Kings Canyon Before Winter Closure

I got a last Sierra overnight in before the winter closure, this time Kings Canyon NP from the western endbecause CHP would close Highway 180 to Road's End on Monday morning (i.e today). Except for maybe the long darkness, conditions were great. No snow yet, pleasantly cool (summers can be too hot), no bugs (another summer problem), and not too cold at night (around freezing). I went up the South Fork of Kings River, which is the typical direction for people doing the full Rae Lakes loop, camped in Paradise Valley and hiked back down the next day. 

Plenty of bears out, I saw 4 on the first afternoon already. 

While I do not take spectacular photographs, only Iphone point and click, take it from the original Yosemite advocate that Kings Canyon is as spectacular: "the trail in ascending the western flank of the range leads through a forest of the giant Sequoias, and through the magnificent Kings River Valley, that rivals Yosemite in the varied beauty and grandeur of its granite masonry and falling waters." Muir, John. The Complete Works of John Muir (p. 24). Madison & Adams Press.

Kings Canyon National Park is adjacent to Sequoia National Park in California's Sierra Nevada mountains and the two are administered jointly. While best known for huge sequoia trees, including the gigantic General Grant Tree in Grant Grove, my favorite part is further east, after the road ends: the high mountain peaks, lakes, meadows, rivers. It is literally and figuratively up from Road's End. 

 
It started as General Grant National Park to protect the small area of giant sequoias. John Muir emphasized the huge wilderness area to the east, but it took more than fifty years for the rest of Kings Canyon to be designated a national park. The fight between various groups (especially hydroelectric dams and LA city again) continued until 1965, when the Cedar Grove and Tehipite Valley were finally annexed into the park. Partly for that reason, Kings Canyon National Park has two distinct sections. The smaller and older western section centers around Grant Grove and the park's sequoias,  and has most of the visitor facilities. The trees are great, of course, but always too crowded for me, even in November. I stopped on the way, but left quickly.  

The larger eastern section, which accounts for the majority of the park's area, is almost entirely wilderness, and contains the deep canyons of the Middle and South Forks of the Kings River. Cedar Grove is the only access point by road from the west (Highway 180). I have more often entered the park from the east, like Kearsarge Pass. That trailhead (Onion Valley) is about 4 hours/240 miles from Santa Monica whereas Cedar Grove is 5 1/2 hours/270 miles. But the initial going is harder from the east because every pass into Kings Canyon is over 3400m.  

 

In contrast, Cedar Grove is already in Kings Canyon and at 1400m and the elevation gain is fairly gradual along the South Fork of Kings River or Bubbs Creek, compared to the eastern approaches. 

Eventually, of course, you end up in the same spots and Kings Canyon has some extremely steep vertical relief with many peaks over 4000m, a few (like Palisades) even over 4300m/14,000 feet. At the sign, just before the first bridge, I went left. That would be the clockwise (more popular) direction of doing the Rae Lakes loop. Straight/right would be going up Bubbs Creek. 

 

During the summer, these trails will be packed. And down here, it will also be hot. But mid-November was fairly empty. I saw a few day hikers between the parking lot and Mist Falls, but then nobody anymore. Seeing as many bears as people is a good balance! 

From a bit further out, the high mountains in the east are visible. I'll be there again next summer. 

But on this trip, I'm heading towards Pozo for the Old-Time Music Campout: https://folkworks.org/pozo-old-time-gathering-and-more-southwest-fiddle-tunes/

Rough October Night on Mt. Whitney (but nice days)

View of Mt Whitney from Lone Pine after breakfast (brown rocks in the foreground are the Alabama Hills)

Consultation Lake in the morning after the storm has passed

In mid-October, I wanted to do one last high mountain trip before snow closes the trails for the season. It started and ended beautifully, but the time in between....  Maybe the most miserable night I had on any trip.  

