The High Sierra Trail and The Kaweah Basin — Sequoia NP — July 2018
The High Sierra Trail is a ~75 mile east/west journey across the Sierras starting in Crescent Meadow and finishing at the summit of Mt. Whitney. It is the only official east/west traverse of the Sierras, making it a great opportunity to see first hand how the topography changes from gentle sloping western side of the mountain range to the high country (10,000+ feet above sea level) along the crest and on the eastern side. I had been meaning to hike the High Sierra Trail for a while, but it took years for me to summon the courage to face the logistical challenges that would be involved. I’m really happy I did because this was by far the most beautiful walk I had ever gone through with to this point, and it totally changed how I view myself and, and honestly, my connection to the Sierra Nevada.
PLANNING (this part is boring if you’re not interested in doing the trail yourself)
There’s no way around the logistical problems that are involved in every thru hike. Permits and transportation are always going to pose an issue.
Permit: I aimed to finish the trail on July 4th to coincide with a slow work week, at the same time knowing that this would significantly increase the difficulty of getting a permit. The SEKI NP(Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Park) Wilderness Office starts taking permit applications on March 1st at midnight, and knowing I needed to be one of the first permits apps in, I stayed up the night before and pressed send immediately at 12:01am. Thankfully, they notified me a few weeks later that I had been granted a permit, and so it was official.
Transportation: I had originally planned to do this trip with a good friend of mine, but he had to back out a week before the hike due to a work-related issue. Our plan was to do a car drop at the exit and then drive to the trailhead where we would then retrieve it afterwards. However, after he bailed, he felt bad about stranding me and offered to pick me up from the exit (Whitney Portal) which was extremely helpful. This only left me with needing to get a ride to the trailhead (Crescent Meadows). Luckily, my roommate and her boyfriend were happy to take a trip to the Sequoias and make a weekend out of it (Thank you Tony and Orly!).
A note about doing the trip solo:
When my friend bailed, I knew it would be tough to find a replacement. A 75 mile journey over 6 days typically requires good upfront notice due to the physical fitness required. Nonetheless, I already had the idea of doing the hike alone in the back of my mind, and after considering a few random strangers from the internet, I made the decision that it was just going to be me.
The reason I decided to do this alone was because I knew that this would be a really special time in my life, and by doing it alone, I would never have to make any concessions when it came to things like mileage or where to stop. Also, there’s just something really nice about being in the mountains by yourself. There’s a meditative state that I enter while hiking alone, and in a totally connected world, having the time to yourself to sort out some of your thoughts and emotions feels therapeutic. Interestingly enough, it turned out that this fact — that I would be completely alone for 6 days — was the most shocking to just about everyone. Most people were jarred at the idea of being alone for so long, but even crazier was the fact that I was never once bored. People commented about how they don’t think they could ever be with themselves for that long by themselves (which is a bit sad), but I never found myself either without something to do or with a smile on my face due to the view in front of me. I even brought one of my favorite books and failed to read a single page.
TRIP REPORT
Day 1 (Crescent Meadows to Hamilton Lakes, 14 miles, Total Elevation Gain: +5049', Total Elevation Lost: -3515'):
I was able to pickup my permit around 9:45 and hit the trailhead a little after that. A late start, but I had come from LA and we left as early as possible. It was a beautiful day to be in the mountains, and with a full (read: heavy) pack and tons of enthusiasm, I said my goodbyes and took off into the mountains.
The beginning of the HST is a slow climb up the drainage canyon carved by the the Middle Fork of the Kaweah River. It’s a beautiful walk that features tons of wildflowers and great views of the Great Western Divide in the distance.
It’s crazy how the peaks of the GWD look so far away from this part of the trail, but that by the end of the day I would begin my ascent up those mountains, and then cross over them the following morning. With every step, the massive granite walls became larger and more imposing, and I began to get a bit nervous about the approaching ascent. That all faded away when after an hour or so, I got my first good/up-close view of the GWD.
