DESOLATION WILDERNESS
JULY 1983
 
 
    Desolation Wilderness lies in Eldorado National Forest not
far from South Lake Tahoe. It is partially comprised of
Desolation Valley and Rockbound Valley. Desolation Valley runs
northwest to southeast and empties into the South Fork of the
American River over Horsetail Falls. Rockbound Valley runs
southeast to northwest and is the headwaters of the Rubicon
River. The valleys are between seven and eight thousand feet in
elevation and are separated by eighty four hundred foot Mosquito
Pass. The peaks surrounding the valleys stretch up close to ten
thousand feet, with the highest point in the area being 9983 foot
Pyramid Peak. Pyramid lies at the end of the Crystal Range in the
southwest corner of the wilderness.
    I first discovered Pyramid Peak in the early seventies with
my sky diving buddy Dave, but we never climbed it, or anything
else together for that matter. By the time of this trip I had
climbed it several times from the western side starting from
Wrights Lake road and had gazed down into barren Desolation
Valley and across Mosquito Pass into wooded Rockbound Valley.
Once on the way back from Tahoe several friends and I had stopped
and climbed to the top of Horsetail Falls where we found a naked
man sitting on a rock in a snow field playing a flute.
    Mike a friend from work and Chris his young son accompanied
me. We picked Twin Bridges on highway 50 at just under sixty one
hundred feet as a trail head and Wrights Lake at about seven
thousand feet as an exit point. I spent six days in the
wilderness, the first few being the hardest. The first two days
we gained almost four thousand feet in elevation and for the
first three days we had to make our own trail. 
 
 
    From the trail head at Twin Bridges, Horsetail Falls can be
seen spilling into a box canyon from unseen Desolation Valley
above. The falls doesn't present itself as a sheer vertical drop
such as Yosemite falls but rather appears as water cascading down
a long steep incline. As usual in the vastness of the Sierras the
top of the falls looks deceptively close and the camera fails to
capture the steepness only the eye can perceive.
    Some maps show an non-maintained trail leading up the left
side of the falls to the top. An non-maintained trail usually
means somebody has reported passing that way before. There was a
hint of a trail head but after that not a hint of a trail. We
spent hours randomly winding our way to the top. The initial
strategy of trying to stay close to the stream usually resulted
in trying to maneuver in closely knitted stands of small trees
and dense underbrush. The tactic of trying to climb over the open
rocks and maintain a short distance from the stream was
frequently countered by dense brush stretching from the
steepening walls of the canyon back down to the stream. The side
walls never quite became sheer, but became steep and irregular
enough that climbing on them with a full pack wasn't deemed
desirable. In the winter the sixteen hundred foot walls become
extremely dangerous due to frequent avalanches.
    Sometimes the head of the brush flows didn't quite reach the
steeper canyon walls and could be by passed above but usually it
was required to wade through the knee to chest high brush. The
brush helped to obscure the rocks and sure footing, as well as
being a general nuisance in that the going was slow and sometimes
painful. An occasional attempt to navigate the vegetation along
the stream showed that wading the brush was still the easier
going. As the ascent began to get steeper at the back wall of the
canyon the brush flows began to break up into isolated burgs and
became easier to avoid. The thick vegetation along the stream
also disappeared as we began to ascend the waterfall.
    The falls, which at a distance had appeared to be one giant
slide of water, now displayed its true characteristics, that of
multitudes of short drops, cascading inclines, and swirling
pools. The elusive trail evidently didn't follow next to the
falls because the water had cut gorges into the canyon wall which
made this route impassable. We moved back to the left away from
the falls where the rocks were more manageable in size and only
occasionally diverted right to view the falls or try to obtain
drinking water. The afternoon was hot and I relied heavily on the
cool water to soothe my parched throat.
    Eventually the top of the falls was reached, the canyon
walls receded somewhat, and the terrain pretty much leveled off
into rolling rock piles. The stream appeared fairly slow moving
and widened into small lakes. We decided to make camp at
Avalanche Lake for the night. That evening we managed to gather
enough wood for a fire and I had a rare delicacy with my dinner,
a baked potato. Usually I wouldn't carry food so high in water
content and extra weight but I had only planned on it being extra
weight in my pack for a day. Besides it was unlikely we would
have a fire the next night atop Pyramid Peak because of the lack
of wood.
