The Tablelands of the Glass Mountains

Sagehen Station straddles a ridgeback that runs south from Hwy. 120 East at Sagehen Summit up into the Glass Mountain Highlands.  To the west of this saddle lies the Mono Basin, a sweeping landscape surrounding the 750,000 year old form of Mono Lake, one of North America's most ancient lake beds, and the 40,000 year old Mono Craters, the youngest mountain "range" on the continent.  The Mono Basin is a summertime tourist thoroughfare.   It's roads and coffee shops fill with anglers pursuing trout in one of several front-country lakes or streams, with Sierra backcountry adventurers seeking the remote pleasures earned by individual sweat and toil, and with Yosemite visitors from far-off lands.  It is a place of motion and commotion.

Dropping east from this saddle is a land of a quieter nature, a land of stillness and distance.  It is a land of sweeping forms cut through with shadowed fissures, of sage-carpetted steppes and aspen-cloaked canyons, pine-studded ridges and granite monoliths.  It is a land that whispers in the wind.  Few travel here to listen, fewer still to explore.  These are the Tablelands, a vast plateau flowing north off the heights of Glass Mountain down into the yawning expanse of the Adobe Valley, home of wild horse and sage grouse.  A landscape that pulls at you with an unknowable force.

Several deep canyons cut through this sweeping landscape, stretching their fingers north to Hwy. 120, the only paved road to brave this empty country...Dexter Canyon, Wet Canyon, Taylor Canyon, McGee Canyon, Black Canyon, Klondike Canyon.  Within these abrupt canyon walls flow tranquil streams of clear spring water through shimmering aspen groves and hushed forest glades.  Several isolated meadows with resplendent blooms of alpine shooting star, lupine, indian paintbrush, penstemon and iris are sprinkled throughout this rugged terrain...Johnny Meadow, Sentinel Meadow, Wild Horse Meadow, Wet Meadow, Sawmill Meadow, Dry Creek Meadow.  Jewels each, these canyons, groves and meadows are home to hawk and eagle, tanager and bluebird, bear, deer, coyote, bobcat and mountain lion.

With the hulking Inyo/White mountains to the east and the mighty Sierra Nevada to the west, both popular visitor attractions, the Glass Mountain Tablelands represent one of the least traveled and least known corridors in California.  They are a silent treasure in no particular hurry to be discovered, but one we, writer, photographer and reader, will explore together in the coming seasons.

                               
                                                                                                                                              -gmm                        

A Day On The Slopes

I wake up to 26 degrees and sunny skies.  It's going to be a warm one today, mid-forties.  Having noticed yesterday that the snow down at the trailer was consolidating pretty well, and after thinking about how it might be doing the same on the east face of Crater Mountain, I decided last night that maybe making the trek in to the backside of the Craters might result in some February spring skiing.  I like to eat big breakfasts on days like this, when I know I might be putting out a lot of energy.  But I had a big one yesterday (eggs, venison chili and toast), so I lighten things up a bit with a bowl of corn grits, molasses, maple syrup, walnuts and milk.

This has become one of my favorite cereal breakfasts of late.  I cook about three-morning's-worth of grits, and then have it handy for a quick microwave breakfast again in a day or two.  With a couple of oranges and three cups of coffee chasing it all down, I'm ready for the road.

Having left my skis and boots in the camper at the trailhead (along with various climbing gear, ice skates, roller skis), all I need is my daypack, lunch and ski poles.  I grab the trash at the last minute, too.  If the skiing isn't happening, maybe I'll end up in town.

I throw my bike on the back of the four-wheeler for the trip out, anticipating a ride of sorts with friend Michael in a couple of days.  The snowmobile transport was abandoned a week ago as more and more open patches of road sand appeared, so now the four-wheeler is my main squeeze.  It's a sturdy little machine, and saves me much grief during the shoulder seasons of backcountry life.

Now, the Mono Craters aren't exactly a skiing mecca.  Access can be interesting and the mid-season snow conditions change rapidly under the intense sunshine.  

Good fortune is with me.  It isn't too bad today, as I'm able to drive in south from Mono Mills for over a mile-and-a-half before the snow gets edgy.  That leaves less than a mile to traverse up through the Jeffery Pines to the base of the big face.

Much patient weaving from snow patch to snow patch, in and around the big Jefferies, is required to reach the open slope.  The trees on these steeper sections seem to have been spared somewhat from the brutal clear cutting this world-class forest endured during the Bodie mining boom.  Fine Jefferies stand tall with open spaces between, allowing plentiful sunshine to reach the pumice sand and pine needle floor.

