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Long Lake

Post Holing Hallucinations

Not having hiked or climbed anything for a "long" time, what better namesake to explore than Long Lake. Of course this object of my curiosity is on the eastern side of the Sierra, just up the road from Bishop beyond the South Lake trailhead. There's a reason why I'm a newbie when it comes to the eastern Sierra, it's a long drive to get there.

Next thing you know, I'm packing the car for a road trip. I arrived in Bishop late Saturday night and drove up highway 168 to the nearest opportunity for overnight parking. I hate to admit it, I'm getting used to sleeping in the car. Having arrived in the dark, I had no idea what the daylight would reveal come Sunday morning. When I awoke, I drove the short few miles to the trailhead. Bam! what a view.

Hurd Peak from the Trailhead

How could it be that I've never heard the word on Hurd? I should just climb that thing and be done with it. Nah, I'll stick with my plan. And the plan is just to get out and explore the area, find something to climb when the snow is mostly gone. Would I ever learn to appreciate that line of thinking later in the day.

South Lake

Included in the days events was a trial run on a pair of backcountry skis (actually more of a hybrid ski/snowshoe - but they look like short stubby skis with a snowboard binding). After getting my gear together and donning my pack, one other guy shows up and asked about my "skis". Turns out his name is Kurt. Kurt was very helpful conveying some local beta of the area which was quite useful as I had not done the usual homework before the trip. Kurt was going to ski out to Mount Goode and back with his trusty dog. I started down the trail which was completely dry, so I thought a good sign as Long Lake is just a few miles away it'll be a short day.

Um, Dry Trail?

I may not be the best expert on back country travel, but I knew as soon as I started getting into the soft and wet snow at seven in the morning that it'll be some nasty stuff to plow thru later in the day. No problem I thought, I have my skis to carry me across the slush. Even on my way to Long Lake I had post holed quite a bit but I was too busy admiring the sights to think much about it. Soon enough Kurt and his pooch caught up with me. After a little more chatter, he was on his way.

Tracks and More Tracks

Even though Kurt was the only other human I'd see during my day tooling around Long Lake, there were plenty of tracks in the snow. Only problem was, they'd go this way or that way - whichever way you'd have the most faith getting to an intended destination. I did bring my GPS and of course a map, but only switched the GPS on once under some trees to check out the reception (a new Garmin GPS60Csx).

Long Lake Outlet - Note the tracks on the right

Before I knew it I was at the outlet (the north side) of Long Lake. Hmm, I thought I should have planned better else I'd be back at the car and having breakfast soon as fast as I arrived I'd be done before long (no pun intended). Oh well, a good stretch for the legs and plenty of beautiful mountain scenery to enjoy so I just took my time. As I entered the bowl at the north end of Long Lake I opted to turn the lake on the right following someone else's tracks in the snow. Now it was still early but I became more aware of the fact I was punching thru the snow with every step.

Bridging the Outlet of Long Lake

Blissfully there was a convenient natural bridge allowing passage over the outlet of Long Lake, since the water had began flowing in the warm temps (no snow bridge for me). I kept looking up at Hurd Peak, quite an awesome view from my vantage point. I traveled a little further above Long Lake and found a spot to take a quick break and slather on some sunscreen; the weather had gotten quite warm with an occasional strong gust of wind. At this point I stashed my skis to lighten the load a little, after all as a rookie skier it would be a death wish for me to ski the slopes above a frozen lake (think Darwin's theory of evolution). 

Looking Back at My Tracks

After my break I began ascending, parallel to the south side of Hurd Peak. This is where post holing mania became very apparent. In my mind I was still under the mistaken belief I would be back at the trail head for late breakfast or mid-day lunch. Hah! I looked back at my tracks and noticed the sluff that had rolled down the hill for every time I had to stop and excavate myself from a thigh high or deeper "post holing event".  Maybe the day would be longer than I thought.

