Lakes Basin

Rock Lake

I have the tremendous fortune of having a friend named Ben who is from Reno, Nevada. I know, I know, initially I had the same skewed visions of Reno enforced by say Betty Draper flying out there for a divorce or the sometimes funny, mostly not funny Reno 911. But when I first was given the enormous privilege of visiting Reno and Ben’s family, I understood what he was talking about. Reno itself is, as Ben’s family now mocks me for, “alright” but the mountains surrounding Reno are spectacular. Ben’s family has a tremendous love of the mountains and deserts of Nevada and it couldn’t help but spread to me. So this summer after I finished snaking my way up the spine of the Sierra Nevada’s through the underrated Sequoia National Park and the impossible to overrate but sadly packed Yosemite, I joined Ben and his father Eric, at their families Cabin near Eureka-Plumas State Park in California. Ben’s family has always treated me like I was one of their own, and given that Eric seems to be interested only in golf, exploring the outdoors, and talking a little politics, he and I were hard pressed to get along.

This is the area north of Tahoe, the area that until recently, only the locals really knew about. San Franciscans have now discovered it, and hopefully they don’t overpopulate it with strip malls in the way Tahoe. At the cabin, Ben, Eric and I relaxed, played some golf at a spectacular golf course (although Ben insists on using performance enhancing trees), and Ben and I planned a backpacking trip. I’d never backpacked before, but I had acquired an REI backpack specifically to open up the possibility. When planned a trip through the Lakes Basin area of the Plumas National Forest.

It was a good trip to say the least. We started near the old Jamison mine and gradually worked our way up the hillside. The early going with my 40-50 pound pack was surprisingly easy, although it got gradually harder as we went up in elevation. The Lakes Basin is actually two as far as I can tell, the first we worked our way up through contained several football field sized lakes of cold snow melt. The lakes themselves offered spectacular photographic subjects both black and white. It reminded me in many ways of Hatcher Pass in Alaska, but with trees.

Grass Lake

The first lake we happened on was Grass Lake (which was actually one of two or three "Grass" or "Grassy" Lakes in the area....creative naming was not a priority). Tranquil and filled with fish (we passed a pretty steady stream of fisherman on the way) we rested by this lake for a few minutes and continued on. We then wound up the side of several gorgeous Sierra granite outcroppings and reached Rock Lake (again, creative).

My esteem and love for the Sepia Forest Service Sign picture know no bounds.

Rock Lake Panorama

Rock Lake was quite pleasant and had the feel of an alpine lake as opposed to Grass Lake which felt more like a mountain pond. There was no real vegetation in the lake giving it a rainbow of blues, blue-greens, and greens that can only be appreciate by being there and only clumsily translated by color photographs. The emerald waters of Lake Tahoe, it seems, are not exclusive to Lake Tahoe. Ben had cached his backpack behind, so I ditched my increasingly heavy pack and climbed the rocks to explore the blues with my camera from a high gray granite perch.

Lone Tree At Rock Lake
1/125 Exposure
Positive Film

It was here that I discovered the manipulations you can make on lake colors with shutter speed and exposure, a process I would explore more deeply at Tamolitch Pool (blog post upcoming).

Rock Lake Waters
1/30 Exposure
Green Filter

Same waters, different exposure, different filter, different results. Not exactly and earth shattering breakthrough, but cool.

After resting for a while at Rock Lake and seeing the nearby Jamison Lake (sadly, not a drop of whiskey in sight) we made our way up to Wades Lake, which while higher than Rock Lake, had more of a meadow pond feel as well. This was the last respite before making it up to the Pacific Crest Trail which was honestly quite a struggle for me. We had climbed from about 5200 feet (already a mile high) to almost 7400 feet, and the last 500 feet or so was a real struggle for me. The contrast between me the asthmatic, slightly out of shape amateur photography and Ben, the former semi-professional soccer player was pretty apparent. Ben was a patient and encouraging coach, and eventually the trail leveled off on the ridge line, and I felt pretty damn invincible. For the stretch between the first basin and the second basin on the ridge line, I was running like an ancient Incan trail messenger, or more accurately, felt that way.

Of course we stopped briefly to recoup, and while there I got this photo.

Grass Lake (middle), Rock Lake (right), Wades Lake (left)

This photo turned out pretty well, and I snapped a few in black and white as well, but they didn't turn out as well. I wished I'd had better lighting, but a storm brought a few high clouds and supplied us with a nice cool breeze for our descent into the second basin. This is of course one of those views that a camera does such a feeble job of conveying, especially the sense of accomplishment of having gone all this way.

Feeling good because I thought we had gotten all the climbing over (which we had except for a few soul sucking hills) we descended into the Lakes Basin. These lakes were more narrow and thin, substantially larger, and now choppy due to the afternoon breeze. There was a somewhat spooky feeling of an approaching storm and after cresting the ridge, we didn't run into any people until we reached camp. It had the feel of two knights approaching a ferocious dragon in some awful fantasy film, but it was also extremely memorable: I'll never forget that feeling of isolation and togetherness at the same time the wind seemed to bring.

The changing light and the feeling that the "mountain lake" photo had been done led to substantially fewer snaps in the second basin, but the best shot was yet to come.

California's Weak Answer to Oregon's Wizard Island

And not it isn't this one, I'm just fascinated by the tenacity of the pine trees to make it out there.

Silver Lake
1/125 Exposure
Black and White

Silver Lake itself was not that impressive, but it is photogenic. I took a number of color photos here, but this is the type of shot made for that Ansel Adams Black and White style shot. I think the reason it works is lack of color in the reflection: in the color shot the only color really reflected in the blue of the sky, the trees and shrubs just look black or brown in the water. So why not just make everything black or white?

After a few hours of needless serpentine paths because of poor direction signs, we reached camp, quickly had a fire going, and some soup was made (worth the extra weight, just ask Ben about the quality of dry freeze food, or better yet Ben's dog who refused to eat it). The only thing imperfect after that day was the cloud cover which blocked the stunning Sierra stars.

The next morning, we hiked out to see a few small falls, and then met up with Eric at a nearby resort. Pepsi and Doritos have never tasted sweeter! Our journey over, we made our way to lunch at Sierra City.

Proper Wilderness Safety Dictates That You Must Eat At A Wonderful Terraced Restaurant After Backpacking

We had lunch in Sierra City at a wonderful place with fantastic fat french fries. I have to say I loved my first exposure to backpacking: its hard and grueling but fantastically rewarding. The key thing to me is water: always water. You can never have to much of it.

So thank you to Ben and his family (JoAnn is the best cook in the world for the record) for the good times.