This time on foot. I camped just above 9000' for the night, and had a short 3 mile hike in the morning up to Tamarack Lake which sits at over 9800', and contains Golden trout. I had this destination on my list from day one. The trail out of camp met up with a nicely packed single track leading all the way the side of the mountain, and led right to the lake.The sun was still hidden behind the steep ridge line to my east for most of the latter half of the hike. And eventually required walking across what had essentially become a 500 yard long glacier. The snow was still solid, as the high altitude morning air was brisk. My cycling cleats doing their best to act as crampons in the most slippery of sections.
Tamarack Lake was incredible! A true High Sierra lake in every aspect! Crystal clear water, only rippled by the occasional breeze that would slowly drift a small chunk of ice across it's surface.
The creek running out of Tamarack looked promising for fulfilling my goal of catching my first Golden Trout. I spent about two hours taking in the sights, and wetting my line at various "fishy" spots on the tailwater, and the lake itself. All to no avail
Knowing I had a lot more riding to do to get to my destination for the day, I made the short hike back to camp, and packed the rest of my gear up on the bike.
About 200 yards from my camp I met up with my route to Twin Lakes. It was a 8 mile decent down a single track that was truly perfect! A hiking trail that I'm sure only a handful of people have ridden. The grin that was plastered upon for the entirety of the trail was more memorable than many I've had. It followed the ridgeline down for a majority, until switching back and forth through some wooded crests just above the lakes.
Looking back upon where I had started my day several hours earlier. Only a few miles down a well groomed dirt road was Buckeye Hot Springs, where I knew a friend of mine would be camped for his buddy's bachelor party. I found them rather easily, spotting several guys playing horse-shoes only yards from the road. I stopped in and said hello, sat out the heat of the day, and made some new friends while I was at it. I topped off my water reserves, and continued down the road at 4pm, still with more than 30 miles to go for the day...
This well traveled gravel road skirted the hills until ultimately forcing me the tarmac for a short stretch of 6 or 7 miles, leaving me with one last glimpse of the past. The snowcapped mountains from which I arose this morning offered me some motivation to continue on. It was a rewarding feeling to look back upon them in the distance, as they grew smaller with each pedal stroke.
A gradual climb up on the mirage soaked pavement took me to my turnoff towards Kirman Lake. It was a slow and steady push, made to feel slower by the now odd to me sound of cars wizzing by at over 60 miles an hour. The sun at my face now, and the warm breeze at my side.
A detour was required, after realizing that the creek crossing shown on the maps was under several feet of rushing water. Luckily I realized this only 3 miles up Little Walker Road. I returned to the highway, and took the turn onto 108 for what would be only a 3 mile cruise to my dirt pathway. The turnout was easily seen, as several cars marked the trailhead that lead to Kirman Lake, a popular fly fishing destination. A steel ladder over the barbwire fence was my gateway to the dirt yet again.
Several miles of winding road, with a few short, wooded climbs led me to the crest which revealed the lake for the first time. The sun was getting low, and illuminating the ridge line with rays of light disseminating in uniform beams. Having already missed the prime fishing time, and seeing how full of weeds the lakeshore was, I opted to set up camp, and call it a night. I found a single Pine tree that offered some shade, and points for me to tie out my guy-lines. After a Mountain House meal of Chicken ala' King, I retired my exhausted body. Nearly 60 miles ridden on the day, with thousands of feet of climbing in the bag...
Knowing I had a lot more riding to do to get to my destination for the day, I made the short hike back to camp, and packed the rest of my gear up on the bike.
About 200 yards from my camp I met up with my route to Twin Lakes. It was a 8 mile decent down a single track that was truly perfect! A hiking trail that I'm sure only a handful of people have ridden. The grin that was plastered upon for the entirety of the trail was more memorable than many I've had. It followed the ridgeline down for a majority, until switching back and forth through some wooded crests just above the lakes.
I stopped at the chaos of Twin Lakes, grabbed a Gatorade, and a candy bar, and then got back on the saddle.
This well traveled gravel road skirted the hills until ultimately forcing me the tarmac for a short stretch of 6 or 7 miles, leaving me with one last glimpse of the past. The snowcapped mountains from which I arose this morning offered me some motivation to continue on. It was a rewarding feeling to look back upon them in the distance, as they grew smaller with each pedal stroke.
A gradual climb up on the mirage soaked pavement took me to my turnoff towards Kirman Lake. It was a slow and steady push, made to feel slower by the now odd to me sound of cars wizzing by at over 60 miles an hour. The sun at my face now, and the warm breeze at my side.
