Elephants Back

DATE: Sunday, May 9, 2021
DISTANCE: 4.83km / 3 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 331m / 1087'
TIME TAKEN: 3:00
SUMMIT: Elephant's Back 2921m / 9585'

ELDORADO NATIONAL FOREST
MOKELUMNE WILDERNESS
STOLEN WASHOE LAND
ALPINE COUNTY, CA
SOUNDTRACK: Bison: Stressed Elephant

PHOTO ALBUM
MAP









It was Mother's Day, and neither me nor my little brothers had a functional vehicle, but we though it would be prudent to go visit our mother for her titular holiday, so I rented a tank-like, new style Toyota 4-Runner, and off we went to Jackson, CA. We had a fine Mother's Day dinner that night, but we also used the afternoon to try out the snow shoes we had all gotten for Christmas. For some reason, we had never gotten the chance to use them until now, and the winter's snow was going fast. We went to old familiar territory, Carson Pass, with the moderate goal in mind of Elephant's Back. Short, easy. To use the most direct path, we had to take the snowshoes on and off a few times, but they were mostly useful, and we got a good feel for them. 

The shoes stayed off for the rocky slope of Elephants Back, where a faint use trail presented it's self and took us to the top, where we enjoyed panoramic views of Round Top, Red Lake Peak in the distance. An Anchor Porter bottle was passed around, a funeral rite for the classic old label design which was to soon become extinct (What's this about? Click HERE.). We then descended the way we had come up, mostly, Zuma the dog enjoying the snow as usual. Then, after returning to the 4-Runner, it was the familiar cruise down Highway 88, back to Jackson for a nice dinner with Mom.

FURTHER READING
• Elephants Back at SUMMITPOST and PEAKBAGGER
• "Visit Lake Tahoe" profiles Elephants Back

Raymond Peak

DATE: Wednesday, July 22, 2020
DISTANCE: 25.81km / 16.04 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 1250m / 4100’
TIME TAKEN: 10:18
MOKELUMNE WILDERNESS
ALPINE COUNTY, CA
SOUNDTRACK: Autopsy: Twisted Mass Of Burnt Decay

SUMMITS:
•Ebbetts Peak: 2,792m / 9,160’
•Raymond Peak 3,052m / 10,014’

PHOTO ALBUM
MAP

Raymond Peak is the third highest peak in the Mokelumne Wilderness which straddles the Pacific Crest between SR4 (Ebbetts Pass) and SR88 (Carson Pass). The 105,165 acre Wilderness takes in portions of the Toiyabe, Stanislaus, and El Dorado National Forests, and lies in the mid-Sierra region between Lake Tahoe to the north and the High Sierra to the south. The peak lies just east of the Sierra Crest, about six miles north of Ebbetts Pass. The views offered from the summit go north to Freel Peak and Desolation Wilderness, west to Mokelumne Peak (and to the Coast Range on unusual clear days), south to the peaks of Emigrant Wilderness and northern Yosemite, and sweeping east into the Great Basin of Nevada.  -Summitpost

I had spend the previous day working on my van at my parents’ house in Jackson, CA, attempting to rip out the old floor, and put a new one in: I only succeeded at the first part. Then, faced with the choice of leaving for my hike the night before and staying the night at Ebbetts Pass to get an early start the next day, and a little acclimation, or leaving early in the morning so I could see Highway 4 (I had never been past Big Trees on it), I chose leaving in the morning, a choice which was more or less thrust upon me by the amount of drinks had with brother and dad that night!

Up at about 5:30AM, on about 4 hours of sleep, I was on my way. Stopped for gas in Arnold, where there seemed to be “Rednecks Against Mask Wearing” (R.A.M.W.) convention in the parking lot. Kept going, past Big Trees, and into unknown territory, new exotic sites such as Lake Alpine and Cape Horn. I reached Ebbetts Pass after 8AM, and ate my breakfast there. I was hiking by 830AM, across the highway, I thought it would be quickest way to reach Ebbetts Peak (I decided to throw it in as an appetizer, not desert, a wise choice) by avoiding the PCT, and going through the woods right across the road from the turnout. I almost immediately ran into the steep talus slopes below the peak, and (no trail yet), had to cut west to continue. I instantly found a dirt road with a parking lot, and a trail leading up the west side of Ebbetts from there, a well worn footpath in the pile of volcanic rocks. Twenty minutes after leaving the van, I was on top of Ebbetts Peak, where there was an american flag fluttering on a pole, and a register in a box at it’s base, which I signed.

