Mon, Aug 13, 2001
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My ten day quest to climb 10 Emblem peaks was drawing to a close. David, who had joined me on eight of the first nine, had decided to call it quits and get back home a bit earlier. It had been enjoyable having company for many of the hikes, even if at first I had disliked the slower pace this entailed. There had been six of us that had climbed Whitney the day before, and now there was no one left but myself. I didn't want to admit it, but it was getting rather lonely in Lone Pine. I was up at 5a, the last morning I would be rising so early, thankfully - it was getting tough rolling out of bed in the morning with stiff legs from the day before! I left most of my stuff in the motel room, as I planned to return in the afternoon, and taking only a few items for a dayhike, I left right after I'd eaten breakfast.
I travelled about half an hour down US395, towards the last Emblem peak in this direction. Olancha rises above 12,000 ft, the last peak in the southern end of the chain to do so. In fact, the next higher peaks are some distance away, Mt. Florence in the Mineral King area, and Cirque Peak, not far south of Mt. Langley. This provides Olancha with an outstanding vista on all sides, unequalled by most of the taller peaks of the High Sierra. Though the lowest of the ten peaks, it is far from the easiest hike. With over 6,300 feet of elevation gain, it was more than Mt. Whitney, and surpassed only by Split Mtn.
The Trailhead is not obviously marked, as there are no signs on the side of the highway indicating where to turn off. Having researched this well beforehand, I had no trouble finding Sage Flat Road where I hung a right. Three miles west and the pavement gives way to gravel and dirt, but at least the road was flat enough to make negotiation of the road feasible in my low-clearance Miata. Almost six miles from US395, the road ends in a large, dusty lot with an adjoining run-down public corral. There were no other vehicles there when I arrived at 6a, so I found the choicest spot I could find in the shade of a huge oak tree, and started out.
There is a new and impressive trailhead
information sign
placed by the Forest Service that seems
out of place with the delapidated conditions around it. There is a small wooden box on
a pedestal at the trailhead, with a notebook that seemed to constitute the only permit
requirements. As most of the trail falls outside the federal Wilderness area, there's
no need to get a regular permit. Even the notebook at the trailhead is voluntary, but
it seemed prudent to make an entry should it be useful in a subsequent rescue effort on
my behalf. Next to it, an
older sign marks the
start. It was mostly dark when I started out, but light enough that I didn't need a
flashlight to find my way along the trail.
While much of the eastern side of the Sierra is fairly dry and desert-like, It is even
more so this far south. At the other trailheads I had visited over the last week, the
scrub gave way to forested slopes after climbing a few thousand feet at the most. Here
it was much drier, with fewer trees, and very little water. The stream on the east side
that comes down from Olancha Pass was completely dry, and there was no water to be had
on this side of the crest. I had only my two water bottles in my fanny pack which would
likely run out before the 21 miles were covered. If I was going to avoid a parched
tongue, I was going to have to find some more water somewhere along the way.
I was thankful I had started early before the day began to
warm up, and wished to climb as high as possible before the sun was out long enough to
be a problem. Though still dark when I started, it was just light enough to make my way
up the trail without a flashlight. I passed a sign that showed the foot and stock
traffic going one direction, "Cow Driveway" the other, which struck me as rather comical.
I imagined a Far Side comic strip with cows parking their cars just outside the barn
up ahead. It was too dark see what was off in that other direction too well, only later
did I get a better view of what a Cow Driveway might be. A short while later the
sun came up,
the only pause I took for several hours.
About 8:30a I reached
Olancha Pass,
a very broad pass that would almost go unnoticed if
not for the sign pointing it out. There are almost no views from this location
as the pass is much too broad for views looking either east or west. Continuing on, the
trail passes an inviting meadow, lush with
green grasses and
flowers, but still no water. Nearby
is a
wrangler's camp,
with a rustic, rough-hewn plank table, cooking facilities, and
a trio of rusty implements (shovel, saw, and rake) hanging on a tree. It didn't appear
to have been used in the last few days, but certainly had been in use this season. I
gathered that this is used by stock parties or perhaps wranglers driving their cattle
up here to graze in season. "Cow Driveway" was beginning to make sense as I realized
this area must be used at least part of the summer for grazing cattle. But there were
no cows, no horses, no people to be found anywhere along the trail. Further on there
were a few areas where there was much evidence of cattle, the ground beaten to a muddy
pulp by the hooves earlier in the season when it was still wet, now mostly dried in
the sun. I found some damp ground as well in these areas, but nowhere to draw water
from. This didn't look like a safe place to take unfiltered water from in any event,
even if there was a nearby stream. Along the trail I came across a
bear print
in the dusty earth, the first evidence I'd seen of bears all week - cattle rustlers? :)
I reached the
PCT junction at 9:10a.
One direction headed down toward Monache Meadows,
a large flat area further down on the west side. There is an
easier trailhead at
Monache Meadows, involving much fewer miles and elevation gain, but the unpaved
approach is much, much longer. Less than a mile later is
another
trail junction with
the PCT which doesn't make a lot of sense. The map shows the two routes converging
down the west side towards Monache Meadows, but one would think only one would qualify
as the PCT. Perhaps one was the Business Route, the other the Bypass?
