There are days in the wilderness that the excitement of the upcoming day wakens you, and the urge to get hiking takes hold. In the process of mapping this trip, I would look at this particular stretch of trail and say to myself, “that’s going to be a hard day”. With nervous excitement I went through my normal system of preparation inside my tent. My pre-hike training was paying off and I felt in the best hiking shape gained from diligent training and shakedown hikes. It was 6:00AM and I was awake, feeling alive and ready for the challenge.

During our stay in camp, a nearby hiker mentioned we were going “the hard way and against the grain” with our easterly route, stating that most opt to come downhill from of Vogelsang to Merced Lake to Yosemite Valley. For me, going clockwise set up the hike to be finish with strong scenic views in higher elevations and interesting, unfamiliar areas. Donning our backpacks, our trio took the first steps of today trek. From Merced Lake we left camp heading east, following the metal signs and our GPS map toward the Ranger station about 1/2 mile away.

A footbridge at the ranger station marks the start of the first big climb out of Merced lake. The route took us up toward Lewis Creek and immediately the trail grew steep with typical stair-stepping granite cobbles and frequent switchbacks. The climb out of Merced Lake gains 1000′ in elevation in the first mile and a half. The exertion was hard on calves and thighs now feeling the burn with the ever-increasing climb. Knowing a long day was ahead, we took periodic breaks to catch our breath. Stopping rewarded us with gorgeous views that looked back through the trees at placid Merced Lake and the Merced River watershed we’d hiked the day before.

The steep incline lays down a little by the time you reach the trail junction for Fletcher Creek trail that heads left up to Emeric lake. But our day continued by following the trail paralleling Lewis creek in a north east direction. The trail traversed a steep, north facing incline of forested granite. Above a movement gained my attention. I spied a large buck was looking down on us. With each step, his hooves were were precisely placed, wary of us and moving in unison parallel to us. I glanced away to tell the others and when looked back, like a ghost had disappeared into the forest.

At mile three, the trail steepened again into a series of switchbacks carrying us past 8700′. The trail undulated, inch worming up and down over the next three miles, following Lewis Creek on a transverse tact and a slight up-sweep toward higher elevations. Throughout this part of the trail, granite escarpments welcomed us and purposely placed rocks to show hikers the path forward. This late in the year, we found Lewis creek running thin over these flat granite escarpments, falling and splashing over small slabs, ledges and filtering through crevices from which we filled water containers.

Beyond mile five we encountered another steepening slope challenging our tired legs to push on through. The words of that hiker at Merced Lake echoed in my head. Glancing at the map, we decide that Bernice Lake trail Junction, at six miles, will be our stopping point for lunch. The welcoming sight of the old rusted metal sign for Bernice lake trail appeared. Our elevation was 9800′. We took off our packs and from within retrieved our bear cannisters. Flat and inviting granite lured us to trickling Lewis creek, to a sunny granite embankment where we each pulled our our meals. Tired and hungry, we ate in silence, our exerted bodies wet from sweat. We knew a mere mile away a real tester of a climb lay loomed. Laying back on the warm rock, I let the sun bathe me in energizing light. The sound of the creek, buzzing of insects and the soft wind whispering through the conifer pines lulled me into a semi-sleep state of relaxation. I was soon jogged from my placid state by the stirring of my compatriots. We repacked our gear, and refreshed, embarked again down the trail toward the climb up to Vogelsang pass.

Leaving Bernice Lake cutoff we continued on the Lewis Creek trail entering a postcard worthy high alpine meadow. To our left a sheer precipice pulls the eye up to Vogelsang peak, now clearly in view. The trail here was well-trodden and its flat path cut a foot deep into the meadow sod. We crossed a low-flowing clear stream using some thin, half sunken logs. Our footsteps scared up a school of fingerling trout who darted up stream. The trail continues to head east through the meadow, steering one to a stand of hunched conifers covering a steep face of granite. With a quick left turn and we immediately beging ascending up the first of many steep switchbacks, the trunks of lodgepole pines tightly pressed and narrowing the trail. Looking back provided a great view of the alpine meadow we had just past through.

