Getting Out: The danger of traveling alone in the wilderness is
overblown. Various agencies insist that venturing into the
backcountry with a companion is the only prudent thing to do,
mostly out of a fear of being sued if someone is hurt on a solo
trip. As long as a person does not exceed their abilities, I
recommend solitude in the wilderness.
This column usually describes outings accessible to hikers of all skill levels. Last week, I lit out for the high country and a short trip that will interest those of you looking for more adventure.
I have written that mountain alpine landscapes – near or above timberline – are the regions that resonate with me. There is solitude, land nearly untouched and a sense of adventure there. Situations that can be solved by going indoors, making a phone call or flipping a switch in the city take on greater implications and require imaginative self-reliance in an off-trail mountain location.
What if my equipment fails? What if I fall?
The danger of traveling alone in the wilderness is overblown. Various agencies insist that venturing into the backcountry with a companion is the only prudent thing to do, mostly out of a fear of being sued if someone is hurt on a solo trip. As long as a person does not exceed their abilities, I recommend solitude in the wilderness. You’ll never feel more alone or vulnerable. Sadly, we are rarely exposed to those feelings; everything is comfortable and under our control.
A little “Oh-oh, what now?” is good for us.
Last week, I went to Yosemite to chase a view and a photograph I have had in mind for a couple years. Once before, I took a day hike to Mammoth Peak atop the Kuna Crest for the view of Mount Lyell and Mount Maclure. The view was grand but the midday light lacked the drama I wanted for a good photograph. The only way to see the morning light on Mount Lyell from Mammoth Peak was to wake up there.
Above Tuolumne Meadows on U.S. Highway 120, the peaks of the Sierra crest loom ahead. A mile or so below Tioga Pass, I parked at the trailhead leading to Mono Pass and Parker Pass – my jumping-off point.
I have walked this trail many times, and it is a fabulous trail for any day hike. Abandoned mines and decrepit cabins dot this pleasant four-mile walk along a rushing creek to Mono Pass, the main historical pass over the mountains in this region.
But my path followed the trail for only two miles or so before I turned right toward Mammoth Peak. Mammoth Peak (12,106 feet) sits at the end of the Kuna Crest, which separates the drainage followed by this trail and the Lyell Fork of the Tuolumne River (the route of the John Muir Trail) on the other side.
The fun and the adventure begin here. No trail, just you – pack on your back – choosing the best course up the fall line. I climbed above an open forest of lodgepole pines onto a flat green oasis, perhaps a quarter mile wide, traversed by just-born streams. Above, the trees stunted to shrub-size, there loomed a 500-foot stack of granite blocks – steep, but easily passable with enough zigging and zagging.
Then the landscape opened into the cirque beneath the peak carved out 10,000 years ago by an ancient glacier. Here was scenery to enchant the most barren soul – granite, greenery and carpets of pink heather pierced by gurgling snowmelt, all arranged in the most artistic way. I pulled out my stove, prepared dinner and lingered in this beautiful setting.
The last 1,000 feet grew tougher with each step up steep rock-scree slopes and snow fields, the trees left far below. I finally reached the crest and the amazing view on the other side: Tuolumne Meadows below and vast reaches of Yosemite beyond.
The rest – the best part – was just being there. I found a small flat sandy spot among the rocks for my sleeping bag. Then, I just looked and looked and looked. And, of course, when sunrise came, I took my picture.
Ron Erskine is an outdoors columnist. His column appears every Sunday online at www.freelancenews.com. You can reach him at:
ro********@ms*.com
