Day 4: Red's Meadow to Deer(fly) Creek

The local bears provoked some clattering and yelling at the other campsites, but with no other distractions and the warmer weather at the lower elevation, we slept soundly. Once again, the allure of hot meals made by someone else was impossible to resist, and we headed for the store for some omelets and greasy hash browns. As a result, we were on the trail very late - a record thusfar at 9:15. For the next couple of days, we'll be traveling with Matt and Richard.

Having made up some miles the day before with our shameful use of the shuttle, we planned a short day of about six miles to Deer Creek. The low miles were not entirely due to sloth on our part, it was more that the next water beyond Deer Creek was nearly six miles beyond, and we were fast learning not to tempt fate with the array of blisters, cuts and swelling living in Julian's boots.

Leaving Red's Meadow, we traversed a long ridge to the east of the Middle Fork of San Joaquin River, which was featureless save for the remains of 1992's Rainbow Fire. It was an easy ascent, and we shortly crossed a saddle near the beautiful Red Cones, nearly perfect conical peaks of red lava that rise abruptly out of the surrounding forest cover. We were also, at that point, in an area that historically has had a lot of volcanic activity (nearby Mammoth Mountain is a dormant volcano), so the trail underfoot was primarily crushed pumice and lava.

After crossing picturesque Crater Meadow, we enjoyed a relatively flat hike to our goal, Deer Creek. The campsites at Deer Creek were nothing to write home about, though we did find an area on a slight rise some distance from the trail. It was not yet noon, and we were grateful for the opportunity to relax a little, do some laundry and bag a few hundred deerflys and mosquitoes.

After making camp, it took a matter of minutes for the place to be renamed "Deerfly Creek." The number of flying insects there was astounding! There was, however a silver lining: These critters were at the back of the line when they were passing out directions on how to bite a human, and, like lemmings, they dutifully lined up on top of our knees and on the backs of our hands to be picked off, sometimes in groups of five or more. These were in contrast to the well-trained "stealth mosquitoes" where I come from, who will pepper the back of ones neck and legs with bites without nary a knock on the door.

While doing laundry, we learned that perfect weather is necessary to dry "Smartwool" socks. And a hint - if the weather is not perfect, do not wash all of your Smartwool socks, like we did.

We enjoyed a rare fire that night - rare because at most of the elevations where we would camp, fires were prohibited. Still no bears.