Cherry Creek Canyon

Emigrant Wilderness

7/20/02 - 7/22/02

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Route map Perusing Schifrin's Emigrant Wilderness guidebook one winter day back in Illinois, I came across his description of Cherry Creek Canyon, which immediately piqued my interest. A subsequent trip report on Yahoo!'s "California's High Sierra" group also spoke of the area in glowing terms, and it was put on my to-do list for this summer. I'd originally contemplated exploring the area as part of a longer trip over the July 4th weekend, but a trip a week or two previously to the Ansel Adams wilderness had left me hungry for another higher elevation trek, and I nixed the original plans in favour of Deadman Canyon, visiting this region as a weekend overnighter instead. This proved to be a mistake. Not only was Cherry Creek Canyon as spectacular an area as I've seen in the Sierra, making for a rare trip that I would repeat (almost) unchanged, I also ended up (due to some poor route finding, i.e. too much fun following the creek) taking two nights to finish rather than the single night as I'd intended.

My route followed Kibbie Ridge, before descending Cherry Creek Canyon from Lord Meadow below Styx Pass in the Emigrant Wilderness. Schifrin describes Cherry Creek Canyon as the finest trek in the Emigrant Wilderness, and I have to agree--this place is a truly spectacular granite playground that makes for a particularly memorable trip.

I started out on Saturday morning, having picked up my permit from the Forest Service station along Highway 120 on the way--ah, no quotas or lectures about food storage, yet more reasons to recommend this trip. At this time of year, the logging road around Cherry Lake was open all the way to the Kibbie Ridge trailhead, and I was walking on the trail by 9.30am. Most of the morning was spent hiking through hot, dry forest with a gradual elevation gain and only limited views--occasionally to the west over Cherry Creek Canyon, and other times through open forest and granite to distant peaks in Yosemite to the south and east, some still wearing a mantle of snow. After a brief excursion up the slopes of Mercur Peak (a walk up granite slabs from the trail), I headed past a small meadow and tarn to descend Styx Pass, with expansive views of a sea of granite along the way, to a broad valley. Despite walking through this valley along the trail for a while, I didn't come across anything recognizable as Lord Meadow, and so I headed west cross-country to locate Cherry Creek, which I followed downstream. (A better option would perhaps have been to head west from the final switchbacks over granite slabs above the creek).

The upper reaches of Cherry Creek Canyon were quite beautiful, the shallow creek trickling down the granite in places, forming curiously wide pools a little further on, and small, shallow pools elsewhere. I continued along the east bank on broad granite slopes, admiring the spectacular setting. As the afternoon gradually turned to evening, I stopped for the night on a large, remarkably smooth (almost polished) granite area next to the creek below a granite dome--my campsite would quite likely have been entirely under water a couple of months previously during spring run-off. The night was remarkably warm; the combination of low elevation, granite trapping the sun's heat, and narrow valley walls meant I could (and did) sleep comfortably outside my sleeping bag under the stars. The moon cast a brilliant light over the granite landscape, making for a gorgeous, almost surreal setting that is as vividly imprinted in my mind six months later as it was that night.

I set off down the canyon the next morning, intending to reach my car and head back to the Bay Area that evening. As I walked down the vast, smooth granite through a gorgeous wooded area, passing occasional minor obstacles such as boulders and small ledges, I kept close to the creek, which was exhibiting the same curious pattern of alternating stretches of appearing first as a small stream and then as a wide pool. After a couple of straightforward crossings to keep to the easiest passage as the creek cut its way through sheer granite walls, I came to a shallow but wide crossing that required a ford. Removing my boots and socks, I was elated to find the shallow water and smooth open granite made for a warm, delightfully hedonistic sensation beneath my feet; I kept my boots off for the next half an hour as I walked along the smooth granite. It was my first time backpacking barefoot, and I savoured the unexpected freedom. This section of the canyon was beautiful--although really no more spectacular than the previous sections I'd walked through, but my awe at this entire setting was such that my impression bears repeating. The creek was almost no more than a series of intermittent pools along here at this time of year. I looked back to be greeted with a scene that conveys a sense of the size of this canyon; from this angle, it looks almost like a vast basin.

