Mt Goddard

Mt Goddard: The Spineless Mountain
14 September 2014

‘Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east.’ Not even Gandalf could save me as the sun rose over the mountains; there I stood in perplexity high on the north ridge of a subpeak of Mt Goddard. Tired and lost amid a maze of ledges, overhangs, and loose rock, I was defeated. I had traveled far and seen many things but lacked the will to climb the mountain. ‘Why is this route so hard? Where am I? And where the hell am I going?’

John and I set out from the North Lake Campground up the Lamarck Lakes Trail, in the dark, on a Saturday morning. I was amazed at everything I could see with my newly acquired headlamp. Another gadget in my growing mountaineering arsenal. We saved our energy and took our time as we made our way through the forest above the lake. Darkness gave way to pale dawn and quiet ponds and bubbling creeks seemed to suddenly spring out of the hills and into the sunlight. After some two hours of quiet hiking on the well-maintained trail we reached the sandy plateau below the col. The glacier nested against the north slope was reduced to a thin slab of silt and sand laden ice. It was exciting to see the glacier at work, as I tried to fill my water bottle from the trickle at the base, only to capture a fair bit of the mountain with it.

A short scramble up loose material that no doubt was once held together by the glacier and we were standing atop Lamarck Col. Mt Darwin in all its majesty stands guard over the deep canyon. I stopped and smiled and instantly added it to my list of peaks to climb next season. The north face looked to have a knockout glacier itself, which I reasoned could be ascended as a snow climb in the spring. We rock hopped and scree skied down the faint use trail to the first of the beautiful lakes in Darwin Canyon. The lake at the base had a sandy beach! I wished my friends could be here to see all this. I thought about jumping in the water, but the air temperature was just not quite warm enough this time of year. It’s one thing to brave cold waters for a few invigorating minutes, but quite another to come out and shiver all day afterward! After taking some lunch, we skirted around the north side of the lakes. Keeping close to the shores maximizes the length of useable use trail and minimizes the number of boulders requiring dips, dodges and dives to cross the canyon.

The canyon doesn’t so much end as come to an expansive and direction-disorienting bench. I realized around this time that I had found my new favorite area of the Sierra Nevada. It was so beautiful here. Caught up in the scenery, both John and I made a major navigational error. We descended all the way down to the canyon to the west of the bench, instead of looping around to the south to enter Evolution Basin. I even remarked as we stood on the bench, ‘We don’t have to go all the way down there, do we?’ I had looked at my topo and it indicated that Evolution Basin was essentially at the same elevation as the bench. But I just couldn’t put it together. And we were following a nice trail. So down we went, and of course I was unable to admit to myself the gravity of the mistake. ‘To hell with the trail, we just have to get up and over that bench over there,’ I reasoned with John. After some coaxing on my part, we ventured off trail. I took great pleasure in exploring the terrain, but John seemed to feel differently. He was cursing under his breath more and more frequently the longer we remained in unfamiliar territory. I climbed around some slabs, heading in a generally southeasterly direction. I would call down to John if I thought a particular path seemed promising. Then he would come on up. And I would go on ahead. I started to become anxious to find some notch above us that would lead back to Evolution Basin. After all I had convinced John to leave the trail. After some time we did find a loose gully leading to a notch, which incidentally provided a marvelous perspective of the basin. Incredible. We walked lazily down the PCT, relieved to have a trail once again.

