Trip Report: Pacific Crest Trail, Section-I
July 29 through August 2, 2004

By Steve Sergeant

Leader: Steve Sergeant
Participants: Lisa Barboza, Bill Coffman, Doug Gordon, Godfrey van der Linden

Section I of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) runs 76.4 miles from Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite National Park, to Sonora Pass on the border between the Toyabe National Forest and the Stanislaus National Forest. It covers the transition from the granitic landscapes of Yosemite to the basaltic (volcanic) landscapes of the eastern Emigrant Wilderness. As a Fast & Light trip, I recommended that participants keep their base pack weight (not counting food, fuel or water) under 15 pounds.

Our plan was to meet at Sonora Pass on Thursday morning, and car-shuttle over to Tuolumne Meadows, leaving a car at Sonora Pass. However, we all managed to meet at the Forest Service's Dardanelle Campground on Wednesday night, and share a campsite. That made coordination on Thursday morning much easier.

Thursday, July 29, 2004

14 miles.

We arrived about 8:15 in two separate cars at the Sonora Pass trailhead. After reshuffling some gear, we drove one car down the hill east on highway 108, south on 395, and west on highway 120 over Tioga Pass. This driving, final gear reshuffling, and getting our wilderness permit took us about 2:30 hours. After a review of plans and rules, we were finally hiking along the Tuolumne River by 10:55.

The PCT from Tuolumne Meadows to the Glen Aulin High Sierra Camp is a busy highway traversed by day hikers, horse campers, backpackers, and lodgers at the High Sierra Camp. We passed tens of people going each direction.

We talked to one hiker who had started at Sonora Pass. He said that there was one difficult snow field to cross near Sonora Pass, and that there was no water between Glen Aulin and Virginia Canyon. This would turn out to be useful information.

We took our lunch break at the base of Tuolumne Falls. Two of us went for a quick swim, while others just relaxed. Hiking the remaining 0.7 miles to Glen Aulin, we refilled our water containers before heading up Cold Canyon.

My original plan was to hike to the top of Cold Canyon, stop for dinner at the last water near the top of the canyon, and then "stealth" camp at the top of the canyon. This would make a half-day hike of 10 miles. If there wasn't water in the canyon, then we would have to hike farther.

Luckily, we were making better time than I'd planned for, and by 4PM or so, we were hiking past my originally planned campsite. Near the highest point of cold canyon, before we descended into Virginia canyon, Lisa, leading the pack, nearly stumbled over a dead deer. It was small, a fawn, and squarely in the middle of the trail. It's neck looked broken, due to the unnaturally twisted position of it. We quickly realized that the deer was probably the prey of a large cat, and that the predator was probably nearby, watching us. With that thought, we moved along without disturbing the kill, and began the descent into Virginia Canyon.

We stopped for dinner at the first stream crossing. After dinner, we hiked about a mile and a half into Spiller Creek Canyon to look for a camp site. Along the way we saw people in a stream side campsite, the first people we'd seen since Glen Aulin. Hiking higher, we found a pleasant stealth campsite, though not as flat as we'd hoped, just short of the point where the trail climbs out of the canyon.

Three of us pitched tarps, one a tarp/tent hybrid, and one slept in a bivy sack. The variations in lightweight gear were valuable to compare and contrast for all of us.

Friday, July 30, 2004

17 Miles.

We were up by 6AM — right at sunrise. None of us slept so well — suffering from some combination of altitude and dehydration. We ate breakfast in camp. By the time everyone in the group was ready to hike, it was 7:49 AM.

We climbed out of the canyon, and on to a plateau. At Miller Lake, an appealing beach enticed us to stop for a swim. Miller Lake was reasonably warm, and we had it to ourselves. After half an hour, we left the lake and hiked to the descent into Matterhorn Canyon.

An easy ford at the bottom of the canyon was followed by a nice walk through a meadow, and then a climb into Wilson Creek Canyon. During lunch at our highest point in the canyon, several hikers walked by us — the first other people we'd seen that day. Then we began the climb to 10,210' Benson Pass. This initial ascent was very steep, but nicely shaded. Near the top the trail became dry, dusty, and exposed. We reached the top about 2PM.