Continuing downstream, the walls around the creek gradually started to close in as the slopes around the creek became steeper. I contemplated traversing west past the curiously unnamed Point 6606, but rejected the plan in favour of continuing along the creek, or if that fell through, falling back on the presumably more expedient option of Schifrin's route. The creek plunged through several small cascades in this section as the walls continued to narrow, a dramatic escarpment denying further passage on the west bank of the creek. Coming here to a small cascade that required both some wading--if not more likely, outright swimming--and a leap of faith that a similar cascade downstream could also be traversed, I realised I'd pushed my luck too far, ignoring Schifrin's advice to stay high in this section of the route. Despite having "wasted" a good amount of time in this dead end, I could hardly regret it, the route along the creek doubtless having been more fun than Schifrin's recommendation. Reluctantly backtracking for a while--for which I was rewarded with further views of granite and water--and working my way up a series of class 2-3 ledges and boulders, I came to a series of granite slabs amidst brushy slopes, high above the creek. The view back up the canyon was predictably spectacular, and the view down the canyon wasn't bad either, trees appearing here to grace the granite landscape. After some time (easy bushwhacking and unencumbered walking/scrambling over granite ledges), I came to thicker brush. As I fought my way through it, barely able to see where I was placing my feet, I heard a curious rattling sound a couple of feet away; through the tangled vegetation, I saw a quick movement and realized I'd just encountered my first rattler. With at least a half an hour scramble back to the nearest water in the event of a bite, I felt more than a little spooked. (I'd read about snakes previously, and while I knew rationally that they presented little real threat, this knowledge was surprisingly unhelpful in settling my nerves... it was another good half hour before I even remembered the brilliantly delivered "Watch out for snakes!" line from Eegah...). Giving the snake a wide berth, I made my way cautiously through the brush to descend more class 2-3 ledges and cracks to the creek and its open granite banks as quickly as possible.

Although this certainly gave me peace of mind compared to travel in the brush above the creek, it again contravened Schifrin's advice; I'd descended too soon, and a while later I came to more impassable cliffs directly around the creek, requiring me again to backtrack and climb high above the creek to make further progress across more open granite.

Finally descending vast granite slopes (the "lustrous granite slabs" I seem to recall Schifrin describing) to a wooded enclave at the confluence of Cherry Creek with a smaller stream from the west, I was surprised to first hear voices and then see people with a dog in the woods. Continuing downstream, with hints of an equally surprising use trail appearing in places, I again climbed high above the creek, I checked my watch--it was getting close to five, and I still had a long way to go thanks to my poor route finding choices.

As I was due back at work the next day (uncharacteristically but rather fortuitously, I hadn't let any of my co-workers know that I was out this weekend, and so had no firm deadline by which to return on Monday before anyone missed me), and an exit tonight by the usual descent route appeared impossible, I looked for a quicker alternative that might lead back to the trail. A steep ravine appeared to head up to the east rim of the canyon, where I could meet the Kibbie Ridge trail again. The sheer granite cliffs immediately to both the north and south of my hopeful exit point were impassable, but my intended destination featured substantial tree cover on the steep slopes that obscured the canyon rim. I couldn't tell for sure if there was a route all the way up, but at least the presence of vegetation was promising.

A couple of hours of steep walking and scrambling up the slopes from my position above the creek led me to a flat area, where I dropped my pack for the night, completely exhausted. I promptly threw up (or would have done if there'd have been anything in my stomach); I guessed dehydration was a likely culprit, as I'd finished my last water some while ago during the steep climb up here. Fortunately, the ravine contained some pools of standing water, likely the last remnants of a seasonal stream that flows through here; it looked unappealing, but I figured beggars can't be choosers. It turned out that the water was surprisingly clearer than had first appeared, and I gulped it down gratefully. Too tired and not hungry enough to eat, I collapsed for the night, planning a quick exit on Monday morning.

I felt better the next morning, and made an early start. The canyon rim looked no more than an hour from my impromptu camp; in fact, the route proved to be a unique three hour experience that has turned out to be as memorable as any I've had yet in the mountains. (Frankly, it was more than a little intimidating, too, since this unorthodox exit was a considerable deviation from the route I'd left on file with the forest service via my wilderness permit, and one doubtless not travelled often--if ever--by sane people; I wondered now, if I ran into trouble, whether my emergency whistle would be heard in the canyon below. Probably so, but I wasn't eager to find out). The dastardly route consisted of scrambling up occasional granite boulders, fighting my way through impenetrable brush and branches (progress was measured literally in feet per minute), and pulling my way up steep slopes using the brush cover as handholds. I'd read an amusing description somewhere of another route previously as "class 3 bushwhacking," and that seemed a perfect summary of the last few hundred feet of my exit route. While I'd cursed the thick branches that had previously severely impeded my progress, now I came to depend on them in places to pull my way up otherwise impossible slopes.

This memorable (if not entirely enjoyable, even to my most masochistic side) experience came to an end as I reached a small flat area above the trees-- likely the low point I'd seen from down below in the canyon, but not the canyon rim as I'd thought (or hoped). At least it was the end of the hardcore bushwhacking; the next half an hour was comparatively easy garden variety Sierra bushwhacking (only minor scratches and abrasions, fewer cuts and bruises, and only waist-high thickets to fight through). I found the trail almost immediately after reaching the top of Kibbie Ridge, making it back to my car by around ten, as happy to see it as I'd ever been and well satisfied with a beautiful and exciting excursion.

