Mono Pass From Mosquito Flats TH

In 2021 we discovered a new trailhead southwest of Mammoth Lakes with the unpromising name of Mosquito Flats. Driving Joulie to 10,300 ft. elevation saves a lot of climbing. So the four or so mile walk up sandy or rocky switchbacks to 12,060 ft. Mono Pass means excellent alpine Sierra scenery without spending a lot of energy below tree line. This parking lot fills up quickly in the summer, but most hikers choose the less steep trail through the Little Lakes Valley to Gem Lakes or Morgan Lake. Little Lakes Valley is the trail we recommend to everyone and his grandma and his grandma’s poodle. The Little Lakes Valley we had hiked in 2021 and we’d already hiked part way up the Mono Pass trail to Ruby Lake. In 2022 we summited the Pass and descended a bit toward Summit Lake because the Pass was a windy barren moonscape. Along the trail I met a family from Tollhouse, CA undertaking a spirit quest together. The mom explained that Mono Pass was sacred to her tribe. The family backpacks together and the mountain talks to them. They may see visions. I was impressed at how the family patriarch, built sturdy like a wrestler, carried a heavy six foot spade as well two extra gallon water jugs and the youngest son’s backpack. The teen daughter wore a black T-shirt emblazoned,  “What Doesn’t Kill Me Makes Me Stronger,” nodding at Nietzsche and at Kelly Clarkson. My resilience anthems are, “What Doesn’t Kill Me Still Annoys Me,” or, after the Ancient Bristlecone Pines, “What Doesn’t Kill Me Helps Me Redirect My Energy.” But the scenery on this trail was truly awesome. It’s easy to look beyond muscle aches and blisters when you’re surrounded by glaciated mountains, ancient trees, and Sierra granite all topped with ever-changing puffball clouds in a bluebird sky.

By noon the bluebird sky had changed to threatening gray fleece and we heard distant rumblings. On our way down, we met a traveler from an antique land: a solo backpacker with long flaming red hair and longer flaming red beard, humping a 60 pound pack, laden with an SLR camera around his neck, carrying a microphone and maneuvering a hiking stick. This was a visitor from the land of the arts, an ancient land that lingers before it perishes. Artist Derek Gulden was also on a spirit quest, with no planned itinerary for twelve days other than creating art from his impressions of the mountains. He was excited about the imminent T-storm, looking for a rock to shelter under while he recorded the thunder and photographed the lightning. I was inspired by his commitment to authenticity. Of course he could draw in lightning in a Photoshop sky and never have to deal with seeking shelter. But knowing that he was really there for this T-storm changes the way I view his photo of a T-storm. This quality of authenticity is something I cultivate in myself and cherish in others. It’s about showing up as yourself in life: hard to put in words but valuable beyond measure.

As the first raindrops fell, I ducked into a pine grove and put on my rain gear. JG opted not to put on his new rain parka because he said the rain felt refreshing. Within minutes the rain became a downpour and we consulted under a tree about whether to take shelter or keep descending. We decided to keep going as we were only about two miles from the trailhead. JG said he was wet already so no point putting on the rain parka now. We splashed and thudded down the trail, occasionally overtaken by nimble hikers high-tailing out of the back country. The rain turned to hail and nipped a bit as it bounced off our hats. We were happy for hiking sticks, as the trail had become a stream dotted with slick boulders. JG was now thoroughly soaked, striding rapidly, navigating on instinct because his glasses were wet. But he was cheerful. This was, after all, what we go to the mountains for.