It was actually a good choice to climb Ebbetts at the beginning of the day, because it gave me a lay of the land (S-W-N-NW-E-SE), to see where I would be going today and tomorrow. You usually don’t get to have that chance at the beginning of a hike. Still not knowing much about Ebbetts Peak, I figured I could probably just descend the east side, as a nice shortcut down to the PCT. I scrambled around for too long, looking for a way down, and almost tried descending a nasty chute, before I realized my folly, and went back down the way I came up, to it's west shoulder. Lesson learned. Ebbetts Peak: “JUST STAY ON THE FUCKING TRAIL.” I surfed down a sandy hillside, and then walked through some light woods, finally hitting the PCT at about 9:30AM, having burned most of the first hour fucking around on “warm up” Ebbetts Peak.

The well trodden dirt of the PCT had me picking up speed, finally, and I blew past the Kinney Lake Trail turnoff, intending to take a dip in it later. Right after that, I crossed the wilderness boundary. The PCT took me in a generally northern direction, with the volcanic sub rocks of “Kinney Crag” and Reynolds Peak protruding to my left. It was a beautiful day, not too warm, and flowery meadows abounded on either side of me. I hadn’t forced myself to to decided beforehand if I would climb both Reynolds Peak and Raymond Peak that day. As I passed the turnoff for Reynolds, I decided I would hit Raymond first, and at least obtain the highest peak in the area, and then hit Reynolds on the way back, if I still had the energy. So I kept on hauling ass down the PCT toward Raymond, the Sierra Superhighway beneath my feet. As I got farther north, and had Reynolds Peak rising on my left, the rock formations became more astounding. It was almost national park grade scenery! If didn’t already know better, I would have assumed Reynolds Peak impossible to climb! It was quite the twisted mass of volcanic decay.

Not long after that, possibly the most striking feature of the whole area came into view. Being called by such names over the years as Pennsylvania Crag, Sentinel Peak, and The Cylinder, the still unofficially named feature has, at least on peakbagger.com, become known as “The Sinister,” which is quite agreeable, for obvious reasons. It looks like a burned, smashed and melted cathedral fortress. Quite sinister indeed, I will have to find a way up it someday. About this time, the PCT veered to the east, following the south side of a sub ridge that rises between Eagle Creek and Pennsylvania Creek. Jutting from this intermediary ridge were yet more astounding specimens of volcanic turbulence, the most prominent being a titanic bulk of stone which I eventually nicknamed “Behemoth Rock.” (Moron that later.)

About 2.5 hours after leaving the van, I turned off the PCT again and temporarily followed Pennsylvania Creek west, then began angling north-west, uphill toward Raymond Peak. I’m pretty certain that this is not the easiest way to approach, but it worked. The route was very steep, lots of talus, occasionally using the scrub bushes to help drag myself upward, but there was no tricky rock climbing. Just up and up, through the strange steep world. I found a cave, an animal jawbone, and plenty of cool rock formations to keep me interested. There was now a terrific view of Reynolds back behind me. I began to slow down, I don’t know if it was the lack of sleep, the lack of acclimatization to the elevation or both? It took me about 1hr 45 to climb the 1800 feet from the PCT to the top of the mountain. There was a volcanic summit block area, a keyhole crack view of Round Top, and a summit register which I dutifully signed. I hung around up there for maybe 20 minutes, had a snack, and then began heading southwest down the ridge toward The Sinister. At first I tried to stay on top of the ridge, or close to it, but I kept on getting to shitty cliffs, so I finally went north, down off the ridge, and continued through the trees. I was pretty tired by this point, and wanted to save energy for getting back, so I decided to hike a bit closer to The Sinister, then go back cross country to the PCT and retrace my steps, saving the ascent of Reynolds for a future date.