The extreme gradient of the rocky trail, quick turning switchbacks and the narrowness confine us to laborious work ahead to get to Vogelsang pass. The trail wound continuously upward, littered with loose scree, tree roots, that lent to our boots slipping back and uncertain footholds from which to push off. Using trek poles to stabilize balance, the slippery trail conditions proved to be a concentrated effort. Occasionally, we found ourselves stepping over periodic mossy seeps, water emanating from deep crevices. Taking turns in the lead, our crew pushed up the ascending path, taking periodic breaks to rest and take in the view. I found myself periodically looking up trying to determine our proximity to the apex of Vogelsang Pass. Fatigue from the day effort had drained us and I my energy level sapped.

Emerging from the treeline, the trail flattened out to traverse westward along exposed, ledgy granite. It was here where a panoramic view south of both Gallison lake and Bernice Lake. Looking left, the Cathedral range in its magnificent starkness stood in desolate stillness. Distant towering peaks with remnants of snow stood on silent guard, daring one to venture into the tree-less & trail-less expanse beyond the range, and yet only four miles east, as the crow flies, and behind the imposing stances of Parsons peak and Simmons Peak, lay the John Muir trail.

In hiking, its always the big payoff that keeps you coming back. The hard efforts to climb to a point where the views simply reward you with gratification and accomplishment is what its about. We lingered here absorbing the spectacular scene before us. But Vogelsang Pass still called us. With photos taken for future memories, we squirmed into our backpacks and headed for the pass. In mere minutes, we topped Vogelsang Pass. Disappointingly, no metal signage with the pass name or altitude welcomed us, and we weren’t sure we had crested the pass. Vogelsang pass routes through a bouldery saddle, straddled on each side by rocky, exposed granite peaks. The trail is obvious and well-worn snaking through the pass in a northerly direction. Soon, we were looking down on the Vogelsang Lake expanse and Rafferty peak looming in the distant north.

It was now mid-afternoon and the September sun was low in the west. Shadows from the western peaks elongated down the prominences and slopes toward the trail. The trail traverses on a moderate downslope with Vogelsang peak to our right aiming us to the west shore of the Lake. The easy slope of the trail toward Vogelsang Lake allowed for the occasional glances up to view the landscape and measure our distance. We eyed the shore line for a good campsite lakeside and we pointed out a few spots to each other. Upon arriving, we dropped our packs and walked a short distance along the northern shore locating a nice, flat area to camp. Once again, Kevin and I eyed the still waters and the rising trout and quickly set up our tents. Soon we had lines in the water but the bites were few – the fish Gods were not kind to us this night. Once back to camp we settled into our nightly routine. We took time watching the suns light, chased by dark shadows move up the eastern slopes toward the jagged pinnacles of the surrounding peaks. As dusk approach in earnest, a yellow alpenglow illuminated the rocky face and a steady, brisk breeze soon blew in from the west.

As the sun set, I clamored up a granite knoll north of our campsite to look west at the setting sun. From this vantage point, the mountains were basked in the golden glow. To my surprise a commanding view of Half Dome and Clouds Rest lay before me, where days earlier we started our trek. I sensed a long time had passed, confirming the effect solitude and natural beauty has on those who spend days and nights out in nature.  

The late September night was clear and we anticipated cold conditions at this altitude. Surprisingly, the wind continued to pick up to a gusty blow. My tent fly edges flapped noisily in the gusts so I weighted down the vestibules of my fly with small boulders, creating a seal to the ground, quieting the noise and preventing dust from blowing into the tent. This would be our last night in the Yosemite wilderness. Tomorrow would be our last day on the trail. Rafferty creek trail, it’s gorgeous meadows, and a nine mile hike to Tuolumne Meadows awaited us. My thoughts went my wife and kids and life. Perhaps it was the wind or my adaptation to days on the trail, but that night of sleep was the best I had on the trail.

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