gardinerbasin2008pagesix
Gardiner Basin 2008 Page Six
"…a thoroughly delightful stroll through the Range of Light"
The next morning was again clear and calm. Our plan was to hike back up the basin a short distance and then descend into the Rae Lakes basin via Basin Notch, a class one route according to the guidebook. We went strolling along until the triangulation of peaks from our map references seemed to fit with where the notch lay, and headed east. A couple of prominent ducks (piles of stone left by previous hikers) gave me confidence we had found the correct route. As our descent steepened, I began to doubt the classification of this route, since it was getting rather steep and slippery. Another duck reassured me that all was OK. What I should have remembered is that not everyone who leaves a stack of rocks behind knows what they're doing; in fact, those most prone to build ducks are often those with the least hiking sense. It was really getting steep, and Sam's knee was not happy about that. Things got to the point where I was wondering if we'd have to climb back up and try again. We were down far enough to be able to see the lower stretches of an easy slope - to our south. Groan. I had not gone far enough south before heading east, so we were in Basin Scramble, or perhaps Basin Slip-N-Slide, instead of Basin Notch.
After a couple of steep and slippery spots that made even my knees protest, we got to a point where mercifully the slope started to shallow out. The photo below is illustrative of what we intended to go, and where we actually did: Basin Notch is on the left; we came down between jutting boulders on the right side of the photo, with the lower part of the gully we slid down pointed to by a lone tree in the foreground.
So I was not doing so well at route-finding this day, but soon it didn't matter, since we only had to descend and then climb a short way before we could see the prominent bulk of Fin Dome to our south. A level stroll of a few hundred yards brought us to the lush greenery along the stream draining Rae Lakes Basin.
The balance of the trip would be on trails and, for the most part, descending. We had seen no other hikers the previous day, and only five on the two days prior to that. The trail we now hiked on was simultaneously the Rae Lakes Loop, the John Muir Trail, and the Pacific Crest Trail, all quite popular and well-known. We did come across a fair number of hikers over the next several hours, yet after several days of near-solitude it was a nice change to be back among our own kind. Young and old, light-hikers and monstrously overloaded "everything-but-the-kitchen-sink"ers, they all had interesting things to say and, perhaps, illustrate.
A smooth steady descent brought us to an icon of the central Sierra, the Woods Creek Suspension Bridge. There are signs at each end of the bridge that insist "ONE PERSON AT A TIME ON BRIDGE" (yes, the sign is in all-caps.) So naturally, this was our first view of the bridge:
Backpackers are nothing if not, ahem, resistant to authority. I suspect the sign would be taken a bit more seriously if it stated why only one person should cross at a time. I had found the previous year that the bridge, even with careful walking, can oscillate rather alarmingly, which I imagine could be magnified with multiple people on the span. Regardless, all seemed to be crossing without problems.
The splashing coolness of Woods Creek plus the time of day made it the perfect opportunity for lunch and leisure. There's something incredibly gratifying about taking off one's shoes and socks and plunging hot tired feet into a cold mountain stream. Ahhhh! The effect is magnified if one is quaffing a cupful of water from the stream at the same time. Delightful!
Gazing up at the span from below, I noticed a broken slat out near the center. I can imagine that gave whoever had the privilege of breaking through it quite a fright.
Cool, relaxed, and refreshed, we crossed the bridge (stepping carefully over the broken slat) and were at the trail junction where the Woods Creek Trail heads west from the John Muir Trail. Someone, a park service employee I presume, had duct-taped a hand-written note to the trail sign urging everyone to use a nearby pit toilet "…to help with sanation." I'm guessing that good spelling is not among the core values of the USNPS. :-)
The trail descended gently down the broad glaciated valley of Woods Creek, with an impressive series of sheer granitic walls to the north, identified as "Castle Domes" on the topo map. Though we had another night's camp ahead of us, and most of the trail ahead was one I'd never hiked, I had a definite feeling that the trip was winding down. That afternoon was warm, but since we were gently descending along a mostly-shaded path the walking was pleasant if not particularly eventful.