I screw up a bit pushing too far south while approaching the slope base, and waste some time and effort wrestling with some sage bushes that are popping out of the snow.  It seems once you get off track and pushed in a direction that you don't really want to go, it is difficult to correct course.  When I eventually emerge onto the open slope half way up, however, I realize my efforts are well worth it.  This looks like fun.

It takes another 45 minutes to reach the top of the slope and onto the saddle that separates this debris cone from the next one to the north.  It is a lovely spot, with impressive views west to the Sierras:

...and east to the Inyo/Whites:

I'll admit it right now - the snow isn't great.  Once up on the saddle, it becomes clear that the aspects that see more of the suns rays are in much better shape than the deeper parts of the face that look out to the east.  I enjoy several turns where the saddle sweeps over onto the south-facing edge of the main wall, but once the open ground and trees push me over into the center of the bigger face, the crusties begin to fight each turn, and before I know it I launch out over my ski tips with arms outstretched into a superman impersonation soaring downslope, ending in a soft face plant.  Not near so bad to experience this humiliation solo.  Maybe that's why I'm up here all alone.

Several more turns bring me to the bottom of the open slope, still fighting crusty conditions, but better now in amongst the big trees.  Shooting through the lower-angled forest is a joy, linking shallow turns around the massive trunks.  After digging into the pumice on a turn or two, it's time to de-ski.  I hoof it back down to the waiting camper in about 15 minutes and enjoy a warm beer in the sun.

Rolling down the sand-and-snow road, the camper swaying from side to side, I smile to myself while relishing this physical stupor.  Nothing epic about this day at all, no bottomless pow, no sugary corn, no necklace of linked turns unzipping down the center of Monache Face.  No, none of that.  Just plenty of good, solid outdoor adventure with miles alone and smiles to share.

                                                                                                                   -gmm

:-)

Treat It With Respect

Cold.  Bitter, arctic cold.  The kind of cold that isn't stopped by winter clothing.  The kind of cold that kills, quickly and impersonally.  Get your timing wrong with the elements, these elements, and serious trouble becomes your reality.  The temps plummet, the winds howl, and a landscape that appears reasonably tame becomes very, very hostile.

Mono County Sheriff Search and Rescue Report January 9/10, 2010

A Mono County resident has been found deceased after what appears to be an ill-fated attempt to reach his remote home at Sagehen Meadows.  Mono Sheriff Officials report that the SAR team responded to the Sagehen Summit to look for 60-year-old Robert Lane.  Lane lived alone off of Highway 120 East near Sagehen Summit.  During the winter the highway is closed off and Sheriff officials say that the home is only accessible by snowmobile.  Sheriff Officials say that the search team found Lane's unoccupied vehicle stuck in a snowdrift on 120 near Big Sand Flat.  The two searchers made it to the man's house, but Lane wasn't there either.  On Sunday morning the SAR team and Mono deputies set out on snowmobiles and in the county snowcat to begin search for the missing man.  At about noon, searchers found Lane lying in the snow about a mile from his vehicle.  The cause of death remains under investigation.

Monday, January 13, 2012

There's a cold weather front pouring into this low pressure.  It's 22 degrees outside.  Through the window I see spindrift blowing horizontally across the open plateau of the front yard.  There are few obstacles to slow the gale sweeping up out of the Adobe Valley.  I head down the steps with my shoulder tipped to the wind.  It feels raw outside.  But under a heavy, felt cowboy hat and full-head balaclava, and wrapped in a 200-weight fleece top, synthetic down sweater and Filson duster, I'm reasonably warm.   Longjohns under fleece-lined pants add what they can.   So out I walk, not quite sure to where.

I end up heading down the road and north through the burned forest into the deer bedding grounds.   It is much warmer here amongst the trees, and as I creep closer to where I often see large numbers of deer, the air grows still.  These third-generation Jeffery pines grow dense, with many small clearings between, each one carpeted in deep needle duff.  Snow flakes settle lazily to the soft forest floor.   It is an inviting spot, and one, I know, that often provides shelter to many deer.   Today, all is quiet.

