we enjoyed expansive views from just south of Cottownwood Lakes #1 and 2. We lunched in the shade of some lodgepole pines and chatted with passing hikers as we soaked in gorgeous vistas of Cottonwood Basin and Mt. Langley.

We proceeded another mile or so to camp at South Fork Lakes (11,000’) and stopped there for the night to let ourselves further acclimatize before attempting New Army Pass the following morning. We had the westernmost South Fork Lake to ourselves and enjoyed its unique and picturesque underwater rock gardens and how the changing light shifted the scenery surrounding the lakes throughout the evening.

Day 2

Picking up the trail westward, we started the day by passing Long Lake before a switchback ascent to New Army Pass (12,310’), entering into Sequoia National Park. We were greeted by several resident marmots who begged unsuccessfully for a snack. After taking in the views and exchanging high-fives, we descended gently into the sparse, granite landscape while spying views to the north toward (Old) Army Pass.

A couple of miles down, we lunched at timberline just below 11,000’ next to a tributary of Rock Creek. We then headed north, and later west, on Upper Rock Creek trail. Though a trail into Miter basin does not appear on the Tom Harrison Mount Whitney High Country map, there is a use trail heading north from the east side of the meadow at Lower Rock Creek Lake. We followed this use trail as it faded and reappeared. Route-finding is sometimes necessary, but we nevertheless found this to be a pleasant route up into Miter Basin and less of a scramble than the bushwhack up from Soldier Lake we had done in the past.

Once in Miter Basin, we proceeded about a mile and a half and found a lovely place to camp near where most maps show three streams converging like a trident. This would be home for the next two nights.

Day 3

We were really looking forward to a day of putzing around the basin. Options abound, and we decided we’d start with a ramble toward Iridescent Lake. This was very much a start-and-stop day full of pauses and exclamations such as, “look at that ridiculous gorgeousness!” and “oooh, I’ve never seen such splendid combination of rock, water, and sky!”

We followed a use trail northbound along the length of the basin, and we eventually split off to head northwest along a slope to ascend nearly 1,000’ to Iridescent Lake. The landscape alternates between sparse rock and marshy meadow. Once at the lake, the color palette changes — the intense indigo of the sky reflected in the green-red-yellow-turquoise rainbow of a truly iridescent lake. We spent a couple of hours napping, taking brisk dips, and sunbathing on the lake’s south shore.

Eventually we picked ourselves up from this idyllic spot to head southwest over the saddle between Iridescent Lake and Sky Blue Lake. The saddle is immediately south of The Miter (12,770’), and it took a bit of scouting to find the best route — particularly on the descent, where some of the dropoffs on the west side are significant. While on this saddle, we looked up and saw that we were being watched by a Sierra bighorn sheep. It was our first time in our years of Sierra travel ever seeing one (though we are certain we’ve been spotted by them before!)

We spent a lazy afternoon at Sky Blue Lake, lunching and napping. Or, more accurately, most of us spent a lazy afternoon. Jana has a penchant for long-distance swimming in cold water and found Sky Blue to be irresistible. She spent a solid 20 minutes swimming shore-to-shore and back, swimming what we estimate was at least a half mile in deep, cold water. We were exhausted and breathless just watching her.

Eventually we headed south, enjoying the gardens that cropped up in between the filigree of the lake’s network of outlet streams. We stopped frequently to take in stupendous 360-degree views before returning back to camp in the early evening.

Day 4

We packed up and headed back out toward Upper Rock Creek trail, retracing our route toward a junction with Siberian Pass Trail. We filled up on water at the junction and then turned right to follow the forested trail as it climbed toward a junction with the PCT, which we joined southbound. Hiking the southwestern slopes of Cirque Peak (12,900’), we eventually left Sequoia National Park and reentered Golden Trout Wilderness. The trail loses and gains elevation until topping out at about 11,500’ before beginning a gentle switchback descent toward Chicken Spring Lake. We found good camping on the west end, quite a distance from the lake — but not before scouting for sites for a little while.

