An Alpine Lake in the Sierras

1 month into the inception of project Light/Year (later renamed as Pilgrimage of Light) and I was ready for an adventure.

The destination was Pear Lake, deep in the Sierras Nevada in the boundary of Sequoia National Park. The trail led to it was rated hard for elevation gain and length. I’ve never been a hiker. I walked, I played tennis and I was reasonably fit for my age, but, carrying a backpack and walking with trek poles in hands was something that did not occurred to me that I would do.

There is nothing I would not do for photography. Well, I probably still wouldn’t jump out of an airplane for it. Not yet.

The Planning

The pristine alpine lakes were calling me—I’ve never been to these hard-to-access destinations, but I could see how stunning they were on Google image search. My experience from Glen Rose, Big Bend and White Sands told me this one needs careful planning.

On Google Earth, I found scenes like this

When were these lakes carved out by glaciers? The glaciation in Sierra Nevada took place during the Paleocene, as early as 2.5 million years ago, a number that did not match many galaxies in terms of distances in light years. But, there is one rock star galaxy, 2.5 million light years away, right in our Local Group: Andromeda, or M31. What else can I ask for?

I had the matching subjects. The next question was: how do I get there?

This was when Google’s power disappear: it didn’t know much about trails. Time to expand my horizon, a bit literally. I found this app called AllTrails. On it, I found this trail that will bring me to the lakes.

It was rated “hard”; it had 3000 feet elevation gain and it might have ice hazard. If you are a season hiker, this might sound like a stroll in the neighborhood. Not for me, I’ve never backpacked. Should I go?

I looked at the lake again, closely.

Imagine the Andromeda projected on the granite, it’s reflection on the mirror-like lake.

Fuck it. I’m going.

The Preparation

I had a new pair of boots and comfy wool socks. Oh yes, I had a pair of trek poles I bought at slippery icy Grand Canyon after my butt was seriously bruised. I had a nice Manfrotto camera backpack that could tie two tripod, but it looked a bit…huh, stretched, with the load. And if it became fully loaded with photo stuff, where was I going to put my sleeping bag, tent, food, first aide, and yes, bear repellent?

“You need a serious backpack,” says Liz, my niece who lives in the Bay Area and the most seasoned backpacker in the family, “and we should have a visit at REI when you are in town.” I didn’t know what REI was, but quickly remembered Reese Witherspoon mentioned it in her movie Wild, the quintessential hiking movie. Yes, it must be serious.

We visited REI 2 days before my hike, when most other stuffs were bought piecemeal from here and there. I brought all the photo equipment, packed nicely in protective inner cases. “I need a backpack that can hold all these,” I say, and Jenna the nice REI consultant measures me, and brought a gargantuan bag. It’s fancy with many compartments and fully compatible with a hydration bladder.

At Liz’s home, I loaded everything in it and lift it with a grunt. The bag was well designed. The weight distributed evenly mostly on the hip, and the contour of the frame hugged my back. Nonetheless, it was quite an effort just to put it on. I struggled and I looked at Liz and Olive.

We Chinese don’t do verbal tsunami. But their expressions said they were worried.

The Rock on The Road

I cut the shoot at General Sherman tree short the night before, so I may have plenty of sleep. Tips to avoid altitude sickness say that I should east lots of carb. So, in the national park cafe, I garbled up potatoes. No cellphone signal means no saying goodbye. I wondered into the gift shop and bought Olive and Marcia matching Sequoia NP shirts(Olive says to me afterward “these shirts are damn expensive!”). I didn’t pay attention at the time. I was thinking if I never come back, people would find these shirts in my car and give to them. If I have to go, I want to leave something nice behind.

On the drive to the trail head, I ran into this

My car was the third in the line, which means this might have happened minutes before I passed it.

“Somebody is trying to stop me,” I thought. Strangely, this idea made me more determined.

One side of the road is cleared pretty quickly. And I arrived at the trail head.

The Hike

At the Lake Trailhead, hikers sat on the opened trunk of their cars, putting on boots and eating banana. A couple women passed me by, clinkity clunkity with their trek poles doing part of the walking. They all seemed knowing what they were doing. I, on the other hand, struggled to keep balance with my backpack, now with the additional 5 pounds of bear canister which the NP required. But there I went, leaving my rental car and civilization behind.

The first couple hours was a breeze, without much elevation gain, and with lots of shade, thanks to the sequoia giants. A few creeks cut the trail. Hopping on the rocks were much easier with the trek pole, which helped me to balance with a much elevated center of gravity.

1/3 of the way into the trail, the going got tough when I started to ascend on the Hump.

The ascent was steep and continuous, which quickly overload the muscles of the leg and the heart. Every single step was a struggle aggravated by rugged rocks and fallen trees. I put one foot in front of—and above—the other as many times as I can, until I needed to stop and let the drumming heart quiet down.