Hiking has been constrained this fall (2021). For a while, all National Forests in California were closed, then Sequoia National Park as well. Lighting strikes started several fires in Sequoia, which merged and became known as the KNP complex. The closure will last for a while, 10,000 trees will need to be removed as they are too damaged, including some in the famous redwood groves. 

Whitney is the slightly rounder peak

The Eastern Sierras have mostly remained accessible (although air quality was at times terrible). The Mt. Whitney area itself is usually congested because it is the highest mountain in the contiguous 48 states at 4400m/14500 feet and yet not difficult (More than 100 years ago and before trails received maintenance, John Muir wrote that "almost anyone able to cross a cobblestoned street in a crowd may climb Mt. Whitney"). Entering the Whitney area requires permits even for day hikes. Those are so oversubscribed that they are awarded through a lottery at the beginning of the year. Surprisingly, multiple overnight permits were available for Mt. Whitney in October! When I looked, there were overnight permits for 4 different starting days available for the coming week. 

Forecast for that week was pleasant throughout, a bit below freezing at night, a bit above during the day. Unfortunately, it turned out that I picked the wrong day (or rather night).

Permits are usually difficult to get, but some overnight permits were still available in October

Going up the main Whitney trail, now almost at the treeline. John Muir compared the trail's difficulty to crossing a cobblestoned street in a crowd. Other routes are more difficult, though.

I got to Lone Pine in the afternoon to pick up my permit for the next day. The ranger said the following night would get noticeably colder and much windier, forecast has changed, with gusts up to 50 miles, but no snow accumulation expected. And only one night and all the days should be nice. 50 mile gusts are quite strong. I took notice of that to make sure I aim the tent the right direction and stake it out well so it doesn't blow over. I've camped in storms and severe winds before and the changed forecast didn't seem bad. 

Thor Peak (3750m) looms over much of the hike and it is a more impressive mountain than the picture shows

I only had time for a shorter hike that afternoon and went up a bit along the North Fork. That trail splits from the main route quickly and then becomes the Mountaineer Route, which is much less crowded, but also in a different league technically from the main trail. I did a little bit of scrambling, but didn't go as far as Boy Scout Lake. The north fork route starts out in a canyon and unlike the main trail, which is sunny, it had some snow and ice and was noticeably colder. Then went down to Lone Pine for dinner. 

the North Fork trail had snow and looked cold, but I could hike in short sleeves

Looking back to Lone Pine and the desert from the North Fork Trail

The next morning, I started around 11 on the main trail. There was no rush since I was camping at Consultation Lake, which is only about 11 km up the trail (although most of the total elevation gain). I made detours to the other two lakes on the route, Lone Pine Lake and Mirror Lake. 

Lone Pine Lake, 5 km from Whitney Portal, is as far as one can hike without permit

The meadow below Mirror Lake, the mountain with the flat top is Wotan's Throne (about 3900m)

It was a lovely day. Early afternoon, but a number of people had already made camp at Outpost, which is only 6 km from the trail head. Consultation Lake is higher up, at about 3600m/12000 feet, but is not popular because the lake is off the main trail (and downhill from it). I scrambled down to Consultation Lake from the trail, but there is also a more walkable route along the cliffs that starts from a bit further up the mountain. Few people want to make the detour to the lake because there is an official camping location, Trail Camp, just a bit further on the trail. But that means that Trail Camp is reliably packed whereas Consultation Lake remains fairly empty. I was the only person that day at Consultation Lake.  

a bit higher up

By the time I got to the lake, the wind had picked up substantially and it was getting noticeably colder. I found a place between two large rocks that seemed to offer some windbreak and checked for wind directions to place the tent the right way (i.e. keep the low end in the wind). I put 40+ pounds rocks on the stakes to keep them in place.  I took our newer Big Agnes Fly Creek tent, rather than the older one that shows some wear and may be getting tired of those trips, so felt very prepared for the night. The temperature dropped quickly once the sun was behind the mountains and by 5 pm it was so cold that I went in the tent. It was very pretty, just too windy and cold. The water was frozen by 7pm, but some was already in the pot and ready to be heated up for hot coffee/chocolate in the morning without leaving my sleeping bag! Very comfortable in the tent. 