After about another hour or so, I took my first lunch break at Bearpaw Meadow. Bearpaw Meadow was actually one of my favorite parts of the entire trip because it was the first High Sierra Camp that I had ever been to. High Sierra Camps are an amazing concept: they’re basically small glamping setups operated by the NPS throughout the Sierra that you can book like a hotel room and they come with beds, showers, toilet, and food. Albeit expensive, they’re a great way to get someone into the mountains who isn’t able to walk with all their stuff or interested in sleeping on the floor in a tent (I’m always searching for gateway drug to get people addicted to being in the mountains, and I think Bearpaw Meadow is it). The meals looked great too. I made it here around 2pm, and at my lunch on the porch overlooking the GWD. Bearpaw Meadow sells fresh baked brownies and coffee to backpackers passing through. The brownies were massive, warm inside, and generally amazing for someone who had just walked 11 miles.
I still had about 4 miles to go (all up-hill), so I marched on towards Hamilton Lakes. I started to get really tired in the final ascent up to Hamilton Lakes. It had been a long first day at about 14 miles and I was starting to really feel the weight of my pack. As I approached Hamilton Lakes, I saw what possibly may be my favorite rock/cliff-face outside of the Yosemite Valley. Valhalla, named after the hall of slain heroes in Norse mythology, is a huge 2000 ft cliff that bursts into the sky out of no where and peers over Hamilton Lakes (there’s actually a few Valhallas throughout the Sierra). It’s got a few massive cuts that go the entire length, and overall is just a beautiful rock to stare at.
Few things are as nice as cold-soaking your legs after a 14 mile walk. With respect to Hamilton Lake, it’s clear why this is such a popular destination. It sits in a perfect glacially carved cirque bowl composed by sheer granite walls, with huge peaks all around and multiple waterfalls constantly flowing. It was a beautiful way to end my first day on the HST: sunset in the mountains on the shores of a beautiful alpine lake.
Day 2 (Hamilton Lakes to Kern River Hot Springs, 18.7 miles, Total Elevation Gain: +4150', Total Elevation Lost: -5489'):
I knew Day 2 would be hard, but I honestly had no idea how badly I was about to get my ass beat by the trail in front of me. Hiking 18 miles when you don’t have your “trail feet” yet can be brutal.
The first section of the trail was a 2400+ foot march up to the Kaweah Gap, finishing my ascent of the Great Western Divide. This first part of the hike is 2477 feet to be exact, spread out over the course of 3 miles and nothing but swtichbacks. I clearly still didn’t have my legs under me, and I got killed. It took me two full hours to make the climb, and the only redeeming part was the view of Hamilton Lake as I scaled the walls that surrounded it.
I quickly approached one of the most famous alpine lakes in the entire Sierra, Precipice Lake, which gained its notoriety from an Ansel Adams photograph some 60 years ago. The pictures of this place do not do it justice as it is just too big and the sheer walls driving directly into the water are too high. It’s really incredible, as I’ve never seen a lake where half of the lake does not have a shoreline, just granite walls. The grey and black walls, mixed with the green shrubs and white snow create a color scheme that you really don’t see outside of the high country. It also has this amazing crystal clear water, and a blueish greenish gradient adding to the picturesque backdrop. The unfortunate part of my experience at Precipice Lake was the fact that, being early July, the snow had just started to melt off, and that meant that the first hatch of Mosquitoes were out in full force. Immediately upon sitting down to take a rest and enjoy the view, I was totally swarmed. Up until this point, I had a relatively bug-free experience, but this was crazy. These guys were on a mission…even piercing my shirt! I gave myself a few spritzes of my 100% DEET, put my net on, and pushed forward.
The skeeters (mosquitoes) showed no mercy all throughout the Kaweah Gap and didn’t relent until I started dropping down into the Big Arroyo. If you refer to the picture at the top of this post, the Big Arroyo is the left side of the “U” that the High Sierra Trail makes around the Great Western Divide, and more specifically the Kaweahs. I hadn’t expected much from this part of the trail, but it was an absolutely spectacular treat.
