Here we have a 13 mile sojourn into the eastern Sierra beginning in Onion Valley and going over Kearsarge Pass. (Fun Fact: On June 19, 1864 the U.S.S. Kearsarge sank the C.S.S. Alabama. Chalk one up for the union!)

I revisited Onion Valley and its trailhead as it is one of my favorites. This was my third trip over Kearsarge Pass.

One night was spent at Onion Valley campground, one night at Kearsarge Lakes and one night at Matlock Lake (June 24 to June 27, 2024.) 

My reading companion on this trip was Misfit: Growing Up Awkward in the ’80s, by Gary Gulman. Gary Gulman is a very funny man whose other pastimes include mental health and basketball. He is a master of observational humor – most of which is self deprecatory. It is interesting how whatever book I am reading shapes my random thoughts as I spend time alone on the trail.

My first night at Onion Valley campground was warm and calm. I slept without a rain fly! Adventure!

However, upon arriving at my reserved campsite, campsite #25, I was aggrieved to discover two squatters had taken my site. I immediately discerned that they were Pacific Crest Trail hikers by their odor (ripe), appearance (soiled) and physical condition (gaunt.) My disgruntlement dissipated. I looked around the site in hopes that there was room for a third tent, but as campsite #25 was on a slope there was not. I had to, literally, send the vagabonds packing. They apologized and said that they could pack up in 15 minutes. 15 minutes! It takes me at least one hour to break camp!

Please allow me to share a few words about the PCT and its denizens. The Pacific Crest Trail extends 2,650 miles from Mexico to Canada. An average PCT hiker completes the trail in five months, averaging around 18 miles a day. The PCT hiker is a special breed. By the time they exit Kearsarge Pass in order to resupply in a nearby town, they have already hiked nearly 800 miles. They are fit. They take the concept of “traveling light” to the next level. Everything is light: shoes, clothes and pack. It is a minimal existence. Nothing superfluous is carried. The PCT hiker speed walks along in an upright posture, “crushing the miles”. They are not a particularly social group, except within their own trail families or “tramilies”. They do not use their real names, but instead go by trail names like Roadrunner, Zookeeper or Bird Call. They are focused on a singular goal: reaching the Canadian border before winter. Timing is essential. If you arrive in the Sierra too early, you will have deep snow to contend with. By arriving too late the probability of making it to Canada before the snows fall decreases. The best strategy for the PCT hiker navigating the Sierra is to start hiking early, predawn. That way the snow is hard and the creeks are at their lowest. As the sun rises and warms the snowpack, the snow melt engorges the waterways making them extremely dangerous to ford. Creek and river crossings are the most dangerous part of the hike.

Many of the locals living near the route of the PCT go above and beyond in supporting PCT hikers. They patrol the side roads looking for hikers who need a lift into town. They leave coolers full of ice, soda, watermelon and beer at trailheads. They are called “Trail Angels”. Their often anonymous gifts are known as “Trail Magic”. There were many PCT hikers hustling along my chosen route on their way to or from town. A short but friendly greeting is all you can expect from them, unless they see you in the parking lot and they need a ride into town. That is when they descend on you like friendly mosquitoes. 

The second night was spent at Kearsarge Lakes, whose backdrop is the Kearsarge Pinnacles. The views here are just ridiculous! A big storm rolled through during the afternoon, forcing a mandatory tent nap. I had pitched camp and walked down to the lakes when the skies darkened and the wind picked up. It began to sprinkle. Then I heard thunder. By the time I returned to my tent it was raining hard. The temperature dropped. Then it began to hail. This kept up for a couple of hours. I began to worry when I noticed that my tent floor looked like a water bed. I pushed on the tent floor. The water squished and sloshed around, but did not leak through. Phew!

After the storm passed I took a stroll around the area and chatted with my neighbor, The Endocrinologist. We shared a good laugh or two about the storm and other topics (such as that “Junior Mint” episode of Seinfeld.)