    Chris had been pretty tired the night before and Mike had
assured him the next day would be easier, I had know that was a
lie but Chris had not. We had toiled for about four or five hours
the day before getting into the valley and had seen nobody else
that day since leaving the trail head. Shortly after starting out
the second day two fine looking young ladies, clad more for the
beach than the mountains, passed us going the opposite
direction. There is a much easier way into Desolation Valley from
Echo Lakes on the east up through Haypress Meadows to Lake of the
Woods. The trails on the east side also extend north through
Mosquito Pass, out of Desolation Valley and into Rockbound
Valley, the headwaters of the Rubicon River. We were eventually
headed for Mosquito Pass but by climbing Pyramid Peak and taking
a transverse route along the trail less west side of the valley.
    We hadn't gone far when Pyramid Peak came into view on our
left. We had gained about sixteen hundred feet since leaving the
trail head but still had another twenty three hundred or so to
gain. The eastern sides of the Sierra peaks seem to hold their
snow longer than the afternoon sunlit west sides, but being July
and approaching from the south east the snow was pretty much gone
from the peak. Large patches of snow were still apparent but
looked like they could be easily avoided in the climb. The first
half of the remaining ascent looked the steepest and was composed
of terraced granite cliffs. The upper half appeared to be
composed of boulders and scree.
    The relatively flat terrain continued to Ropi Lake. On the
right side of the lake a stream rushed down from a ridge with the
outflow of Lake Aloha unseen fifteen hundred feet above us. Ropi
was deep and clear and Mike and Chris tried some fishing while I
contemplated going for a swim, but just putting a hand in the
water convinced me it was too cold. Besides that I had to
accomplish repairs to my pack. The bottom leg of the frame on one
side had broken off so I had to break off the other side to make
it even. I also had to move the lower anchors of the chest straps
up and forfeit the waist strap. My backpack repair turned out to
be more successful than the fishing, but than again we didn't
stay at Ropi Lake very long.
    Toem Lake is almost and extension of Ropi Lake. It is
only a few feet higher and is connected by a short stream. Behind
Toem Lake the climbing began in earnest again. We managed to find
a wooded rock strewn cleft in the cliffs and made our way up to
Gefo Lake. Behind Gefo a stream falls down from a ridge eight
hundred feet above, but appears to be too steep to manage with
full packs. We instead decided to divert northward, where making
one giant switch back, the top of the ridge could be reached
without dealing with the steep backside of Gefo.
    After attaining the top of the ridge the slab granite
dissolved into mostly medium size boulders, sand, and scree. This
part of the climb proved to be harder than anything previously
encountered. The sand and scree had a tendency to easily
avalanche and often a step up actually caused you to lose
altitude. Another problem was having to often look up the
mountain to plan your path. Trying to bend your head back
resulted in limited movement because it was stopped by your
backpack. Your body had to remain leaning into the mountain as
not to be drawn over backwards by the weight of the pack.
    Having climbed Pyramid peak from the west side several times
I knew the southern flank was composed of larger interlocked
boulders rather than sand and scree. Chris was having problems
with the terrain so I decided to push on ahead. I recommended the
southern side and moved laterally to the easier ascent route. The
boulders comprising the upper portion of the peak haven't been
rounded by erosion and very in size from that of a basketball to
the size of a car. They are piled upon each other, sometimes
rather precariously, and occasionally have a tendency to teeter
or fall. If you feel a rock starting to move the trick is to get
to another one quickly, this is usually easier while going
downhill. Going uphill you usually test the rock before putting
your full weight on it. Some times an attempt at a hand hold on
the smaller rocks results in the rock coming down on you, and
inevitably it will hit you in the shin. I managed to gain the
9983 foot summit without any bruised shins. At that time Pyramid
was the highest elevation I had climbed to, but this was the
first time with a full pack.
    Around the summit people have built hollow cairns by
removing rocks from the center and piling them around the outside
to form walls. The resulting floors are sandy and pretty much
flat, except for an occasional small rock you always find when
you try to go to sleep. I picked my cairn for the night and
ditched my pack. After trudging along all day with a full pack it
feels strange to suddenly be 45 pounds lighter. It is even
enjoyable to walk around because it seems so easy in comparison.
