Pilot Peak lies to the north of Filmore and in the summer would be a drive-up
with a moderately high clearance vehicle.
This part of the Sierra saw a good deal of snow this past year and
though it was only a few days until summer, there was snow
down to about 6,000ft. The paved road through La Porte was cleared all the
way to Sierraville, but we managed only half the distance along the dirt road
to Pilot Peak before getting
stopped by snow on the north side of the peak. It
was hardly a complaint though, leaving us less than a mile from the summit with
perhaps 600ft of gain.
Unlike the soft snow we found in Nevada a few weeks earlier, the Sierra snow was
hard and well-consolidated. Leaving the snowshoes in the car, we hiked
along in our boots for the first part,
switching to crampons when the slope got 
steeper.
We spent a bit more than half an hour to reach the snow-free summit.
There is a dilapidated 
lookout tower on top, with an unusual hexagonal
design. Signs warn visitors to keep out and with good reason. There are stairs
missing for 
the climb to the second story, making for what we rated a
class 3 climb, the first either of us had encountered on a stairway. The
upstairs resembled the lower level in that both were complete shambles.
The views were decent enough, Mt. Lassen easily seen far to
the north and Mt. Filmore nearer to 
the south,
both still covered in snow. The most interesting
peak we found was Sierra Buttes to 
the southeast
with it's pointy summit
the only such peak to be seen in the area. Castle Peak and Basin Peak could
be seen in the distance just to the left of Sierra Buttes as well as a few
others that Bill and I could recognize.
It was blowing cold over the summit so we
did not stay more than about 15 minutes, taking about the same time for the
rapid descent back to the car.
Another half hour was spent driving back towards La Porte and then the side
road towards Filmore and the other summits. There was some confusion in
finding this because the Delahunty Lake shown on the map and described in our
directions had been renamed to Pilot Lake. We found this out only later, but
I suspected it since everything else about the road seemed to match our map. We
were able to drive about three of the six miles in on this road before being
blocked by snow.
We had a short discussion about trying to get by the large
drift, deciding it wasn't worth getting stuck for. There was more snow just
around the corner that we found would have made the effort futile.
We hiked 
up the road to the pass,
taking about an hour to cover the three miles
over a mix of snow and dry ground. Not a lot of dry ground though, as water
was flowing liberally as the sun had begun its daily job of melting the snow in
earnest. Luckily it did not grow soft too quickly and we managed the rest of
the day without snowshoes as well, postholing only a small amount.
The hike from the pass up the curving 
North Ridge
of Mt. Filmore was all on snow and pleasant enough with 
some views
and welcome shade under the forest cover. It was nearly noon before we reached
the summit, the views not significantly
different from Pilot Peak, but blocked more by the surrounding trees. We found
a MacLeod/Lilley 
register
only two years old among the summit rocks. There was
only a small 
remnant
of the earlier 1991 register placed by Pete Yamagata, no
indication found suggesting where it might have gone.
We slid, 
jogged,
and skated our way down over the snow back to the pass, then
up to 
Mt. Etna
on the north side of the pass, taking just under an hour from
one summit to the other. Most of the south facing slopes of Etna were snow-free
much to Bill's preference. I was less enamoured by the brush that we found in
its stead so I took to the one remaining
tongue of snow that I could find to
ascend about half the distance up to Etna. I was less than a minute behind Bill
in reaching 
the summit
which only showed that neither route choice held any
special advantage over the other. There was
a register dating to 2004 with
only a few entries, all of them local to this part of Northern California.
Perhaps the most interesting part of the day was the traverse to
Stafford Mtn.
Though all of it was no more than class 2, the descent off Etna to
the northeast was steep and a bit tricky.
The north side was very steep with hard snow while to east
was moderately brushy. Between then was a
narrow track of snow-free talus that we
carefully descended before the gradient became easier. I got ahead of Bill at
this point and then made my way circuitously down the brushy slopes, finding
a satisfactory route that minimized the bushwhacking. Bill reported later
having less luck in the endeavour, which probably accounted for his falling
behind even further.
