Trip Date: July 29, 2020
Find this SpotIt has been a while since I did actually camp out in the woods on public land. Since buying the property with my brother, I have camped there almost exclusively. I expect that to continue to be the case, and quite frankly, see myself in the cabin my friend Bob is building up there. However, Ken organized this trip as a close and easy destination to entice people to come in this time if Covid.
Packsaddle road climbs to about 7,000’ up from Silver Fork Road out of Kyburz looping back to Highway 50 at 42 Mile Stone road just below Strawberry. It is a paved road, although one lane in spots because of the overgrown vegetation, but still gets a lot of use. It definitely seems that in this time of Covid, more people are out, but it is the height of summer, and July/August is definitely the busiest times for the outdoors.
The camp spot is another half mile down a good dirt road and has a spectacular view of Pyramid Peak and its broad granite shoulders, beyond which is the Desolation Wilderness. It is a cool spot because you are surrounded by familiar places, but it itself is not a terribly well-known place. Strawberry, Sierra Ski Ranch, Twin Bridges and Horsetail Falls, Camp Sacramento – all these places along Highway 50 we have passed dozens of times heading to Tahoe or points East.
The South Fork and Silver Fork of the American River and all the familiar canyon lands are just West of this spot. To the South is Mormon Emigrant road, Highway 88, Kirkwood, Silver and Caples Lakes. East is Highway 89, Hope Valley, Sorenson’s, Woodford’s, and many camping spots from trips past. It sometimes feels like you are in familiar country, just because we have explored so much of the surrounding areas, and quite frankly, we’ve been to this spot a number of times already, so it could have become another of our “spots.”
Ken had suggested a one-night trip on Thursday night, and again, proximity allowed others to come up just for a day trip. I talked to Mike about coming up Wednesday night also to make it a 2-nighter, and Kenny somehow quickly saw the light. Mike and I met at Kyburz at the turn-off for Silver Fork road. Much construction made for long waits at traffic control, but we were up at the site by noon or so. Unfortunately, the site was occupied; not a surprising discovery these days, even on a Wednesday.
We explored a few nearby areas, had a beverage to discuss options, and then decided to head into the main camp area and check in with the occupants. He turned out to be a great old guy, with his dog, brother and his daughter and boyfriend. They were great people, and he had no objections to us taking some spots nearby. I warned him that we would have more people the next night, and he made it clear, he was not the kind of guy to try to prevent people from camping nearby.
I drove past the prime location and headed back about 100 yards to the farthest cleared area. The guy had mentioned his brother was in a camper but there was no indication exactly where he intended to camp/park, so I just wasn’t sure I wanted to be as close as we could end up. Mike and I conferred again and we decided to explore other areas we had noticed on the way up. As I walked back to the truck, I realized I really didn’t want to start hunting for a new spot and I knew how much trouble it would be to get everyone else that may or may not be coming to a new unknown location.
I looked a bit deeper into areas on the outer ring of the area and found a path down below a rock mound and far enough away that I thought we all could be comfortable. This would have to do. I walked back to the far end of the camp where our new friend had occupied the prime spot and saw no Mike. I assumed he was further down the road or waiting for me at the turnoff on Packsaddle, so I wandered down, half beer in my hand.
At the pavement of Packsaddle, there was no Mike to be found, so I sat and waited. We/I wasn’t exactly sure where these spots were that we were going to check out, and I had no idea where Mike went. I imagined the possibility of him being down one road and me down another track and driving about with no communication of rhyme or reason. I remembered all the times I would get separated from my mom in grocery stores and the checker having to call my mom over the loudspeaker and all the women trying to comfort me because I lost my mommy. I didn’t want to do this again, so I walked back to camp to wait for Mike or Ken to appear.
I sipped and napped and repeated, and tried to recall the exact conversation and what specific details I missed, because I couldn’t imagine Mike doing such unboyscoutlike conduct as just driving off without a clear plan. Although it did remind me of when my good friend Paul and my son Jordan took off with the flashlights in a lava tube at Lavabeds NP without me and left me alone in the black to feel my way out. Is this a pattern you ask?