Day 5

With just a little over 5 miles to go, we packed up and headed back onto the PCT, cresting over Cottonwood Pass (11,160’) within the first mile. Leaving the PCT, we continued east through meadows, losing some 1,000’ of elevation as we neared Horseshoe Meadows. Rather than exit out Cottonwood Pass trailhead, we took a connecting trail northward through the equestrian areas which connected us back to Cottonwood Lakes trailhead, where we had started.

We drove down to Lone Pine and enjoyed a celebratory lunch, looking up at Mt. Whitney and its neighboring peaks and discussing where our next adventure might take us.

Days: 5 (Aug. 30 - Sept. 3, 2022)

Mileage: 34 mi.

Elevations: Cottonwood Lakes trailhead 10,040'; New Army Pass 12,300'; Miter Basin ~11,000’; Saddle between Iridescent and Sky Blue lakes 12,000’. Total elevation gain 5,804’.

Camp locations: westernmost South Fork Lake; Miter Basin (2 nights); Chicken Spring Lake.

Cottonwood Lakes

Descending New Army Pass

From the Miter's base

Iridescent Lake

Sierra bighorn sheep

Czech out the hikers

The Miter and its basin

Chicken Spring Lake

Blue Lake at dusk following an afternoon rainstorm.

Hooves on the Ground: Tyee/Midnight/Hungry Packer Lakes, John Muir Wilderness

July 18, 2023

For years, we’ve celebrated J’s birthday with a Sierra backpacking trip. Almost every time, the longest and toughest climb inadvertently falls on his birthday. Case in point: summer 2017, when we found ourselves hiking up from the JMT to Piute Pass on his birthday after an epically wet winter, resulting in no less than a dozen significant and exhausting stream crossings on one day. That was just one example of a long string of birthdays spent trudging up to some elusive thin-aired destination.

We’ve tried to correct this by designing a more leisurely itinerary — at least for his actual birthday — but it appears we are not meant to embark on such walks in the park. Take the time in 2021, when rather than hike over Lamarck Col to base camp at Darwin Bench for a few days, we decided not to hike back out over Lamarck Col, instead changing our route, adding 25 or 30 miles, and replacing sluggishness with brisk exertion.

I dare say that in 2022 we accomplished our goal and achieved a low-milage, medium-effort, high-reward birthday trip. It went something like this…

We arrived a couple of days early to acclimatize to the higher elevations we’d encounter on this hike, camping a couple of nights in the Bishop Canyon area of the John Muir Wilderness and day hiking to the lovely Chocolate Lakes starting at South Lake and ascending toward Long Lake and Ruwau Lake. There were wildfires burning in the area and we were somewhat impacted by smoke on our day hike. Fortunately, by the time our backpacking trip started the smoke had shifted away from the area.

The backpacking route started at Tyee Lakes trailhead. From there, we hiked up to the largest of the namesake lakes, camping just above 11,000’.

On day 2, we hiked over Table Mountain to about 11,600’, soaking in absolutely jaw-dropping views of Evolution Valley before descending toward George Lake. From there, we followed the trail (almost) to Lake Sabrina, turning south toward Blue Lake, where we camped for two nights.

A carpet of lupine near Sailor Lake

On day 3, we headed up the middle fork of Bishop Creek and putzed around many beautiful mini lake basins under intermittent rain, visiting Midnight Lake, Hungry Packer Lake, and Sailor Lake — each with its own unique character and backdrop of scenery. In better weather we might have continued exploring the countless lakes and tarns that dot this landscape, accessed via endless out-and-backs or out-and-overs. Instead, we took this trip to be an appetizer for a future return visit.

On our final day, we hiked out to Lake Sabrina and hitchhiked back to our starting trailhead.

