Summer '22 Trip - Part 5

Dates: July 17-18, 2022

Crew: Monica Mah, Yisha Ng

Locations: Kings Canyon National Park, Mono Lake Tufa State Natural Reserve, Devils Postpile National Monument

The Land of Superlatives

Combined, Sequoia and Kings Canyon are basically just showboating with a laundry list of superlatives. The trees of Sequoia are the largest in the world. Mt. Whitney is the highest in the continental US. The middle fork of the Kings river has the deepest canyon in the US from bottom to top (yes, deeper than the Grand Canyon by virtue of having peaks surrounding it and not plateau). Basically, the place is impressive. 

Once we bottomed out in the canyon we found ourselves driving along the Kings River in the designated wilderness area. It was mighty hot and the water looked beautifully clear. We eventually caved and pulled off to do some wading and rock hunting in the riverbed. The cool water swirled in calm pools walled off by boulders and I briefly ventured into the middle of the river but it was rough enough to knock me on my butt and cause a retreat to the safe havens on the side.

Never one to pass up a good waterfall, I begged for a stop at Grizzly Falls as we passed its picnic area. The short roadside trail led to a small 75-foot waterfall down a narrow gully. It was a worthy diversion (and I've never met a waterfall that wasn't). We made our way from there to our campsite at Canyon View, nearly as far down into the canyon and park as the road will take you. With light starting to fade, we made the decision to squeeze in some bouldering and took the road to its conclusion at Cedar grove. These boulder fields lay in a meadow at the heart of the canyon, next to the South fork of the Kings River, and I probably spent more time admiring the golden cliffs ringing us in than I did climbing.

Golden hour cliffs surrounding the bouldering area. Somehow I doubted our single crashpad would help with trying to climb those.

With Mountain Project's modest GPS capabilities, positively identifying any boulder problems in this area was nigh impossible, so we settled for trying what looked fun- which is always a winning strategy for bouldering in a new place. Wearing ourselves out quickly, we resigned to resting atop some massive boulders and watching the sunset paint the cliffs golden and the clouds framed between them a pale yellow, then rose gold, then dark red before night set in. It was a great light show.

Day 2: Where the Wild Things Are

It wasn't too much longer before we heard rustling and saw a bobcat picking its way through the brush, occasionally shifting its glance to us to make sure we weren't moving at it. We stopped to admire its spotted coat and tufted ears as it passed us on the left, making sure we pointed it out to the backpackers going by with their eyes focused on the ground. It was a great start to the hike and emblematic of the day to come. The wildlife kept coming out of the woodwork, and soon I got to acquaint myself with a rotund squirrel who observed me but was more interested in the seeds he was chowing down on.

The sandy trail faded out to mud soon as we got closer to the river. Our pre-hike research stated in no uncertain terms that bug spray was a must for this section, which was proven true as we got into the shade of the low-lying forest. Mosquitos came at us in swarms, and even as a professed hater of bug spray, self-preservation won out and I had to apply a thick coat. The vegetation was lush and the shady trail was a welcome shelter from the sun which was rising with great strength already. I especially appreciated the bright green horsetail reeds that sprouted everywhere in one section like a bamboo forest plopped down in the middle of California.

The relaxing forest walk was doomed to end, and soon things became more typical grueling uphill walking with switchbacks, steps, and rocky trailwork that kept us occupied for the remainder of the (planned) hike. It was clear we were getting closer to Mist falls as the river on our right churned more and more, weaving through rocks and throwing mist at the trail. Before we got there, an opportune photo spot came up at a large flathead boulder with a sprawling vista of canyon walls behind us. This was the most impressive view California had offered to this point and we drank it in.

Mist falls were more wide than tall but flowed an impressive volume of water. I set up my makeshift tripod/backpack combo to support my camera and capture some slower shots to smooth the water out a bit. This was a great time to chat it up with the other old men doing the same with their cameras and discuss photography, the weather, and their bear sightings earlier that day. I was pretty disappointed to have missed the bears, but life goes on.

We all agreed we felt great and didn't want to turn around just yet- remembering something in the trail guide about a "Paradise Valley" further up the trail, I convinced the girls to keep picking our way up the canyon until we found this magical place or got tired. The trail maintained the steep rockiness it achieved just before the falls, but that was no problem for our legs at this point. 

I was bringing up the front when I heard both Monica and Yisha yell behind me and turned around to see them backing off in the wrong direction. I didn't see anything wrong, but neither had they- they heard it. I had stepped right over a camouflaged Western Rattlesnake who made his displeasure known with a vigorous rattling. Apparently snake rattles fall into the frequency range that I can't hear. Good to know for future reference... at least he didn't deem me worth the waste of venom; he just kept on slithering off the path, giving me time to get a picture for later identification.

We made it up another 3 miles or so before the sky darkened considerably and it started to sprinkle. We were already in a good spot for lunch so we hunkered down by the riverbank on a pile of smooth river rocks to eat lunch before turning around. Aside from moving more carefully to watch for snakes and bobcats, going down we made good headway and were staying ahead of a downpour if one was on its way. Just when I thought it would be an uneventful descent in the rain for the rest of the way, we got our last surprise of the day.

Rounding a corner of the cliff rising on my right, I saw a very large, very furry, very bear-ish looking creature standing 15 feet away and staring straight at me. I held my arm out behind me to stop Monica and Yisha before they saw it, backed myself back around the corner, and told them what I saw. Then, being the genius I am, I got my camera prepped and peeked back around. The bear was just rummaging around in the leaves and didn't seem overly interested in me, so I started snapping. Every few clicks, it would glance up at me and my blood would freeze, then our standoff dissipated as the appeal of foraging won out. This cycle repeated a few more times than was wise, with me backing slowly down the trail the whole time.