By midnight, the tent was flapping loudly and I went outside to check. It was a full moon and clear night, but with strong gusts. Three of the guy lines on the tent had torn off (they were the original lines), but I could fix that by tying in new lines and a bit of wind wrestling. The stakes were right were they should be (with their rocks). Still disconcerting. While a pretty night, it was so cold that I quickly went back inside, just tying in new guy lines froze my hands (but it isn't something you can do with gloves). 

I dozed and around 2 or so, the tent was pushing against me. I went out again to check on problems, but now the weather had changed and it was hard to see with a headlamp as snow flakes were blowing everywhere. Instead of a clear full moon night, there was no visibility and it was hard to stand in the wind. Felt more than 50 mph gusts.  But all the stakes and lines were right where they were supposed to be. Back inside, warming up and appreciating the comfortable shelter during what turned to be a much fiercer storm than forecast. 

I dozed off again when I suddenly found myself in the open and a bit disoriented with snow blowing in my face. It took a little while to figure out what was going on, but apparently all the guy lines had torn off, the rain fly was gone and the inner tent was torn into pieces. Once I realized that my shelter was gone, I tried to ignore it. But it was not that ignorable and I was becoming a snow drift. I tried to use the remnants of the tent floor as an outer layer/bivi sack to reduce wind chill, but that proved hopeless, too. It was too windy and the tears didn't leave a large coherent piece of the tent floor that I could wrap around me. 

After the storm was largely over in the morning. Snow was blown away from exposed areas, but accumulated elsewhere

Now the situation was rather bleak, about 2.30 in the morning, outside in the middle of an early winter storm.  Unfortunately, there was just nothing I could do other than curling up and trying to stay as warm as possible. It was much too cold and windy for any other outdoor activity! No visibility either, in the headlamp just glare off snowflakes. 

I had taken my warmer sleeping bag, but that was still a three-season bag rated for maybe 25F. It would have worked well inside a tent that night, but sure was underpowered when the windchill is well into the minuses. Fahrenheit that is, so in Celsius that feels more like -20. 

Not the camping I had expected (the yellow pieces are the floor parts of what is left of the tent)

I closed things up as well as I could and then spent a few miserable and very slow moving hours. Not knowing how long this would take made it more unpleasant and slowed down the clock. I was uncomfortably cold (not dangerously, just uncomfortably) but just had to lie this out because trying to pack up and leave would actually have been dangerous. That storm was quite a bit worse than any forecast! 

Eventually, dawn came and that reduced the bleakness of the situation, although without raising the comfort level. The storm didn't stop then. It took until 8 am or so for the storm to settle. Then I also heard some voices, most likely hikers who were trying to get off the mountain. Less likely would be very optimistic day hikers coming up. 

No coffee or chocolate or even hot water for me, despite the best preparation

The idea of making coffee/hot chocolate in the morning in the tent vestibule/mudroom (without even leaving my sleeping bag!) was no longer an option. Indeed, not even hot water was an option. I tried to shelter the burner the best I could after the worst was over, but there was no way to get it lit and stay lit in the wind. 

Snow got into everything. In fact, when I got back to Santa Monica late in the afternoon, there still was snow in the tent pieces I had stuffed into the bottom of my backpack.

Another half hour later, probably 8.30 or so, I could see some blue sky towards the East, although it was still foggy and snowy where I was. Eventually it was promising enough that I quickly packed up and headed back to the trail. No snow accumulation? All the way back to the main trail I was at least ankle deep in snow and at some places I sank in knee high.  