Table Mountain

Expansive views into Evolution Basin and Valley

Blue Lake

Where’s Jolly? Napping under lightweight umbrellas in the hot afternoon sun

Crystal waters of Hungry Packer Lake

Days: 4 (late July 2022)

Mileage: 22 mi.

Elevations: Tyee Lakes trailhead 9,112'; Table Mountain 11,588'; Lake Sabrina 9,060’. Total elevation gain 4,852’.

Camp locations: Tyee Lakes; Blue Lake.

Semi-frozen tarn below Tuolumne Peak in May 2022.

Hooves on the Ground: Yosemite's Murphy Creek to Tuolumne Crest in the early season

July 10, 2023

The 2021-22 winter got a promising start, with the snowpack at year’s end registering at 160 percent of average. Unfortunately, January and February 2022 were some of the driest on record, and by April snowpack was just 38 percent of average. With no significant spring storms, many Californians braced for a dry, hot summer and had good reason to believe that Sierra wildfires would once again dominate the news. As it turned out, 2022 was not a big wildfire year — credited in large part for due to increased staffing of fire management agencies and aggressive vegetation removal.

As changes in climate have shifted the seasons, in recent years we have been motivated to jump start our backcountry jaunts as early as possible — you just don’t know what the summer will bring. So when Yosemite announced that the 2022 opening date for Tioga Road would be the Friday before Memorial Day, we were able to easily snag a wilderness permit from the list of trailheads that became available once the park made the announcement.

Tioga Road connects Yosemite to the Eastern Sierra via its namesake pass at 9,943’. Its opening date changes yearly and has historically occurred as late as July. In contrast with 2021-22, the winter of 2022-23 was one of the wettest ever recorded — with Yosemite’s snowpack in April coming in at 244 percent of normal. From the first deluge in November to the final snowstorms in April, the mountains were drenched in an unprecedented amount of precipitation. Snowfall reached record-breaking depths, transforming the Sierra Nevada into a winter wonderland into July.

As we entered the park in late May of 2022, we knew there would still be considerable snow coverage, so we opted for a route that would enable us to sleep below 10,000’ if we needed to.

We drove up the Thursday before Memorial Day with our friend Sarah and camped at Bass Lake. On Friday morning we picked up our permit at Wawona and enjoyed being among the first to drive up Tioga Road to the trailhead at Murphy Creek, near Tenaya Lake.

The first couple of trail miles were snow-free. Once we hit snow, as far as we could tell we were the first (human) hikers to lay down tracks. There were many bear and deer tracks, and as it turned out, some were quite fresh: we had a mutual startle when we encountered a cinnamon-colored black bear. Fortunately, the bear was happy to run the other way.

Trail or lake? Both, as it turned out.

We could hear the croaking of yellow-legged frogs despite the frozen ground and water.

Our intended destination for this hike was the trail crest below Tuolumne Peak in Yosemite’s high country — a magical land of pikas and yellow-legged frogs which we had previously enjoyed when hiking the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne in 2020.

Proof of excellent pika sightings at this location in July 2020.

Much of the trail was still muddy and under water early in the season, making route-finding challenging at times. But early hiking meant no wildfire smoke to deal with, and very few mosquitoes thanks to the cold. Another advantage of early-season hiking was that campfires were permitted in existing fire rings below 9,600’. We were grateful for the warmth, and we made a new friend who was also seeking to stay toasty.

Days: 3 (May 27-29, 2022)

Mileage: 15.5 mi

Elevation: Murphy Creek trailhead 8,185'; crest below Tuolumne Peak 9,881’'. Total elevation loss/gain 2,208’.

Camp location: Polly Dome Lakes (2 nights)

Hooves on the Ground: Grand Canyon's Tanner Trail and Escalante Route

December 1, 2022

On our eighth trip backpacking into Grand Canyon we were treated to some of best views of a meandering Colorado River that we had ever seen. We started at Lipan Point in the eastern part of the park, descending the Tanner Trail toward the Colorado River over 9 beautiful, sometimes challenging miles. This is a fairly demanding (and largely unmaintained) trail, with several rock slides and steeply eroded sections to negotiate. But it is also a trail that affords a front seat to an ever-changing panorama that goes from narrow and intimate to wide open and majestic.