After what seemed like hours, and probably was, I decided to
head back down the mountain to find out what had happened to Mike
and Chris. When I managed to find them they were still a ways
from the summit. I offered to carry Chris' pack for him because
he looked so miserable, but Mike insisted that it would mean more
to Chris if he made the top without assistance. I'm not sure
Chris agreed with the idea, but never the less he made the summit
without my help. They chose a cairn next to mine and divested
themselves of their burdens.
    Mike had brought a free standing dome tent which he preceded
to erect in their cairn. I didn't own a tent but was carrying one
of Mike's old tents. It was a rectangular tent which depended on
two internal poles and outside guy lines for support. I had never
carried nor needed a tent in the mountains before, the weather
had always been good to me. I decided not to try and set up the
tent because the area didn't appear large enough and there wasn't
any way to put stakes in. Of course it rained that night.
    Shortly after arriving at the summit I discovered that my
cairn came equipped with a welcoming committee of one, a marmot.
He wasn't at all shy about sharing and since he didn't have
anything to give me he decided to share what was mine. I
had to secure my pack because he decided any open portion was an
invitation to investigate. I don't know what marmots eat but, by
his lack of fear of me, I believe this one supplemented his diet
with hand outs from hikers. I didn't want him to believe he was
going to become my room mate so I refrained from feeding him
anything. I tried to get rid of him by yelling and acting in a
threatening manner but he just ignored that ploy. I believe I
could have possibly petted him but, with the threat of his large
rodent teeth and the fact there are rare cases of black plaque in
the Sierras I decided to try and keep my distance. That wasn't
easy since he evidently didn't plan on keeping his. I tried to
convince him that life was much better next store at Mike's but
he wouldn't buy it. About the only way I could think of to get
rid of him was to strike him with something but I didn't want to
do that.
    Mike carried a non pressurized backpacking stove, but since I
didn't have a stove' I relied on cold food when unable to build a
fire. At higher altitudes your body is supposed to need a high
calorie intake, but I never eat very much while hiking,and
after a day of hiking I'm usually to tired to eat much,especially
cold food. When the sun lowers in the sky and the temperature
begins to drop it's nice to have something warm in your stomach
,even if it's only a hot cup of soup. Mike was nice enough to
provide me with some hot water.
    By the time evening had settled in, the sky had turned
overcast and threatening. You could look west off the face of the
peak and watch clouds form at your level only a couple hundred
yards away. It was quite evident it was going to rain soon. As
a matter of fact it was so easy to tell that my buddy the pesky
marmot carefully eyed what I had to offer as protection from the
impending storm and decided he had much better at home and
disappeared.
    Luckily it only rained lightly that night. I had a
reinforced nylon tarp which covered much of the open top of my
rocky shelter. I also had a cheap plastic air mattress which was
basically useless because it had developed a rather bad leak the
night before and I carried nothing with which to repair it. Of
course even though it was useless I had the pleasure of carrying
it around with me the whole time. The number one rule in the
mountains is what ever you bring in with you , you bring out
again. My feet extended out into the uncovered area so I enclosed
the lower portion of my sleeping bag in a large plastic trash
bag. The trash bag worked fine, it filled with water and being
water tight allowed my sleeping bag to really get wet.
    The next day dawned overcast but with no immediate threat of
rain. Looking down into Desolation Valley the floor appeared to
be relatively flat, especially due to the lack of any well
defined shadows. It's strange how a vantage point of several
thousand feet makes hundred foot cliffs seem insignificant. Yet
when you are standing at the foot of even a 20 foot cliff with a
full pack it is somewhat intimidating.
    We started down the north face of the mountain planning on
maintaining as much altitude as possible on the way to Mosquito
Pass. You never want to give up altitude just to have to fight to
gain it again. The western face of Pyramid is pretty sheer and
there is a sharp ridge which forms a bowl stretching from the
north shoulder around to Mt. Agassiz on the west. There are a
couple of rock strewn gorges reaching down into the bowl. The
first has a large rock balanced over the cleft in the ridge. The
second is the one I usually take down when climbing the mountain
from the west. We veered east instead and came across a large
snow field. It looked pretty tame and we decided we could save
time if we slid down the snow rather than trying to negotiate the
rocks around the snow field.
