Next morning we splurge and have a great buffet breakfast at the Wuksachi lodge. The Full Monty – eggs, bacon, sausages, french toast, fruit. Plus waiters and a nice dining room. Even I have to admit it beats plain oatmeal in the parking lot! We gather all our kit at the Wolverton trailhead and I get to seriously load up my new Gregory backpack for the first time: definitely seems lighter and feels like a great fit. We set of for the usually rather uninteresting, heavily forested, 2.7 mile stretch to Panther Gap. Even though the woods aren’t that exciting, there are several patches of incredibly beautiful green meadows alongside the stream and its not long before we come up to Panther Gap and are treated to an epic view of the Great Western Divide. What makes it particularly cool is that there’s a solid cloud layer below us at about 6000 feet so it already feels like we’re floating way above the rest of the world.

The traverse across the steep south slopes to Mehrten Meadows and the Alta Peak trail junction also goes relatively fast, and we bump into a few marmots and a couple of people along the way. Already the streams cascading down the mountainside are much smaller than they were in late May last year – I can imagine that by August this is a pretty dry place. At the Alta Peak junction we break for a long lunch.Tom & Derek purify a fresh load of water and I cook up soup and stuff. Tom’s brought along a great wedge of Tofu cheese. He seems to think its great but the rest of us pronounce it completely inedible. (Note to self: never buy tofu cheese. Yuk. I reckon my boot sole liners would taste better.) When we’ve eaten and rested for about an hour we cache our packs, ram all the food in the bear canister to deter the marmots from chewing our packs, and start the two thousand foot climb up to the top of Alta Peak. Once we round the base of Tharp’s Rock we start getting fantastic views of the Great Western Divide and in an hour or so we’re passing the last few wizened junipers and are slogging our way the long snowslope that leads to the summit slabs. This snowy section always seems to take longer than you feel it should, but eventually I clamber over the gritty textured slabs of rock that form the top of 11,200 foot Alta Peak.

The views all around are very cool. Way below to the west the sea of cloud stretches out across the Central Valley and laps up into the mountain valleys that now look like sea coves full of white fluff. Covering the eastern horizon are endless rows and rows of High Sierra Peaks, all beginning to look a little bare as they’ve lost most of their snow. Fifteen hundred feet directly below the peak is turquoise Peak Lake, now largely clear of ice but still surrounded by gleaming slopes completely covered in snow. I pull the old ammunition box out of its crevice and start filling in the summit register, and soon after Catherine, Derek and Tom arrive at the top to share the epic views. We hang out on the top there for about half an hour, take too many pictures and try and spot significant peaks like Mt. Whitney. Yet again Alta peak has come up trummps. It’s a great peak because it’s relatively easy to reach (only about 7 miles from trailhead to summit, though it is a 4000 foot climb) and can be done in a weekend. Yet it feels like a real adventure (especially earlier in the season due to the snow) and gives really superb views of the whole Central Sierra.

Time’s moving on though so we start the hike down around 4pm. We investigate the steeper chute we used last year but now it doesn’t have much snow left in it so opt to go down the same way we came up. It takes about an hour to get down and then another 45 minutes or so to repack our loads and hike along to Alta Meadow. We pitch camp in our normal place some way down the slope at the edge of the trees. There’s no-one else here – we have the whole meadow completely to ourselves. We aren’t even bothered by bears (actually, I’m a bit disappointed about that, we haven’t seen bears for ages). Tom and I purify water and I’m totally chuffed with the speed of our new Pur Voyageur Purifier. It rocks. Back at camp Derek and Tom are totally zonked so they crash in their tent for a bit as Catherine and I get all the grub for supper going. We end up having a pretty good meal of soup, Indian stuff and Lavash flat bread – great trekking food. We’re all pretty knackered so get into our bags soon after, falling asleep soon after dark.

