Crown Point Loop

Crown Point and Peeler Lake

The inspiration for our recent trip to the Hoover Wilderness came last October, when I had just left the Ansel Adams Wilderness in the Eastern Sierra near Mammoth Lakes, CA and was driving north towards Lake Tahoe for a groundwater conference. Somewhere near Bridgeport, CA, I turned my head westward and saw the jagged granite of Twin Peaks, Matterhorn Peak, and Sawtooth Ridge looming above the dry sagebrush plains and beckoning me towards them. Seven months or so later, Raf asked me to plan a backpacking trip for mid-June near Mammoth Lakes, where her friend (who is fittingly named Sierra) lives. I immediately thought of the Hoover Wilderness and quickly settled on the Crown Point loop, a ~24-ish mile “lollipop loop” that circles around the very prominent Crown Point, and doesn’t get too high (max 10,200’). 

I typically don’t plan alpine trips in June, when snowcover and high streamflows are all but guaranteed, but that was the time that Raf had off work. In the weeks leading up to the trip, Raf and I decided to “pack train” – we filled our packs with lots of heavy water and hiked for miles on the trails across the road and at a nearby county park. Leading up to the trip, I called the Bridgeport Ranger Station – the ranger shared catastrophic reports of deep snowcover, high flows, and dangerous snow bridges that could collapse at the slightest footstep, which led me to create a detailed contingency plan that read like a choose-your-own-adventure novel. There weren't any other trail reports, but given my conversation with the ranger, I didn’t expect that we’d be able to walk the full loop.

Day 0: Wednesday, June 18th 

Raf and I depart from San Gregorio around 9am, cross over San Francisco bay on the San Mateo – Hayward bridge, eat lunch at In-n-Out Burger, cross the Central Valley, and then start making our way up into the mountains on Highway 108 outside of Sonora. We have planned to spend the afternoon relaxing and swimming at Pinecrest Lake, a reservoir created by the Strawberry Dam on the Stanislaus River, and where Raf almost took a teaching job a couple years back. After many months of hesitating to swim in creeks around San Gregorio due to the air temperatures that rarely make it above 65, the intense heat of the western Sierra leaves us no choice but to jump in the water immediately. Pinecrest is a beautiful lake, surrounded by granite ridgelines and forests of Jeffrey and Ponderosa pines and incense cedar. We spend the rest of the afternoon exploring rocky swimming spots along the north side of the lake, before eating the Chipotle bowls that we had picked up on our drive. We drive just a few more minutes down the highway, turn off onto a dirt national forest road, find a spot to park the truck, read for a little while, and then go to sleep on the comfy bed setup in the back of the truck. 

Pinecrest Lake

Strawberry Dam

Pinecrest Lake

Day 1: Thursday, June 19th

After making Americanos on the tailgate, we pack up and continue west on Highway 128, which winds through lots of remote forest before climbing up and over Sonora Pass and descending the eastern side of the Sierra towards Bridgeport. We pass basalt outcrops and rust colored mountains of volcanic origin. In Bridgeport, we stop at a Mexican restaurant for breakfast, where Raf orders a bean and cheese burrito off the kids menu – it comes as a tortilla wrapped around liquid beans and no cheese. The whole town smells like pee, apparently from manure or something. 

We head southwest out of Bridgeport along sagebrush pastures and pass by Twin Lakes before arriving at Annette’s Mono Village, an RV park that charges backpackers $15 to access the public lands of the Hoover Wilderness and fills the otherwise beautiful mountain valley with diesel and generator exhaust. Waiting in line to enter, an Audi in front of me starts backing up quickly and approaching my truck, so I tap the horn and elicit a glare from the driver. A few minutes later, we are joined by Sierra, who makes the mistake of stopping just a couple feet beyond the stop sign at the entrance of Annette’s, sending the attendant into a panic. 