Cherry Creek Canyon must be an awesome sight in the spring; it's a definite return trip at some point (or more likely, points)--although I think I'll allow time to fully descend the canyon next time rather than reuse my newly invented "short-cut." The array of superlatives in this write-up don't begin to do this incredible region justice.



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7/20/02
First view of Cherry Creek Canyon from along Kibbie Ridge. Looking south from Kibbie Ridge at lunchtime. Granite slabs on Mercur Peak. Meadow and tarn along Kibbie Ridge.
Endless granite dominates the horizon near Styx Pass. Cherry Creek near Lord Meadow. Cherry Creek at the head of the canyon. In places, the creek becomes a shallow, wide pool over the smooth granite.
Descending down the canyon on Saturday evening. Saturday evening campsite on granite slabs. The evening was remarkably warm; the granite slabs retained much of their warmth through the night, and with the relatively low elevation, my sleeping bag proved unnecessary. Later on, moonlight cast a bright glow over the granite landscape, creating a remarkable ambience. Granite dome on the east of the canyon.

7/21/02
Looking down the canyon on Sunday morning. And again looking down the canyon, a bit further along. Looking back up the canyon. By this time, I'd removed my boots to make fording simpler, and the granite was smooth enough that I found myself backpacking barefoot for the first time. The shallow waters of the creek were pleasantly warm, making for a quite hedonistic experience. It was one of the most fun days I can remember having in a long time. (Yes, I lead a sheltered life).
Gradually approaching one of the domes mentioned by Schifrin in his description of the route. Looking back up the canyon again. The canyon descends a little more steeply through narrow cliffs from this point onwards. Ignoring Schifrin's advice to stay high, I continued to follow the creek down before later finding myself unable to easily advance any further, when I thus had to backtrack and work my way up to the slopes high above. In places, the water flow was almost negligible by this time. This must be an impressive sight during the spring run-off.
Point 6606 on the USGS 7.5' topo. Cherry Creek cascades through smooth granite roughly half way down the canyon. The granite walls around the creek continued to narrow in this spectacular section of the canyon. Shortly below this point the creek drops in a short cascade through sheer granite walls. To reach there required me to ford in several places, and to continue further than that would have required wading or swimming for a bit, taking it on faith that there wouldn't be any impassable cascades further down the creek. I declined the (sorely tempting) bait.
After turning back from the cascade and the sheer walls around the creek, this view back up the canyon is seen. After backtracking and ascending steeply at times up the granite, this viewpoint over the canyon and Point 6606 is reached. It would have been much easier to contour up earlier as Schifrin advises, but that would surely be a less interesting route. View up Cherry Creek canyon from above the granite walls encompassing the creek. Looking down the canyon from high above the creek.
Somewhat spooked by my first-ever encounter with a rattlesnake, which was well-hidden in the thick brush above the creek, I descended to the more open granite below as quickly as possible. This section of the creek seemed particularly idyllic in contrast to the brushy slopes above. I found I'd descended too soon, again ignoring Schifrin's advice, as I had to contour once more high above the creek to progress any further. At this point, the route progresses over wide expanses of granite to meet the creek and surprising hints of an occasional use trail. Having wasted too much time backtracking from my explorations down the creek, it seemed that I wouldn't make it back to the trailhead this evening as I'd planned. After descending to the creek and walking along for a few minutes, I spotted a possible exit route back up to Kibbie Ridge, following a ravine up to the ridge top, and I decided to bail out here. (The route follows the stream directly south of the "Mile 20" indication on the USGS 7.5' topo). It looked like a reasonable short-cut, although I don't know how much time it actually saved on the return. An hour or two of sometimes steep walking up the canyon slopes left me out of water, dehydrated and nauseated, and I was ecstatic to find some surprisingly reasonable pools of water still standing in the stream. Too tired to continue, I made camp for the night with the intention of making a quick exit up the final few hundred feet of the canyon slope in the morning (ha!). The next morning, it took another three hours to fight through the most impenetrable vegetation I've encountered yet in the Sierra; progress was measured in feet per minute. In places, the thick vegetation proved to be somewhat of a blessing, as the slope was steep enough and loose enough that I had to pull myself up by the branches. Definitely one of the more memorable routes I've traversed, although not one that I can recommend. Reaching the apparent ridge top, I found there was still another couple of hundred of feet to go, although this was through just your average garden-variety Sierra brush--travel was almost pleasant compared to the past couple of hours. I came across the Kibbie Ridge trail almost immediately upon reaching the true ridge top.

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