Back out on the road, I start down again toward the west but stop and reconsider.  The first deep chills are getting a foothold through my layers, and the afternoon light is dimming fast beneath the storm cover.  I turn back, knowing the house is just a ten minute walk away.  Emerging from the forest onto the open plateau, I turn into the wind and up the driveway.  The cold, raw and bitter, hits hard, so I tip my head to drop the bill of my hat, shielding my face.  My gloved hands are stuffed deep into the duster.  The chills quickly grow into a rising tide of cold.   Shivering cold.  All-consuming cold.  It comes on surprisingly fast, just a few paces up my drive.  The wind stings my checks and forehead, and instantly freezes the moisture my covered nose exhales through the balaclava.   Even after making the turn in the driveway, the cold blast continues head-on.  I swim through this arctic fury toward the warm house just a minute away, thinking "What would it be like to be a mile or two out in this weather, in this place."

It would be desperate. 

                                       -gmm

Seeing Far

Seeing is an act that connects the viewer with the viewed.  On the physical level, it is an exchange of photons, bouncing off the objects in our world and hitting our retinas in the wavelengths our eyes have evolved to take best advantage of.  On a visceral level, however, seeing is an emotional exchange of information that informs our sense of self-identity.

Seeing far - seeing big, dramatic landscapes, seeing stretches of land that dwarf the human scale - these are, for me,  the most powerful and humbling of human experiences.  I have sought these sights my entire life, or at least for as long as I can remember.  There is something to the distance, something in the sheer quantity, that speaks in a tongue I long to understand.

This view of Paoha and Negit Islands, Mono Lake, taken from the northern slopes of Sagehen Peak yesterday afternoon, creates a powerful sense of belonging in me.  I am made small by this luxuriant expanse.  I am reacquainted with my frail humanness and confronted by my life's transience in the face of this 750,000-year-old landform.  I am nothing more than a fleeting witness to time eternal, a momentary flash across the screen of this cinema.  Yet, without my act of observation (and yours), this Basin becomes meaningless, an infinity that passes silent into some unknown, unknowable eternal future.  The knowledge of this exchange, of this reliance upon each other, in some hidden yet palpable dimension, grounds me in this moment.  It helps me be at home, both in this landscape and within myself.

This was my view yesterday as I "commuted" to town and an evening potluck and music jamm.  I see this same perspective every trip to town (couple times each week), but yesterday's caught my attention like few others.  Why should that be?  Some low clouds, a setting sun, a dusting of snow...what is this thing that stirs inside me in the presence of such moments?  What substance does my witness to this spectacle create?  Awe?  Subservience?  Love?  Are these feelings solid stuff, any less so than the pine trees, rock and ice that direct the sun's particles to my eye?

I fancy it is part a reflection of my Scottish heritage, this yearning for wide open spaces.  (I also fancy my heritage is, in fact, Scottish...something I'd rather take for granted and leave it at that.)  And deeper, perhaps the identification of this living DNA with a genetic ancestry that "feels" familiar in these sweeping spaces, and therefore secure.  What I do know, a certainty I have lived with for my entire adult life, is that I am a being of the mountains, a witness to the power of earth and sky combined on a scale to dwarf my fleeting presence.  With many questions and few answers, I have embarked on a journey of discovery and understanding through a palette of grand landscapes indeed.  Here in the Glass Mountains, I have arrived home at last.

                                               -gmm

Good Morning and Welcome!

Good morning and welcome to Sagehen Station, a stopping point for wanderers and vagabonds to sample the flavor of a life lived alone, far removed from the bustle of contemporary West Coast madness.  Sagehen Station is located at an elevation of 8,300 feet in the Glass Mountains of the Inyo National Forest.

This is a place on the edge of things.  Sitting at the northern border of the world's largest Jeffery Pine forest, just east of North America's youngest mountain range (the Mono Craters), just south of North America's oldest lakebed (Mono Lake), and betwixt two of the mightiest mountain systems on the continent, Sagehen Station is influenced by and enjoys a taste of all of this amazing topography.

First and foremost, it is a place of stunning visual delight.  To the east stand the hulking Inyo-White Mountains, North America's highest desert mountain range.

To the west the mighty Sierra Nevada, Galen Rowell's Range of Light.

And here between, mostly unnoticed and largely unappreciated, is Sagehen Station, my home.

Having the opportunity to greet these landscapes on a daily basis is a blessing.  How and why I landed here are stories for another day.  Just know, when those days arrive, these same landscapes will still be here, sharing their beauty and peace with my soul...and few others.

                                                                                                         -gmm