After Yosemite, my original plan was to visit Death Valley in California as I start my journey home. However, it’s about 110 degrees in Death Valley these days, so that plan got mixed fast. My dad happened to stumble upon Great Basin National Park in his own travel research and sent along the suggestion. Due east of Yosemite, and at high elevation, it sounds like a great alternative. So there I went!
As I researched hiking options the night I arrived, almost all the reviews mentioned snow on the trails. Snow, with May approaches? Maybe people we’re exaggerating I thought, perhaps a few patches here and there but it couldn’t be significant. Right? Well, I decided to pack my micro spikes in case. Better prepared than sorry.
My first morning at Great Basin I drove into the park and up the scenic drive. The road starts at 7,000 feet above sea level and quickly climbs the mountainside 3,000 feet. Oh, that’s why there is still snow! I passed the trailhead for Wheeler Peak, wanting to climb it but knowing I didn’t have the proper gear. Instead I drove to the end of the road and chose to hike to Rock Glacier.
Labeled a moderate trail, I’d travel about 6 miles round trip and gain 1,200 feet of elevation. Sounded good to me! Off I went, and was quickly reminded of what hiking at high altitude feels like. Woof! It was like I hadn’t been hiking at all for 6 weeks. It was hard to breath and I started to have a dull headache. Slow and steady was the hiking advice, lots of water and snacks, so I did just that. I relaxed my pace and paused often to enjoy the thickly trees forest.
As the trail slowly climbed through the forest, patches of snow began to appear. At first they were small, easy to step around or take a few paces to cross, but then they became larger, on the slope side and I found myself grateful for having pack my spikes. I dug them out and pulled them on, appreciative of the extra grip they provided on the slick morning snow. While there was a lot of taking off and putting on of micro spikes as I passed from snow to mug to rock to snow, it was worth it.
At the end of the first two miles, I entered the Ancient Bristlecone Pine grove. Hardy, gnarled trees grew from the rocky, dry soil below. Their trunks, shades of yellow, orange, and brown, twisted skyward. Sparse branches were decorated with bright green needles, sometime just a small bunch on one limb. These trees are the definition of ancient, many having been growing since the Egyptians built pyramids. Thousands of years old, they require little water and are tenacious, fighting to survive even when one part has fallen over and died. The oldest Bristlecone Pine here is 3,200 years old! That certainly puts age into perspective. True fighters, full of stories to tell, capturing their beauty was a joy.
After marveling at these historic wonders, I continued on the trail to see Rock Glacier. About half a mile ahead, the white blanket came into view, nestled at the base of Wheeler Peak’s backside. Even from a distance, it was sparkling and beautiful.
The trail switched back and forth a few more times, then headed out onto the rock field littered with patches of snow. On and off when the micro spikes again as I traversed larger and larger patches of snow. The trail became tricky, loose rocks that cracked against each other as I stepped. Determined to reach that glacier though, I continued on.
I reached the trail end, a sign marking Rock Glacier at 10,800 feet high, but wasn’t satisfied. The rock pile across the snowfield looked like a good view for lunch, so I followed some melted snow prints to the top. Most of the way was hard pack, but with the sun beating down it was warming fast. A few times I stepped in just the right spot and post holed up to my knee. Oops! And yikes! It was easy to get out, but I figured I shouldn’t push my luck too much. I found a good rock to settled down on and enjoy the blissful quiet in the bowl, surrounded by dark stone mountains, the whole place to myself.
The sun reflecting off the snow was warm, and I sat comfortably in a t-shirt and pants. Snow on May 31st. I never would of thought I’d be hiking in that. Pretty cool.
After a good rest, others started to arrive so I took off, back to the bristlecones and then van. The steps back were easier, mostly downhill, and quicker. I was almost back to the final stretch when a few fellow hikers convinced me to check out the glacial lakes. A few extra miles wouldn’t hurt, right? Might as well do it while I’m here!
So off around the loop I went, first admiring Stella Lake then … Lake. Both emerald gems beneath gray mountains, snow lingering in the crevasses. I enjoyed each as I passed by, then entered the forest again, flanked by white aspens with lime green leave fluttering in the wind. Deer grazed in the meadow and a stream trickled by, a peaceful way to end the day.
Sunny and I then wound down the mountain, my ears popping as we quickly dropped elevation. I lucked at grabbing a camping spot in the park at the first come first serve Baker Campground, and settled in for the evening to enjoy chats with friends and family.
I’d already had a marvelous full day when the sun began to set and it beckoned my attention. The never ending sunset, it morphed for two hours, well after the glowing ball of sun had dipped behind the mountain. I couldn’t pull myself away from the pinks, purples, and oranges, dancing on the clouds above. I sat wrapped in my blanket, toes inside my slippers, enjoying the show. Stunning. A gift at the end of a spectacular day. I’m so glad I came to Great Basin. One more day of enjoyment ahead.
Tonelli's Travels 
Seeing you in a tank with snow in the background is confusing to my brain. I admire how you bring the right gear to surmount the landscape. I wonder who is taking the photos of you?
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Haha, it confused my brain too! Such a strange combo. And either I take a selfie or I set my camera up, carefully balanced on a rock or bush. It’s a fun game!
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