Once I started to make my way through this prototypical “U” shaped glacier-carved canyons, I was overcome with the joy simply because of how pleasant and beautiful this area was. I was ecstatic to finally walk through one of these glacier-canyons that the High Sierra is so well known for. As your first approach, it becomes easy to imagine a huge river of ice crunching it’s way down from the higher country to the north. But now, 20,000 years later, there are soft-flowing, shallow streams everywhere you look filled with fresh, ice-cold champagne water. The valley is filled with ankle-high grass, and dotted with beautiful, unimposing trees that are short enough to allow for an expansive view of the entire valley (this is likely due to the fact that the snow and winds up here are probably relentless during the winter). On either side of you are massive and smooth granite walls sloping down into the drainage. My favorite part out of all of this were the patches of wildflowers in full bloom that carpeted the valley floor. I needed to soak in this view a bit more, so I picked a spot under a tree and made a tuna and cheese taco (#trailmeals).
Between all of the sight-seeing and awesome landscape, the first half of this day is a day in the mountains I’ll never forget. However, I tend to block out the time between eating my meal along the Big Arroyo and getting to my campsite at the hot spring. It’s at this point that the trail starts to steadily ascend up to the Chagoopa plateau (in an almost straight line uphill for what seemed like forever) in the direction of the Kern River valley, but also the time when my feet start to throb horribly in pain due to either my shoes starting to swell and becoming too tight. Up to that point, I had walked about 7 miles or so and gained about 3500 feet of elevation, but I had about 11 miles left to go, and I knew that I would throw off the rest of the trip if i didn’t make it to the hot springs that night. And to be totally honest, all of the pain just deepened the desire for a boiling hot spring. Eventually the pain got so bad that I had to take a break around once every mile, but each break provided a great view and the understanding that I was that much closer to chilling in a natural jacuzzi.
Alas, I make it across the plateau and I get my first view of the Kern River Valley. The Kern River is another massive drainage (probably one of the most significant) in the southern Sierra that you can even see from an airplane. It creates another perfect “U” and looks almost like a straight line with 3000 foot walls on either side. As beautiful as that first view of canyon was, I knew that every single step down (all 6–7 miles of it) was going to be painful.
Finally, after about 9ish hours of hiking and an endless amount of throbbing pain, the trail provided and the hot springs came into view. I really couldn’t believe my eyes that in the middle of this awful day I was actually about to have a piping hot bath. I was exhausted, hungry, and annoyed about the previous few hours, so I didn’t even really talk to the other pair of hikers who were getting out of the cement bath, and I so after soaking in the tub I sent up camp, made dinner, and passed out. Although this would become common, this evening was the first night in my entire life where i experienced throbbing throughout my legs upon laying down to sleep.
DAY 3 (Kern River Hot Spring to Pickett Creek/Picket Guard Basin, 11 Miles, Total Elevation Gain: +4379', Total Elevation Lost: -622 (basically all uphill)):
T’was a late start indeed. I think I slept for almost 12 hours, getting up to break down camp around 9:30am which is about 1–3 hours later than usual. After breakfast, I (obviously) opted for another soak in the hot spring to soak my sore legs and get cleaned up. I was also able to get to know my neighbors a bit more this morning, and it turns out that they were pretty cool. The notable thing about this interaction was meeting this guy who was hiking in the mountains for a solid month in sandals. At any rate, we took a few photos and went on our way as I had a long walk up the Kern River Valley that day and my first foray into off-trail/cross-country hiking in front of me.
*Another interesting note about the interaction with this couple was that it was the last time I would see another person until the middle of Day 5, 2.5 days later.
The geography for the first half of the day was pretty consistent: ridges, sheer granite walls, and mountain peaks. What was interesting and unique about the majority of todays hike was that it was spent deep inside river valley that was densely wooded with a ton of tributary crossings (and a ton of hungry mosquitoes). There were a few meadows here and there to provide a clearing and view of the walls on either side, but for the first few hours of the day I enjoyed a ton of shade and bird watching. I must admit that although i love the high country, the contrast of being in a river valley was nice.