We load up our packs and start walking, first through Ponderosa and Jeffrey pine forests and then out into meadows of sagebrush and wildflowers. During a break on the side of the trail, we are passed by the driver of the Audi and her partner; we exchange pleasantries. After a few miles of walking under the hot midday sun, we make it to Barney Lake and Raf goes for a swim in the frigid water. Past Barney Lake, the trail gets steeper – we ford Robinson Creek at three crossings and then climb rocky switchbacks through a sparse grove of junipers, one of my favorite trees of the Eastern Sierra. During the creek crossings, we again encounter our Audi friends. Soon thereafter, we arrive at the junction where we begin the lollipop part of the loop (we had been hiking the “stick” part thus far), where we turn right and start walking counterclockwise around Crown Point. Close to Peeler Lake, we start to encounter large snow patches on north-facing slopes; thankfully they are small enough that we can easily walk around them. 

At Peeler Lake, we discover that our Audi friends have snagged the first flat campsite, so while Raf and Sierra sit by the lake, I run onward and scout the west side of the lake. There, I find lots of flat boulders, perfect for jumping into the deep water and cooking dinner. Right next to the lake are many clearly established tent pads, but also lots of signs saying “No Camping Here” so we reluctantly make our way a little ways away from the lake, set up camp, and then bring our cooking gear over to the lake for the evening. During the last of the afternoon heat, I jump into the frigid water, climb out, and then do it again, before getting a bit cold, climbing out, and drying off. After dinner, we sit by the lake, review the map and discuss possibilities for the next day, and watch the evening light slowly turn to orange as the shadows slowly move up the mountain. When the last of the light has finally left the jagged peaks to the east, we return to our tents and go to sleep. 

Barney Lake

Raf swimming in Barney Lake

Chilly

Crown Point

Peeler Lake

Crown Point, Sawtooth Ridge, and Peeler Lake

Crown Point and Peeler Lake

Day 2: Friday, June 20th

By this point, we have made our way about a third of the way through the loop, and still don’t know whether we will reach a point that is impassable due to snow (there are no recent trail reports, and we haven’t encountered any clockwise hikers who can give us the intel). We are mentally prepared for the possibility that we may need to turn around in this scenario, but that would not be ideal. As we are making our way across the wide and flat Kerrick Meadow, we cross paths with two clockwise hikers who reassure us that yes, the route is passable, and all of the snow patches can be easily avoided. Woohoo! 

Past the meadow, we turn east and climb forested switchbacks up toward Rock Island Pass (10,200’). This is our highest point of the trip, just above treeline, where the wind is intense but the sun is warm. We had planned on camping at Snow Lake beyond the pass, but it turns out that Snow Lake is essentially on the pass and seems very windy, so we decide to press on to Crown Lake instead. Past Snow Lake, the trail switchbacks steeply down a rocky gulch with great views of the peaks beyond and the valley below. 

At Crown Lake, the wind is still very intense, but we find a relatively sheltered creekside camping spot and decide to stay. On our first day, we had encountered mosquitos in shady areas near water, but today's intense wind keeps them at bay. We spend most of the afternoon leaned against rocks at the campsite, staying just warm enough in the sun. In addition to the wind, the air temperature is much lower than the previous day. Towards the end of the day, we are greeted once again by our Audi friends as they make their way to a camping spot a little ways past ours. The woman who I had honked at says, “good to see you guys again!” but we have definitely gotten the vibe that they would rather not be seeing us at every turn. 

We experience the sunset twice – first from our campsite, and then again, when we climb up on some prominent rocks and watch the sun finally dip beyond the far ridge. 

Rock Island Pass

Rock Island Pass and Snow Lake

Descending toward Crown Lake from Snow Lake

Slide Mountain

Descending towards Crown Lake

Slide Mountain

Crown Lake

Day 3: Saturday, June 21st

In the morning the surface of little ponds near our campsite are frozen over. After bidding good morning to our Audi friends, we continue on down the trail and descend past Robinson Lakes, beautiful and calm in the morning stillness. We pass the loop junction, return to the “stick” part of the lollipop, ford Robinson Creek, and then eat lunch on a rock overlooking Barney Lake. Back at Annette’s Mono Village, I feel a surge of gratitude as I buy three bubbly waters from the general store. 

As I am walking into the bathroom, out comes Mr. Audi! 

“You made it back!” 

I respond, “see you at the hot springs?”

“Probably!” 