Next morning I get totally blinded by the sun. As usual, Catherine and I are sleeping outside and as I turn east and pull my head out of the sack I find myself staring right into the newly risen sun. Very, very bright indeed! We do oatmeal, pack up and hike back down at a reasonable speed. It’s a pretty reasonable grade going down so it’s easy to chat while we’re walking. Derek twisted his knee yesterday but he seems to get down pretty well despite some pain. After encountering a couple of immense Marmots and stopping once for a last set of views at Panther Gap we get back to the truck at 1pm and by 2 are chowing down monster burritos and the classic "Taco Titanic" at our favourite little Mexican in Three Rivers. We’re back home by 6pm. Great weekend, plus the gearhead in me is pleased the new gear (backpack, purifier) worked so well!

For some obscure reason, I decide that it would be a good idea to go and hike one of the fearsome foursome. The fearsome foursome is a set of passes along the crest of the Eastern Sierra. Each pass involves significant mileage (at least 10 miles), 6000+ feet of ascent and starts in the blazing heat of the Owens Valley. I suppose I was thinking that it would be good to test one of these passes out sometime this year and an early season trip seemed to more make sense as it should be cooler. Of course, the flip-side of making it an early season trip is that we’re not as fit – so I don’t think you come out too well either side of the equation. Anyway, I avoid mentioning any of these issues too specifically to Catherine . . .

We do a late Friday run, stop for the usual voluminous fajitas in Mike’s Diner in Mojave (I notice that the chicken has gone downhill a bit) and sleep in the truck up a dirt road near the trailhead. We manage to get up pretty early next morning and are on the trail just after 8am. It feels a little bit weird to be wandering off into the desert scrub looking at a great wall of mountains and thinking: "Shit, we have to climb over those. Today!" But at least it’s relatively cool and we make quite quick progress past some volcanic mounds and start grinding up a very long, sandy slope to a ridge crest covered in exposed granite blocks. There’s obviously been a fire here in the last year or two and the destruction of all the low bushes has enabled the flowers to go crazy. I count at least ten varieties of flowers which span a wide range of colours: blue, purple, red, yellow, white. It’s very pretty and eases our pain a little as we churn up the slope. In what feels like a reasonably short period of time, we reach the crest and the edge of the John Muir Wilderness. Suddenly we can look over the edge into a impressively precipitous gorge. At the bottom of the gorge is a creek that’s completely covered in bright green bushes. The wavy line of green snakes out of the gorge and winds across the bottom of Owens Valley, surrounded on all sides by dusty brown scrub.

We then follow a long traverse down to Sawmill Creek (the remains of sawmill itself are a rather unexciting looking hut just south of the creek) and then start an increasingly hot climb that zigzags alongside the creek. We meet an Israeli guy who has done a loop from Kearsarge Pass, across Glen Pass and through the Rae Lakes – all in 4 days and alone. Pretty impressive. He tells us that there’s one fisherman up at the lake – other than that he hasn’t seen a single person in his whole trip. By the time we cross the creek for the third time we’ve already climbed nearly 3500 feet and are beginning to overheat. We find shade, cook some soup and rest for an hour or so. The next section is pretty easy as we wander through Sawmill Meadow. All the grass is still packed down – a sure sign that the snow only melted relatively recently – and the peaks all around have large amounts of snow still trapped in their gullies. The penultimate section is quite nasty and I find myself walking painfully slowly. We bump into a few deer and it’s amazing to see how smoothly they bounce away across the steep, rocky terrain. After another hour or so we reach the main basin area and there are some cool, spiky peaks to admire.