    While valleys without shadows look flatter than they really
are, snow field depth perception is even worse without any
shadowy contrasts. Rather than the easy slide it first appeared
it turned out to be more like a fall down a snow covered cliff. I
know snow wont stay on a vertical cliff, but this field had found
an area as close as it could get to vertical. Self arrest with an
ice axe would have worked fine but unfortunately we didn't have
the advantage. I slid on my tail with a flat rock to try to slow
me down, it was useless. Luckily the snow field flattened out
some at the bottom before turning into rocks and I was able to
stop just short of a painful collision. I learned something on
that slide and that is that rough corn snow does a job on bare
arms. Mike and Chris came down together on a foam bedding mat,
they ended up wiping out and getting all tangled up. Mike was
afraid at one point that he had broken Chris' leg in the free
fall but luckily he hadn't.
    Originally we had planned on maneuvering towards the center
of the snow field which extended down hill a considerable
distance, but due to the steepness of the area we entered at we
were unable to do much of anything except fall straight down.
After the unexpectedly quick decent we decided not to trust our
perception of the remaining snow field and continued downward
scrambling over the rocks and boulders until we reached the
bottom of the snow field.
    We took a break at the bottom of the snow field where the
terrain formed a shallow sloped bowl fed with newly melted run
off. This area is interesting in that as the snow field recedes
and shrinks with the warming weather new life springs up from
under the edges. A smattering of small evergreens and shrubs are
revealed, they unlike some of the more fragile foliage will
withstand the dry summer once the snow fields and their precious
water have disappeared. Tufts of grass and mountain flowers will
prevail for short periods and then succumb as the snow recedes.
In the summer there are intermittent thunderstorms but these
don't provide well enough for the more delicate water dependent
vegetation that the run off can temporarily support.
    Desolation Valley's floor is pretty much solid rock and where
spring and summer usually brings the mountain flowers to the
wooded meadows at about the same elevation, it only brings a
light scattering to isolated spots where root action and
erosion has helped to deposit a nutrient poor soil.
The early afternoon brought building rain clouds and the
distant rumble of thunder. We leveled off our decent at about
eighty eight hundred feet to try and stay above the eighty four
hundred foot Mosquito Pass. There appeared to be a route by which
we could continue around Lake Aloha and drop down onto the
backbone of the pass by moving laterally along the shoulders of
Mts. Agassiz and Price. Every so often we had to cross narrow
snow fields which stretched steeply down towards the western
shore of Lake Aloha. They were generally only about twenty or
thirty yards wide and the only tricky part was getting on and
off them. Although Snow reflects the full range of visible
light to appear white, they appear transparent to the infrared
heat from the sun. The rocks below the snow absorb the heat and
snow fields melt from the bottom up. The edges coming onto and
off of the rocks are usually very thin and your first step on and
last step off should be large enough to avoid the under cut
edges.
    We hadn't seen anyone since leaving the top of Horsetail
Falls the afternoon before and didn't really expect to because of
their being no trails on the west side of the valley. I was
trying to quit smoking cold turkey and was beginning to feel like
that wasn't really a good idea. While crossing one of the snow
fields I looked down and saw some people hundreds of feet below
us sliding down the snow on jury rigged sleds. I was tempted to
yell down to them to see if any of them had a cigarette, but
decided they were probably to far away to hear me and I really
didn't think it would be worth it to climb that far down and back
up again.
    That afternoon the storm broke complete with thunder and
lightning. The upper route we were contemplating didn't seem to
offer any cover from either the rain or more importantly the
lightning. We decided to head down to the shore of the lake where
a small stand of trees offered some shelter from the elements.
The south end of the valley has some sparsely scattered trees
but the north end around Lake Aloha is almost completely void of
trees, so this stand looked very appealing. The lake is at about
eighty one hundred feet so we would only have to climb back up
about three hundred feet to make the pass. We moved down to an
area which had a few trees and waited for the lightning to move
out of the immediate vicinity. Some how I feel more comfortable
when there is something taller than I am around to take a
possible lightning strike. We put up a tarp between the trees to
try and create some shelter from the rain. Within the hour the
storm had pretty much passed and we moved further down into the
thicker trees to set up a camp for the night.