After an hour or more maybe I packed up and drove out to Packsaddle and found Mike and Ken. Ken was trying to relay directions to some of his work buddies. Mike and I tried to patch together the lost translation, but we were happy to be reunited and I was happy that no one else came in to steal our spot. I led them back in, past the red shade tent and barking dog, up to our proposed spot. Neither were overwhelmed, but I believe both realized the benefits of making the most of it and not using a lot of time to attempt to find a better spot and then guide the others to it. There was much rejoicing.
Once Mike and Ken found tent spots and we set up the kitchen in the low spot behind the granite, all was looking and feeling much better. We were far removed from our lone neighbor, and this kitchen area was in a nice setting; no view of Pyramid, but nice local views. It was soon cocktail hour and the boys settled into much relaxing. It really was great to be with these 2 old friends and reminisce and remind each other of trips and episodes and adventures. We had literally worked our entire careers together, raised our kids together, and gotten old together. Lots and lots of history, familiarity, friendship, support, comfort and joy.
I had BBQ’d chicken and sautéed veges and onions. I picked up some shrooms at the store so I offered to cook this first night, plus, I could see the boys were well lubricated already and I was hungry. I started heating the veges and threw in the shrooms to heat them up, then just decided to throw the chicken in together since it all just needed to be heated up. I believe we may have added a splash of vino as the boys had opened a bottle, and oh my god, it was so freakin’ good.
Mike had great tunes going, epic stories were retold, beverages were consumed. Mike had brought special sauces to make specialty cocktails, but the old standbys were going down with great ease and pleasure. The temps were great and the night was just perfect. I made haste to my bed bed without incident and enjoyed unconsciousness immensely. The moon was less than half and came up late. There were 2 excessively bright stars low on the Eastern horizon. I dreamt like crazy.
The morn was awesome. Mike got coffee going and had already erected the shade canopy which was essential. Stoolage was instantaneous. The motivation was weak this morn with only essential duties addressed. Before long it was time to bring the bucket down to Packsaddle Rd. as a marker for the guys coming up today. We looked at a potential camp spot across the road, made some calls and we headed back to camp when Howard came up from behind. The day had begun. We had a beverage and caught up a little when Kevin and Curtis appeared above the granite outcrop. There was much rejoicing.
They settled in to the shade circle and we discussed what might be on the agenda. I was determined to swim at Cody Lake, an old Boy Scout camp Bob Holmes had told us about. Mike and Howard were game and Kevin would ride his bike and meet us there. In another flagrant unboyscoutlike conduct act, we had no discussion of the direction or route, brought no map, made no plans, and just headed out immediately in opposite directions. Kevin apparently headed further down the road the camp was on and didn’t even make it to pavement, so this outing was doomed from the instant it was conceived.
We headed out to Packsaddle, then turn in the wrong direction and headed out the road to Cody meadows. Fortunately, we met some OHV guys and they confirmed we were on the wrong path. Attempting one more route of wrongness, we were headed back to Packsaddle to follow a kernel of rational thought provided us by the OHV guy. Having to return home later this day, Howard was deposited on the road back to camp and walked back in while Mike and I headed East over the pass.
At a road I am sure had a sign for Cody Lake on it the last time we were here, we turned off and began to climb, regaining all the elevation we lost coming over the East side of the pass. At the first obvious left, we declined to take for some reason, but at the second, we took the bait. Being the smart old Pisces we are, this second left brought us to the familiar trailhead parking lot with not a car within it. We were stoked.
I had my water shoes, life jacket, beers, hat and we waddled down the trail. The views of Pyramid and the granite to the North were extraordinary. Just about the time we needed a rest, we were in view of the lake and we hurled ourselves down the trail. I was in the water in a flash; it was spectacular. We noticed a guy and his dog down the far end of the lake; he did not respond to our hoot. No matter, it was preferred to imagine we had it to ourselves. The water was definitely warmer, or less cold than I expected, but it felt wonderful. In my life vest, I could just float about in just about any angle of repose I wished. Heavenly.