We grumbled to each other about how much time we had lost on the off-trail adventure. I wasn’t so much concerned with the lost time but rather with the novelty of it all. Fortunately John and I were both cool-headed enough about the episode to not let it get between us and ruin the trip. Conversation was cool but cordial as the day wore on. We soon realized there would not be enough daylight to make the summit of Mt Goddard and return to camp. This was our original plan and it would have to be axed. As we were discussing our options on the rockfall dividing Wanda Lake from the Davis Lakes, we came across a ranger! Yikes! And we had specifically neglected to pick up our permits from the ranger station, which doesn’t open until 8 am each day, so we could go for the summit on day one! Being one cool cat, I walked right up to the ranger and gave a hearty hello. I’m always glad to meet people in the backcountry. I suppose I get into a good mood in the mountains. All that beauty sinks into your heart and mind. As John came along, he simply nervously walked by and didn’t say much. I talked with the ranger about the beauty of the area, and how it really might be my new favorite place in the Sierra Nevada, if he was typically stationed around here (he actually was coming up from the south), where we planned to camp for the night, and such. I even gave him my name upon his inquiring. He said it was a way for the rangers to keep track of activity in the area. I gave him John’s first name, but not his last. I said, ‘He’s John Doe, I guess.’

John and I made a nice camp on some rock slabs near the foot of the ridge we planned to climb in the morning. I scraped out a nice bivy spot in the dirt next to the slabs. The dirt was just the right firmness. Better than the Sleep Number™ even. Once again we were up at dawn. We hiked up the talus to the right of the north ridge, instead of climbing directly onto the ridge from its base, to gain elevation at first. This worked out very well as we soon found a comfortable ramp to make our way off the talus and onto the ridge proper. After this things went south (figuratively, although I wish literally!) for John and I. We kept getting stuck beneath ledges requiring difficult climbing moves, or found ourselves peering over a steep cliff with no way to scoot around. ‘This route was advertised as class two!’ we exclaimed exasperatedly. It wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t gone into it expecting it to be a walk up. To make matters worse, we tried following the cairns, but in the end they seemed to be strewn about haphazardly, and likely did us more harm than good. John later admitted to me he was near to giving up on the route at the time when I found a way up. And what do you know, it was class two after all. Just difficult to find. I have to admit I did not bring my A-game on this trip with respect to route-finding.

I did not find the scramble to be particularly enjoyable. The rock was loose and walking across it made me uncomfortable, considering there was mild exposure to go with it. And there weren’t any fun moves to make, either. Soon we spotted Starr’s Ledge traversing up to the left and onto the plateau. When I got up there I let out another moan of disapproval at the long and uneven talus slog that led to the summit. Just terrible. Getting from the notch where you gain the plateau to the saddle between Mt Goddard and its subpeak was the worst part. There are two small ribs that are a bit unwieldy to negotiate. I couldn’t say whether it is best to stay high or go low over these tricky bastards.

Upon reaching the saddle, wispy clouds began to roll in high in the sky. John called out, ‘The forecast called for 0% chance of precipitation! That’s the only reason I’m out here!’ After our travails on Split Mountain earlier this summer, we kept our eyes on the sky. At least I know I did as I motored ahead. Going into my signature four wheel drive, I found myself on the summit surprisingly quickly. The whole time I ascended I made sure that patch of blue sky stayed over the summit. Yet I could now see clearly the storm ravaging the mountains to the south. And I could tell it was blowing this way. Damn! So much for lazily enjoying the oft emphasized fantastic summit views from centrally located Mt Goddard. John came up not too long after me and managed to find the register. I was about to write ‘Goddard, never again!’ but left a more generic, short entry. No need to be writing stories and taking up all the pages. We began to worry about the loose and soon to be slippery rocks awaiting us on the downclimb, and spent no time dawdling on the summit. But alas we couldn’t find the notch! In my misery upon seeing the talus slog to the top, I had neglected to note the precise location of the notch when I topped out onto the plateau. Simply amateur. After at least a half hour of lost time wandering around the tippy talus, John thankfully found the notch. I couldn’t get off this mountain quickly enough. The whole crumbling heap provides nothing more than a talus slog to its top by a route that ascends not the mountain itself, but a mere subpeak.