It was 2p by the time I'd reached the summit of nearby Stafford. The summit
was completely unsatisfying, the highpoint a bit of rock amidst heavy brush
that I climbed through still wearing my crampons I'd used for the northwest
side of Stafford. I found a small clearing nearby that I could comfortably wait
for Bill to arrive, but the views were close to non-existent. To while away the
time I cleared a patch of ground and built a small, probably illegal campfire
to amuse myself. Bill 
showed up
20 minutes later, just as I was lighting the
thing, wondering to what purpose it was serving. "Very little," I replied with
a smile.
We had planned to continue along the undulating ridgeline to
Blue Nose Peak,
but by now neither of us had the desire to do so - it seemed further away than
we'd have liked and it was looking like a good time to call it a day. After
the fire
had consumed itself in about five minutes and Bill had had time to
snap a few pictures, we 
headed down.
We returned to 
the ravine between Etna
and Stafford, then dropped down the ravine 
to the road below.
The hike back 
on the road to our car held some
small amusements. First, I found
a 
small flask
lying in the road that we had somehow missed on our way in. Bill
offered to give the flask a good home, particularly after finding it was still
full. A short discussion ensued on the wisdom of sampling the contents (after a
whiff to confirm it was alcoholic in nature) whereby we convinced ourselves it
would be fit for consumption and drew off a
few sips in the way of assaying our
find. Mmmmm. Something along the lines of spearmint liquor for which Bill had
ready a German-sounding name, it warmed the throat down to the abdomen and
had us
wondering why we hadn't thought of this ourselves. Further on we came across
a small cabin at 
Sawmill Ridge,
used by snowmobilers as a common hut for
resting. Though stocked with sleeping bags and other gear and food, it was not
well cared for and there were beer and soda cans
littering the ground outside.
When we got back towards the car we found an older gentleman with a small
shovel 
chipping away
at the snowdrift in an effort to clear it. He had tried
to drive his 
motorhome
through it without success, but had at least managed to
extract it and park on dry ground before trying the manual method. It seemed
a most futile effort to both Bill and I since there was far more snow to be
encountered a short distance further up, but we did not want to discourage the
man's efforts that seemed to be made with much enthusiasm. At the car we found
more folks 
milling about
to whom I jokingly commented, "Hey, how come he's
doing all the work?"
"Oh, he's not with us," was the unexpected reply. This group of six adults and
two children had come up earlier to visit another nearby cabin and had just
returned to their truck. The adults were all drinking beer from two coolers in
the back, and we must have drooled or looked longingly at them as
it was only a minute before one of them asked if we'd like to join them. How
could we not? They even 
had limes
for the Coronas. As locals, they confirmed
for us that the nearby lake had undergone a name change. They suspected it was
the christian group that had recently set up a summer camp responsible for the
name change - naming it for Pontius Pilate. Bill somewhat deflated this theory
by pointing out the nearby Pilot Peak after which it was more likely named. We
suspect they didn't note the spelling difference between Pilate and
Pilot, nor perhaps that Pontius Pilate wasn't a favorite character to
Christiandom. They were a fun group and
we spent 20-30 minutes chatting with them before we'd finished our beers and
decided to head back. As we left, the elder gentleman was still busily chipping
at the snow while the others played Frisbee and continued quaffing their
beers.
We stopped in La Porte for a light meal and another beer after first taking a
short walking tour. There were two saloons, a
post office/general store, a 
museum,
and not a whole lot more. Our beer-loving friends drove up as we
entered 
Reilly's Saloon & Cafe,
evidently getting the same idea as ourselves.
The service was friendly though perhaps somewhat slow, but that was fine with
us - we didn't have anywhere to be in a hurry. The long drive home could wait
just a bit longer...