Taking a break on the pass, some of us scrambled up for a better view. Some rested from the tiring climb. I tried to make a ham radio contact outside the park, without luck.

The descent from Benson Pass started out quite steep, and on loose sandy trail. The route was in a narrow canyon, which opened up into a meadow. We took a break in the meadow above Smedberg Lake, and then hiked by the lake and over a ridge before descending into Benson Lake's valley. Near the top of the ridge we passed my originally planned campsite for the evening.

Now ahead of schedule, we stopped for dinner at a stream crossing. While we were cooking and eating, a man appeared who was traveling our route in the opposite direction. He told us that a large group of horse packers, ahead of us, had taken over the campsites at Benson Lake. We had no plans on camping there anyway, but it was a signal to me to be more bear-aware, since "urbanized" bears are known to haunt Benson Lake anyway.

After dinner, we descended into the Benson Lake valley. It was a damp, densely vegetated, mosquito-infested valley floor. We looked for a higher and drier campsite on a shelf and after some climbing around, we found one. The site was dry, flat, and had plenty pine duff to sleep on.

We'd found camp early enough that Lisa and Doug had time to run the 0.6 miles down to Benson Lake to see the notorious "Benson Riviera." When they returned, after less than 30 minutes, they reported that there were over 30 horses and mules near the lake. These beasts had carried in a bustling campsite of about 20 people. Many large dome tents, and an elaborate kitchen tent turned the backcountry site into a nearly urban, resort setting. Many of the horses and mules had large "cow bells" on them. We could hear the bells all night from our campsite.

Saturday, July 31, 2004

18 Miles.

We knew we had a big climb ahead, so we got up at 5:45 AM, about 15 minutes before sunrise, and packed-up to hike before breakfast. We were on the trail within an hour. We stopped for 30 minute breakfast break at the first water crossing on the 1,700' climb to Seavey Pass.

The climb to Seavey Pass is shaded and in most places thickly forested. We called it "Teasy Pass", because we repeatedly climbed onto shelves that looked like they might be the summit, only to find that there was more climb to go. But before 10AM, we really were at the summit, and made the short descent down the other side into Kerrick Canyon, where we would remain for much of the mid-day.

Kerrick Canyon was possibly the most beautiful canyon of the trip. A tall, narrow, granite-walled canyon, thickly forested, with a full and swiftly running stream at the bottom, it was definitely the best of the kind of scenery that attacts me most to the mountains.

We hiked downstream and downhill for about two hours, until we came to a trail junction and a crossing of that stream. There, beside a large camp that looked like it belonged to a trail maintenance crew, we stopped for lunch and a laundry break.

Godfrey had never done laundry on the trail before, so the process was educational for him. I've developed a very effective system using a heavy-duty zippered bag, and the process went quickly for me. All of our chores at that stop, including lunch, took us just over an hour.

Leaving the trail crew camp and Kerrick Canyon, we climbed an unnamed ridge. This 750' tall ridge was south-facing, dusty, and mostly shadeless. At the top we immediately descended into Stubblefield Canyon on the shady, north-facing side. Both Bill and Godfrey, the less-experienced members of our party, were slowing down a lot on these climbs. I started to be concerned about falling behind our schedule.

We had two stream crossings at the bottom of Stubblefield Canyon. At the second one we had a wet ford. We stopped after crossing the stream to top-off everyone's water supplies before the long, south-facing 1,400' ascent of Macomb Ridge.

At a point early in the climb, as Lisa was getting far ahead of the rest of us, I starting thinking about her always upbeat personality, her seemingly bottomless reserve of energy, and the speed at which she climbed the hills, far ahead of the rest of us. "Buoyant," I thought.

I told the rest of the crew about though-hiker trail names — how they're always bestowed, never chosen, and how they're used to exclusion of the individual's given and family names. I suggested bestowing the name of "Her Buoyancy," on Lisa. Nobody had any better suggestions.