Our final plan of the trip is to head to Buckeye Hot Springs, a natural spring that is just 15 or so minutes from the trailhead. It turns out to be the perfect end to our backpacking trip! We walk down a short trail that leads down to the main pools adjacent to Buckeye Creek, but before we reach the main pools, we stop at two pools that are fed by a spring on the hillside. Just as we show up, a group leaves the second of the two pools, and we have it to ourselves! Shortly thereafter we are joined by a friendly couple from Portland, who eventually migrate on to the main pools. 

We discuss a plan to head down to Mammoth Lakes to see where Sierra lives, meet her boyfriend, and eat at the fancy French restaurant, where he is a sous chef! Although Mammoth is a bit out of the way from our original plan to head back over Sonora Pass, we decide to take Tioga Road through Yosemite instead so that we can enjoy a night in Mammoth. On our way out of the hot springs, we see an Audi parked in the lot… 

In Mammoth, we enjoy a delicious dinner of French onion soup, potato leek soup, fried brussels sprouts, heirloom tomato salad with burrata, crusty baguette, chicken with creamy spinach sauce, elk medallions, vegetable wellington, ratatouille, and creme brulee. Incredible flavors! Sierra takes us on a tour of the many lakes around Mammoth, and we head up to Minaret Vista, where we see many of the peaks (Banner, Ritter, and the Minarets) where I was backpacking nearly a year earlier. 

Robinson Lakes

Robinson Lakes and Crown Point

Barney Lake

Pool at Buckeye Hot Springs

Cool tan girl and ghost in the spring fed pool

Day 4: Sunday, June 22nd

After a frigid night sleeping in the truck (ice on the window of the cab), we wake up to our alarm at 4:30am and start driving. The only drawback of our Mammoth detour plan is that we need to get to the Yosemite entrance by 6am so that we can pass over the mountains on Tioga Road without a reservation. We make it just fine and then stop at Olmsted Point, where I make an Americano that we enjoy while looking east towards Clouds Rest, Half Dome, and Yosemite Valley. 

Coffee at Olmsted Point, Half Dome in the background

Epilogue:

The Eastern Sierra is an incredible place! Quickly becoming my favorite mountain area in California. Whereas the terrain on the western side climbs very slowly and steadily towards the crest of the mountains, on the eastern side the mountains rise steeply from high plains, allowing for relatively quick access to the alpine environments that I love. As I start to do more geothermal-related work, it is exciting to think about the possibility of doing some modeling of the deep hydrothermal systems underlying the Long Valley Caldera near Mammoth. 

Raf and Sierra were great backpacking companions! I learned halfway through our hike that it was Sierra's first backpacking trip – this was a bit shocking because she was very prepared and seemed right at home. Through 24 miles of walking and 4000 feet of ascending and descending, positivity prevailed all around! The wind and cold on the second day kept us a bit chilly, but we appreciated the lack of mosquitos and intense heat. Dave and Amy were going to join this trip as well, but had to sit this one out after Dave hurt his knee hiking down from Mt. Shuksan in the North Cascades. We missed them!

In the next week, Raf and I are making the move away from Vida Verde and San Gregorio to a temporary home in the Santa Cruz Mountains near Ben Lomond! We are not sure how long we will be there – maybe a few months, maybe longer? There are two dogs there and a cat. Life goes on, there are more trails to walk. 

Ridge Running

I love Big Sur and the Santa Lucia mountains. Compared to the San Francisco Peninsula, the rugged coastline of Monterey County feels distinctly southern, more like the Santa Ynez mountains to the south than the Santa Cruz mountains to the north. Although parched brown redwoods cling to the steep gullies, shrubs dominate these mountain landscapes, with hilltop oaks on meadow ridges offering a break in the thick chaparral. Apparently the Esselen people have lived in the Santa Lucia mountains for over 8000 years; due to the plentiful seafood and acorns along the Big Sur coast, they remained hunter gatherers until Spanish colonization. 