On my way back up and over Kearsarge Pass I chatted with The Documentarian. He was looking for a nonfiction book about trail hiking to base a documentary on. His favorite: The Last Season, by Eric Blehm.

The third night was spent at Matlock Lake (elevation 10,600 feet), a lake located off a side trail. (Perhaps Matlock Lake is named for fictional criminal defense attorney Ben Matlock, portrayed so brilliantly by beloved actor Andy Griffith?) I had heard it was seldom visited. I was not disappointed. Here I gave a whoop and jumped off a rock into the water. The lake is positioned to reflect 13,595 foot tall University Peak.

The lake is fishless and there are frogs – Mountain Yellow Legged Frogs, in fact. These frogs are extremely rare. I knew the lake was fishless, however I was amazed to discover the frogs. Mountain Yellow Legged Frogs and introduced trout species can not really coexist in the same lake. Matlock Lake is one of a few lakes where the non-native trout were removed and the frogs were reintroduced. The tadpoles are huge and spend three years swimming around in the lake before they mature into frogs. Think about that. The lake freezes every winter. How do these amphibians survive a long winter at 10,600 feet? I was looking forward to falling asleep to the sound of frog calls, but the lake was very quiet. It turns out these frogs do most of their calling underwater.

This lake also had good campsites and a waterfall. To spice things up, the visitor to Matlock Lake could sit and listen to ice crashing down the slopes of University Peak. A momma duck and her ducklings completed the setting. I give Matlock Lake an A+.

That night the winds picked up. The previous night’s storm had ignited fires on the western slope of the Sierra, and a plume of smoke rushed past overhead making its way over Kearsarge Pass. The sunset was an eerie red, typical of fire weather. 

On my way back to the car I encountered The Youngster. He was a fit looking twenty something from Sedona. It was his first trip to the Sierra. He was sore and a little awestruck. Pointing to University Peak he asked “What’s that?” I explained that it was a “thirteener” (a mountain summit over 13,000 feet in elevation.)  He asked for my recommendation, so I suggested he hike to the top of the pass first and gauge how he felt there and maybe save University Peak for another time. According to Summit Post, it is a 14 mile hike to Center Basin from Onion Valley, then from there it is a 3,000 foot climb. That’s the “easy route”.

University Peak is named for the University of California, Berkeley. (Go Bears!) There are a few other nearby peaks also named for schools. Caltech Peak is a bit taller at 13,832 feet. Troop 84 Scoutmaster Stan Boicourt did some hiking and fishing in the Sierra, but I doubt he ever climbed Caltech Peak. But he was Caltech Class President in 1950!

 

Trojan Peak (13,947) and Mount Stanford (13,979 feet) are taller yet. Sadly, there is no UCSB Peak, but if there were you know it would be the party peak! I guess the closest thing we former Gauchos have is University Peak. Let me know if anyone out there is interested in giving it a try.

Sierra place names are very interesting and not without controversy. My favorite is Mount Shakspere – pronounced “Shack Spear”. Whoever recorded the place name struggled with the correct spelling of Shakespeare, so alas fair traveler the official name is pronounced “Shack Spear”. Poor William must be turning over in his grave.

“To climb steep hills requires slow pace at first.” – William Shakespeare

The parking lot was surprisingly quiet when I returned to my car. It would appear that the PCT hikers had all moved on up the trail. By now the faster hikers are up around Sierra City (mile 1200) after three months of hiking. So ends my little sojourn. Next I will drive into town and buy a milkshake. I simply can not say it any better than John Muir, so once again I leave you with the following:

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.”

Post Script: There is no Boicourt Peak in the Sierra. There is however a Boicourt Hill in North Dakota. Read more about it here:

Trail Report Redux (1986): Hiking the Boicourt Trail to Boicourt Overlook

All my other Trail Reports can be found at daveboicourt.com.

Thanks for reading and I look forward to seeing you on the trail.