This climb was certainly hot and dusty. The route tended westward on a southeasterly-facing hillside. The early afternoon sun was in our faces. Bill, with an increasing number of blisters and an over-packed food supply, was having a particularly difficult time keeping up the pace. We stopped to lighten his load, moving some of his gear and supplies to Doug's and my packs.

The cool and shady descent down the east side of Macomb Ridge brought us quickly to a slightly late dinner stop on Wilma Lake. The lake shore was marshy, but we each found our own firm, dry rock to use as our kitchens. Her Buoyancy went for a swim. She had the free time since her canister stove made cooking quicker for her than the rest of us, with our ultralight alcohol stoves.

The water here was murky and full of particulates. I used a bandana to filter the visible pieces out of the water before I boiled it for cooking.

Hiking beyond Wilma Lake, we went downstream to its outlet, and turned up Jack Main Canyon to follow Falls Creek. We passed a closed-up ranger station. A little over a half mile short of my originally planned campsite, which was to be at the northern junction to Tilden Lake, we found an excellent site. It was completely flat, and had deep patches of soft pine duff.

It also had a tall steel poll adorned with black, ladder-like metal strips that served as a snow depth guage visible from aircraft.

Our site, however, was not far enough away from the water to avoid voracious mosquitos — the worst we'd experienced on the trip.

As we settled in, we realized that none of us had seen a person all day. Pretty good for Yosemite National Park in the summer!

Sunday, August 1, 2004

18 Miles.

We knew we had to make good time on the trail this day, so we all woke up near first light, perhaps a little after 5:30. As we were packing up, we saw another, solo hiker going down the trail, coming from the direction we'd be going. He probably didn't see us, and so we didn't talk to him.

Hiking by 6:20, we walked a bit past the Tilden Lake junction, and continued until the sun rose enough to reveal some sun-warmed rocks at a cascade point along Falls Creek. There we stopped for breakfast.

While we were finishing our breakfasts, Lisa slipped and fell into the creek up to her waist. Cold and wet, she was anxious to start hiking quickly, expecting to dry out in the sun. We scurried to pack up and go. She warmed up quickly hiking, and her clothes were dry by the next rest stop.

We climbed gradually up the canyon covering the comparatively flat land at a good clip. We passed through meadows and forests, and watched Falls Creek get small and slower as we ascended. As we got higher, everything was in bloom. Without knowing the names, I counted more than 25 different species of flowering plants.

We encountered other people for the first time in over a day at the junction to Bond Pass, 0.6 miles from Dorothy Lake. Two women had come in over Dorothy Lake Pass, and were heading right out of the park again over Bond Pass. They were waiting for two friends with dogs. I decided not to play citizen-ranger regarding the dogs.

We saw more people in the distance at the Dorothy Lake horse camp, but we hiked by unnoticed. Nearer to the northwest corner of the lake shore, we found a grassy area leading up to a narrow, sandy beach. In the warm sun and cool breeze, none of us could resist a swim. The lake floor was shallow for the first 15 - 20 feet, where the water was relatively warm, and then dropped off quickly into much colder water. Within a half hour, we were dry again and ready to hike.

Less than 20 minutes hiking brought us to the summit of Dorothy Lake Pass. I produced a mini-platy of single-malt scotch to toast our departure from Yosemite. Everyone had a small sip.

As we descended into the Cascade Creek drainage in the Toiyabe National Forest, we noticed an abrupt change in the vegetation, and greater variation in the rock types. We were frequently seeing basaltic rocks in place of granite, and the plants were more of the sparse varieties found in the more arid, Eastern Sierra slopes.

We saw a number of fishermen along the way. We passed a pack train of about eight animals going up toward Dorothy Lake Pass. We stopped for a late lunch just beyond a foot bridge over Cascade Creek.

We saw granite less and less frequently and the dry basaltic scree more and more. We ascended another small ridge — a 250' climb followed by a 400' descent brought us to the sturdy metal bridge over the Walker River.