The trail by now has become downright pleasant. Once the tough climb to Olancha Pass
is made, the trail contours more gently as it follows the west side of the Sierra
Crest on its way past Olancha Peak. There are beautiful
high meadows along here, and
the views open up through the trees to the west, allowing views of
Monache Meadows
and the more subdued peaks of the Southern Sierra. The trail passes over several
gentle ridges running down the west side, bringing fresh views of the crest's western
side. After the second ridge,
Olancha Peak comes
into view, about a mile off to the
north. The trail does not climb to the peak, but continues its contour on the west
side. I found no use trail leaving the PCT and heading for the summit, so when I
judged the peak was nearly 90 degrees off the trail, I simply headed off in that direction.
The going is moderately steep with a lot of loose sand and organic debris from the
huge pines growing on this side of the peak. There are granite blocks and slabs
sprinkled thorought the slope, so I found myself alternately slogging through sandy
pine cone-strewn undergrowth and the more interesting clambering over rocks.
A few hundred yards from the summit the trees give way to mostly granite blocks with
a smattering of scrubby bushes thrown in for contrast. Some late blooming wildflowers
add color (mostly yellow) and provide some nourishment for the few
butterflies I
found fluttering about at 12,000 feet. The last couple hundred feet of the summit are
enormous blocks that provide the most interesting climbing of the day. Still, with
only a little effort it is easy to keep the route class 2 all the way to the top. I
alighted on
the highest block at 11a,
five hours after leaving the trailhead.
As expected, the views were impressive in literally all directions, the most expansive
views I'd had all week. To the north was the
Whitney Region,
with the four 14ers in that area visible. To the northwest was the
Kaweah Region,
though I couldn't recognize any of the individual peaks from that distance. The Owens
Valley stretches from the
northeast to the southeast,
with a fine view of the Death Valley region
(which for some reason I didn't take a picture of). While the west
side of the peak has a moderate slope, the eastern escarpment is an impressive
dropoff, falling over 4,000 feet fairly quickly to the head of a
rugged, trail-less canyon far below.
Far to the south could be seen
Owens Peak, to the
southwest
Monache Meadows, and
Strawberry Meadow to the west.
There is an emergency transmitter station located just below the summit which I took some time to peruse. There is a sign explaining its use by the Forest Service for communications with rangers and emergency services, followed by some pleading for visitors to refrain from vandalizing the installation. So inspired, the sign had the desired effect as my usual distaste for such features in high places was moderated. Even without the sign I would have been unlikely to engage in such vandalism, mostly as I imagine some poor technician, who has much less inclination for peak climbing than myself, would have to slog his way up here with a tool bag to inspect and make repairs.
I found the register in a fine aluminum box, made an entry, and read a number of the others I found there. The most recent, from a few days ago, was made by that technician I was thinking about earlier. He came up on horseback, so it wasn't as gruelling as I'd imagined. Most of the other entries are from PCTers, who were unloading a lot of frustration that had built up over the last hundred miles. Apparently there are a lot of cows in the southern part of the range, and there were several entries testifying to the unpleasantness of filtering cow urine for drinking water. The proliferation of cattle hadn't occurred to me before, and probably not to the PCTers before they started, who expected the Sierra range to be more pristine like that found further north. I imagine those days out there on the PCT can't all be idyllic.
After half an hour on the summit I made my way back down. In one of the high meadows
along the PCT there was the only flowing water to be found anywhere. A small streamlet
I had passed on the way up, I
stopped here on the way
back to refill my two water
bottles which were now empty. The watercourse was only a few
inches wide, and it was difficult to find a place where the water could flow freely
into my bottles. Unless the source was from a permanent spring, it didn't seem likely
this trickle would last more than a few more weeks. I made it back to Olancha
Pass at 1:45p, still having seen no one all day. Just as I was about to head down
the steeper eastside trail, I noted a second
Cow Driveway sign.
In broader daylight
it was now obvious why this was segregated out from the hiking trail. The Driveway
was nearly as wide as a firebreak and followed the now dry creekbed steeply down
the canyon. The earth had been thoroughly churned under crushing hooves from perhaps
hundreds of cattle that had been driven up and down the steep embankment. I have
been frustrated in the past by damage done to trails by pack trains, but that was
nothing compared to what the cattle had done on the driveway. Hiking there would have
would have been hellish, to be sure. Three cheers for the alternate trail!
Once I started downhill, I jogged most of the way hoping to make a shorter trip of
this last 5 miles or so. Halfway down I came upon a group of horseback riders, 5 in
all, making their way down. I slowed behind them, not getting too close or making
much noise, to keep from spooking the horses. After a few moments the rider in the
rear took notice of me, and through much kindness they all stopped and allowed me
to pass. They were all surprised a bit to run across a hiker, but more so to be
passed by one. I thanked them as I went by, then resumed my jog, finally reaching
the trailhead at 2:45p. Out of water, I went for the refreshments I'd stashed in the
cooler before heading back out to US395. Driving back towards Lone Pine, I was
impressed by the
Joshua Trees that dotted
the landscape on either side of the road.
I hadn't seen them driving in the dark on the way day down in the morning, but they
seemed to provide good visual evidence that I'd reached the high desert.
It was the end of ten long days of hiking, and I was somewhat sorry to see it end. Though my legs had taken a beating, they held up better than I had expected, and I felt like I had gotten into a groove I could have done (and enjoyed) for another ten days, had I the opportunity. But all good things must come to an end, and it had been a glorious tour of the High Sierra. The peaks I missed simply made starting points for a new adventure next summer that I was already beginning to plan in my head. And the eight that I had successfully climbed would be fondly remembered.
For more information see these SummitPost pages: Olancha Peak
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