We finally reach Sawmill Lake at about 5pm. The lake is a good size for a high Sierra lake and the afternoon light has turned it into a gorgeous azure colour. All around the lake are stands of fantastically gnarled foxtail pines that turn into a beautiful bronze colour as the sun starts to set. We meet the fisherman and his dog, chat a bit and he tells us where we can find a good camp. There aren’t many available spots around as the ground is strewn with talus and scree but we find the flat spot he was talking about and gratefully dump our packs. I can see that we won’t need the tent tonight and feel great regret that I’ve lugged all 7lbs of it up here. If you multiply the weight by the climb – that comes out at 38,000 foot/lbs. Who knows if that is a meaningful measurement – but it sort of reflects how much effort that tent has extracted from me! The rest of the evening we just relax, purify water, cook up and gather a small amount of wood for a little fire that burns until its pitch black all around us and we crash out.

Next morning we wake up super early as the sun blazes into our eyes as it rises over the Inyo Mountains on the other side of the Owen’s Valley. Because the sun is so directly on us, there’s no problem with early morning cold so we get up 6am and I persuade Catherine that it’s worth her joining me to hike up to the top of the pass – some 2 miles and another 1200 feet away. As soon as we round the lake we hit snow and from there on are walking the whole way over snow. The snow is still frozen hard from the previous night and in a few places I definitely wish we had some crampons. Fortunately, the fisherman and his dog went up yesterday and there are some footprints that provide valuable purchase on the slippery slope. They also provide a useful guide to the route and we stomp up some steep slopes pretty fast. After a couple of long and quite steep traverses we come into what looks like the final leg of the climb. There’s just one big snow ridge remaining. Suddenly, we clamber up some rocks and come out onto a huge open plain. We then realise that we’re already at the pass – its quite strange, we were preparing ourselves for that last 400 foot slog and for once the goal is closer than we reckoned! Sawmill Pass is a massive open snowfield that slopes gently north into Kings Canyon and a tangle of large peaks. The one hiccup is that the big snowy ridge we ended up not having to climb is blocking our view to the west. So I decide that I’m going to hike up there anyway! Catherine wisely declines to join me in this escapade. As I head up, the slope gets steeper and steeper until it hits a good 25 degree angle. Suddenly the 11,500ft elevation is really getting to me and looking backwards at the slope curving hundreds of feet below me, I’m beginning to really wish I had crampons and an ice axe. Still, its not too far to the top and within 15 minutes to reach the top and am treated to an awesome view of the Central Sierra with completely frozen over Woods Lake immediately below me. Spectacular.

Once I’ve taken a few snaps I carefully pick my way down – the first few steps of what is sure to be a very long 7000+ foot descent from alpine tundra to the high desert. A very cool climactic and topographic passage to be sure, but one that my knees aren’t looking forward too very much. We make pretty good time down to the camp, eat the last remains of our woefully meagre food (for once, I definitely under-packed), say goodbye to the fisherman and pile downhill. En route downhill, I try and work out how many footsteps you take on this hike – I reckon its between 80,000-120,000. A scary statistic. In no time at all, we’ve whipped through the meadow and are cruising past the stream. The temperature rises consistently as we go lower and the sun rises. We fill up with fresh water at the last stream crossing and start a horribly protracted traverse up to the ridge. The final section is boiling. Catherine zooms down but I’m slower. My feet are killing me – gotta cut those damn toenails, they’re agony when you’re doing steep downhills. Of course the last section takes much longer than you would think possible, but eventually we do reach the car – which is scalding inside. In fact, we find that the heat has melted the glue that holds the rearview mirror onto the windscreen – so no rearview mirror. We take quick ad hoc showers using our water containers hooked up on the raised back door and then hop into the truck to drive to PJs in Lone Pine. We’re both feeling pretty undernourished so some serious munchies are in order. As usual PJs comes up trumps (plus we confirm that the secret factory near Olancha is actually a Crystal Geyser bottling plant – I’m pathetically pleased with myself for having deduced this). From PJs have an uneventful drive home, stopping only in Lancaster to get a new rearview mirror and some glue, although we’re too knackered to try and fix it and just keep going till be get home.

Note: The fearsome foursome took their toll. We both had serious leg ache for an unprecedented 4 days after this trip. Be warned!