    We managed, with minor difficulty, to get a fire going out
of the wet fire wood that we were able to scrounge up. Being
somewhat damp the fire felt good and we managed to dry our wet
clothing. We only suffered one casualty on that project, a
slightly burnt shoe. Late that afternoon a Coast Guard helicopter
hovered slightly above the lake straight out from where our camp
was. They were almost touching the lake and their rotor was
kicking up a spray from the lake. I never did figure out what
they were doing or looking for out there. After being rained on
the night before I decided to set up a tent for a change. Of
course it didn't rain that night.
    The next day we headed along the edge of the lake for
Mosquito Pass. If we had stayed up higher we could have stayed on
steeply sloped sheets of granite on the way to the pass. The lake
side path was over a continuous slide of large boulders. This
route consumed more time because we had to constantly pick our
way among the rocks. We tried to stay next to the water but we
often had to move up hill to navigate around a large rock which
was jutting out of the water. It sure would have been a lot
easier if we had been carrying a raft, but I sure wouldn't want
to have carried it up Pyramid Peak or Horsetail falls. When we
reached the northern end of the lake we met up with the trail
coming from the east side of the valley. We followed a well
defined switch backed trail up the three hundred feet or so of
elevation to the pass. Looking back at Desolation Valley for the
last time on this trip it looked a lot different than it had when
we first entered it. Looking at the northeast side of the valley
the snow cover was significantly greater than the southeast had
been. After over three days of hiking and climbing we dropped
over the pass and into Rockbound Valley.
    The first view of the valley explained why Desolation Valley
had so few trees, Rockbound Valley had them all. Although the
elevation of the part of Rockbound Valley we visited is about the
same as Desolation Valley, between seventy six hundred and eight
thousand feet, the forestation definitely differentiated them.
As soon as we started down from the pass you could no longer
see the forest for the trees, luckily the trail was like a
highway and it was almost impossible to lose the way, at least at
the start. It is almost impossible to get lost climbing a
mountain, especially if it is the highest mountain around. All
you have to do is head up. Anytime you see earth higher than you
are you're not there yet. It is also almost impossible to lose
your way in Desolation Valley because there is nothing to block
your view of your surroundings unless you are nose to nose with
the base of a cliff. We also couldn't get lost through the
previous valley because we were making our own trail, but anytime
there is an established maintained trail, and you can't always
find where it is, you're not exactly lost, but you're also not
exactly where you're supposed to be either.
    Just over the pass there was a stone structure assembled
with mortar. It had walls and windows but no roof or floor. It
looked as if it once had a wood floor with a basement below. with
a slight detour Clyde Lake is also just over the pass. It had a
decent amount of snow still clinging to the walls around it
because it had a northern exposure. Clyde Lake is the headwaters
of the Rubicon River. After passing the lake the mountains were
obscured by the forest until we reached China Flat. The trail was
down hill and well maintained and we could travel farther in a
few hours than we were able to do previously in a good part of a
day. We passed within greeting distance of a family on the way
down to the flat. They had small children with them and even had
a baby stroller with bicycle wheels. They must have had fun
packing in probably through Rockbound Pass using pack animals.
This may not seem extremely profound but China Flat is flat.
    It is a large flat meadow in which the Rubicon wanders and the
forest draws back to allow a view of the higher mountains of the
Crystal Range. The meadow was filled with high grass, mountain
flowers and mosquitoes. I had been some what apprehensive of a
pass named Mosquito but until we reached China flat we hadn't
been bothered by any of the little vampires. The trail leaves the
open meadow and enters a flat area of dense small trees or tall
underbrush. The trail was easy to follow until it opened up onto
the rocky banks of the river. We continued on the same side
following the flat rocky empty part of the river bed. After a
while the path became clogged with underbrush and we had to move
away from the river. After some time of wandering almost
aimlessly trying to find the way, we decided we must have lost
the trail somewhere. Resorting to a last ditch desperate measure,
which anybody else would have probably done first off, we
consulted the map. We had to back track to the point where we had
came out of the brush and onto the river. Directly across the
shallows was a cut in the tall vegetation on the opposite side
indicating the trail.