Just after I had gotten off the summit of Raymond, a thunderstorm had come by, not too close, but I'm glad I wasn’t still up at the top. By 2:45, I came up over the saddle low point between Raymond and Sinister, and that was the closest I got to that ominous black rock. I began descending south, through monstrous rock formations, down a dry canyon that was probably the upper reaches of Pennsylvania Creek. By now I was coming around the other side of the ridge that contained “Behemoth Rock,” and I saw there was more to it than had realized on my way in. It was not a thick chunk of rock, but more of a thin fin, which appeared to have a large opening bored in the north side, resembling an eye? A mouth? A black hole? As I continued my hike, the angle of “Behemoth Rock” kept changing, it looked like a vile creature erupting from the earth, fascinating and obscene at once. In a day of many rocks, it might have been my favorite. During this section of the hike, I also had a good view of the saddle between Reynolds and The Sinister, “The Devil’s Glove,” six fingers of black volcanic rock.

The cross country travel through the area was enjoyable and scenic, rocky hills with rust colored earth exposed, down through some drainages and light pine woods, trying not to gain or lose too much elevation. The end of it came as I descended another small canyon, surprisingly red rocked, this one with a bit of water in it, but not enough to be a problem. After this, I veered east and my cross country travel came to an end as I rejoined the PCT at about 4PM. It was time to stop picking my way through rocks and talus, and start picking up the pace. I stormed south through Raymond Meadows, outpacing the afternoon clouds which drifted lazily across the sky, stopping only to take pictures of the wildflowers. By 5:30, I was at the shore of Upper Kinney Lake. The storm had cooled off the second half of the day, and it was getting late, so it was not as warm as I'd been hoping, so I didn't jump in, but I dutifully inserted my feet. Continuing back south again on the PCT, I was in the shadow of Ebbetts Peak by 6:20, and I was glad I had already climbed it. Although the hike was almost complete, I extended it just a bit more by going out on a granite plateau for photos of Kinney Reservoir, Silver, Highland and Ebbetts peaks. I got back to Highway 4 on the proper trail this time, and then did the short walk along the road to get back to where I had parked, just before 7PM.

So If I was only going to hike Raymond Peak that day, why didn’t I take one of the AT LEAST two easier ways to get to it? Who cares? I enjoyed through the scenery, and it was a fine intro survey of the north side of Ebbetts pass. So then I jumped in the van, and drove 15 minutes down the road to my reserved campsite at Silver Creek.

...to be continued.

FURTHER READING
•Alltrails: This is similar to my approach to Raymond
•Raymond Peak on SUMMITPOST and PEAKBAGGER
•Ebbetts Peak on SUMMITPOST and PEAKBAGGER

Mokelumne Peak

DATE: Monday, June 22, 2020
DISTANCE: 25.83 km / 16.05 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 1173m / 3851 ft.
TIME: 8:40
SUMMIT: 2845m / 9334 ft.
ELDORADO NATIONAL FOREST
MOKELUMNE WILDERNESS
AMADOR COUNTY, CA
SOUNDTRACK: Gorefest: Tangled In Gore

PHOTO ALBUM
MAP

Mokelumne Peak is the second hghest peak in Amador County, California, and it stands well apart, to the west, of the main spine of the Sierras, affording good views in every direction. The isolation that sets the stage for an excellent panorama from the top, also lengthens the hike, which is miles on the trail from any direction, and then additional hiking off trail. The most popular approach, from the west, on the Tanglefoot Trail, cost us 16 miles round trip and 3800 feet of elevation gain.

Back at our parents' house in Jackson for a Father's Day visit, there was little celebration, but much hauling of tree trunks out of the gulch, cutting them, splitting them, and stacking them. Great fun, but by monday, my lust for the trail had finally returned (I hadn't hiked since getting my ass handed to me by Balloon dome earlier that month). It was time for another Sierra peak ascent, and the closest one available, as well as a longtime to-do list dweller, was Mokelumne Peak. I had seen it's pointed little head poking out from highway 88 since the childhood trips to Shealor Lake and Roundtop, but had never attempted to reach it, never even knew how. The attempt, and success, would today occur.