Once down at the river, at Tanner Beach we snagged a coveted campsite beneath overhanging rocks, a spot which offers the only real shade anywhere in the area. We spent the afternoon exploring the beach, watching rafters navigate the rapids, napping, and dealing with water treatment. Water treatment was more of a challenge on this trip than on past Grand Canyon excursions, due both to our proximity to the Little Colorado River and to a recent heat wave that had melted much of the snow higher up in the watershed.

Day two led us away from our original plan to hike eastward along the Beamer Trail to the confluence with the Little Colorado River. The height exposure along the Beamer was a bit too much, and we decided instead to hike westward, covering half of the Escalante Route — an unmaintained but mostly easy-to-follow path leading to beaches, rock gardens, drainages, slot canyons, and even an ancient ruin. It was quite warm and windy, but with the kaleidoscopic views of the river and canyon we really didn’t mind. We also thoroughly enjoyed getting to see the river a bit closer to its natural state, as rain and melting snow had filled it and its tributaries with sediment, making the waters flow a chocolatey brown.

The Colorado’s water was filled with sediment when we visited. Our usual reliance of Aquamira drops and/or using bottle-top filter like the Platypus Quickdraw wasn’t going to cut it this time. Here’s what we did.

1. Filled a collapsible Sea to Summit bucket with water.
2. Diluted some alum powder per John Ladd’s detailed instructions, and mixed the solution into the bucket.
3. Let the sediment settle for at least 90 minutes.
4. Filtered the water through a Platypus GravityWorks filter.

The Colorado River (or Río Colorado) was named for its naturally reddish-brown color created by plentiful sediment flowing through a vast drainage, from snow-capped mountains to the Gulf of California — a destination it now rarely reaches. Among the most managed rivers in the world, much of the Colorado’s character has changed dramatically, especially since the Glen Canyon Dam was completed in 1966. Where it once flowed sepia, it now flows green most of the year — owing to most sediment getting trapped behind the 710-foot dam. Where its water temperature once varied from just above freezing in winter to 85°F in summer, it now stays around 48°F year-round, drastically changing habitat and ecology for the flora and fauna that call this river home. Where it once caused significant seasonal floods that replenished beaches, today flows are carefully controlled by engineers managing the water demands of an increasingly thirsty American West.

The Colorado River flowing along the Escalante Route

But we digress. On our third day, we hiked out from Tanner Beach early to beat the heat and stopped halfway back up the Tanner Trail. We picked up a couple of gallons of water we had cached on our way down and spent our last full day and night spellbound by views from atop the geologic layer known as the Redwall. Hiking through Grand Canyon means traveling through geologic time and through distinct biotic communities — from riparian, to desert scrub, pinyon-juniper (at the Redwall), and finally ponderosa pine and mixed conifer forest at the rim. The vantage point from this picturesque spot let us ponder all of that and more as we watched the light change and the ravens ride the thermals.

Amazingly, we had this beautiful spot all to ourselves. The only other person we saw that day was Ranger Jen Hogan, who checked in on us and stayed to chat for a few minutes on her patrol toward the river. When we returned home we read up on her and her history-making hike as the first non-native woman to solo hike the entirety of Grand Canyon — a feat she accomplished by hiking 1,000 miles in 77 days in 2021.

The canyon tells many stories, and this part of the canyon reveals countless tales of human history. One of these tales pertains to an event that happened just upriver, near Temple Butte. On June 30, 1956 a mid-air collision occurred between two commercial planes, killing all 128 passengers on board. At the time this was the deadliest crash in the nation’s history, prompting the establishment of the Federal Aviation Administration, giving a single agency authority over managing airspace to avoid similar tragedies.

