Walking Trip In The High Sierra
June 25, 1966-July 10, 1966

Our camp at Chasm Lake was crisply frosty when we woke at dawn. I started a tiny fire and fed the kids oats and hot Instant Breakfast in bed. We were on our way over the rocks above the West parapet about 7:00. Those mountaineer types who had passed the night before had said the way to the pass above was clear and the going easy. The past few days had taught me to mistrust that wild country, but as they promised the first hour was fine. Up over the granite, across a few just-right-sized talus beds to a nice lake just as per map. (Much resting). Then a session with map and compass. Two passes in sight; the one to the North precipitous ( not really sure it looked like a bona fide "pass"), the one to the south farther away from us but well defined. My route copied from Starr's Guide indicated the North one. The footsteps of our visitors were seen in the snow leading from the South pass. Feeling more comfortable about live people than map, compass, and guide book I elected to follow the footsteps. Out across the Ionian Basin we treked (nice going, over medium sized talus or flat sandy spots.) We passed North of several little lakeletts and proceeded over talus that got larger and larger. The trip to the pass ascent was fairly straightforward. Then up a slope of football sized talus so precipitous that we practically climbed with both hands and feet, upright. Damn good thing the rocks were firm. A small stream ran alongside our route. Then the blessed top - and a beautiful icy lake just in front of us. Bearings from the map to confirm position - and it was the wrong damned lake! (The right one was a half mile due North, over another pass.)

Disgustedly found a place to lunch. Napped in the warm sun. Then tackled the pass. And the climb was a hell of a lot steeper than intimated by the Map. And all the way I had visions of sheer rock cliffs or worse at the top.

Well, from the top the view was tremendous. A lake an impossible distance below us, a ring of huge and unfamiliar peaks around us; even after 5 minutes with the map and compass I had the distinct feeling that I had brought us somewhere where we didn't want to be. (12,800', 2½ miles from Chasm Lake, 1 mile short of Muir Pass.)

Finally directions began to jell. And sighted a tiny regular granite shape on a distant mountainside that had to be the shelter at Muir Pass. With great satisfaction took off NE around a level contour toward the pass. And saw the size of the snow field we had to cross. It stretched from our pass to the pass we should have taken. It obviously got steeper as it curved around the mountain. And the penalty for slippage was apparent - the lake being deep and not too well ringed with exposed rocks. A vendor of ice axes would have collected a fine price.

At 3;00 we stood at the shelter (12,059') and looked back over our trail. Even from that distance you could see it plainly. A line of footsteps led bravely onto the snow field, marching levelly onward. Then a pair of descending trails looking like tire tracks in the snow - these drove downward in parallel for about 200 yd, coming to rest at a pile of exposed talus. Then prints from exposed rock to exposed rock down to the lake edge and on up to the pass. We'd come to the inevitable icy spot on the steepest part of the slope. Marilyn slipped and couldn't even slow herself until she connected with the rocks. I started down to keep her company leaving Rich to follow me down (both backing down, one just above the other, using common foot-steps), Rich panicked with this maneuver., Marilyn, still recovering from hers; real unstable situation.

That solid stone shelter, standing on a real trail that even had a few footprints on, was a heartening eight. Rested, shared a chocolate bar Marilyn had saved from lunch. Took off for Evolution Lake shortly. Even though the trail disappeared under snow regularly we had no trouble flying downhill; past Wanda Lake at a 3 mph clip with everything aching, over boggy marshlets and across little streams with only brief rests, down into the valley of Sapphire Lake by about 5:15, Now there was a sight. Beat as we were we thoroughly enjoyed the whole business. Bright white granite cliffs and large boulders scattered all around - brilliant scarlet, yellow and blue flowers tucked around white rocks and among green dwarf cedars. They don't call it Sapphire Lake for nothing - it's bright blue in the late afternoon sun and its setting is like something from a fairytale. Marilyn, way out in front, found a couple resting on the trail (she sprawled on a rock). She talked for a while with them. When Rich and I met them we all sat down and swapped lies for a half hour. Marilyn knew we would, and poor thing, walked back up the hill for company.

Pushed on to Evolution Lake. Found it just like we'd remembered it from last year. There were two couples camped at the upper end (1.3 mi, 10,850'). Reached the lower end and, our camp by 6:15, (10,850', 3½ miles from the Upper End, 9½ miles from Chasm Lake. 42½ mi from road end).

Scrounged wood (takes doing) ate and passed out.