On my way to the trail, I found a windbreaker. I thought I had heard an anguished voice an hour or so earlier, so I guess that was a hiker who had just lost a highly desired item at that moment!  The trail was on a cliff above me, so that person thought it was lost for good when it blew away. I left the jacket at the intersection once I joined the trail. If it was a day hiker, he would find his jacket a few hours later. 

Morning after the storm had passed, it was a very pretty day again

On the way down, I passed several other hikers who had camped that night. I don't think anybody who was out overnight decided to go up to the top and from what I heard, most experiences were similar to mine. Later, a few day hikers were coming my way. It would not have been a particularly bad day either because by mid-day, the storm had blown away and it was nice (although day time temperature at the lake and above would remain below freezing) and sunny, although now with a bit of snow and ice. I actually enjoyed my hike that day once I was a bit warmed up again. 

Ice sculptures on Mirror Lake

I stopped at Mirror Lake to finally get my hot coffee/chocolate. It is more sheltered there and also lower elevation. Hiding the stove behind some big rocks, I was able to keep it lit. The temperature was also pleasant, maybe around freezing. 

Descending, I warmed up quickly and from 4 layers went down to a single layer (although still a long sleeve hiking shirt). By early afternoon, I was back at the trailhead and then I was hot in the sun. Hard to believe the change within a few hours. 

The tent poles are broken in 5 places, but still had snow in them when I got to SM maybe 9 hours after I packed up

Big Agnes responded to that story and gave me a 30% discount on a new tent, but with the recommendation that I buy a tent from their expedition series if I plan to go out in similar weather again. 

I'm not the first one to remember a cold night on Whitney late in the year: 

"Some eighteen years ago I spent a November night on the top of Whitney. The first winter snow had fallen and the cold was intense. Therefore I had to keep in motion to avoid freezing. But the view of the stars and of the dawn on the desert was abundant compensation for all that. This was a hard trip, but in summer no extraordinary danger need be encountered Almost any one able to cross a cobblestoned street in a crowd may climb Mt. Whitney."

Muir, John. The Complete Works of John Muir: Travel Memoirs, Wilderness Essays, Environmental Studies & Letters (p. 1801). Madison & Adams Press.

  

A cold starry night (or full moon night in my case) would have been great. Sounds like John Muir experienced a really cold, but not windy, night and then moving around can warm you up. During the storm, however, trying to stay in motion would have been the more dangerous choice. No activity could make up for the windchill and the gusts were strong enough to knock you off balance. But the lesson is that late season weather can make Whitney a hard trip.

Rediscovering Ragtime

 

Ragtime’s heyday was around the turn of the previous century, when ragtime composer Scott Joplin found success with Maple Leaf Rag (1899) and The Entertainer (1902). The ragtime craze subsided before too long, although ragtime left a lasting impression on jazz and maybe on Brazilian Choro (another amalgam of European and African styling and rhythmic influences that has many similarities to ragtime). Ragtime never went entirely away, most piano students at one point stumbled across The Entertainer and a few ragtime influenced tunes survived in old-time music, but it remained a fringe style even during occasional revivals.

I recently started studying tunes that seem to be at the boundary between the “classical” ragtime style of composers like Scott Joplin and his contemporaries and old-time string band music. There is a jazzy tinge to this music and the musical ideas are more complex than in Appalachian old-time. And I’m not the only one who seems to have rediscovered this style.

The Temple Street Quartet is a Los Angeles based string band that plays an eclectic mix of musical styles from the late 19th and early 20th century. The group includes Frank Fairfield, Zac Sokolow, and David Elsenbroich, who alternate between guitar, fiddle, mandolin, and banjo, along with Jake Faulkner on the double bass. They are not limited to American ragtime, but also play Brazilian choros, tangos, and Italian parlor music from the ragtime era. This video from the 2019 Topanga Banjo Fiddle Festival captured the rendition of the Red Pepper Rag, a 1910 composition by Henry Lodge (Frank on resonator guitar, Zac on regular guitar, David on banjo-mandolin):

There were many stringbands in the 1920s that played ragtime in a slightly more primitive style. Often they are categorized as Old-Time, but I feel that it is almost a category by itself or at least somewhere intersecting the classical or parlor style and dance styles. The East Texas Serenaders, a band that included guitar, banjo, fiddle, and 3-string cello, clearly feels different from folk music and a step towards jazz/swing; more a precursor to Western Swing than Appalachian old-time fiddle.

