Topic: Hiking
Upper Cherry Creek - www.eddyflower.com by Nick Wigston
We have been driving around California for about two weeks now, paddling some of the steepest creeks in the state. It is July, so the snowmelt is trickling away. We spend some days driving to rivers only to find no water, while others are spent exploring some of the most beautiful granite canyons on earth.
After several weeks of sleeping on the ground, and paddling class V rivers every day, our energy levels are running low. The anticipation of running the next river on our list drives us on. For Sean, Jared, and me, expedition kayaking fuels our lives. Most people live to make money, buy a nice house, a nice car, and live in the suburbs. We live to kayak.
The time has come to put the icing on the cake. We are ready to take on the ultimate High Sierra creek. Upper Cherry Creek is a three-day expedition stacked with big waterfalls and long, fast granite water slides. Upper Cherry is at a perfect water level and not more than an hour from Yosemite, our current location. We load up the car and head for Cherry Lake, the take out for the creek.
We ride in silence as we think about our upcoming adventure. The rumors and horror stories of past trips run through our minds. There have been tales of long arduous hikes and portages, and stories of paddling through huge bare, smooth granite canyons, littered with big drops. We have been told stories of the infamous Cherry Bomb Gorge, whose steep walls and technical rapids allow no escape, except by river. The stories put a feeling of fear into all of us. It makes our stomachs feel like lead weights. Overcoming that fear by conquering an adventure so long and difficult sends a warm tremendous pride through one's body. This pride drives us to attempt such journeys.
"I heard it's a pretty good hike to the put-in," says Jared with a sly grin.
"It can't be too bad since so many other people have done it," I say doubtfully.
"Let's get it done," exclaims Sean, "I'm not scared of a little hike."
We arrive at Cherry Lake, the take-out, midday on July 2nd. It is about 90 degrees out, perfect hiking weather. We find the trailhead and begin getting our rations together for the three-day expedition.
The crux section on Upper Cherry Creek: Cherry Bomb gorge, with 40-foot Cherry Bomb Falls at the top.
After a half hour of sweating in the California sun, we see a truck pull up. A couple of bearded, sun-baked paddlers look out the window at us. Surprisingly enough, Jared knows the driver.
"Are you guys going to run this?" he asks his friend.
"We just took out," Says the driver. "Can't you tell? You guys are in for the adventure of a lifetime. I hope you all have yak-packs because that hike will kick your ass if you don't."
"How far is it?" I ask.
"Twelve miles over that mountain," He replies. A look of distress crosses all of our faces. "Make sure you start early in the morning because it will take all day. Don't hike alone cause you'll get lost. When you get to a fork in the trail near a big granite hill, head to the right. Once you're on the river, you'll run into a series of fast technical slides with big hydraulic holes. The river mellows out until you reach the first gorge. There's some good shit in there. When you reach a tree across the river, you are approaching Cherry Bomb Gorge. Get out on river left and scout the whole gorge. There is an amazing campsite at the base of the gorge. That is all I can tell you now."
After hearing details of the hike and the two days of extreme kayaking, we decided to get a good night sleep and begin our trek in the morning. We spend the rest of the day hanging out by the lake rigging our not so state of the art kayak carrying systems. I strap my snowboarding backpack to my boat and put it on my back so it sits sideways. The weight of the boat along with three days of gear is going to be painful. I walk around a bit to test out my new rig. I have to be careful not to hit any trees with the ends of my boat, which protrude three and a half feet to either side of me. I wonder if I will be too wide for the trail.
A few hours later, an injured character walks up from around the lake. It's Forrest Noble with his arm in a sling and a huge grin on his face. "Hey guys," Says Forrest.
"What happened to you?" asks Jared.
"I ran the last thirty footer and dislocated my shoulder," says Forrest still with a big grin.
As we chat, Gary, Ethan, Gordon, and the rest of our crew from Colorado paddle up to the boat ramp. We hang out with them for a few hours listening to stories from their trip. We heard everything from how horrible the hike was to how sick the creek was to how beautiful the canyon and all of the gorges were. They told stories of carnage and near drownings, foot and shoulder injuries, and how much fun it really was. All these stories put fear into our hearts, but made us even more eager to start our own expedition.
