EMIGRANT WILDERNESS

I went backpacking in the Emigrant Wilderness this weekend with Micheil, Pa, and Micheil’s little brother Skyler. I’ve been backpacking but once before, for an orientation program before college, and after the Sierran portions of my road trip, I was eager to spend some more time in the mountains. We started at Crabtree Camp, near highway 108. I was surprised by how many flowers were still blooming this late in the summer. I don’t know anything about the Sierra, but I figured if they were so abundant back in June, they would have toned things down a bit by now, but it was just a different array of species. Columbine, lupines, tiger lilies, shooting stars, delphinium, all kinds of things.

The forests were wonderful and familiar. Though they’re very different in kind and scale, they still remind me of sub-alpine forests in the Northeast, while the forests of the Pacific coast just seem completely alien.

Emigrant Wilderness is known for its many lakes, and they were truly spectacular. We camped the first night at Bear Lake, where the water was clear beyond belief (this was true of most of the streams and stream-fed bodies we encountered). The stars that night nay have been the sharpest and most abundant I’ve ever seen them. Satellites plodded slowly from horizon to horizon while meteors flashed and died in our peripherals. Despite this bliss, I barely slept, and dreamt fitfully of conspiracies and deceit from high school classmates. Go figure.

The next day brought more great views of Emigrant’s rocky expanses as we ascended a bit over bare, crumbling faces. Pa spotted some blue grouse, soon after leaving Bear Lake, which were super cool. Not nearly as skittish as the ruffed grouse I grew up with.

I brought the cheap little fishing rod I bought in Alabama and a few lures just in case we encountered some particularly gullible piscine dullards. Casting around Bear Lake hadn’t yielded much of anything (by which I mean absolutely nothing), but on the second day I actually managed to pull a little undersized rainbow trout out of one of the streams we crossed. Sadly, I botched the lure removal, and the poor little thing died. I felt bad, as usual. One wonders why I continue to fish when I feel bad about killing them.

We arrived at our destination for the day (Groundhog Meadow) pretty early, so I took some time exploring the nearby streams. After little luck, I finally found a beautiful, deep, shady elbow in the stream, where I instantly snagged my black rooster tail in a branch on the opposite bank. Skyler showed up then, and, having just been swimming downstream, jumped in to retrieve the lure. Then I jumped in because I was hot and needed a dip. Below the first foot it was absolutely frigid, so I jumped out right quick. I figured we caused enough of a disturbance to put any fish off eating for a lifetime. While I was putting my stuff back in my pockets, Skyler picked up the rod and started casting. “What do I keep getting snagged on?” he asked? I glanced in the pool and saw he was snagged on a sizable trout. Much excitement ensued as we landed the fish, took pics, reveled in success. Having noticed another following his fish in pursuit of the lure, I picked up the rod, cast in, and sure enough, pulled out yet another!

These were brook trout (Salvelinus fontinalis), and really quite beautiful (er, even when suspended on nearby sticks). Yellow spots with the occasional red, white-lined pink fins. And jeez, really hard to kill. I think I need to learn the most humane way to kill a sizable fish because these two took forever to die, which, you know, was just great for a guilty fisherman like me.

Skyler and I stalked around the stream a little more, but didn’t find any more stupid fish. We pan fried our catch in butter and salt, and few fish have ever tasted better. And even the raw flesh was colorful! Golden yellow. Amazing animals.

On the last day, we passed Grouse Lake, several more tempting streams, and finally ascended back towards Crabtree. Despite the mellow 5 mile days, my dogs were still killing me, and my hips and shoulders chafed. Felt great to unload, dip my feet in the stream, and look back on a fantastic trip. Looking forward to my next trip to the Sierra.