The first meadow that I encountered turned out to be one of the highlights of the entire trip. Up to this point, I hadn’t really been able to get a good view of the canyon walls due to all of the trees blocking my view. However, after about an hour, while eating my first Snickers bar of the day, the trail opened up and in front of me was this picture perfect meadow clear of trees and a beautiful view of the canyon walls around me. What made this moment so special was that while eating my Snickers, a bald eagle lept out of the trees and started to soar to the top of the walls. I couldn’t believe the situation I was in: It’s a beautiful sunny day and i’m taking a quick rest with a Snickers bar in a picture perfect meadow and out of no where I get an up-close and personal view of a bald eagle in it’s natural habitat. Years later and it still brings a grin to my face.
The trail was more of the same for the rest of the day until after about 3.5 hours there was a break in the west side of the canyon walls and I got my first view of the Colby Pass trail, which is a lightly used trail that follows the steep and raging Kern-Kaweah River.
As you can see from the terrain statistics, the trail really starts to pick up in intensity, but so does the cloud coverage and it became clear that I was being threatened with an afternoon thunder storm. Although this is common in the Sierra, especially on nice summer days, it’s never fun to think about being caught in a storm while exposed on a relatively bare mountain pass. I pressed on and thankfully nothing came of it, but it definitely put me on edge during the ascent up the Colby Pass. After a few miles, I started my search for where I was going to cross the Kern-Kaweah as I soon needed to leave the trail and make my cross-country climb up to the Picket Guard basin where I intended to set up camp for the night. I didn’t have a ton of daylight remaining and so I knew I needed to move quickly (this was also amplified bc I could feel myself being eaten up by more mosquitoes given my proximity to a river). The problem was, the Kern-Kaweah at this time isn’t exactly a calm or quaint stream…it’s a loud, fast charging river with a ton of small water falls and difficult rapids. Check out the short clip to see what I mean.
These early late spring/ early summer river crossings are by far the most dangerous part of hiking in the backcountry. I searched carefully for a place to cross and came upon a large but rather unsteady tree. This looked like my best opportunity, so I slowly made my way across unharmed and began my off-trail ascent up to the Pickett Guard Basin.
A quick note about my ascent up to the Picket Guard Basin: This was my first time doing a major climb that did not have a trail. This type of hiking requires patient route finding to avoid slipping and leading yourself into a cliff (“cliffing out”). It was a long way up, and I forgot to take pictures due to being out of breath most of the time, but this last bit of Day 3 was HARD. It was about 1000 feet up over the course of about a mile of hiking, which is essentially a mile long straricase. The best I can do here is show you a Google Earth screenshot.
The climb was well worth it. What was waiting for me at the top was one of the most beautiful places I have ever — and will ever — go in my entire life. In the words of Laurence Braeur (please read):
Picket Creek and Kaweah Basins remain untarnished by human beings, a one-of-a-kind quintessential wilderness place. The setting is so singularly beautiful it is beyond the limitations of human language; mere words are inadequate. One must respond and absorb with feelings that encompass something larger, grander, and more complex than humans can possibly articulate. We are mere mortals in the presence of what John Muir terms “terrestrial immortality.”
The singular beauty is intensified by an almost overwhelming sense of solitude. I’ve spent seven days in Picket Creek and Kaweah Basins and not seen one person, even in the far distance. The only record of human presence are a few small clear flat places that were obviously used as tent areas. There are no fire rings, no established trails. No sense exists of another person being in this place. One can camp in many other out-of-the-way locations and see or hear no one from one’s campsite, but know someone must be nearby because you passed them or they passed you or you spied a distant silhouette. Even in off-trail places as remote as Lakes Basin, Milestone Basin, or the Upper Kern, I’ve had a sense of human presence even though I’ve seen no one for days. In Kaweah Basin that sense is absent. I feel totally, utterly alone with only the wilderness surrounding me. No filters exist between wilderness and me except those within myself. The areas inaccessibility helps insure that sense of solitude. It’s too remote to be ravaged by backpackers.
I walked down the slope and found a route over and around the cliff by the campsite. In a few minutes, I stood in the tent area, walked to the long log at the rear of the campsite, and leaned my pack on the log. I walked to the cliff overlooking the lake and took in the startling view. This truly is one of the most spectacularly beautiful campsites in the world.