I have visited this coast on two previous occasions: first in November, 2021, traveling north on Highway 1 with Raffelina and second in March, 2024, traveling south from Monterey and then driving into the mountains on Palo Colorado Road. Spring is a special time in the Santa Lucias, when the creeks are running, the hillsides are lush from winter rains, and the shrubs glow green before returning to their usual brown and gray. Even in spring, however, the  agaves, manzanitas, ceanothus, bleached gravel soils, and pale sun that I came to know in southern California give the slopes a dry feel.

In some ways, these mountains are ideal for exploring – low shrubs offer frequent views, while oak woodlands along the streams and gullies offer shade and shelter from the wind. However, the Ventana Wilderness has been largely neglected by the Bureau of Land Management, the United States Forest Service, and the non-profit Ventana Wilderness Alliance that has been charged with trail maintenance, and crews of vigilante locals have taken the initiative to maintain the trails themselves. Still, these volunteer crews can’t keep up with the pace of the shrubs, and many trails are completely impassable due to thick deadfall or bridges blown out by high spring flows. Hiking crouched over with forearms extended vertically on either side of the face is a common occurrence. I’ve written previously about how the Ventana Wilderness feels abandoned, with lots of rotting picnic tables, rusting fire grates, and illegible trail markers. Along with the steep and challenging terrain, these factors discourage people from traveling deep into the wilderness and the trails are pretty empty. 

On the other hand, the Highway 1 corridor is extremely popular with tourists, influencers, van-life enthusiasts, and residents of the Monterey Bay area, who all seem to converge on the same few parks on the northern part of the coast (Point Lobos and Garapata), especially with the indefinite closure of Highway 1 south of Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, which prevents visitors from accessing this coastline from the south. So, as with many beautiful places, there is an unfortunate need to weave through the crowds and traffic, but with a little effort it’s possible to escape to quiet and beautiful places. 

I haven’t written much recently, mainly because I’m doing all the same things and going to all the same places, just in different seasons. I am motivated to enjoy the spring as thoroughly as possible – starting in March, the sun feels warm in between the rains and sets late enough that the golden hours of evening feel long and luxurious. In recent months, a multitude of factors have led me to shift into a more primal mode of existence, with the simple goal of enjoying the day, spending lots of time with Raf, experiencing nature, cultivating joy through movement, eating good food, and drinking bubble water with lime juice. With my mountain bike out of commission, I started to run much more frequently on the trails / roads at the ranch across the road (every day vs. 2-3 days / week). I pride myself on my ability to enjoy the same place repeatedly, always finding new angles and perspectives and movements, but after a couple weeks of the same, I was ready to admit that I was a bit bored of the hills across the road. 

So I’ve been wanting to explore new coastal hills – last weekend, Raf and I visited the Sonoma coast for the first time and walked the meadow trails of Jenner Headlands Preserve, and next month, we are planning on hiking and camping at Point Reyes. In my return to Big Sur, I am on the hunt for coastal trails that climb steeply up green hills to granite ridges. My goal is to maximize my time on the trails without a heavy pack and enjoy a good night’s sleep in the comfy bed in the back of my truck. I watch the weather for a couple weeks, waiting for a rain-free window, and then pull the trigger on the morning of Friday, March 7, conveniently the same day Raf is heading to San Diego. 

Adventure #1: Post Summit and Mt. Manuel (13.3 miles; 5242 feet of elevation gain)

I throw some water, snacks, and clothes in the truck and then head south on the 1 towards Santa Cruz, along Monterey Bay past Carmel and the Monterey Peninsula, over the Bixby Canyon Bridge, and then out onto the cliffs of the Big Sur coastline. After a short while, I arrive at the trailhead on the highway near Andrew Molera State Park, fill up my new hydration pack, and then start running up the trail, around 1pm. The destination is “Post Summit”, a nice 3460-ft ridge overlooking the coastline, though the map indicates there may be a connecting route southward along the ridge to Mt. Manuel (3550 ft), a peak that I ran up four years ago from the south via Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park. The trail switchbacks steeply up dry shrub slopes (lots of poison oak) and then undulates along grassy meadows, with views of Pico Blanco, a prominent limestone peak that has been the subject of several disputes between developers and the California Coastal Commission. I wonder how the meadows stay meadows and don’t get colonized by shrubs – maybe they are seasonally grazed? Near a grassy outcrop with a fresh picnic table, the trail saddles over to a steep shrub slope in the final push to Post Summit. 