We hiked to the rim early the next morning and encountered Ranger Della, whom we had met on another canyon hike a few years earlier, when we gave her some information about a hiker that had been reported missing, whom we had seen a day or two prior (all was well in the end). We then headed to Flagstaff for a night. On our way we visited the Navajo Nation and chatted with an elder who is a jewelry maker and Vietnam vet living just above the gorge of the Little Colorado River. The “Little” in the name is misleading, as this body of water is responsible for draining much of northern Arizona and is the primary contributor of sediment to the Colorado River whenever it flows its natural color.

We also visited the Ancestral Puebloan ruins at Wupatki, which we had last visited over a decade ago. The ruins don’t look a day older than when we last saw them all those years ago — but the same cannot be said about us!

Days: 4 (April 4 - 7, 2022)

Mileage: 28.5 mi. (including 12 mi. r/t along Escalante Route)

Elevation: Lipan Point trailhead 7,350'; Colorado River at Tanner Rapids 2,700'. Total elevation loss/gain 6,913’.

Camp locations: Tanner Beach (use area BB9); Red Wall (use area BB9).

View of sunset from camp near Pinto Lake

Hooves on the Ground: Mineral King Loop via Timber Gap and Lost Canyon

November 27, 2022

Sequoia National Park’s Mineral King area has a special allure. Reached via a windy, one-lane, 25-mile mining road, this is an area that you don’t just stumble upon. Getting there is a feat, and so too is backpacking in this region. That’s because there is no way to go but up up up from Mineral King’s verdant valley, at 7,500 ft, to the many peaks that dominate above. Luckily the scenic vistas provide ample fuel for any effort expended.

Mineral King’s story of annexation into Sequoia NP is a vivid and fairly recent demonstration of why wilderness protection should not be taken for granted. If not for the efforts of preservationists, many of the places we think of as nature’s cathedrals could just as easily have been developed, and this fate is palpable at Mineral King. Here we are reminded that the American West could have gone the way of open spaces in the eastern part of the country or even Europe — interstitial natural spaces punctuated by frequent “improvements” and developed areas.

An idyllic and desirable destination, in the middle of the twentieth century Mineral King seemed to be on the path to be developed into a Disney resort. Plans were drawn. Investors were secured. Permits were in the process of being procured. But the Sierra Club didn’t think it was a good idea to pave paradise and put up a parking lot, and they proceeded to find many ways of being an irritating thorn on Disney’s side. After a lengthy struggle, Disney eventually abandoned the project, (un)paving the way for Mineral King’s annexation into the park in the 1970s and guaranteeing its protection in perpetuity.

View from the switchbacks near Timber Gap/Sawtooth Pass trailhead. The wispy cloud on the left is smoke from the KNP Complex fire.

Today the threats to Mineral King come in a form different than corporations seeking to develop. We nearly cancelled trip our trip here for a second year in a row due to fire, as peak season to explore the Sierra keeps getting pushed earlier and earlier due to a drying, warming climate. The KNP Complex fire was already burning when we started our hike, prompting us to change our itinerary the morning we started the hike. Ultimately, this fire would burn nearly 90,000 acres in the area.

Our loop started at the Timber Gap trailhead. We hiked clockwise, camping near Pinto Lake the first night, and near Lost Canyon on the second . Along the way, we encountered many deer that gave us the opportunity to grow our Attenborough-inspired series about Sierra critters with the latest installment, The Deer Diaries…

Days: 3 (Aug. 29 - Sept. 1, 2021)

Mileage: 32 mi

Elevation Low/High: Sawtooth/Timber trailhead 7,800'; Sawtooth Pass 11,558’

Total Elevation Loss/Gain: 9,708’

Camp locations: Pinto Lake, Lost Canyon

Hooves on the Ground: Darwin, Evolution, and Piute Canyons via Lamarck Col and Piute Pass

September 12, 2021

As a buck, I don’t much understand what the big deal about birthdays is. The way I see it, every day spent on this earth is worth celebrating because it means I didn’t get eaten by a mountain lion or hit by a car while crossing the 405 freeway. But E+J have explained to me that for humans, celebrating yearly birthdays is an important tradition, and that’s why we generally find ourselves in the Sierra Nevada each July — to celebrate J’s birthday.