Awakening at sunrise, Axell and I were up Highway 88, down to Bear River Reservoir and through the expanse of forest service roads (DRIVING DIRECTIONS HERE) before 8AM. We had more hours of daylight this time of year than any other, and we intended to use them. Our boots were tramping the rich earth of the Tanglefoot Trail at 7:59. Into the woods! Every report I had read in preparation for this hike had a favorable word to say about the Tanglefoot Trail, and they were justified. The trail was well constructed, and immediately plunged us into a world of majestic pine trees, swampy lakes, and granite outcroppings. Were past the border of the Mokelumne Wilderness within eight minutes, and didn't stop to look back. After a half hour on the enjoyable trail, views opened up over Tanglefoot Canyon, the realm into which we would plunge, and then come up out the other side of. It tunred out that we had accidentally picked a hike that mimicked the brutal approach to Balloon Dome from ealier in the month: Start out at the top of a gorge, hike all the way down into it and up the other side, hike cross country to the base of the mountain, gain the additional elevation of the mountain, and then go all the way back the way you came, losing and gaining elevation again! Ugh!

We switchbacked through open rocks down into he canyon, the entered the forested valley floor, which was strewn with car and house sized boulders. Perhaps I would have stopped to climb around on them, but it was mosquito season of course, and the moist, shady areas were their favored gathering place. By 8:55AM, we had reached Tanglefoot Creek, crossed it, and started going up the other side. On with the switchbacks again, and gaining elevation, there were now views of the rock formations on the other side of the canyon, from where we had come. More climbing got us a view down into the Mokelumne River Gorge, and a sight of Calaveras Dome. Tiny springs trickled down the hillsides and moistened the trail, all along the ascent. We got to Moraine Lake at 9:40AM, and here we stopped for a real break. the water of the lake was shallow, slimy looking, and full of bugs, but still a beautiful sight. We spent about a half hour there, finally eating something that could be called breakfast.

Continuing on the trail above Morraine Lake, we went through some spongy, swampy areas, thick with gardens of Mule's Ear, probably saturated by undeground springs. By 10:55AM we arbitrarily picked a place to leave the trail and head east, and then north-east towards Mokelumne Peak. The cross country was not too bad, except for some brush, some steep sandy hillsides, and the nagging self doubt of possibly picking the wrong route. Also, it was starting to get warm. The sun was upon us! Sweat was broken, and water was consumed. We came up along the south side of Peak 8628, traversing uphill and east as we went, soon attaining the saddle between that peak and Mokelumne it's self. Now, for the first time, there was a clear view out to the north, where taller peaks such as Round Top, became visible. The path to the summit was very clear now, as we all we had to do was cross the saddle and ascend Mokelumne's broad shoulder. A use trail appeared and disappeared from time to time, weaving through the junipers and remaining patches of snow. By noon, we were upon the south-west ridge of the mountain, the final stretch, and we could see that the peak of the mountain was basically just a giant pile of rocks, which had to be tediously climbed over.

We were on top of the mountain by 12:30PM, four and a half hours after leaving the van. The summit had a benchmark, a memorial plaque, and a windbreak made from the local stones. This was another of those peaks that has a lot of bugs flying around the top for some reason, so we settled down to take a break about fifteen feet below the summit. I soaked in the excellent view and weather, and took pictures in all directions. The peak is so far west of the main peaks of the Sierra, that you can really take in a sweeping view of them, and I learned a lot about the lay of the land from studying the photographs later. We were having such a good time chilling up there, not the top of the world, but close enough, we stayed for almost 45 minutes. It was past 1:45PM by the time we returned to the saddle. From here, I got some better pictures of the summit, now with some picturesque clouds drifting into the scene.