"Waist-Holing on Hurd"

Still a little oblivious to the fact the snow is getting really wet and sloppy as the temps warm, I proceeded onward admiring the beautiful views to Bishop Pass, Cloudripper, and occasionally wondering if I'd spot Kurt on route to Mount Goode. The more I began punching thru the snow up to my waist, the less I looked up at the view. From this point on it was an exercise program - punch thru the snow, place walking sticks parallel to snow, push up and away, drag self out of snow and repeat. Are we having fun yet!

Snow Carnage

While there wasn't enough of the white stuff to pose any avy danger, it was just a major pain in the ass to move. It was laughable that I had an ice axe and crampons in my pack. Of course snow shoes would not be of any use here either. What to do I thought, just keep moving, maybe it'll get better (yeah, right). At a little above 11,500 feet I was still having fun making a traverse, between the gasps for breath.

Can You Hear Me Now?

At this point it was clear that the snow would alter any diligence to my forward progress.  For the first time since I began hiking, a half dozen years ago or so, I packed a cell phone in my pack. Looking over my shoulder towards Bishop I thought maybe, just maybe, I could get a connection to call and say hi to my wife back home. But no, no signal here, no chit chat for me - time to get back to post holing hallucinations on the side of Hurd. No wonder I haven't packed the damned thing before.

The Inconsolable Range

While I did not know it at the time, the majestic view to east of me was the Inconsolable Range of mountains (Bishop Pass on the right of the image). Some tasty stuff there I'd like to come back to and visit, sans the slush-puppies. I post holed along for a while until the fruitless effort wore me down. I...must...get....down.....(har har). I'm thinking Everest is out for me, as is the high point for Florida.

Long Lake

The interesting thing about post holing is there seems to be techniques for managing the whole mess. For example, I sort of improvised with the use of my walking sticks by placing them onto and parallel to the snow to extract myself. Or the method of literally crawling over the snow with the sticks to prevent post holing as a means to ascend faster. Or how to punch thru without worrying about breaking a leg (that is by crimping a leg between two rocks under the snow). I could go on and on, but in all seriousness, traversing  a wet, slushy mountain side in warm temps with deep snow seems like a very likely place to get injured or just plain stuck. I may have been just a few miles from the trail head, but it just as well could have been tens of miles away with the slow-going travel and potential for injury.

Bishop Pass (I presume)

So as I descended and made my way back to my stashed skis I was really getting exhausted from post holing on each and every step. I couldn't wait to put the skis on and glide my way back to the proximity of the trailhead. There was one location steep enough where I could glissade a few hundred feet, what  mess of snow I left behind. I kept looking back thinking it would make a fine picture as though some airplane struck the mountain, but I was just too beat to deal with it.

A Look Back at Hurd Peak (the actual summit out of view)

Well my skis were still right where I left them. Before long I had them strapped to my pack for the walk back across the outlet of Long Lake. I took a look over my shoulder at Hurd and snapped a photo knowing I'd be back after reading up on the peak. Obviously it isn't the tallest mountain around, I think it just looks great and it reminds me a bit of Mineral Peak (from Mineral King).

Final Tracks Out

By now the energy expended in my post hole hell have pretty well wore me out. I was so happy to have reached the gentle down hill slopes which I could ski out of the forest and back to my cushy automobile, a short couple of miles away. The first few hundred yards was great, slowly gliding past so many post hole opportunities <grin>. I got the hang of it quickly, right up until a ski caught a protruding obstacle, causing me to do a summersault at which point the left ski binding broke away from the ski. There I was, half buried in snow, one ski on, one broken ski off, and as I looked across the valley there goes Kurt and his dog effortlessly returning to the trailhead sailing across the snow. I have never had a more miserable two mile walk back to a trail head, but I'd do it all over again for a wonderful yet short trip into the mountains.

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 Copyright Shawn Dienhart
Last updated: 08/31/08.