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Gardiner Basin 2008 Page Two
"…putting one foot ahead of the other…"
Dawn saw us refreshed and on our way in the cool of the morning. Junction Meadow was just a short stroll up the trail, a shaggy green glade in the forest, sprinkled with flowers.
A trail splits off from our eastbound trail to the south, requiring a crossing of Bubb's Creek that guidebooks and the Park Service warn is dangerous when the creek is still swollen with snowmelt. I was glad we did not plan to turn off that way. Firing up my SPOT, I sent another position report to the folks back home as we studied our maps, ate a bit of breakfast, and brushed our teeth.
For those unfamiliar with the SPOT, it's a compact device that can send a signal to overhead satellites, listing present position within one of three pre-canned messages: OK, Help, or 911. For the folks back home, the messages (hopefully all of the "OK" variety) provide some peace of mind plus an opportunity to follow along during each day on a Google Map display; for us on the trail, the SPOT is a good way to feel a bit more responsible plus gives us a safety net if we ever need it. Not every position report gets through, but enough do to have a track of one's route once you return home. I bought one as soon as they became available in late 2007. In the photo above of my pack leaning against the trailsign, my SPOT is the orange blob on top of the signpost, syncing up with the GPS constellation in preparation for sending a data packet to an overhead Globalstar satellite. Definitely cool technology, and even for a lightweight hiker like me it's 7.3 ounces I am glad to carry. A cell phone in the Sierra is, with a very few exceptions, little more than a heavy dim night light, something best left back at the trailhead; the SPOT works most anywhere in the world where you have a clear view of the sky.
Glacially-carved canyons like that of Bubbs Creek seldom have a constant downstream gradient; more often they will be an alternating series of level areas and steeper slopes. That morning we came to one of the steeper slopes, caused, as usual, by an area of hard unfractured rock that resisted the abrasion of the glaciers. At the top of the slope there was a beautiful microcosm of water, granite, flowers, and trees. We stopped for a rest.
The water-scalloped granite was as smooth as a baby's cheek. Bubbs Creek whispered by, breaking into noisy cascades just downstream, leaping out into space on its journey westwards. Flowers around the edge of this rocky sanctuary were subdued but numerous. Quite the magical spot. Ahhh…
Refreshed, we continued up the canyon towards the junction with the John Muir trail. The next couple of miles were dominated by encounters with animal life. First there was a mule deer doe, ears a-wagging, and then several interesting hikers too, including a character who styled himself Grasshopper. From my journal: Met up with Grasshopper, on trail since June as no work for caddies in Las Vegas over the summer. Saw another couple on their way to Lake Tahoe, several other Muir Trail hikers. The Grasshopper guy said he'd never really done any hiking but had just decided to give it a try. A few folks along the trails apparently took pity on him, steering him towards lighter equipment and better trail techniques: "Ah, Grasshopper, you have much to learn." It seemed he was learning quite a bit and enjoying himself along the way; quite the free spirit.
Green vistas of Vidette Meadow and small lovely creeks continued to ornament our way. Coming on the junction with the John Muir Trail, we headed northward and upward. The higher altitude was starting to make itself felt, with Sam bemoaning his (to him) slow progress. But with putting one foot ahead of the other we steadily wound up the switchbacks and topped out around 10,800 feet. From that point it was an effortless mile of trail and 500 feet of descent to Charlotte Lake, where we paused. I munched on some food and did a spot of wash. Sam decided a nap was in order and dozed off in the shade.
The quite excellent guidebook on the High Sierra by R. J. Secor describes, on page 153 in the Second Edition, our upcoming route this way: "At one time there was a trail over Gardiner Pass, but it has been abandoned for a long time. Traces of it may still be seen, however." Secor is accused, like most other authors writing about the Sierra, of under-emphasizing the difficulty of many climbing routes. In this case, however, his description made it seem that we would be walking cross-country off trail, where what we found instead was a quite distinct trail that was easy to follow. I would invert Secor's description and say that the trail has occasional faint spots. The first portion west of Charlotte Lake wends through meadowed areas; as we headed westward, the trail stayed at a fairly constant altitude while the creek descended and grew ever further from us. Charlotte Dome lay ahead, a bit obscured by the smoky skies caused by a fire in the Middle Fork Kings drainage. I could see on the topo map that we'd reach a creek at the point where the old trail started heading upwards to the pass. Sam bravely soldiered on but I noticed he was again starting to fade as the afternoon lengthened. When it appeared he was almost out of steam, we came upon a place where others had camped before. Just to the west the terrain dipped; I raced ahead and found to my relief the creek we'd been hoping to see. I filled up water bottles and took them back to the campsite where we set up our tents. My journal reads: Walked from about 8:15 AM to 6:45 PM. Good dinner, was quite hungry. Thankfully not so hot today. Just a few cumulus clouds later in afternoon, like yesterday. My journal failed to mention that once again Sam was so tired that he didn't have the energy to eat much of anything.
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