As you could imagine, I was in heaven. The alpenglow was in full effect, and the entire basin was a beautiful shade of orange, pinks, and purples. I walked around and gawked at what was some of the most beautiful scenery I had ever seen. After picking my jaw up from the floor, I took some photos, set up camp, and got ready for bed.
DAY 4 (Exploring the Kaweah Basin, unknown amount of miles (it was mostly full of aimless strolling, so maybe something like 7–8), Total Elevation Gain: not much, Total Elevation Lost: not much):
Day 4 was without question my favorite day on the entire trail. The entire day was a beautiful off-trail stroll through one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen in my life, and to top it all off, there were no people and signs of human life. This is a very difficult place to get to, and it’s estimated that only a 100 or so people visit the area every year. Seeing the Kaweahs from the east (instead of the west as you do while in the Big Arroyo) is rare, and I was really looking forward for what the day had in-store. The morning showed no signs of clouds and it was shaping up to be a beautiful day weather-wise. With my morning chores minimized due to the fact that I didn’t have to break down my tent (as I would be returning later to the same place to sleep), I made my way towards the Kaweah Basin bright and early. I knew that I was about to enter a special place and have one of those religious experiences you get from being in the presence of beauty and intense solitude. Again, I’ll let the master Laurence Braeur take it from here:
Soon, I reach this ridge and gaze on Kaweah Basin. I feel as if I enter a grand outdoor cathedral with the jagged wall of the Kaweah peaks to the west and the Sierra Crest to the east. This is a place where nature, wilderness, are worthy of worship. The lack of any sign of human inhabitants magnifies the sense of pure wilderness. This is a place evolving on its own terms. The trees here are unlike anywhere else in the Sierra. The mountain hemlocks are especially numerous. Even the spacing of the trees and their height is such that walking among them is a stroll through a spacious, enchanted forest. Each tree stands apart, separate from its neighbors, a distinctive shape and size, shining in the sun, casting shadows on the granite slabs.
I apologize for the short quotes, but Brauer perfectly encapsulates what was going on in my mind over the course of my time here, and I offer one more short passage as it was exactly what I experience mentally and emotionally:
The moments between the first glow of light on Kaweah Queen and the full Kaweah escapement shining in sunlight passes in what seems slow motion. Time comes to a standstill with each and every instant filled with a multitude of sights, sounds, and emotions. The rays of light make their way to the tops of the peaks and then down the jagged crags and flatter faces that form the spires of Kaweah Basin’s western wall fortress. As the sun rises, the ever-changing light on the Kaweahs and Sierra Crest signals the passing of time. One day in Kaweah Basin feels like an eternity.
Picket Creek basin and Kaweah basin are timeless. The wilderness message is unfiltered by human presence. It speaks of the marvelous simplicity and infinite complexity of life on our planet. Each and every repository of life — the water striders on the shallows; the tadpoles scurrying at my footsteps; the tiny yellow, blue, violet, and white flowers; the trees assuming shapes that twist and turn; the gnats, bees, flies, mosquitos; the shining green needles of the pines; the granite slabs and rocks in all shapes and sizes; the craggy cliffs that form one side of the basin and the high mountains that form the other — each encompass wondrous details and magnificent grandeur. I experience something magical, something transcendent under the spell of this place, touching an essence of wilderness and life itself.
I’ll let the pictures do the rest of the talking.
Alas my time in the Kaweah Basin and Picket Creek Basin had come to and end. This place will always be special to me as it was probably my first time having a true wilderness experience. During my couple of days here, my eyes were wide open and I was fully entranced. I felt a deep respect and connection with the land beneath my feet, and for that I am extremely grateful. Life at 3 miles per hour is extremely meditative and therapeutic, and it’s moments like the ones I had just experienced — the solitude, the songs of the streams, the brightness of the flowers, and the carved granite peaks — that make it so.