Shortly 3 kids appeared with loud music and voices. Fortunately, they did not head to our spot, instead stayed on the trail down towards the cabins. They re-emerged just across the lake from us in a cluster of massive boulders, but no music and inside voices, and we were all able to get along. I felt bad that when Howard was with us we were nothing but lost and worried about Kevin’s whereabouts. Since dropping Howard off, we drove directly to the lake without error, and didn’t care at all about Kevin. Oh well, dems’ da breaks.
After a superb float, we headed back up the trail and down the road to camp. Kevin was there and Stevie G, and it felt like cocktail time. There was much discussion about the likelihood of the 3 youngsters showing up, but as Marcus and Howard left, it didn’t seem likely, until it was. Just about 6:00, Ken heard a rumble and sure enough, Patrick, Cody, and Nevin rolled in to camp. There was much rejoicing.
They didn’t spend much time setting up, instead focusing on food and drink, as it should be. I have no idea what we ate for dinner, but I do recall Nevin using a tiny little propane grill to cook hotdogs. Then they pulled out a Sterno log and made a rock ring. I gave them a goodly amount of grief for the phony wood log, but eventually it burned down and they added some native wood. I then gave them shit about burning piss fir, which they probably didn’t appreciate. It was great to have a little fire in our hideaway behind the massive granite outcrop.
Marcus had given Ken a fine bottle of Basil Hayden’s Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey and Nevin tore into it with great lust in his eyes. We raised a toast in tiny red shot glasses Mike brought. One begot another until the poor Basil Hayden was dry. I was sad, until Cody reminded me we had a bit of the bottle of Bulleit that Ken brought. This too dried up. These youngsters were a thirsty lot.
Exacerbated by the loss of our Bourbon brethren, out of the dark appeared a bottle, attached to a hand, on the end of an arm, attached to Patrick. There was a great hurrah let out. This was the drink I always tell myself to stay away from. The one too many. But oh my was it good, and so appreciated. Patrick rode hard to our rescue and it must be acknowledged. But that was all. I found my tent and mine alone. Sleep was outstanding.
The morning was definitely a bit fuzzy, but not nearly what I feared. Coffee, water, shade, intellectual conversation completely absent, I rounded into shape in mere hours. Mike made quick work of his tent, but the youngsters were first on the road, having learned they not only didn’t have tents, they didn’t have sleeping bags, pads, or even a blanket. Oh, they learn quickly.
Kevin, G, Ken, finally Mike were gone. I had done nothing. I was in no hurry to leave so I slowly cleaned up, packed up the tent, had a nice chat with our neighbor and his brother. They both said how much they appreciated us getting as far away as we could and tucking back down behind the granite, being good neighbors. It was nice it was acknowledged. I backed down to get all the kitchen stuff and off I went, back to Cody.
On my way up, I realized the landmark based directions I gave the youth were less than accurate, but nonetheless, I met Patrick on his way out. He had seen Nevin’s truck, but not them. I scouted the first left and although there were great camp spots, no views were to be had. The parking lot had the 5 cars Patrick mentioned, but worse, the inhabitants were barking dogs and yelling kids. I was pleased to find my spot at the lake available, but it was wrecked by all the noise.
I hadn’t intended on staying too long; no vest, no water shoes, no hat, only 1 beer, but all the noise and commotion made it less than enjoyable. I soaked for a few minutes and had had enough. On the way up the trail, I checked out the backpacking spot, warned some new folks about the 2 large dogs running loose, resupplied my koozie, and headed down the Eastern slope of Packsaddle Pass. I knew I had done this before, but had no recollection. Fortunately there was no construction on 50 and getting across to the Westbound lane was aproblematic. It was hot as hell at home, but I was happy to be back no later than I was and happy to see Kristen. It was a huge trip packed into a few days and couple nights. As always, it seemed like I was gone much longer than I was. Now it was time to turn my attention to getting up to the property with Kristen and the kids.
Packsaddle Pass, El Dorado National Forest Photo Gallery