Banner Peak and Thousand Island Lake at sunrise

Hooves on the Ground: Thousand Island Lake via Rush Creek

June 27, 2021

Most years we don’t hit the Sierra for a backpacking trip until July, but the changing climate means the summer backpacking season too is changing. With this year’s low snow and the likelihood of wildfires growing with each passing week, we decided we would head out for a short, last-minute trip to scratch the wanderlust itch we were left with after an off-the-beaten-path trip to Grand Canyon last month. We did some research on Sierra trails that are suitable for early season exploration and settled on this one. We hiked it June 10-12, and while we had traveled the middle portion of this route when we did the John Muir trail back in 2015, the beginning and end portions were new and intriguing to us.

Hooves on the Ground: Grand Canyon's Hermit-Boucher Loop

May 15, 2021

A backpacking trip to the Grand Canyon was an annual tradition for us for 6 years starting in 2013 — we’ve written about permitting and preparing for these various routes in the past. But in 2018 E went back to school for her Ph.D., which meant that the favorable travel seasons of spring and fall would present a conflict with school. We finally returned in 2021.

As a mule deer, this is among the parks I really enjoy visiting because I am right at home with my fellow hoofed brethren — other deer, elk, and big horn sheep. No one raises an eyebrow when I saunter past. They just think I am part of the mix of wildlife, having no way of knowing they are actually standing eye-to-shoulder with a cosmopolitan, well-traveled buck.

Elements of Existence

April 18, 2021

We are honored that a new exhibit showcasing dearantler’s work will be showing online and in-person by appointment at Avenue 50 Studio from April 17 through May 29. Elements of Existence explores our collective relationship with nature through the lens of the four classical elements -- water, earth, fire, air -- with each element represented on one of the four walls in Avenue 50 Studio's intimate Annex Room. In all, eighty-one paintings, watercolors, and prints offer an homage to nature's therapeutic beauty while also prompting us to examine our misuse of natural resources and our impact on flora, fauna, ecosystems, and our fellow humans in this, our only home. From finding wonder in nature to witnessing catastrophic extremes of rising sea levels and unprecedented wildfires, Elements of Existence offers an array of musings on our past, current, and possible future relationships to all that sustains us on planet Earth.

Spellbound | Wanderings Through the Witching Hour

October 23, 2020

Something stirs you awake during the blue hour, and you can’t be sure if you heard a sound or if your mind is projecting. You are alone but you feel a presence other than your own. Is it benevolent? Is it trying to tell you something? Your eyes are heavy and you drift between waking and dreaming. Is your half-awake, half-asleep state dulling or sharpening your senses? Is this hypnagogic state a doorway to a different reality?

In the latest show from dearantler we wander through the witching hour. Come along as we surrender to the night, open the door to the supernatural, explore the land of dreams, and commune with the impossible.

Looking toward Hetch Hetchy on the descent into the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River

Hooves on the Ground: Yosemite's Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne and Old Big Oak Flat Road to El Capitan

August 9, 2020

This is an unusual year for everything, including (and perhaps especially) travel. With California under stay-at-home orders for the first few months of the COVID-19 pandemic, we stuck to day hiking near home and we visited many parts of the Angeles National Forest that we had never before explored, which led us to fall in love with LA and its roomy backyard all over again.