We rejoined the trail and began heading back down, reaching Moraine Lake again at 2:53PM. It was really warm out now, and it was almost tempting to to take a dip in the shallow pond. But we had to get back. Re-tracing our steps down the trail. Cool relief of the trees in the canyon floor. The hottest and worst part of the day as coming back up the west side of the canyon: we lost the shade, the sun was beating down, and the still fresh wounds of our retreat from Balloon Dome began to sting. But this was not as bad, of course. right when I began to get really tired, it was suddenly over. The rest of the hike was uneventful, and were back at Twentieth Century Schizoid Van by 4:40PM. Strangely, the most mosquitoes of the whole day were there, right in the parking lot. We had learned from Balloon Dome not to let them into the van! On the way back, we decided to make an extra stop at the bridge over Cole Creek, where, for future reference, there is one helluva campsite. We cooled our feet, and refilled canteens from the cheerful mountain cascade, then jumped in the van for the trip back to Jackson.

FURTHER READING
•Doug Bear / Sierra Peaks: This is where I got the driving directions to the trailhead?
•Greg Lamy: Good description and photographs
•Long Green Tunnel: Thorough description with photographs

Round Top (10,381)

DATE: Friday, December 27, 2019
DISTANCE: 7.36 miles
ELEVATION GAIN: 2074 ft.
TIME TAKEN: 6:12
SUMMIT: 10,381 ft. SPS OGUL
MOKELUMNE WILDERNESS
ALPINE COUNTY, CA









PHOTO ALBUM HERE



Round Top. This is a mountain that I go way back with. The first Sierra Peak I ever climbed, my first time over 10,000 feet, my first "real" mountain, with exposure, scrambling and a rocky crown. But I realized not too long ago, during this personal surgence in "summit oriented hiking," that I had never made it to the true summit. Two or three visits had been made during childhood, coming up Highway 88 out of Jackson for Sierra Nevada day hike family excursions. It didn't cross my mind until recently whether or not I had made it to the "actual" top or not, but a conversation with my father confirmed that we had never crossed the gap between the false (western) summit and the true eastern crag. I know I would have returned to Roundtop sooner or later, for nostalgia purposes, but the quest to reach the "top" of Round Top added fuel to the fire and some sense of urgency.

Looking east at the summit

Round Top. It's not really that round, is it? Maybe only in the sense that it's not exceptionally pointy. But it turns out it was probably named for The Battle of Little Roundtop, by confederate sympathizer gold miners in the area, as were nearby Little Roundtop and Jeff Davis Peak. Why confederate sympathizers would want to name a mountain after a battle that the confederacy lost is beyond me, but the south had a lot of other backwards ideas too. Yes, Round Top is only rounded in the vaguest sense, like if you squint your eyes and blur it all together into one shape. But if you open your eyes fully, you will see that the top is quite jagged, four district lobes of varying prominence. Lacerated, crumbling basalt, looking somewhat like one of my poorly maintained toenails (eww!). Turns out at one point there was a different name the mountain, Silver Era Peak, which I find to be much more elegant and distinctive. If the Native American name is not known, let's have Silver Era at least!

Two Sentinels over Kirkwood

Visiting our parents in Jackson, lingering temporarily after the Christmas holidays, my brother Alex and I found ourselves alone at the house, with our parents back to work, and younger brother Axell also back to The Bay. A conversation began something like this:

"Let's go up to the mountains tomorrow!"

"Let's go up to Carson Pass and look at the snow!"

"Let's see if Kirkwood rents snow shoes!"

"Maybe we can hike out in it a little bit!"

Friday morning, we were up pretty early, stopping only for snacks and then continuing rapidly uphill towards our destination. I hadn't been up Highway 88 past Pine Grove in years. In general it looked the same, but small things were different. Too many things to remember accurately, or categorize. Soon enough, the snow took hold, and we were in the alpine wonderland of the Sierra Nevada. Like I said, it had been years. Too many years. Everything looked familiar, having seen it before, but it all looked different too, seeing it with adult eyes, these worn down, jaded eyes. It didn't look any less beautiful. The brutal majesty of Carson Spur, cold, black volcanic rock. Not the welcoming granite of Lake Tahoe or Yosemite. It still felt like the gateway to another world.