DAY 5 (Camp at Picket Creek/Picket Guard Basin to Guitar Lake, 14 Miles, Total Elevation Gain: +4685', Total Elevation Lost: -3803):
The descent up into the Picket Creek Basin on Day 3 was a truly difficult climb. However, it was nothing compared to the descent down. The incline down the face of the mountain is incredibly steep (making it difficult to plan out a route), and one slip could get you into some real trouble. I don’t mean to make it sound too dramatic, but this was definitely a bit sketchy doing alone. Although I cliffed out (meaning, the line you think you’re walking leads you to a cliff) a few times, i was able to make it down and across the Kern-Kaweah in about a 40 minutes; significantly faster than the way up. From here, I marched back down the Colby Pass en route to Junction Meadow, where I planned to link back up with the High Sierra Trail and continue eastward up the Kern Canyon wall to the John Muir Trail where I’d continue towards Mt. Whitney and the eastern high country, home to some of the highest peaks in the lower 48 states.
If you look on the screenshot of the Terrain Statistics, Junction Meadow is where it bottoms out around mile 3, and the climb out that I mentioned in the last paragraph is the following 10 miles. This was my walk basically from lunch until sunset. Mile after mile of up, up, up. Although it was certainly beautiful, such consistent incline wears on your legs and wears on your mind. Pain and exhaustion seep into your brain and your thoughts. You go from a mindset of “This is beautiful, I’ll get there when I get there” to “Are we fucking there yet?”
Nonetheless, the beginning few miles of this ascent is a beautiful feat of trail engineering. You scale the Kern Canyon wall essentially in a straight line, AKA no switchbacks. You can see it on the screenshot of the map. Given that we are now close to the John Muir Trail and the Pacific Crest Trail, this section of hiking was also much more populated with people, a stark contrast from the previous 2.5 days where I had not seen another person at all.
Some clouds threatened my route, but I continued the slog up to Guitar Lake. The walk is beautiful, but it was mostly uneventful. Once you get above 11,000 feet or so it gets very difficult for trees to grow, so the landscape was mostly grass and a few flowers. I made it to Guitar Lake and made camp with about 10 other parties just before sunset. It was cold (we were at 12,000 feet), and everyone was starting to get into their tent to prepare for the climb up to Whitney.
DAY 6 (Guitar Lake to Whitney Portal, 14.5 Miles, Total Elevation Gain: +3468', Total Elevation Lost: -6624):
It’s July 4th! There were some people who were planning to summit Whitney for sunrise, but after seeing how cold it was going to be, I quickly turned that plan down. I still was able to get on the trail by about 7am, using my dirty socks as gloves bc my fingers were too cold to tear down camp without them.
Every step was difficult. Even though I had been hiking for 6 days and thought of myself as “in shape”, I can confidently say that this stretch of trail kicked my butt. Even though it was only about 4.5 miles, I was extremely winded after every switchback and had to take multiple breaks. Additionally, after about 12,500 feet, the air is so thin that you get the feeling that you are drunk. Your thoughts are a bit cloudier, your vision is slightly fogged, and your feet get a bit heavier.
At this altitude, the scenery is essentially a moonscape. It’s just rocks everywhere. However, the constant barrage of wind, snow, and rain have carved marvelous sculptures that make the mountains look treacherous.
I was able to make the summit and link up with a couple of guys I met on the hike up who were finishing the JMT for a celebration of a joint, salami, and cheese. We took photos, relaxed, and pondered what we were going to eat for our first meal once back in civilization (I wanted a steak, they wanted all you can eat pizza). While on the summit, I also was able to get cell phone service for the first time in 6 days. It was here, on top of Mt. Whitney, when I learned that Lebron James was officially a Laker.
The main takeaway from my Whitney summit was something that I’ve tried to tell everyone I’ve spoken to about the mountain. When you approach the summit, you approach from the west. The normal thing to do, I suppose by the crowds of people, is to walk all the way over to the east side where you get a view of the Owens Valley. THIS IS TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY WRONG. It is absolutely ridiculous to climb to 14,500 feet to look at a boring desert. The correct thing to do is to turn around and head to the west side of of the summit and look towards the mountains. Here, there’s an actual view with things to see.
It was at this view that I became slightly emotional. I looked out into the distance and could see the the Kaweah gap, about 40 something air miles away. It was a raw feeling of accomplishment that I had never sensed before from a hike. So what did I do? Call my grandma and tell her I was coming home to plan the next trip.
