Mono Pass (Yosemite National Park, California)

The second hike of the day was up to Mono Pass, which I have been reading about and passing the trailhead of for many years. Finally, today, I would hike this route into the mountains. The trailhead is nearly full, which is a bit surprising given the cloudy sky above and the forecast for rain. It doesn't deter Bill and I though.

We hit the trail and are almost immediately faced with a tough creek crossing. The record snow fall in the Sierra Nevada this year is still melting and likely will continue through the summer until the fall snows begin to rain down and the cycle restarts. Bill balances his way across a skinny fallen tree, no more than 4 inches in diameter. I feel less sure-footed on such a slippery and tiny log than Bill does and I so, I being to look for another way across. Walking a few yards upstream, first consider throwing some large rocks in to the rushing creek to act as stepping stones, but the water is too deep for this to be very effective. I finally decide to getting a running start and jump across, a distance of about five feet. I make the crossing without incident and rejoin Bill on the other side.

The trail passes through alternating terrains of meadow and forest as it heads southeast towards the high mountain pass. In the distance, the tall snow-covered mountains of the High Sierra loom overhead. Almost immediately after hitting the fork that leads to Spillway Lake, the grade of the trail increases drastically and becomes quite a workout. 

As it twists and turns through forested hillside and around the contours of the mountainside, we pass a couple of ruined cabins. The men and women that lived here were surely made of the toughest stuff there is. I can't even imagine wintering at this high altitude. Here, above 10k feet elevation, the winters are hard and last for a very long time.

Just after passing the second cabin, the trail opens up into an enormous meadow and on the far side of the small creek that cuts through its center, we spot a couple of deer grabbing their lunch from the lush greenery. A few other hikers are in this section, but not many. It's very peaceful up here so close to the heavens and the lack of crowds makes it all the more divine. Those few souls that do dare travel into this backcountry have earned it. They are my kind of people.

Skirting the meadow, we take a side trail that one of the hikers tells about, which leads to more of the long-abandoned cabins. After passing through a soft marsh and past a couple of small lakes, we reach a series of log cabins in ruins. In total, there are four cabins grouped closely together. We exam them and as we start to talk about what would inspire people to live up here (beyond our own since of adventure), we assume there is mine-shaft nearby.

Searching around the tundra complex, we eventually find another structure that I first thing is a cabin, but soon realize is the abandoned mine-shaft. The timbers of the structure have collapsed and fallen into the mine, but it is of little concern as the shaft is completely flooded. It seems likely that the miners dug to deeply and eventually hit a underground spring, putting a quick end to their get-rich scheme. A few yards away, we find the vent shaft, also filled with water. To have come so far and worked so hard, as these miners must have to survive in this high-elevation settlement, only to see their dreams flooded by the very mountain they were seeking riches from must have been heartbreaking.

Rejoining the original trail, we take note of the darkening skies and expect rain drops to start falling any time. However, we decide to make a final push for the actual pass and a view of the ancient Mono Lake beyond. As we pass beyond the park boundary, the sky begins to open and a few drops of rain strike the trail. Just a half mile so further, we finally reach the high point of the pass and take in the view of the giant lake beyond. Fires in the region have filled the skies over the lake with smoke, making it difficult to see, but the shape and size of the lake are unmistakable. 

From this point, we are in a race against the clock and skies to reach the trailhead before all hell breaks loose and we are caught in a downpour. Bill and I both have some rain gear with us, but with four-plus miles to the trailhead, there really isn't any type of gear that could keep us dry. 

We both race down the trail, doing more of a trail run than a hike at this point. Bill, true to his nickname 'Downhill Bill' sprints a good section, while I maintain a steady 10-min mile pace. The impact of the downhills steps at this pace really tear my old knees up and I try my best to maintain. When I catch up to Bill a short time later, he is watch a group of three large bucks pass in front of him. I only see two of the three, but they are truly magnificent. 

As we arrive back at the creek-crossing, Bill quickly scrambles across the same fallen tree as before. I reluctantly follow-suit and uneasily balance my way across the log. As I reach the other side, I cut my hand on a nearby limb. Nothing serious, but enough to annoy me. With only a half-mile or so to go, we run out the last of the trail as the rain picks up into a steady shower. 

Arriving back a the trailhead, I take a minute to clean and dress my cut, before removing my pack and putting everything back in the jeep. The hike is listed as 8-miles, but with the side trips and additional distance for the view of Mono Lake, we ended up putting in nearly 10 miles, with the return trip being completed in just over an hour. The hike was really interesting, especially the miner's cabins and I would recommend this to anyone visiting the park.