Following that crossing, the trail pulled away from the river, and continued through forest and arid meadow along the western wall of the Walker River Canyon, until it turned westward to climb into Kennedy Canyon.

We were told by another hiker that there was no water in Kennedy Canyon, so we climbed cautiously, watching the terrain and listening for water, in search of a dinner site. When we arrived at what the guide book describes as the last good campsite, beside a creek, we selected it as our dinner site. The site had a lot of cow pies. We wondered what cows would eat in this scree-covered area generally devoid of grass-like plants.

Our goal after dinner was to hike as high as we could in Kennedy Canyon, to find a campsite close to our climb up onto the Leavitt Peak ridge. We found one flat spot, but the wind had picked up and I was concerned about camping with our light tarps in that strong, cold wind. Descending a bit, we found a clump of trees that had a bit more slope, but better wind shelter, both from the trees and from hill on two sides. There were plenty of cow pies, which we had to clear from desirable flat spots, But there was also an adequate carpet of white pine duff to protect us from the sharp, volcanic scree underneath.

Instead of my usual, larger, roof-tarp, I pitched my poncho-tarp as a two-sided wind break, relying on two fallen logs as two other sides of my wind break. Doug shared Bill's two-person, three-sided tarp for better windbreak. At this 9,400' site, the temperature dropped quickly as we all settled in.

Monday, August 2, 2004

10 Miles.

The wind gusted strongly all night. Everyone stayed warm, but I was disturbed by the flapping of my tarp in the stronger gusts. I suspect that Bill, Doug, and Godfrey were too. Her Buoyancy was snug and well-protected in her bivy sack.

We were all out of bed promptly at 5:30. I changed our original plan, which was to be hiking by 6:00 and to eat breakfast on the trail, to eating breakfast in camp for the benefit of those who had hot breakfasts and alcohol stoves.

On the trail by 6:45, we started climbing up to the 10,500' Leavitt Peak ridge. The long climb was made somewhat easier by the cool of the morning. When the wind gusted, and it was chilly. None of us were too hot.

The climb was made more difficult by the trail surface: More basaltic scree. It wasn't unlike walking in sand in the way we sank in. The top of the ridge was very windy, and so we skipped our typical hourly break, hoping to find shelter from the wind further along.

Because of the wind, we skipped two of our usual, hourly breaks. We were all eager to continue as Doug's car was seeming closer and closer.

With a view into deep, glacial canyons and over the haze of the central valley to the west, and a view over the ridges of several desert mountain ranges to the east, we felt for the first time of the hike like we really were on the Pacific Crest.

Near Leavitt Peak itself, slightly above Latopie Lake, we encountered a steeply inclined snow field. I remembered one hiker telling us we'd have to go around it. But after Her Buoyancy started to just dance across it, the rest of us had to as well. Though it was a tense experience for the rest of us, it was a worthwhile one, and thankfully uneventful.

Soon after, we stopped to rest at a well sheltered saddle. Bill's legs were cramping-up on the descents, and we offered to carry some of his gear. But he wanted to finish the trip on his own. After the break we continued, but the group spread out much more, as Her Buoyancy danced ahead, Bill went the pace that he could, and I lead from the rear.

From the saddle, we saw another hiker approaching, almost a mile away. When I finally passed him coming the other way, he didn't say a word to us. Perhaps Godfrey and Lisa, who were far ahead, did chat with him some.

At then end of the ridge, with the trailhead parking lot in site, we still had the 1.5 mile descent into Sardine Creek Canyon. The trail route forms an arc around the bowl at the top of the canyon. Though we were probably 1/4 mile from the trailhead by air, we were still over a mile by trail.

Her Buoyancy arrived back at the car very shortly after 11:00 AM, roughly 96 hours after we'd started. Godfrey arrived just a few minutes later, and Bill, Doug and I arrived by noon.

As we rode in Doug's car back to Tuolumne Meadows, everyone agreed that they're eager to hike another section of the Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail.