You may wonder where I get those creative names. I’m really a poet at heart of course. 😉 The title was perhaps more literal than metaphorical. Or perhaps it represents self reflection and deception of presumption vs reality of this route. discovering the truth about myself, facing the flood of fear and uncertainties I try to held back like tossing a twig to stop a raging river.

I think you will see why this title fits so well.

Day 1: In comes the smoke

Day 1 was suppose to be easy.

20 miles of trail, trail for goodness sake. To make an comparison, it’s like driving on a highway in a Ferrari verses the mule cart on the bumpy road I have been experiencing.

I was excited to be honest. Being able to zone myself out and walk without thinking about how to get where. Unfortunately, trail does not mean easy.

It didn’t help that The first section is a 10 mile 2000 feet climb to the top of Vogelsang pass. It didn’t help that I needed to do 20 miles that day to be on schedule and I started at 11 am.

Then it definitely didn’t help that the large vertical “cloud” in the distance rolled in and covered the valley in a dirty yellow tint of smoke, filling my nose with an inescapable campfire smoke and my breath labored from it and the altitude.

Going over Vogelsang pass was fortunately uneventful. The best part is when a pair of young guys who were staying at the backcountry resort nearby asked where my base camp was. To which I explained to their amazement that I do not have a base camp and everything I need was in my pack.

Once back down in the valley, the smoke really kicked in and the scenery got errie. Everything was in a tint of yellow and the visibility was barely 30 feet. It was like being in Stephen King’s The Mist. Great story with a happy ending to think about while hiking. As if to mess with me. In front appeared a deer chewing a piece of what I presume is human brain. Just perfect. Everything is deadly silent except the sound of my own footsteps and the raging river fuelled by the distance thunderstorms.

I was starting to become worried as my the scent of smoke was getting stronger and stronger and it became more uncomfortable to breath. I slowly started to feel uneasy and wondered if I should turn back. What if I was walking right into a fire. Would there be rangers to tell me to stop hiking this direction? That would be silly.

Eventually I decided I was going to keep going unless I start to cough from the smoke. Luckily it did not come to that and soon I was hiking up from the valley, legs aching and breathing hard another 1200 feet later, I finally arrived in camp at 9pm.

I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Day 2: Cliffed Out

My alarm clock snapped me awake at 5 in the morning. The world is still dark and I was so warm and comfortable. So comfortable. Gritting my teeth, I finally forced myself up from my sleeping bag embraced the cold morning air and began to pack up. 5am starts will become the norm for this trip.

The first objective of the day was Blue Lake Pass, the way up to it was deceivingly easy. I followed the instructions and aimed for a massive Boulder of white quartz and then traversed the not so difficult boulder slope. I was at the top of the pass in no time.

The view was breathtaking. The smoke cleared out mostly and all that’s left is a thin wisp of gossamer smoke entangled in the peaks. The morning sun cutting hard beams into the thin veils, creating an sharp pattern of light and darkness.

Despite of all the pressure in the world to keep going to make the miles, I stopped and sat to watch the views in front of me, to watch the sun slowly come up. I was happy.

Going down was fairly simple too, seems like passes in this section are just not as hard as before. I was able to follow a grassy gully all the way to the bottom. Or so I thought. Literally 5 feet from the gentle slopes leading to the lake, I encountered a steep granite slope. I started going down thinking I my shoes would grip to the rock and I would be able to just walk down but it was just too steep. Two steps down I was starting to slip. It was simply too steep and my shoes was wet from the wet grass I was walking through.

At this point I was on my hands and feet in a crab walk with my butt on the slope and I realized that at this point, it was very very difficult to back out of my predicament. My one shoe is stuck pretty solid to the floor but on the other hand(foot) I was trying to push up but slipping. My hand is braced against the side on some cliff face. Slowly, I tried to shimmy myself up and after a lot of slipping and panicking, miraculously, I did not go for a slide and ended up on the grassy slope once again.

Heart racing, Legs shaking and longingly looked at the shallow slope below, I screamed a shout of frastration and started trekking up the steep slope back up to look for another way.

After many more attempts of going down only to be blocked by more impassable cliffs, complete with screams of frastrations, I finally sucked it up, went up three quarters of the way and traversed all the way to the other side of the slope. After endless boulder hoping. I finally was able to sit down on the shallow grassy slope and relax.

The next section descending into Bench Canyon was beautiful and tranquil compared to the frastrations I went through. Meandering, streams, tall pine stretching out all around and grassy meadows filled with flowers of all colors.

That didn’t last long and soon enough I was moving to traverse across more steep slopes and cliff bands.

After way too long of a traverse across difficult terrain, I finally arrived at twin island lake. It’s only about 10 o’clock and I was beaten already. I felt tired and sleepy and my every use of my quads gave me a protest of aches and pain.

Then at twin lakes, I looked up at the next section of the route and exclaimed “you gotta be kidding me”. Behold, in front of me was a sheer cliff face, tall and intimidating. The guide explained that the route traverses the cliff face and takes you up to the alpine lake above and North Glacier Pass.

Looking at this was a huge blow to by already exhausted mind and body. I sat around for a long while, eating my lunch and psycing myself up for what is to come.

As it turns out, there’s already a goat trail on the side of the cliffs where we have to go up. So what I thought was the worst of it was actually not too bad at all. The rest of the way up was brutal, steep scree slopes, difficult navigations and steep cliff scrambles and so much of those darned rock hopping.

This is probably the most difficult pass I have done in terms of physical demands. 1250 feet in 3 miles. So when I got to the top and looked at the endless amount of rock hopping on the other side and I was all but ready to give up. It was the assumption that the top of the pass would result in easy hiking for the next section but that definitely turned out to be false.

Grudgingly, I started the slow and painful process of scrambling down. The endless rock fields eventually turned into snow fields. At first, I was very careful about stepping down the snowfield slowly but after slipping and falling on my butt, I realized it was much easier to slide down the rest of the way on my butt. After losing feelings to my butt, I finally made it to the bottom of this cursed terrain.

I walked across beautiful meadow around the corner to Thousand Island lake, which is unfortunately shrouded by smoke as the afternoon haze set in again.

With the end of the day looming over me, I wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep. But my ambitions pushed me on regardless. If only I can get a little further, to make my time next day easier to get to town.

Next up is Whitebark pass. This was intemidating from afar, the last 30 feet of the pass near vertical with a snow tongue in the middle.

After a day like today, I approached it with almost nonchalance. Without thinking almost, I started approaching the steep scree leading up to the pass, scouting the route as I climbed higher and higher, testing to ensure stable rocks as I went. Soon enough I was at the cliff section. I was surrounded by vertical rock cliffs and almost vertical impassable snow fields. So I started climbing the cliffs.

I always loved climbing rock like this as when I’m in the process, all emotions kinda just melt away. My mind is just completely focused as I move one limb at a time, occasionally looking up to quickly pick out the best route. The bulky backpack seems to be weightless and a part of me as I went. Soon enough, I was yet again standing on top of a marvelous view of granite, light and veils.

The sun has dipped below the mountains behind me already. Painting the mountains in front in a shade of orange and lighting the smokey veil in a mirage of colors.

I stood there, heart pounding, muscles aching, hard breathing filling my ears. I felt peaceful, tranquil and happy.

I just climbed 3 passes this day. 15 miles in 15 hours on this ridiculous terrain and smoke veiled world.

Soon I found a beautiful spot next to a small stream and a overlook of the valley below. It was stunning. The absolute best feeling in the world to be sitting on the edge of a cliff at camp, relaxing and watching the sun go down. Knowing sleep will come soon.

Sleep actually did not come soon for I had work to do. The stars will soon be coming out and there’s no way I am missing this incredible opportunity.

Day 3: Slope of Ice

One step after another, I stepped on to the bullet hard snow, trying hard not to let my foot slip out from under me. A few steps and I already know that there was no way I would be able to ascend this snowfield to the other side of the cirque.

This is the result after arriving at the next major landmark. Iceberg lake. A beautiful lake surrounded at all sides by tall sheer granite. Which means the winter snow is not going anywhere soon.

By arriving in the crisp cold morning, I effectively trapped myself at iceberg lake, with no means to move forward to Cecile Lake other than waiting 10 hours for mid afternoon.

With a sign of frastration. I reluctantly turned around, carefully stepping on the snow the way I came and headed for a 15 mile detour to cross 200 meters of the route.

After 15 miles of hiking in the trees, a big circle around a range of mountains and that cirque. I came back out the other side at Minerat Lake, the lake below Cecile lake. The view were stunning. It felt like I was all of a sudden in Paradise. The Minaret and Ritter range extended into the sky from behind the lake, granite spires of shark teeth steepness. I was stunned and was so happy at my decision not to bail out on this section of the route to just go to town. After gawking at the view, I decided I needed to visit Cecile lake to make this route as complete as possible.

To get to Cecile lake, it was necessary to climb a 15 foot cliff on top of a steep scree and of course to climb down the next morning.

This was the scariest climb I have ever experienced on the route. It was past vertical and sometimes, a bit lacking on the proper foot holds. Regardless, the rocks were very stable and I made it up carefully while keeping my skin and pack unscathed.

If Minaret lake is paradise, Cecile is… What’s nicer than paradise? This metaphor is failing terribly.

This Lake give me the feeling that I was the first person to visit this spot. The lake sat above the cliffs I just climbed separating it from the rest of the world. Peaks towered over, jagged and majestic, secluding this piece of heaven further.

This will forever be my favorite camp spot out of the entire high route.

Because I only did 15 miles of trail. I had time to relax beside this beautiful piece of better than paradise. I sat by the lake and watched the sun drop down and the stars come out. A perfect end to a frastrating day of detours.

The next day was relatively simple. I climbed down that cliff in the morning, hiked over another pass on loose scree, swam in some manzanita bush and walked 7 miles of trail to red’s meadow.

That afternoon, I ordered 20 wings and proceeded to eat all of them in a hotel room in Mammoth like nothing else in the world mattered.

Post trail thoughts, that ended up being the hardest section of the high route and the most incredible and hardest thing I have done.