Even though the bear was entirely brown, it's actually a black bear, which is about as passive as bears can get. He continued digging for a while and then started lumbering down onto the trail. We retreated further back, with Monica going so far as to start climbing the cliff for extra distance. The bear then plunked down on the trail and started nosing and munching at the nearby plants, which was super fun to watch but put us in a bit of a pickle. With a cliff on the right and steep hillside on the left, there was no other way out but to wait for the bear to get bored first and move on.

Unbothered brown bear sampling the local grasses and considering sampling the non-local photographer.

Finally, some other hikers came from the other direction; despite my efforts to wave my trekking poles overhead and warn them, they made enough noise to startle the bear back into motion and eventually down the hillside, freeing us up. Flush from victory of surviving the encounter, we near sprinted down the next section of trail until we got back past the falls.

A steady sprinkle set in and our hike out through the vegetation at the bottom felt more like a rainforest expedition than the desert scenes we'd been spending our time in. We made it down in time to catch a ranger talk on snakes and tell them about our rattlesnake encounter, then piled in the car and said so long to Kings Canyon. We'd reached a checkpoint in the trip - a rest night! Stopping in Fresno we parked the trip at a hotel to repack, restock food, shower, and sleep well.

Devils Postpile National Monument

Devils postpile is a strange formation - with similar appearance to the much larger Devils Tower, which is famously the first US National Monument. The postpile protrudes from a hillside, a disjointed mass of pentagonal basalt columns that were extruded by cooling lava 100,000 years ago. Which, coincidentally, is about how long it took us to get there. Leaving Yosemite, we lost elevation quickly and proceeded through the Inyo National Forest to Mammoth Mountain. This is where things got annoying. 

Mammoth is a huge ski destination, but apparently in the summer becomes a center for mountain biking, hiking, ropes courses, and more. It was swarming with people and as a preservation measure they closed the Minaret Vista entrance station to private vehicle usage for Devils Postpile. We got turned around by the forest ranger and sent back to Mammoth to book bus tickets instead. Mammoth promptly told us there were no more tickets available that day and we were SOL (to put it bluntly). We retreated to strategize and found out there were first-come first-serve campsites in the forest that we could go in to scout out for "camping." We did just that, and then proceeded to the postpile. There were no buses and no cars in the parking lot, so in my amateur opinion their system is ridiculous and should be at least noted prominently on the website or managed in a smarter way. Preservation is one thing, but this was an actively obfuscated way to prevent people from enjoying this national monument. Anyways, rant over.

The bottom of the postpile presents a rubble pile at odds with the rank and file above.

The trail loops around and takes you (if you wish) up the hill where you can stand on top of the postpile. Being carefuly to stay away from the delicate edge, we were fascinated by the natural tiling created by the interlocking pillars. Going back down and catching a glimpse of rainbow falls down the continuing trail, we were satisfied and headed back for the car. I saw a ground squirrel standing stock upright in the meadow we had entered from, and had no choice but to immortalize him.

Mono Lake Tufa State Natural Reserve

Determined to make good enough speed to view Mono Lake and get back up the thrashing canyon to Yosemite's West gate, I took the wheel and wound us back out through the now-deserted area around Mammoth. Turning off the highway towards Mono Lake, we hit a dusty road and drove into a massive valley plain with hazy mountains far off. The road was pretty rutted and we threw up an impressive dust cloud as I pulled into the parking lot with just an information booth and a trail sign pointing us into the grasses.

The boardwalk only went for a short jaunt before sand took over, and we were walking on the tough beach on the shore. Mono Lake is famous for its tufas, towers of calcium carbonate formed when the mineral-rich lake water interacts with freshwater springs in the lakebed. The lake is several times saltier than the ocean thanks to everything that's washed down from the Sierra over the million years the lake has existed. The tufas stick out of the grass and beach like alien structures, misshapen and scattered. 

On the lakeshore the size and strangeness of the lake strikes home. It's truly an inland sea, a sister sea to Great Salt Lake. The haze in the background tints the foothills blue, and with the yellow grass, there's a curious lack of green in the whole scene. We wandered independently, picking our favorite tufas to enjoy. I spent a while sitting on the shore watching small waves pile up foam.

The preserve is also noted for the millions of birds that call it home, permanent or temporary during migration season. We saw a few, although the sun was already low enough I couldn't get enough light into my lens to capture them flying in a timely manner. I did enjoy watching a swallow hop around the rocks. Then Yisha spotted a nest on top of the widest tufa in the lake, which we thought might have a bald eagle in it (all we could see was a white head). Returning to my pictures later the band around the bird's eyes are noticeable, which means we found an osprey instead. I didn't think they lived inland like this; you learn something new every day.

Mysterious tufas dot the landscape and waterscape alike.

Heavy sunset in two parts.

It was a short hike, but a relaxing cap to the day and a great change of pace from the desert and high mountains we'd been seeing for days. San Francisco and Seattle had the maritime air to them that I love, so hearing waves roll in and seagulls on the California-Nevada border was a pleasant surprise. The sun hung heavy over the foothills by now and we drove back up the canyon into Yosemite. The goal was to make it to our campsite before dark, but the sun set right as we entered through the abandoned west entrance and we decided to take an impromptu stop at Tuolomne meadows; more on that in the Yosemite post. These two parks made a nice pair with the contrast in environments and natural oddities. It was the perfect way to fill a half-day coming out of Kings Canyon.