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Original plans: Mike J. and I were going to hike Spanish Needle and Sawtooth, then we switched to Bishop plans, then all that was washed away when work sent me to Temecula (planned) and LA (not planned) from Wednesday to Friday, and then Temecula on Monday again. Mike went to Bishop and I made a solo weekend in the southern Sierra out of it.
On Friday I cleared out of work around 2:30 and headed for Bakersfield and the Kern River gorge. This time I was driving up in the setting sun. No wildflowers this trip, but 1,000 ft walls still covered with grass, enveloping the river. I had planned to stay in Lake Isabella again, but a map check proved Ridgecrest to be much closer to Owens, and a phone call proved the motels to be $20 cheaper. Bonus! I prefer to camp, but it was too much hassle to fly down to LA with all that stuff. I drove past Pilot Knob and Canebrake Road, catching a ray of setting sun isolated on the Lamont needles and dark clouds passing over Owens and Jenkins. The road rose gradually to Walker Pass, with only one hairpin turn. I stopped at the pass in fading light and walked north on the PCT to the sign with mileages. After that, I was off down the other side of Walker, past Inyokern to ye olde Motel 6 in Ridgecrest.
I awoke at 5:40, had breakfast at Kristy’s, and made my way up SR 14 and Indian Wells Road. The rented Cavalier navigated the road as well as I could hope, even over earthen berms that I thought the frame would catch for sure. I followed directions and mileages from a trip report that were very good except for one fork. The sign said “cabin” in one direction, so I assumed that would be private and went the other way, although I was supposed to park at the “remains of a cabin.” The road got rougher at the mileage where I was supposed to park, so park I did. My doubt as to whether I was on the right route would linger for a few hours as I hiked.
The dirt road tapered to a trail (THE trail?) that seemed to lead up Indian Wells Canyon on my map, which was the right way. The south wall of the canyon is a non-descript rounded mountain. The north wall, however, was a magnificent castellated ridge with fins of rock protruding from the soil for several miles in a straight line from Owens Peak (which I still couldn’t see). Just incredible, these fins rising out of the ridge, plummeting beneath, and breaking the surface again.
The trail continued along a wooded (!) drainage which became steeper as I continued. The trip report said to follow the dark boulders and avoid the white boulders. Sure enough, there were two adjacent slides. The cairns led up the darks, but halfway up the slide the cairns switched to the whites. With the dogma of “stay on the dark boulders” in my head, I did so even as the boulders got doen to almost talus size and eventually scree. I aimed for the only high point I could see, a striped mass of rock at the head of my slide (and slide I did). I attained the solid rock and headed up the seams, pulling a few 3rd class moves as I went. I knew Owens was only class 2, and very little class 2 at that, but what the hey, this was fun. Nearly to the top, I poked my head over some rock. I mantled my way up and . . . sure enough, false peak. The next high point was very close, though, so no problem. The thin ridge above the falsie was a little iffy, but I made it across and found the well-trod trail I had forsook back at the white boulders.
Wonderful views from the top, including a shot straight down that castellated ridge. South along the crest was what I assume to be Jenkins, with the PCT contouring it’s northwest flank. Out in the haze, following SR 178 back toward Liak Isabella was Pilot Knob. The switchbacks of Canebrake Road were obvious, but was not since I couldn’t see the needles from this angle. I guess a rugged peak to the north was Spanish Needle, and a massive peak well beyond that was Olancha, with snow hanging on in the gullies. Beyond Olancha a spread of snow-covered mountains stretched: the southern Whitney Zone.
The summit of Owens was cool and breezy, but warm in the sun. Although the summit register had scads of names, I hadn’t seen a soul. On the trip back down I followed the cairns without incident. I was back at the car by 2:30.
On Easter morning I set out for Walker Pass and the Pacific Crest Trail to hike Jenkins and Morris Peaks. After the first 200 meters, the PCT became my stereotypical west coast trail: sandy, contouring around hills, and a grade a train could handle. A set of switchbacks after a mile provided some gain, but could typically see the scar of the trail on the next mountain ahead, so I knew my fate. In spots, the yellow wildflowers still overtook the pale greens and browning grasses. After 4 miles, I came to the saddle between Morris and the adjacent unnamed peak to the southwest. A use trail departed here, but I was more interested in Jenkins and pushed on. The best way up Jenkins was on the north side of its east face, so I had to traverse the entire east face before I started up. Crossing over the face gave me more to see. The ridges I crossed fell quickly to the high desert below, outside of Inyokern. The prominent ridge that descended from Owens was unmistakable.
The grey rock I was walking on turned red before I came to the northeast ride. Finally, I gained some real elevation by scrambling up the rock. The last few steps were class 2, and then I sat on the narrow, spiked summit. The register was placed by a dedication party is 1984 or 1985, just after the National Register of Place Names bestowed the official name of Jenkins Peak. The view was much the same as Owens.
Back down the ridge and across the bowls I went, departing on the north side of Morris to save some back-tracking. The rocky summit was just clear of the trees, but easy to find. Two people had signed the register today, although again I didn’t see anyone. I tried to follow the use trail back to the PCT, but I quickly lost it and began to plunge-step through the sand until I found the PCT. Fun and fast, but I swore every environmentalist for miles around would file a warrant for my arrest. I plummeted onto the PCT . . . and saw my first 2 hikers of the weekend. Er, hello!
Not much you can do with the 5 miles of the PCT except to get through it, with a run through the switchbacks for variety. I jumped back in the rental car and headed for Temecula to begin work on Monday. A great weekend for some solo day-hiking. I broke into double digits on the SPS list, and now have 4 on the HPS list as well.
--msw
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