The Owens Valley and its surrounding mountains are far from the place I grew up and have become one of my favorite parts of this great nation. When I first came here I felt like I had discovered a secret. A lost and secret land. This dry country goes unconquered by man. The valleys between the mountain ranges are grand, quiet and peaceful, possessing a haunting beauty unique to this area. To many who first look upon it, the starkness of this landscape seems unnatural and provokes confusion, even revulsion. It appears hostile and empty. The desert won’t always reveal its beauty right away, but for those who take time to get to know it, inevitably they fall in love. For me, having lived two winters here, this area will always feel like home. The spacious desert is my sanctuary.

There are a great many hidden treasures tucked away among the boulders and canyons of this colorful martian landscape. Places to hide and trails that are seldom explored are just a stone’s throw from every road. Wilderness is plentiful. America’s glorious national parks are places where modern man can access the wilderness with greater comfort and convenience on the roads. However, the front country of the parks will often be crowded. You’ll find more peace and solitude if you go in the shoulder seasons, spring and fall. They can be fine times for a visit. In particular I am discussing a national park that people seem to forget about: Kings Canyon in California’s Sierra Nevada mountain range.

Many people think this mountain park is only fit to be explored in the summertime. Autumn in the Sierra is a frosty breeze with warm Californian sun, burning orange aspens and a bare granite range completely free of snow, (unless it’s falling from the sky). It’s a fantastic time to be there, and arguably the best season for hiking. Bug free, not hot, and low water levels make for easy stream crossings. Spring is when I went, downright icy cold, a snow covered land, but still highly enjoyable. These are the mountains in my backyard, which like a shining heaven on earth paradise, float high above the mirage-like desert.

The Kearsarge Pass Trail

Kings Canyon, the name suits it well, a great stone cathedral fit for the godliest of men and women. The mountains here are regal, shining silver and glinting gold. Noble canyons sculpt the landscape among the gleaming white peaks of sterling rock. It is memories of this place enchanted that call me to make the drive back. Back up that epic road out of Independence, California, to the Onion Valley. The mountains are calling.

I set off one morning, finally headed up the Kearsarge Pass Trail. I’d been planning the trip all winter, and while still early in the season, the time was here. It’s a steep trail right from the start, nearly everything in Kings Canyon is steep. All the surrounding mountains were streaked dazzling white, however the trail was snow free. It wound through jagged pillars of silver granite which pierced the sky like sets of rotten teeth. Still early season springtime, they were encased in ice. In fall you’ll see them bare; to hike through a snow free Sierra is a privilege. Whatever the season, this is the desert no longer. The cold climate country has plentiful sparkling clean water everywhere you look. To my great pleasure the trail remained dry. I thought the snow must surely start at some point as I continued ascending. It never did. There were patches to cross which didn’t impede my travel in the slightest. The trail was almost completely snow free in April. Kearsarge Pass is a trail which runs east to west, a favorable position for catching the strong sunlight. This trail will melt out faster than a north to south trail. The north faces of the mountains kept the most snow and they were spectacular to look at. Kearsarge Pass turned out to be an excellent option for the off season.

You pass many lakes on this trail which are currently frigid but by summer will become idyllic havens. These lakes would make excellent picnic spots in fall as well. The trail is short and steep, only taking 4.7 miles to climb to the top of the pass, gaining 2,660 feet of elevation. You arrive at the top before you know it. Sweet success! There was no way to prepare for the incredible view on the other side; it took my breath away in the thin air. Looking down into Kings Canyon you are offered swooping valleys rolling out between peaks like enormous waves on a sea of granite. The snowbound north faces of the Kearsarge Pinnacles dominate the scene to the south. Below them are the frozen Kearsarge Lakes, a quintessential necklace of lakes trailing out before the spokes of mighty rock. Another row of vicious teeth.

I hiked down the other side of the pass into the backcountry, got a bit lower, and sat down for lunch with a view. I lay and rested on my backpack as a body pillow while I ate lunch and checked out the sky. It was flat blue all morning and now I spotted a wisp of a cloud. Oh and there, one little puffy cloud hanging over a summit. Watch that puffy cloud…my eyes went closed. Serenely I slipped off to sleep under the shade of my hat. I woke up hours later. The little cloud had multiplied and spread its mist around. I got back up, dizzy and disoriented but fantastically refreshed. Time to continue down.

I went all the way down into the backcountry in the now blissfully warm afternoon. Even up at this high altitude every day grows warm as the sun and the land meet and get to know each other. If I had thought the trail uncrowded on the front country side of Kearsarge Pass, here there was not a soul. Completely isolated, I saw not one person until my return from the backcountry. At the bottom, in the shaded pockets of the forest I found much deeper snowdrifts. They threatened my navigation. I had reached the fabled John Muir Trail. There are ways you can continue to pick out the trail when snow covered. Look first for the logical route the trail would take, a direction where there are no trees or logs in the way.

As I scout over the snow, I keep an eye out for trail work. A cairn, a stone staircase or any arranged stones, a blown down and cut log. These will always be clues to finding your way. Then one will find a bit of uncovered trail and know you’re still on the right path. This navigation however, must be done in the morning when the snow is firm. By this late hour of the day the world is melting, the snow is soft. Something happens called post-holing where you can crash through the snow bank, sometimes up to your waist. As you try to pull yourself out of the snow the force of your action brings you right back down into it. It makes travel difficult. Do your snow travel in the morning hours and it will crunch underfoot and support you.