Another recent video comes from the Down at the Yard concert series. San Francisco’s Skillet Licorice, with LA’s Kelly Marie Martin on bass and San Diego’s Clinton Davis on banjo, perform the East Texas Serenaders’ 3-in-1 Two Step.

I have learned a few tunes from The East Texas Serenaders and similar 1920s stringbands myself. Adding these ragtime tunes to my repertoire was a challenge, but they provide a nice complement filling a niche between Celtic/Old-Time fiddle tunes and jazz. It is a genre that my daughter and I play quite a bit together. Our mandolin duo version of the Mineola Rag, recorded probably late 1920s by The East Texas Serenaders. Mineola is a small down about 80 miles east of Dallas.

In written form, many of these rags, cake walks, stomps and marches are featured in Steve Parker’s Ragtime for Fiddle and Mandolin book. He has arranged 124 tunes for fiddle and mandolin with chords. Everything is written out in standard music notation. This is the most comprehensive book on ragtime tunes that I have seen, including the classical piano and novelty rags, string band tunes, and some newer compositions (all the tunes mentioned in this column are in the book). Many of the tunes are little known, though. They vary in difficult and a novelty rag like Russian Rag requires virtuoso skills – like mandolinist Dave Apollon who performed this in the 1930s. But most are fairly straightforward, although technically more challenging than most old-time or Irish tunes (more chromatic and surprising syncopation). Steve died years ago, but his website is still alive and possibly you can get the book here. Elderly Music has the book in stock as I’m writing this.

To finish this column, here is a fresh local rendition of the most famous ragtime of all times, Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer. Once again the Temple Street Quartet, from a performance at McCabe’s:

Inyo National Forest: Minarets and Mt. Ritter Range

Mt. Ritter (left, a bit further back) and Banner Peak (in the foreground and therefore looking taller) tower over Garnet Lake

Our friend John Zaller recommended a backpacking trip to the Minarets, a series of jagged peaks in the Ansel Adams Wilderness.  The Minarets (about a dozen with individual names) are part of the Ritter range; Mt Ritter and Banner Peak are the two main mountains. The John Muir and Pacific Crest Trails weave around the many lakes at the foot of the range. We camped at Badger Lake, and also passed Thousand Island Lake, Garnet Lake, Shadow Lake, Ruby Lake, Emerald Lake, and a bunch of smaller lakes.  

I have seen the Minarets from a distance, as do most people who visit Mammoth Lakes, but had not been in the wilderness area. 

On Starkweather Trail with Minarets in the distance. Riding trails around Mammoth was previously the closest I got to those mountains.

The Minarets were named in the 1860s by the California Geographic Survey. Only their family name was bestowed by the California Geographic Survey, their (unofficial) individual first names came much later. Mount Ritter, the main mountain of the range, was named at the same time and before there was any known climbing (John Muir takes credit for the first known ascent). 

We visited our daughter Anya in Davis over the weekend and the backpacking trip added only 150 miles of driving, a small price. Backcountry permits can be hard to obtain because it is a hugely popular area, but I got permits for a Monday start on the High Trail/Pacific Crest Trail. Our trailhead was at Agnews Meadows, which is on the road to the Devil's Postpile National Monument (huge tourist attraction) and therefore requires taking a shuttle bus. We were on the trail (PCT going north) at 4 pm. 

