Over Piute Pass, down Piute Creek

From Piute Pass we could see down over Humphrey Basin to the west and its rolling meadows pocked with boulders, tiny lakes, and a few small copses of small, wind-stunted trees. Up on the pass only a few wild flowers grew among the wilderness of  gray rock. High stony peaks rose all about….

Heleen cut up homemade bread and yellow cheese and garden tomatoes and passed out small open-faced sandwiches. We didn’t talk much and I tried to get used to the idea that I’d soon be on my own….

We hadn’t left the house till mid-morning. Heleen had gone down to Bishop to ride her horse, and Tom had taken the dog, Chonge, on a long walk…. The climb from the trailhead to the pass was steep and busy with backpackers returning from weekend outings. One woman with a big pack was accompanied by an eight-year-old boy, and they had been up in the mountains together for a week. You don’t see too many small kids out for more than a day-hike, but upon questioning he seemed to have enjoyed himself greatly.

About five miles brought us up to the pass, at 11,400’. The day was sunny and warm and breezy, lovely and beautiful…. After lunch I said good-bye, they said good luck, and I descended from the pass on my own.

I slowly crossed the basin, stopping often to admire the meadows and flowers close at hand, the ring of mountains high up…. I paused to talk to a couple in their fifties, Debbie and Carl, who were on the last day of a four-day trip; they were local, from Bishop, where it seems the hiking culture is strong. I suppose it should b, considering the spectacular terrain of the eastern Sierras…. Eventually the trail descended into forest, down into a long canyon with Piute Creek at the bottom. Down and down through the warm afternoon, the sound of the falling creek waxing and waning as the trail came up close or drifted off into the woods….

Late in the afternoon I came upon a Forest Service crew clearing trail, three men and a woman, all in their twenties. They were using a big cross-cut saw and axes to cut away two small trees that had fallen across the path. They wore long-sleeves and long pants against the mosquitoes that were thick in the woods, and they were sweaty and worn-looking at the end of a day of hard work. Their backpacks were thrown down in the grass nearby, and I wondered how long they were out for. The woman stopped work and greeted me. Her small brass name tag said Colleen McCullough and her pale complexion and strawberry blonde hair, pulled back but escaping in wisps, matched her name. She politely asked to see my wilderness permit, and at first I couldn’t find it but then I did.

They suggested a campsite farther down the trail, but their instructions didn’t seem to match the terrain. Maybe I found it, maybe I didn’t. But about seven, after walking sixteen miles, I came to a small grove of pines on the edge of a granite dome a quarter mile above the creek. Here I put up my tent in a soft spot under the trees, then sat down out on the rocky slab and ate a dinner of an almond butter sandwich (made at the house in the morning) and carrots. I was too tired to cook.

My spot was halfway up one side of the deep canyon, with a superb view, and from where I sat the sun had already disappeared behind the western ridge. But the heights of the mountains were still cloaked in the soft, late-day sunshine, and I watched this companionable remnant of the day slowly climb the slopes. The sound of the creek rose up, providing some distant auditory company. Still, I felt a bit low and lonely, alone up in the strange mountains, far from the familiar accoutrements and diversions of my regular life. It’s an adjustment, the solitude and stillness and quiet….

I read an old issue of The New Yorker as I ate (bought at the Bishop public library), noting the New York City gallery and theater openings of the early spring…. Before full dark I gratefully repaired to the tent, after blowing up my air mattress. My first night back in the tent I was a little awkward setting up housekeeping, figuring out a pillow, but soon I was in my sleeping bag, content with my efforts and my day of hiking. Not that I slept much, or for very long stretches, but I was warm and comfortable.