Psyche | Introspections In an Era of Uncertainty

May 15, 2020

The COVID-19 pandemic has turned the world inside out. In one fell swoop, the very nature of human connection has been rewritten. Stay-at-home orders have been imposed in cities around the world. Second-nature expressions like handshakes and hugs are a strange and distant memory. Terms like social distancing, lockdown, quarantine, and droplets (currently our least favorite word in the English language) have invaded the parlance of our times and taken root. A public health disaster whose only logical remedy is an adherence to science and data has been grossly politicized. Moral quandaries usually reserved for academic halls of philosophy are playing out the world over, pinning public health outcomes against economic well-being. The most vulnerable members of our global society — including the elderly and those living in minority communities — are dying in disproportionate numbers while medical staff are literally ill-equipped to prevent it. Patients die alone, their loved ones unable to visit them. Unemployment rates climb past Depression-era highs. On every continent, people are self-isolating while time slows and blurs.

The final resting place of a Graumann DC-16 Albatross that crash landed during a CIA operation in 1952

Hooves on the Ground: Death Valley Albatross Plane Crash Site

May 11, 2020

Death Valley National Park is a vast land full of surprises waiting to be discovered and explored. From the lowest point in North America at Badwater Basin (282 ft. below sea level) to Telescope Peak (11,049 ft.), Death Valley encompasses multiple mountain ranges, valleys, and countless canyons that offer a giant playground for exploring fascinating geology, jaw-dropping terrain, and interesting human and natural history. As the largest national park outside of Alaska, it offers limitless opportunities for exploration and is one of our favorite places to visit.

Hooves on the Ground: High Sierra Trail

September 29, 2019

When the Sierra speaks, it’s hard to argue. The HST is a historic traverse of the Range of Light from the verdant and gentle lands at Crescent Meadow in Sequoia National Park’s Giant Forest, to the rugged, weather-beaten escarpments of majestic Mt. Whitney, the highest point in the contiguous U.S. So without further ado, we decided to hike the High Sierra Trail with our pal Torin and see this wonderful stretch of land with our own eyes.

Suspension

February 9, 2019

A couple of years ago we were invited to contribute to the hiking book Wanderlust: Hiking on Legendary Trails with photos and descriptions of our 2015 trek of the John Muir Trail. It’s a beautiful coffee-table book that will make any hiker salivate. Flipping through its pages, we fell in love with many trails around the world, but one in particular seemed to beckon more strongly than the rest: the Annapurna Circuit.

Hooves on the Ground: Nepal

February 3, 2019

When we decided to trek the Annapurna Circuit, J and I had imagined we would have short hiking days with time to spare at the end of each day. Not so. And so I carried a notebook, a novel, and watercolors up and down the world’s highest mountain range and am just now documenting the trip. Now I find myself in the position of recapping an indescribably new and rich set of experiences that occurred over nearly three weeks, with no real idea of how I’m going to do them justice in retrospect, when words are a poor substitute for the real thing.

On the trail to Mt. Langley, an impressively-constructed wayfinding cairn and the breathtaking view into Sequoia National Park.

Hooves on the Ground: Cottonwood Pass and Lakes Loop (Miter Basin and Mt. Langley)

July 29, 2018

It's a lucky thing to live in California and have an excuse to visit the High Sierra in late July. Our excuse: J's birthday is July 26 -- prime time to get into those higher elevations. Every year, we make it a point to reserve a few days (or weeks) out of the summer calendar to explore a portion of the Sierra's endless network of trails. This time around we were in the mood for a shorter trek with day hiking and cross-country options for going away from camp. This loop fit the bill perfectly.

The Troubles We Carry

January 14, 2018

In the latest dearantler show, we pay homage to nature's grandest cathedrals, its most heavenward sacred spaces: mountains. From the most inviting and verdant summits, to inhospitable thin-aired peaks far above timberline, mountains offer weary human souls a dose of the grandiose, a chance for renewal, a baptismal reconnection to our primeval roots of wandering lands high and low.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

See all art posts

See all travel posts

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

How to treat sediment-laden water

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

How to treat sediment-laden water