On the High Trail/PCT, Minarets in the hazy distance

There are big wildfires and air quality can be very poor. Over the weekend, it was in the unhealthy range in both Davis and Mammoth, but it had improved to moderate by the time we started. The afternoon still had some haze, but it cleared completely overnight and air quality remained very good. 

On the High Trail

The Pacific Crest and John Muir Trails are extremely popular. They are polished with signs at every intersection that make it hard to get lost. By 7pm, Kathy was getting very tired and when a sign pointed to Clark Lakes uphill and 1000 Island Lake still an hour away, she suggested going to Agnew Meadows because that sounded promising and it seemed to be downhill. Not remembering where we had started 3 hours earlier is a sign that it was time to stop. 

Agnew Meadows would have been the one wrong choice out of those 3

She had to stumble on a little longer, but not much. Badger Lake was close and enough off the PCT to be empty (whereas 1000 Islands is always busy). We made camp at sunset. There are several Badger Lakes, maybe 5, but only one is of a reasonable size, the others are more like ponds.

Badger Lake at sunset

and at sunrise

It was a lovely evening and despite being absolutely still, there were no mosquitoes or other flying insects. We didn't even unpack the tent. The haze had cleared, there was no moon and an amazing night sky with many shooting stars. Badger lake is a little over 2900 m. 

On the PCT heading towards 1000 Islands Lake

Maybe because of the late start yesterday afternoon, we had not seen anybody since a large animal pack train (15 horses/mules) coming the opposite way during the first hour. But this morning, we encountered the first ranger ready to direct traffic before 10am. Nobody has ever wanted to check my permits, but this day our permits were scrutinized twice (and verified that we haven't gotten lost yet and also reminded about backcountry rules). 

Now we are at the foot of the mountain range and 1000 Islands Lake (and the others) are spectacular. At 3000 m, the vegetation is fragile because nature's metabolism slows down. 1000 Islands Lake along the John Muir trail might be more appropriately named 1000 Hikers Lake and regulations are needed to keep the area reasonably healthy. So there are many signs on where not to camp and it generally is a better idea to look for places not directly along the JMT or PCT.

Here is the beginning of the San Joaquin river: The outlet of 1000 Islands becomes the middle (and main) fork of the San Joaquin. The north fork starts near Mt Lyell and a short south fork in Kings Canyon.

The outlet of 1000 Island Lake becomes the Middle Fork of the San Joaquin

 

The San Joaquin picking up speed

The San Joaquin is an amazing river, almost 600 km long. It originates on the Eastern side of the Sierra and for 150km is a rocky mountain stream with a steep gradient and many waterfalls. Yet somehow it manages to get across the Sierra Nevada to meander for 400 km through the Central Valley from Fresno to Stockton. Most of the water is used for agriculture and by the end only a heavily polluted trickle is left to join the Sacramento river and eventually flow through Suisun and San Francisco Bay into the Pacific.  

Ruby Lake

At 1000 Islands, we connect with the John Muir Trail, which comes from Tuolumne Meadows from the north (so does the PCT, around this area they are often the same) and turn south again. The trail goes by Emerald and Ruby lakes. But only their names are shiny; they are pretty, but no more than lakes with more pedestrian names; neither one would have been as good for camping as Badger. Also along the JMT, they see heavy traffic and the forest service closed one camping area for plant rehabilitation.

Mt. Ritter and Banner Peak. Ritter, on the left, is a little over 4000m and Banner a little under 4000m. But the perspective makes Ritter look smaller. Garnet Lake in the foreground 

Mt. Ritter and Banner Peak again

Mount Ritter is king of the mountains of the middle portion of the High Sierra, as Shasta of the north and Whitney of the south sections. Moreover, as far as I know, it had never been climbed.

Muir, John. The Complete Works of John Muir: Travel Memoirs, Wilderness Essays, Environmental Studies & Letters (p. 211). Madison & Adams Press. 