    The trail again became easy to follow for a while, but after
leaving the tall vegetation and entering the forest again it
became somewhat intermittent. At one point we had to walk in a
small steam because the trail seemed to end at a small meadow
ringed by barbed wire fencing. National forests are working
forests and cattle are grazed in many areas, at least it's less
destructive than logging or mining, which unfortunately also
occurs in national forests. We again came upon a well marked
section of the trail and decided to make camp for the forth
night. Fire wood was more plentiful then around previous camps
and it was dry. After dinner I decided to take a little nip from
a full half pint of Seagram's 7 I had been carrying, just to cut
down on my pack weight. With only iced tea as a mixer it was a
little hard to swallow and I swore next time I would bring
something that went down a little easier. Mike was carrying
Peppermint Schnapps which is more suited for a place without a
cold mixer or ice. I'm still looking for dehydrated beer.
    The next morning we headed out on a short hike to Lake
Schmidell which was only a couple of miles and a few hundred feet
above our forth camp. Just before reaching the lake we had to
pass through a flooded meadow thick with growth. The lake sits
about fourteen hundred feet below Red Peak which is aptly named
because of its pronounced red color. We set up camp among several
other parties, the most people we had seen in days and the first
time we had near by neighbors. The lake proved to be pretty good
fishing and although the trout were fairy small in size we caught
enough for a good meal. Most of the lakes in the Sierras are
stocked by plane and I felt somewhat guilty fishing with salmon
eggs because someone told me that's what they were raised on in
the hatchery. I know they aren't part of the normal food chain at
Lake Schmidell because salmon definitely don't get that far up
into the mountains to spawn. Mike fished with lures and did just
as well.
    I had only slept one night in a tent on the trip but Mike
and Chris had used one every night. The only real big loss of
sleeping in a tent is the sky. On a moonless night in the
mountains, with the thinner atmosphere and lack of city lights,
the stars are extremely beautiful and numerous. Their numbers are
so great it is hard to find familiar constellations and the Milky
Way is easily visible. Chris had never seen the Milky Way and
after it rose I got him out of the tent to view it. Another
advantage of no tent roof between you and the sky is the
meteorites, which are more numerous and appear brighter than in
the lowlands.
    On the sixth day we packed up camp and headed for Rockbound
Pass, which was the closest route back to civilization. On the
mile and a half hike to the foot of the pass we passed by Lake
Lois . We didn't stop and take the time to enjoy it, just admired
its beauty in passing. Rockbound Pass is just a little higher
than Mosquito Pass at about eighty five hundred feet, and
starting that day at about seventy nine hundred feet meant we had
about six hundred feet to gain through the pass. Nestled at the
edge of the tree line just before the rocky pass is a small lake
named Doris. Instead of making a camp there we decided to cross
the pass and make camp at Maude Lake, from there the trip out
would be all down hill.
    When we reached Maude Lake, which lies at about seventy
six hundred feet, Mike and Chris decided they were going to spend
the next couple of days camped at the lake. The lake is only a
couple of miles from Wrights Lake and a road. Being that close to
civilization I could taste the steak and beer I was planning on
having when I got out of the wilderness. I'm not much for just
sitting around a camp for a couple of days and seeing there was a
lot of the day left I decided to hike out and come back for them
in a couple of days. The fact that I was dying for a cigarette
may of had some influence on my decision.
    I spent a couple of hours hiking down through Fourth Of July
Flat to Wrights Lake which is just below seven thousand feet in
elevation and is accessed by a paved and gravel road from highway
50. The lake is complete with cabins, official campsites, boats,
and plenty of people who think they are roughing it in the
mountains. I managed to hitch a ride in the back of a pickup down
to the highway, where I shed my pack and caught a ride back up
the road to Twin Bridges to retrieve my van. I had been planning
on staying in the mountains but changed my mind and decided to
drive back to Vallejo. When my wife and I drove back up to
Wrights Lake that Sunday to pick up Mike and Chris I found out I
had missed something by not staying with them for the last two
days. It seems they ran into an astronomy club near the lake who
were equipped with some pretty impressive telescopes. Mike's
camera wasn't the right type to mount where he could get pictures
through the telescope lenses but he was able to mount it on the
side and use the telescope tracking system to get some nice long
exposure pictures. Along with that he was able to wander from
scope to scope and take a peek at what the user was viewing.

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