First sight

Yes, Kirkwood does rent snowshoes, at their cross country ski shop, and we got some and headed to the Carson Pass Sno-Park, the site of many Sno-Man building activities in our childhood. We strapped on the shoes, neither of us having ever used them before… and off we went. Snow shoes are pretty self explanatory, "just don't try to walk backwards," they said at the shop. Though the amount of snow cover thoroughly suggested WINTER, the sun was out, there sky was crystal clear, and our blood was warmed almost immediately as we stomped the powder on the course of the Pacific Crest Trail, southbound. No specific goal in mind, just an outing in the snow. And it wasn't long before that old buddy, Round Top poked it's head above the trees. While I would have been perfectly content to make the summit of, perhaps, Elephant's Back, (reasonable, yes) Round Top came into focus, and Alex uttered the magic words: "it doesn't really look that far." The unfinished business with Roundtop had been brewing inside him from childhood as well. We were in the same sled, having both been up before, but never to the true summit. As soon as he invoked the spell, there was no turning back. The objective was clear.

The climb begins

There were snow shoe and cross country ski tracks all the way to Winnecmucca Lake, or the place where Winnemucca Lake would have been, had it not been replaced by a crystalline white velvet blanket, and we met one fellow traveller, on his way back from the Roundtop / Sisters saddle. We pressed on. Having no experience with the snow shoes, it didn't seem like the conditions were that great (we were still sinking into the snow fairly deep), and aside from the shoes themselves, we weren't REALLY properly geared up for this expedition, having minimal jackets, and only just raided our parents' coat closet for mittens and hats. Once in the shadow of the mountain, it got cold. And when we gained elevation towards the saddle, the wind picked up, and it got colder, but views were opening up all around of the Sierra landscape. The fine peaks of the Carson Pass area were on display, as well as a plethora of others, in the distance. The route to Round Top was vaguely familiar to us, having been here before, but it seemed almost another life ago. And we'd never been here in the snow, of course.  Reaching the saddle on the west side of the peak, we were back in the sun, and feeling enthusiastic about making the summit. The snow thinned out over the chunky apron of basalt, and we soon jettisoned the snow shoes. Even though Mount Lassen in July had been quite still rather snow covered, this was my first winter ascent of a big mountain, and my gut was filled with an elixir of excitement, tinged with a droplet of dread.

Almost there

The dread comes when you start climbing the steep parts, when you have volcanic rock that's already unstable, even under the best conditions, then you cover it with snow, so you can't even really see what you're working with as far as footholds and handholds. Getting to the first summit was no big deal, but we were now confronted with the notch between us and the true, higher summit, which we handled by cutting down to the south, around the bottom of it, and slowly making our way up the class three climb to the peak. Alex did a fine job picking the route. We took our time, carefully brushing away snow from the rock to find purchase for our cold stiffened claws. There was no thought of recklessness, as It was an almost 3,000 foot drop to the floor of Summit City Canyon at our backs, a constant reminder of where negligent behavior would send us. The care and persistence we took in making a path to the top paid off, and we were soon enough in a place neither of us had been before, the true summit of Round Top.

In the shadow

Having over 2500 feet of prominence, Round Top affords a 360 degree view of the entire area. With a naked eye, we could see past Lake Tahoe to the north, down the Dardanelles in the south, and even Mount Diablo was visible as small gray lump in the west. We didn't bother looking for the summit register in the snow, but spent a few minutes taking pictures in all directions (N-NW-W-SW-S-SE). After this, we had no other objective but to return the snow shoes to Kirkwood by the time they closed at 4PM, and we were gonna be cutting it close. Coming down, it was even colder now in the wind chill and shadow of the mountain, almost brutally so. But we pushed on, not always following our own tracks back, but following somebody's. When we got close to the parking lot, this proved to be a problem, because there were quite a few trails in the snow down there, causing us to follow the wrong ones and fumble around looking for the PCT again. We were rather frosted and fried, back in the pine trees, and everything was starting to look the same. Luckily the shoes were returned just in the nick of time, and we were then free to reflect on the day's accomplishment over heartwarming beverages in the Kirkwood Saloon.

FURTHER READING
•Round Top on Summitpost
•A winter ascent by Bob Burd
•Norcal Hiker 
•Alltrails

Map by National Geographic