It drizzled ever so lightly as we made our way down the ridge. I was determined to get at least one path right on this trip. And I can humbly say I did admirably on this portion. I only ran into one un-negotiable cliff on the way down. As we left our beloved ridge and hopped onto the talus, the storm finally caught up with us. It began to hail heavily. This made five of my last six trips into the mountains I’ve been hailed upon. Given that success rate, I will never hike without my rain gear. Be it dayhike, backpack, or leisurely stroll, I will have a rain jacket with me. In the backcountry, a mildly uncomfortable weather event can turn into a dire situation once you’re wet and cold. And mildy uncomfortable we were as we returned to camp. I had done a better job than John in cleaning up my stuff, and my waterproof bivy bag was the only piece of gear that was wet. Meanwhile half of John’s stuff was strewn about and soaked. Fortunately the weather let up, and we were able to take some time clearing camp. We had taken an unusually long time on the climb. It was already afternoon! And we started at dawn!

Hiking off the mountain and back to the trailhead is my least favorite part of every trip. It’s a bit of a letdown, returning to ground. Well John and I soon realized we would be going over Lamarck Col in the dark if we hiked out this summit Sunday. Neither of us were too keen on trying this, and seeing as John had Monday outright off work, and I’ve gained enough traction around the Navy base to miss a few work hours, we decided to make camp for the night. Besides, the storm that caught us earlier had gotten its second wind and was slowly gaining on us all the way across Evolution Basin.

Spotting a group that seemed to have found some good sites, we walked over and asked if it would be all right if we set up our bivy bags, in consideration that it might begin to rain any minute now, as the sun was getting low in the sky no less. These nice folks gladly obliged, and we were relieved to have found some flat ground for the night after a long day. However all was not well in paradise. Soon we were accosted by the group’s official trip leaders! It seems the representatives of this astonishingly political camp were some kind of guided hiking group going down the John Muir Trail. We had received campsite approval from mere peons earlier. The two leaders were on a major power trip. ‘To be honest, setting up your things here is just not polite,’ one droned dramatically. He said it very slowly and to my mind, quite comically with an unnecessary level of gravitas. ‘You get where we’re coming from, don’t you?’ questioned the other. ‘You’re literally six feet from this tent.’ ‘We are trying to have a wilderness experience here,’ said the guy who was on about politeness. The members of their group stood on the other side of the camp looking on at this odd and unfortunate situation. I stood there trying not to laugh, and considered returning their ridiculous remarks in a snobbish tone. I mentioned earlier that I am always excited to see other people in the mountains. It is an opportunity to share stories and experiences and learn from one another. To me that is a part of the wilderness experience! Clearly these people did not share that attitude, and tired as I was, I was not going to start a bunch of shit. I was in their camp after all. So I politely let the leaders know I would move my things. ‘It’s no problem, man.’ John on the other hand, did not go so quietly. He did a better job than me explaining why we were eager to set up our shelters with the oncoming storm. It didn’t end up raining on us, but it easily could have. John went so far as to make one of them find a suitable spot for him to camp. I walked all the way around the far outskirts of their camp to go over and talk to my hiking partner to make plans for the next day.

After all that drama, I slept wonderfully. I must have got about 12 hours of sleep. I have to say on this third morning at altitude I felt fully acclimatized. Better than I have ever felt before, really. So the hike out was nice and easy, a welcome change of pace. I started to feel there was too much beauty here – I simply couldn’t take it all in and soon lost control of my senses, awash with nature: my cup runneth over: as it is written. Soon we returned to the beach at the first lake in Darwin Canyon. I went ahead of John and scrambled up to the notch I thought to be Lamarck Col, but alas it was not. John had to yell at me to go to the notch just to my right. He had a GPS track. And I endured yet another route-finding error. How embarrassing! I believe it was still morning when I returned to the trailhead. Somehow John had passed me up on the remainder of the trail without me even realizing it. So I was surprised when he rolled up in the car. None of the other hikers I passed had seen him, either. I bought John’s dinner, to offset the gas cost, at a surprisingly high quality Mexican family restaurant, Las Palmas, in Bishop. We shared a meaningful look and handshake back at the park and ride in Palmdale.

Mt Goddard photo album