“If I can make one more step, and another one after that, I will get to Pear Lake”. I told myself over and over again.

The Glacial Water

Heather is the name of my favorite student and the lake that greeted me after the torturous Hump. My hydration bladder was emptied at the time, so a pool of turquoise water below was most encouraging, and drinking filtered water from it was most refreshing. From here on, a string of lakes awaits, with Pear Lake at the every end.

I must have ascended to elevation where the trees disliked. The terrain is now even more rugged. The shades were gone, but the spring breeze spared me from sweats. Heather, Aster, Emerald and Pear sits at the bottom of cirques, amphitheater like terrain carved by the glacier. Between each cirque there was sky-piercing peaks, which I had to negotiate.

Pear Lake

Just like what Google Earth showed, only 100 times more impressive.

The Shoot

A rule has presented itself during this project’s shoots: the first few shots always suck.

And of course, what did I expect to make any kind of nice exposure at ISO 204800? Well, these were just tests to see how viable it was to project Andromeda 400 feet across, on granite darker that a 18% gray card. It was horribly grainy, but it overexposed. At ISO 102400, a correct exposure was achieved.

That meant, I could expose at ISO 16000, with 10 multiple exposures set at ADD mode, to accumulate enough exposure and avoid excessive grains.

The very faint exposures of the galaxy were accumulated to _DSC5226 to a perfect exposure. Then with the confidence on a tightly locked Manfrotto tripod head, I made an exposure for the ambient light without the projection at the luxury of ISO 800. It was moonless, so the ambient light was from astronomical twilight.

These all sound easy when I write about it. At the moment, it was two hours’ work at the end of a day’s hike. Did I get what I set out to do? Without a laptop, I zoomed in on the camera’s review, checked and rechecked to make sure no mistakes were made. Everything looked fine. Time to call it a day!

The threat from bear was not as real as the threat from marmot. A fellow hiker told me that they eat up everything slightly salty, so clothings or gears that touched our sweat were in danger. I kept the two tripod standing, and hung my stuff like a hammock between them, so these fat and cute rodents wouldn’t get to them. I did not take a photo when it swaggered by my foot, but this is how they looked:

I squished myself into the single person tent, took my clothes off and slipped into the sleeping bag.

The Encounters

A brief moment of snow made me worried. It was beautiful in the dawn, but I got my beauty last night and I didn’t need a challenge to keep me from delivering that beauty to civilization.

Soon after I departed Pear Lake, a young woman walked towards me on the trail. It was still early, so she much have started early, or she must have been walking fast. Her face gradually resolved into a brilliant smile as we approached. She was there for a day hike to Heather Lake. Lightly equipped and looking fit, I didn’t have a doubt that she would accomplish her plan. We parted in opposite direction.

Going down on the Hump was not much better than going up. The heart didn’t strain as much; that’s physics: if I wasn’t gaining potential energy by going up, my heart didn’t have to pump that much fuel to the muscles. But the fact that I didn’t shape like a ball, rolling down the hill freely, hence I had to brake my fall by fighting the downward momentum, was also physics. Very quickly the muscles on the legs got fatigued, while I smiled and cheered on the upward hikers, who must have thought that I had such a great time going downward.

Soon after the Hump and the easy flat walk turned soporific, I thought of the young lady fast on feet. She must have turned back, and she might be passing me, the old man with two tripods and a huge backpack, soon. And there she was! Whizzing me by. Hmm, not even saying bye?

Minutes after that a man in the opposite direction approached me with a concerned look.

“There are a couple bears, one brown and one black. They are right around the trail. I told the young woman to wait for you so you two can handle this together.”

I sped up and saw her crouching on a piece of rock.

“Oh, hi there,” she said. “So the bears are right there” she pointed. “One black and one brown. That’s tricky, you know, because we are supposed to scare the black ones away and play dead to the brown. What should we do?”

Hell would I know. But I did have a bear horn.

The bears, either an interracial couple, or adoption, or whatever, were moving away from the trails. So we walked, slowly and observantly. More hikers joined up with us.

“There’s no brown bear in California,” one hiker said. “I’ve just talked to a rangers about this.”

I suggested we all gang up and walk pass the bears together. We made noises. I had the bear horn in my hand, ready to blow out some bear, and human ear drums.

Black and Fake Brown were not a bit interested in us. They pushed the trees, rolled on the ground and yawned. All of us lived to tell the tale.

Andromeda and Pear Lake

In a hotel room in Fresno, CA, where tap water tasted like sewage water in comparison to Pear Lake’s, I fired up my laptop and edited my shots from the night before.

I smiled and I started looking for the local 5 star restaurant on Yelp.