As the sun slowly rises the next morning, we all know that it is time to start our journey. We pack our things and drive to the trailhead only to see our friends from Oregon, Eric, Ben, Brett and the Knight others. Everyone packs their gear in relative silence, anticipating the strenuous hike that lies ahead.
Day One: The 12-mile hike to the put in, through Styx Pass
I knew I had to get started with the hike or I would lag behind. I pick up my seventy-pound boat, which is precariously strapped to my backpack, and take the first of many steps on the way to the put-in. After a couple of miles I am still at the middle of the group. My shoulders are already in pain and I am starting to wonder if this was such a good idea. I see a nice tree to stand my boat against and take a rest with Devon and Ryan Knight. It seems like a good time to munch on the power bars I have in my snack bag. We sit, and eat, and we start to realize how long this hike is really going to be.
"Nick, where's your paddle?" asks Ryan.
"It's right the......where is it?" I reply. "I must have left it at the last rest stop." I immediately sprint back about a mile to where I last remembered having my paddle. I come around a corner and see it sitting there. I am now officially at the back of the line. I make it back to my boat and continue hiking. I am now alone and will be for the remainder of the hike.
The trail leads me up and over Styx Pass, and offers some of the most spectacular views in California. I look out from the top of the pass and see miles of naked granite domes speckled with trees. I can see Cherry Creek from here. It is far away. I can see a gorge containing several waterfalls. Though small they look, I know how big they will be when we are in there. I think I am about half way now, and my legs, back, neck, arms, stomach, and everything else attached to my body are all getting very fatigued. The end of my boat has been hitting me in the ankles for about four hours now, and I am starting to get very aggravated. "Why are you doing this to me?" I ask my boat. Gus answers by banging my heel once again. "That's it, one more time and I am going to throw you into the canyon." He hits my ankle once again. I don't come through with my threat. I just keep trucking, up, trying desperately to reach the top.
I finally reach the top of the peak only to see the top of the next peak. A feeling of defeat starts to creep up inside me. "Damnit Wigston, why are you doing this to yourself?" I ask myself.
"It's going to be worth it. Just keep going," my conscience answers.
"This is the stupidest thing I have ever done," I say out loud. "There is no way any river could be worth this torture."
"Just keep going we are almost there."
"I sure hope so, because I am out of water, and Sean has the Iodine." At this point I had already filled my water bottle with water from a little stream I had found. I figured if I got Giardia, it wouldn't kick in for another two weeks. By then I would be home and it wouldn't matter, because I could just go to the doctor and get some drugs.
Just then I stumble on a sign that says "Cherry Spring". I look around and see a stream of muddy water. I follow the stream to its source and find a pipe sticking out of the ground with crystal clear water flowing abundantly from its mouth. Suddenly a feeling of hope comes over me. I am back in the game. I drink as much of the ice-cold spring water as I can, and get back on my feet and go.
After another mile or two, the trail finally begins its descent to the creek. A couple of hours later at the brink of nightfall, I come around a corner and I see the campfire in the distance. I scramble down the hill and paddle across the creek to meet my buddies. "We didn't know if you were going to make it," says Sean. "I bet Trey a six-pack."
"That I wouldn't make it?" I reply.
"You need to jump in the water. You are the dirtiest kid I've ever seen," Sean says.
After a much needed bath I join my friends at the campsite. "How long have you guys been here?" I ask.
"About four hours" says Eric. "Where are the rest of the guys?"
"Who?"
"The Knights and Brett aren't here yet. Are they behind you?" asks Eric.
"They were ahead of me a long time ago," I say. "They must have taken a wrong turn."
"I think they're lost, man," says Trey.
"They probably made it to the river further downstream. We will catch up to them in the morning," I say.
"Nick, do you have a lighter?" says Ben with a joint in his hand.
"You bet your ass I do," thrilled to finally be able to relax.
"Good, cause we've been waiting for four hours for that lighter, I mean you, to get here."
Day Two: First Gorge to the campsite below Cherry Bomb Gorge.
As the sun comes up in the morning, everyone awakes to the bluest sky possible. I slowly lift my sore body off the ground, eat some oatmeal, and begin to get my gear together for the first day of paddling. As we begin downstream, we are immediately greeted by a steep section of fast granite water-slides with big holes. Eric signals to us from shore and we negotiate our way down the drops without scouting.
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About the Author
Professional Kayaker
[hiking packbacking][kayaking]
