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One Packer's
High Sierra Experience |
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All
pictures are from the archives of Ray DeLea unless otherwise
noted.
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Revised- May 2020: High Sierra Adventures
Added endorsements and poem, expanded Foreword, needed format enhancements. |
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| This book follows the adventures of a teenager who worked for Mt. Whitney Pack Trains, out of Lone Pine, CA, for six summers between the years of 1965 - 1970. It details his journey from being a "city slicker" knowing nothing about livestock and packing to becoming a seasoned packer / guide for one of the most prestigious pack stations operating on the east side of the Sierra Nevada. Using a combination of photographs and life events he takes the reader progressively through six summers of "learning the ropes" of being a packer as he packed in such groups as the Sierra Club, the Trail Riders of the Wilderness and private parties. This book is full of events that will make you laugh and cry as he describes the pack trips, wrecks, wrangles, livestock and personnel that made each summer a greater adventure than the preceding one. |
Copies are now available through Amazon
The Western Museum of Film History in Lone Pine, CA
The
Eastern California Museum in Independence, CA
and at the Whitney Portal Hostel & Hotel in Lone Pine, CA |
| Joe Devel Peak and Lower Rock Creek |
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This is a
scene from Lower Rock Creek where the outfit occasionally camped
with the Trail Riders of the Wilderness, and many private parties,
on a yearly basis. This was a favorite spot of mine, not only
for packing but also for backpacking, because it gave you easy
access to Mt. Guyot and the Kern River, the golden trout were
always large; and, no one ever seemed to know about the place.
Joe Devel Peak, which overlooked the Miter Basin and Sky Blue
Lake, looms in the background.
I'll never forget the first time I backpacked into here with
Mike Porter and a couple of other hiking buddies. This was their
first time here, and I don't know how many times for me since
I came here at least once every year with the outfit. I was in
the best of high altitude shape in those days; and, I was determined
to make it from the roadend in Horseshoe Meadows to Lower Rock
Creek in one fell swoop. They all told me, after we got to Lower
Rock Creek, that it was a good thing I was far out in front of
them or they would have strangled me. Those many miles of wrangling
in saddle boots gave me great stamina when it came to putting
in 18 mile days on foot. Well, we all got over it, and I never
again pressed them for so many miles in one day. |
| Trail Riders Fishing at Rocky Basin Lakes |
| Norman Jefferson
(far right) with two members of the Trail Riders of the Wilderness
in late August of 1969 at Rocky Basin Lakes just west of Cottonwood
Pass by several miles. Fishing for golden trout at Rocky Basin
Lakes was usually not this great. More often than not, you ended
up with nothing. Norman and I were the best of friends for the
seven seasons I worked with the outfit. We both sort of grew
up together. Without fail, the two of us always went out fishing
once all of the strings of mules were unloaded, the stock turned
loose and packer's camp had been set up for the evening. Between
the two of us, we nearly always brought back to packer's camp
enough trout to feed every packer that evening. |
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"Wilderness
Outings"
from the 1947 Sierra Club Handbook
| Shoeing the Hard Way at Wright Lakes! |
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| Gene Harlan
(on the ground) and Harry Mathers showing off their shoeing abilities
near Wright Lakes during a Trail Riders of the Wilderness trip in 1968. This is
not the way it is usually done; but in the backcountry, anything
goes when it comes to shoeing a mule. Harry and Gene were the
best of friends. Gene was one of those folks who seemed to have
grown up around stock all of his life (and still is, serving
as a vetenarian now); and Harry?, I was never sure of Harry. You have
to understand, I was never raised around stock so all of this
was quite new to me. Every day was a new "stock challenge"
for me; and, if something was done in a somewhat out of the ordinary
fashion, such as shoeing a mule in this manner, I would have
never known it! We packers never failed to make the best out
of any situation either, whether it be shoeing or acquiring coffee
from the Sierra Club. |
| Mt.
Whitney Pack Trains Headquarters |
| Headquarters
for the outfit for many years, located just outside of Lone Pine
on the Whitney Portals Road. Since the splitting up and sale
of the outfit in the early '70s this old building has had its
sign repainted referring you to Bob Tanner's outfit out of Bishop;
so I rather cherish this old photograph of a bygone era when
Mt. Whitney Pack Trains was based in Lone Pine and actually packed
over Trail Crest Pass and up to the summit of Mt. Whitney on
a regular basis. Now part of the "west that was," it
brings back many fond, dust filled memories of pushing stock
from Whitney Portals to the Elder Ranch; and, from the Moffat
Ranch in the northern section of the Alabama Hills to the Elder
Ranch located in the southern section of the Alabama Hills. Memories
of Tommy Jefferson, right there along side of us, in the truck,
and Barbara Jefferson with hot fried chicken and potato salad
at the end of the dusty day. |
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| Middle Rock Creek |
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Middle Rock
Creek just west of old and new Army Passes; and, to the north
of the Siberian Outpost and Funston Lake. This was a favorite
camping site for many private parties and for the Trail Riders
of the Wilderness trips over the years. It was a central point
for side trips to Sky Blue Lake in the Miter Basin, Funston Lake
on the Boreal Plateau, Guyot Summit, and the Rocky Basin Lakes.
This was a terrible place to wrangle when the creek was high,
the stock always seemed to be on the other side. I remember one
spring, when theotherwise timid creek was a river in the midst
of a "meadow-lake." It was Norman Jefferson's and my
turn to wrangle along with another packer. When I rolled out
of bed, much to my surprise a good deal of the stock was in the
nearby meadow; but, on the other side of the "creek."
There wasn't one horse or mule on the side that Norman or I was
on. We pleadedand coaxed with nose bags full of grain until
we were blue in the face and not one ofthose animals would budge.
I finally made the decision that it was time to get undressed
and cross the "creek." Norman would have nothing to
do with it and thought I was stark raving crazy. After disrobing
and wading the frigid creek with my clothes, nose bag and bridle
in my hands over my head (we're talking waist deep water here
folks), I managed to put the grain filled nose bag on the closest
horse available. While the horse was chowing down I was able
to once again get dressed and then herd the stock bareback into
camp. It was a good thing no one else was up at 4:30 A.M. to
see me! |
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