Muir was going to change the "never been climbed" part. Why Ritter? Carl Ritter was a famous geographer in the early 1800s. Ritter was not much of a world traveler and never left Europe. Seems that the only connection to California is Josiah Whitney. Whitney got to name a lot of things as chief of the California Geological Survey (like the Minarets), but earlier in life studied with Ritter in Berlin. 

The other famous geographer/naturalist of the early 1800s was Alexander von Humboldt (he and Ritter died the same year) and his name is on even more things. Humboldt did a lot of traveling, especially in South America, but he never came anywhere near Humboldt Bay/County/Redwoods (California) or Humboldt River/Range/Sink/Lake (Nevada) either. The closest was a short detour at the end of his South America travels in 1804 to visit Thomas Jefferson in Washington. Berlin casting a long shadow over our hikes in California: Ritter range this week, 2 weeks ago we were in Humboldt county.

Crossing the outlet of Garnet Lake. The trails are very manicured.

The descent to Shadow Creek/Lake surprised us. It seemed long and hard and we didn't think we had climbed up that much. It was interrupted by another permit check by a backcountry ranger and by many hikers coming the opposite way and asking "are we almost there yet?". 

Minarets

Looking southward along the axis of the range, the eye is first caught by a row of exceedingly sharp and slender spires, which rise openly to a height of about a thousand feet from a series of short glaciers that lean back against their bases, their fantastic sculpture and the unrelieved sharpness with which they spring out of the ice rendering them peculiarly wild and striking. These are the Minarets. Beyond them you behold the highest mountains of the range, their snowy summits crowded together in lavish abundance, peak beyond peak, aspiring higher, and higher as they sweep on southward.

Muir, John. The Complete Works of John Muir: Travel Memoirs, Wilderness Essays, Environmental Studies & Letters (p. 19). Madison & Adams Press.  

Roughly the same view, but Muir must have looked from a higher elevation to see the peaks behind them, from Ritter rather than from the John Muir Trail. Of course, there was no John Muir Trail then and its construction started in 1915, the year after John Muir died. Maybe there was no trail at all: Trails start for utilitarian purposes, first by animals, then followed by humans, connecting grazing, hunting, and eventually trading areas. Primitive trails over Kearsarge or Mono Pass were known and surely many current hiking trails follow much older trading and hunting routes of the native Paiutes. But around here, there would be little practical use for animals nor people looking for them. Joe Nisbet LeConte, who became Muir's successor as Sierra Club president, pioneered a high route in 1908, roughly the modern JMT, and those efforts would be needed to create connections between traditional trails.  

Joining Shadow Creek Trail, I had a tentative plan of maybe turning right/west going up Shadow Creek. Shadow Creek starts in the Minarets and then flows through Cecile/Iceberg/Ediza lakes. However, after Ediza, it is an unmaintained/no trail route along the Minarets and, from what I believe, partly along a glacier. This would be a slow scramble of a route, adding another day, and probably one I need to do on my own. 

Shadow Creek and Shadow Lake are particularly pretty. Shadow Creek drops 1000 m over the short distance from its origin to the San Joaquin and therefore has many waterfalls. 

Shadow Creek

Shadow Lake, Mt Ritter in the back

Shadow Creek shortly before it joins the San Joaquin

Even more descending after Shadow Lake and by now our knees had enough of that. Also, now it was in the afternoon, the sun was hot, and the temperature was rising the lower we got to river bed. Fortunately, the trail back to Agnew Meadows along the river was shady and that was very welcome. And a surprise at the river crossing: There actually are a few sequoias, the Sierra redwoods. Far from the western slopes where they are usually found! Just a few, not giant and not old (decades, not centuries), but also not where I expected any as it is outside their natural range.   

Another 1000 years and it'll look more like this

From a bike ride on the western slopes 5 years ago

We were on the trail for 7 hours this day, a very different world from LA, but not that far: We were back in Santa Monica for dinner.