-previous-

We awoke the next morning at 6 and were off by 7, the sun still hidden by Goddard. We first ascended to Martha Lake and then around the shorter, boulder-filled side of the lake (the group would later emphatically return around the other side -- oops).  On the opposite side we ascended the ridge between Goddard Col and Reinstein passing over a low point at about 11,800 ft.  Now we were in the sun, overlooking a large bowl we would somehow have to cross, combining traversing with loss and gain.  Traversing means not having to regain lost elevation, but the sidehilling if rough on your legs and can be much longer in a bowl.  We dropped over some slabs and boulders and began to traverse and ascend.  More than halfway across we peeked over a rib and stopped. Ahead was a drainage with a small gorge. We thought we were stuck, forced into either gaining or losing a significant amount of elevation to find some crossing point. As we approached to gorge for assessment we found it was not as deep as we feared and had ramps that allowed us to enter and exit it on the other side.  We filled our water bottles from the stream that ran from the snow patch above.

According to our topo maps, the mouth of the bowl we were aiming for had two large lakes at 11,800 ft. We continued our traverse with two barometric altimeters reading 11,800 ft. I rounded the last rib and there the lakes were: beautiful, light blue, emptying into a flume with a gorgeous cascade, all 150 ft steep feet below us. Dang.  We regrouped and considered returning to try to find a descent and re-enter this bowl. Looking down we saw some steeply zig-zagging ramps and gingerly tried those to access the lakes. Success: soon we were crossing the stream between the lakes.

We had officially entered the Ionian Lakes Basin, one of the most remote areas in the Sierra.  It had taken two full days of backpacking and half a day hike to get here. Other routes from the Evolution Valley would probably take just as long under a similar load.  Our impression of remoteness and silent beauty of the basin wouldn’t truly take hold until we were on top of Scylla, looking down.

After crossing the bubbling, rocky stream exiting the lakes, we ascended the nearest rib leading up and over the ridge between us and Scylla. After cresting that ridge, we were looking at the slope of Scylla, with only a lake basin about 150 feet below that stood between us.  Down we went, and grabbed a quick half-lunch by the side of the small lake. Then, nothing left to do but gain over black, loose talus.  What wasn’t loose was slate-like spires with jagged edges, jutting skyward. From below the slopes looked designed for defense.  Once on the summit, we were rewarded with another stunning panorama.  To the south was the prominent drainage of the Enchanted Gorge (not enchanting at all, said Herb) and Disappearing Creek. West was the bowls we had crossed, along with Reinstein and other fins on the LeConte Divide. North was the Ionian Basin, lakes at all elevations, beautifully blue.  Goddard closed off the basin beyond the lakes, fencing in the seemingly desolate basin. East we saw the Sierra Crest stretched before us, from Ritter and Banner down to Williamson, even the Kaweahs. Just across our local abyss was Scylla’s counterpart, Charybdis, with the Three Sirens thrust between us.  We were clearly remote, days from even being able to step on an asphalt or dirt road. It would either be a long walk the way we had came or a long hike over passes on the crest (surely Bob and Matthew are up to the task). Wow.

On the return (down Scylla, around the ridge, over a pass and back to the Ionian Basin lakes) we tried to make up for some route finding errors.  We hit a saddle this time while returning to the Ionian Basin Lakes and walked along a red slate road, a 10 ft wide section of bright red crushed slate, layers sprouting vertically from the ground.  Back at the lakes we skirted a shore and I scouted a short 3rd class section just for fun.  Jan and Herb went around; Derik followed. We retraced our steps around the main basin, and by 4:30 we were nearing the ridge that stood over Martha Lake.

While we rested before the final push over the col, I decided to go hike Reinstein before we made it back to camp. Herb was hiking out the next day, Jan had already done Goddard, so it looked like I was the only one that wanted to hike Goddard tomorrow.  Well I couldn’t just let Reinstein go by when it was so close!  I began the traverse over to Reinstein Pass, a notch on the same ridge the others would cross, but I would end up at the base of Reinstein.  Secor states the pass is 2nd class from that side, but I found a wonderful intermittent 3rd class route. A series of benches and rock allowed for 8-10 ft of steep movesat a time.  A fall would result in nothing more than a few scratches (barring an awkward landing, my perennial worst fear). At one point I found myself with my legs spread, stemming into a corner 6 ft above some grass.  The friction didn’t feel so good -- is that foot going to pop on me? -- and I was starting to get a little nervous about my status. I swear the horn just appeared on the rock within easy reach, and I was saved.

At the base of Reinstein I took a break. It was now 5 pm, so I took some swallows of water and snacks.  I figured something like 700 ft remained.  Looking up one side of the triangular face, I saw steep 5th class on the left ridge and then some large talus and boulders that looked like a good scramble. Farther right was a dangerously steep scree chute and the 2nd or 3rd class ridge that became part of the LeConte Divide.  Up the talus and boulders I went. Although the scramble seemed to stretch out, it only took 30 minutes to get to the summit, and what a reward.  The LeConte Divide swoops up to Reinstein in an S from the south and then sashays its way over unnamed peaks to the north. With more time I would have gone onto the next peak to the south just to experience that ridge line, but the same feeling applies to the rest of the divide that ran on further.  As the shadows grew longer and the light more yellow, I signed the register and wished Mom a Happy Birthday.  At the top of the page a hiker noted that they had watched Reinstein’s summit get struck by lightning repeatedly the night before their ascent, and later found the register blown off the summit, apparently from the strike.

I began to descend the divide, but that soon grew a litte uncomfortable. I switched to the scree chute, but that proved to be steep and loose enough to freak me out a little. A rock larger than my head crashed down from beneath my feet to hundreds of feet below along my descent path.  This was not good.  I went back to the ridge rather than play human bowling pin in the chute and picked my way down gingerly. As the slope slackened, I found ramps, slabs, and grassy slopes that quickened my way down to Lake Martha.

I trapped myself into skirting the boulder shore again, and I was worn out enough for it to have effect. When I rolled into camp I was tired. I just sat down without getting dinner ready; I just needed some time to think about what I’d done while the others snickered at my ambitious outing.  Eventually, I got some hot food into me, which went a long ways, especially if I was going to get up earlier than the others and attempt Goddard.  It would be my highest peak to date, so I was excited to try it, particularly since the last time I went over 13,500 I had gotten a taste of what altitude can do to a tired, dehydrated soul.

-next-