I post-holed my way through the forest down to Charlotte Lake and camped there. A quiet, lonely, and cold spot for the mysterious night. The clouds had gradually gathered all day to form massive thunderheads. They darkened blue on a peak and the occasional lightning flash could be seen. I wondered about my exposure here, but faced the coming night with faith and not fear. I turned to my book and, wrapped in the wool blanket I had successfully stuffed in my pack alongside my sleeping bag, enjoyed the most relaxing evening. The sun passed behind the mountains leaving a fiery red Sierra sunset. The cold night began.

I was glad I brought the wool blanket, even with it I was cold once the night became late. Condensation formed on the inside of my bivy sack from my body heat clashing with the frozen air. It would freeze in sheets of ice. I would wake up periodically and open the bag, letting out all my warmth to try and dispel the condensation, equalizing my temperature with the cold air outside. That worked and would leave me wiggling around again in there to regenerate the warmth for a few more winks of sleep. Unfortunately this is a major yet seemingly unavoidable defect of my bivy sack, it happens on all cold nights out there. I’m ok with it, it’s what happens when you challenge yourself against nature. It’s hard, its survival, and I love it! The ground was slanted, miserably cold, but comfort is the enemy. Living occasionally with discomfort is the only way to fully appreciate the comforts of your civilized life. Trips like this are soul sustaining.

The middle of the uncomfortable night in the wild, I find, becomes a time for visions and dreams. I dreamed vividly all night. Once I jumped awake. The air was calm and arctic and I remained still in a trance from the dream. All I could see were stars, the sky was a great fog of them with zero light pollution. The Milky Way glittered overhead like a cosmic rainbow arching from one horizon to the other. The winter silence was complete.

A Sunrise and Hike Out

The coldest part of the night was fitful sleep but thankfully the sun rises every day. I was up early and rubbing my hands together to try and warm them, fingertips frozen. The snow was solid again, good for walking. Everything chilly with blinding morning light to illuminate the mountains sterling silver. That’s how most days begin in the Sierras, stark naked blue skies and cold. By afternoon it was warm and so comforting with memory of the morning’s chill. The wispy clouds came in earnest. I sat on a ledge with a view letting countless hours pass while writing this story. I watched listlessly as the clouds gathered, swarmed, and grew. They grew huge, they grew ominous. Better than watching any TV show is just watching the clouds in the Sierra as they overtake the mountains.

At some point I realized I better leave, the storm was really happening today. The clouds darkened the same as yesterday; they cascaded over the ridge in swirling torrents. Flurries began. Then my fear came true, every hiker’s fear in the shoulder season, the snowstorm broke on me. The view was gone, washed to white on top of Kearsarge Pass as I was hurrying down. Back to my truck and safety in the warm desert. I let myself become frantic for the fun of it, the excitement of escaping the storm, but I knew there was really nothing to fear (except for fear itself). In fact, part of me had even hoped it would snow. There’s something that feels good about seeing your fears come true, facing them, and then conquering. This was just a little Sierra mist! As the sun poked through in shafts of holy light, the sacred land of Kings was dramatically illuminated. Sitting again in my truck seat all my nerves and muscles melted with relaxation as I coasted down from the Onion Valley. I glowed for hours afterwards. The air turned warm and perfect. I sat the rest of the day in my truck, watching as the wandering cumulous clouds cast scattered shadows across the desert.

Need to Know

Information

To spend the night in Kings Canyon you must head over to the visitor center in Lone Pine. The rangers there can issue you a permit for camping in the backcountry as well as warn you of any possible problems in the coming weather. No permit is needed for a day hike. You will find the visitor center to be a wealth of knowledge about the area and the current Sierra snow depths as well as many other interesting facts about the area and its history.

Best Time to Go

Summer is the most popular time to go, but fall can be just as nice with cooler temperatures and fewer crowds. Spring is also excellent with brilliant snowy views and no crowds if you’re willing to do some snow travel. Winter, most can agree is a challenging time to be here, but that doesn’t stop some people.

Getting There

Lone Pine is a small town in the southern section of the highway 395 corridor, the town of Independence is 15 miles north. Onion Valley road will be a turn at the red, white, and blue Independence post office, heading towards the mountains. Drive for 9 miles and ascend the wild switchbacks to Onion Valley where you’ll find the Kearsarge Pass Trailhead. An atlas such as the Delorme California Atlas & Gazetteer can be useful.

Books

Sierra South, Backcountry trips in California’s Sierra Nevada. This classic guidebook takes you through hikes in the southern Sierra Nevada. Passionately written by experts in the field, this is a book anyone who hikes often in the Sierra should have. The book begins with a lot of good basic information about survival in the mountains. Like any good guide book, this one is filled with photographs. The book will help you find good campsites out in the Sierra, find the trailheads you’re looking for, and find out how long routes will take.

Hiking in Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Park: A Guide to the Park’s Greatest Hiking Adventures by Laurel Scheidt. Discover the greatest hikes among some of the most impressive scenery in the country, California’s High Sierra. This guide book details 80 hikes including Kearsarge Pass and will tell you everything you need to know to get the most out of these two fantastic national parks. Packed with information and photographs, this book is a fun read for anyone planning an adventure to Kings Canyon or Sequoia.

Maps

Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks map, National Geographic. The National Geographic park maps are detailed in beautiful color making them easy to read. This series of maps make excellent additions to any map collection. They contain all the information you will need to embark on trails or mountain climbs around the park, but will not replace a 7.5 minute topo map for longer route finding trips. These maps are also water resistant and fold up easily.

Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 25 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.