To compensate for the mild monotony of the trail, we saw several interesting groups making their way uphill. One group was particularly noteworthy. From my notes: Saw one group of five guys going up Woods Creek trail that I'd classify as Bigguspackus goofballis. They had camped somewhere in Paradise Valley, had stopped for a couple of hours "in the heat of the day" and were making their very slow way around the Rae Lakes loop. Would be interesting to see them going up the last portion of Glen Pass! Sam and I got many tens of minutes of amusement speculating afterwards about the contents of the guys' gargantuan packs. Who was carrying the keg, and who had the generator? Did any of them have a laptop, and if so, what movies had they brought along to watch? Had they brought a hatchet or an axe? Hibachi or propane barbeque? Cans of Spam or Dinty Moore Beef Stew? Hostess Ding-Dongs or Little Debbie Snack Cakes? And I suppose they probably were speculating on what obvious neophytes we both were, so obviously unprepared for the wilderness with our little dinky day-packs. Aren't humans just so much fun?
Shadows lengthened as Sam started to run out of steam. We came to the junction of the South Fork of the Kings with Woods Creek, being "greeted" by the sight of a hairy and flabby nude guy doing some sort of bathing ritual in the river which involved lots of whooping and splashing about. Humanity, sing its praises…
The next few miles of trail was a "camp in designated spaces only" area, and with the first of the campsite areas at hand we decided to stop for the night. The elevation was now down to about 6900 feet, making the evening quite comfortable, or perhaps even a bit on the warm side. The nearby campers were all (once the furry nude guy finished his exhibition) quite well-behaved and quiet. so we could enjoy the deepening darkness and silence of our final night in the wilderness.
(Photo by Sam Duran)
To my pleasant surprise, we heard no sounds associated with marauding bears during the night. The next morning was calm, with high thin clouds. Since the Paradise Valley area is in a deep canyon running north-south, we had a cool shaded stroll for quite a distance. Parts of the trail wound through lush areas of ferns, waist high or higher. At one small stream crossing, we noticed several raspberry bushes with lots of berries. It was quick work to gather enough to make a pleasant little snack.
A ways further along the trail were quite a number of elderberry bushes bearing lots of fruit. When I've sampled elderberries in the past, they've been rather tart, dry, and not particularly appealing. However, I was pleasantly surprised that these berries were quite sweet and juicy. What a treat it was to pluck a small cluster of berries, place the whole thing in my mouth, gently pull the stem through pursed lips, and have the berries all pop off their stems and flood my mouth with a quite delicious taste. An unexpected treat! There were lots of both raspberries and elderberries, so our sampling of a few trailside samples did little to diminish the supply.
Coming to the southern end of Paradise Valley, we emerged into sunlight and were presented with the triple challenge of steeper downhill slopes, higher temperatures, and untold millions of tiny pesky gnats that turned out to be at least moderately interested in collecting a meal of warm mammalian blood. The steeper trail even had sizable sections of steps, which of course are sized for horses (thanks SO much, Park Service) so put lots of stress on the knees of shorter-legged humans. This was not much fun for Sam, with his sore knee still bothering him, but with the help of his hiking poles he made steady but slow progress.
We stopped for a brief view of Mist Falls, but the gnats made it unpleasant to be motionless for any length of time. The temperature was now above 90 degrees, but thankfully there were lots of shady spots. The final couple of miles saw us meeting a fair number of day-hikers, most of whom were without drinking water or hats and panting from the heat.
As we approached the trailhead, I reflected on the hike. We'd gone slower than I had planned, at least partially due to Sam's painful knee, but the trip plan had had enough slack that we'd still come out on the day we'd planned. I'd concluded that both my pack and my hiking poles were a bit too fragile to take into rougher areas like we'd traversed. We'd seen some beautiful country and had been stimulated by interesting route-finding challenges. All in all, a thoroughly delightful stroll through the Range of Light.
From the trailhead, we drove back to Sam's house, stopping in Visalia to gorge ourselves on burgers. My journal records: Rode motorbike back over ridge route, no problems, craziest traffic was along 210 and not so crazy even then. Back home at ~6:30 PM in time to shower, shave, and eat dinner.
A postscript: Sam's knee was still painful a few weeks after our hike so he had it examined. His doctor found some torn tissue and did some corrective surgery. The repaired knee is now fine; Sam reports it's now stronger and less problematic than his other knee!