At Post Summit, I see the ridgeline route to Mt. Manuel laid out before me to the south: it undulates along hilltop meadows and shrub ridgelines to a narrow catwalk leading to the broad summit(s) of Mt. Manuel. Post Summit and Mt. Manuel not especially prominent peaks, really just rocky high points along the coastal ridge. One of the most beautiful landscapes of the Santa Lucia mountains are the oak and madrone woodlands that crown many of the steep hillsides. For a Minnesotan accustomed to the oak savannahs along the Mississippi River valley, there is something exotic about gnarled oaks on the tops of ridges. After many ascents and descents, I finally arrive at the summit of Mt. Manuel where I had stood four years ago seeing the Santa Lucias for the first time. I look south towards the shrub slopes glowing in the late afternoon light, draped like curtains from the jagged crest to the misty ocean. I look northeast towards Skinner Ridge, Pat Spring, and Ventana Double Cone, where I had backpacked a year earlier and watched the sunset from a high hilltop campsite. I love returning to places I have already visited, especially from a new angle and during a different season. I am really enjoying my new hydration pack – it is nice to have the confidence to go long distances, without the weight of a full overnight pack. 

By the time I get to Mt. Manuel, it is about 4:30 – I have been on the trail for over three hours. Although I ran much of the way to Post Summit, I had walked the ridgeline due to general tiredness and wanting to enjoy the ridge to the fullest. Golden hour sets in on the return trip and I enjoy the evening light as I make my way back to Post Summit and then start to descend the grassy meadow hills. I love staying out on the trail past sunset – when backpacking I am normally focused on finding a campsite, but with truck camping, it is often more advantageous to wait until dark so that I can slip into a parking spot unnoticed, crawl in the back, and get comfy. Back at the trailhead, I hop in the truck and drive a few minutes south to “Big Sur Station”, a USFS parking lot for backpackers that costs $10 / day and has no stated restrictions about sleeping in your car overnight. I eat some avocados, almond butter, and limes before settling into an early bedtime. 

Ventana Double Cone

Madrone

Pico Blanco

Pico Blanco

Pico Blanco

Pico Blanco

Adventure #2: Timber Top and Coast Ridge Road (14 miles; 3343 feet of elevation gain)

In the morning, I make coffee on the tailgate, eat a couple avocados, and drink a protein beverage before hopping in the truck and heading another ten minutes south to the Boronda Trailhead that leads from Highway 1 up the steep hillside to the crest of the coastal ridge, about 3000 feet. Just like yesterday’s trailhead, it is pretty unremarkable from the highway, with a small sign that probably couldn’t be read from a passing car. At about 7:20am, with the sun rising in the east, the coast is still shadowed by the coastal ridge, a bit chilly. I run up the trail through the shrubs until the landscape transitions to grassy meadows, the trail gets even steeper, and I slow to a speed walk. By this time, the broad shoulders of the hillside are illuminated but the forested gullies remain shadowed. I can’t think of a more perfect landscape than a lush meadow hillside rising steeply from a turquoise sea, with the heat of the morning sun balanced with a light onshore breeze. This place is lux. 

I quickly climb switchback after switchback, slope after slope, stopping to watch two dark brown creatures (bobcats?) playing or hunting in the grass on the opposite hillside. One of the benefits of spending a lot of my time looking at hillsides is that my eyes quickly latch onto anything out of the ordinary, so I have spotted quite a few wild cats and canines from afar recently. I pass through some campsites at the crest of the ridge (“Timber Top” campground) and then make my way onto the dirt road that follows the ridgeline south towards Marble Peak. I walk another few miles on the road, which, tucked on the east side of the ridge, mainly has views of the Santa Lucia mountains to the east rather than the ocean to the west. Steadily ascending, I pass a couple patches of snow lingering from the last storm. After accepting that I probably won’t encounter too many new and exciting views from the road, I turn around, head back to Timber Top, and rest for a while on the top of the ridge before descending. At Chipotle in Carmel, I fill up on bubble water and eat a burrito bowl chip-by-chip before returning north towards San Gregorio.