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| South Lake, Bishop Creek Canyon |
Begin with a meeting in Bishop with Katharine and Brent, my sister-in-law and her dear friend, a newbie to fishing and the Eastern Sierras, though he lives much of the time on a ranch in the Sierra foothills. Kath lives most of the time in Umbria and Tuscany: each well-traveled folk who declared they’d try trout fishing and someplace fresh. The hublet and I, always ready for a trip to the Sierras, were delighted. Bishop’s dry heat deceives; the mountains we will drive into tomorrow will be warm, comfortable, and breezy.
Up early, we’re on the water in a comfortable pontoon boat and practically fool-proof fishing tackle, a catch-and-release technique and lots of smelly power-bait, which rainbow trout love, mostly. We each caught lovely fish from the southwest end of the lake at the inlet, larger than usual.
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Lake Mary, Mammoth Lakes CA We spent the second day hiking Rock Creek, with its fabulous wildflowers, fishing on Lake Mary, and having a memorable dinner at the Tamarack Lodge on Twin Lakes. It’s one of our favorite places in the world. What a stunning menu! We still remember the time Chef Frederick kindly accommodated us by preparing our fresh trout string for late lunch. |
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View from the White Mountains Methuselah Grove east towards Nevada.
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Next day Kath and Brent drove back to the Bay Area through Yosemite, and John and his fish buddy Gerry, who lives in nearby Independence, went fishing. I drove into the White Mountains to visit the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, a place I’d dreamed of returning to again to hike more fully.
Bristlecone pines are the world’s longest-lived things; some have been carbon-dated to 4,000+ years old. A 4 mile hike to the Methuselah Grove takes me among these sentinels of time. They are plentiful, ranged on the mountainside like an army of vigilant angels.
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Penstemon and Purple Sage on the trail - flowers in the Whites are somewhat different than in the Sierra Nevada, but were unexpectedly plentiful and surprising to find.
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Bristlecone pines survive by dying back and enclosing the old growth within the new. They grow very slowly, an inch in 100 years, and have few predators. They survive with adversity, not in spite of it.
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A meandering drive on hard gravel at and above timberline led to the less-visited Patriarch Grove, a splendid empty-full landscape, past movements of water and wind richly visible on the mountainsides.
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A 5 mile hike in Devil’s Postpile National Monument on the Pacific Crest Trail south was another memorable day. I saw few people until drawing near to the Postpile campgrounds, and the river was full and rushing.
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The Postpile was created when flowing lava was trapped forming a lake. Later it cooled and cracked in hexagonal columns, one of only 6 places in the world this geological event has occurred
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Meadow of shooting stars at Devil’s Postpile Ranger Station meadow.
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Our last fishing day we visited Little Virginia Lake, where we ventured out in a rented rowboat - no motors allowed. As the afternoon moved upon us, the sky changed and we were blessed with some rain, clouds, and later, some thunder and lightning. It’s quite a sight to see a sierra summer storm with its voluminous inflated cumulus clouds.
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The hike was full of wonderful sights, but it would have been worth it if I’d only seen this one: the Sierra’s azure blue butterflies, leisurely “puddling” on the trail. They didn’t even move when I photographed them, they were so dazed with pleasure drinking water with their feet in the warm sunshine.
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Columbine and Elephant’s Ear
It was over too soon. I got hooked on flowers, butterflies, birds, and hiking once again, by the sunny warmth of Sierra summer, the rush of mountain streams, and placid lakes and gentle days on water, nights of dark sparkling skies, the smell of pines, wind tossing them, the leaves whispering secrets to those who will listen.
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