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Smith Lake, surely one of the most beautiful lakes in the Trinity Alps, rests on the south side of Sawtooth Mountain, just below Morris Lake. Nature writer Tim Sims shares an excerpt from his excellent book that describes how he backpacked cross-country from Alpine Lake to Smith Lake.
Smith Lake, with Morris Lake unseen on the ledge above the far shore. (photo by Tim Sims)
In speaking to my fellow Trinity alpinists over the years, Smith Lake is without a doubt the most popular lake that people haven’t seen. It’s at, or near, the top of everyone’s To Do list. When they’re standing in Seven Up Pass, looking over from Red Trinities into the White Trinities—or when they’ve struggled up the switchbacks of the “suicide” trail from Stuart Fork to Sawtooth Ridge and looked back across the valley at that vast, smooth expanse of granite—or even when they’ve snowshoed up the slopes of Mount Shasta and looked west to where distinctive Sawtooth Mountain (the easiest of the Trinities to identify from the east) dominates the distant horizon—in all these situations, there is a wistfulness about someday, some day, hiking in among all that granite, pitching a tent alongside that truly pristine lake, and maybe—probably—having paradise all to themselves.
The Granite, The Solitude, The Water
They’ve heard rumors of acre after acre of granite benches bordering cerulean waters, of incomparable views in every direction, of spectacular sunrises, of blessed solitude. “Someday,” they tell themselves, “that’ll be me up there.”
There’s a great line in the old movie Sideways in a conversation between wine connoisseurs. The man has just revealed that, although he lacks the wallet for a significant wine collection, he does have a bottle of X vintage (I forget the name). “Go get it!” the woman exclaims. The man remonstrates that he’s been saving it for a special occasion, and that his life has not had many of those lately. But she comes back, “The day you open a bottle of X, that’s the special occasion.”
Applied to the Trinities: don’t put off ’til Someday what you can hike today. So let me take you back to my first Someday with Smith Lake. . . .
First Visit to Smith Lake: Getting the Courage
It’s the 18th of August of 2011, and it’s my Someday. I’m about to make my first attempt.
I have recently crossed the magic 100 threshold on my life list of Trinity Alps lakes. So, in essence, I’ve been everywhere else in these mountains. Time to have a go at the big prize. Having heard all those Smith Lake rumors for years, I too want to see it with my own eyes and then say, with the legendary Queen of Sheba, after she had seen the riches of Solomon: “The half hath never yet been told!”
But why, if it’s so great, has this area remained so frequently “loved from afar”?
Getting to Smith Lake Isn’t Easy…
Because it’s hard. Damned hard. The lake chart on my topo map lists the Smith Lake trail as “12 mi, Extrem diff X-C,” with an extra warning about “experienced X-C hikers only.” The route ascends 5200 feet overall. The first nine miles are on an actual trail, but then it climbs straight up for two thousand feet through brush and over massive granite blocks, topping out at a spectacular 8000-foot divide, then descending steeply a thousand feet to the lakes. From the stories I’ve heard out on the trail, whatever your fitness level (and mine is pretty high), whichever route you take, this hike and climb will be a tester.
The Stuart Fork Trail to Alpine Lake
As with most hikers who make this attempt, my Smith Lake adventure begins on the Stuart Fork trail. Following the course of the stream toward its source in the heart of the Trinities, the Stuart Fork trail is the gateway to Alpine Lake and Smith and Morris lakes to the left, or Morris Meadows, Emerald Lake, Sapphire Lake, and Mirror Lake going straight on in.
So even on a weekday morning, there are lots of vehicles about as I unload at the trailhead in the pre-dawn. It’s one of the Trinity Alps’ most popular trails. Or maybe well populated is more to the point. Popular? Stuart Fork is, for many of us, our least favorite trail in all the Trinities. Not because we don’t like the destinations—they’re grand—but because of the design of the trail itself. I object to the means, not the ends.
The Stuart Fork Trail Goes Up and Down, Up and Down, Up and Down
Looking at the early miles of this trail, I’m reminded of a term I learned while hiking in Patagonia at the southern tip of South America. When climbers there talk about “Patagonian flat,” they mean “constant ups and downs.” In our country, hikers back East use the term PUDs to describe such a trail: Pointless Ups and Downs. That term was made for Stuart Fork. It becomes a trail to be endured more than enjoyed. In the miles before Morris Meadow, I’m forever climbing 50 feet here, then descending back to stream level, then climbing 150 feet before dropping 85, then up another hundred feet or so before losing 180 . . . and on and on.
In the five miles before turning off for Alpine Lake, I’ve actually climbed a couple of thousand feet on the Stuart Fork Trail, though my net elevation gain is only around five hundred! Now, I get it that a lot of the hikers are just coming in a little way to do some fishing or bathing on the beautiful river. Still, wouldn’t it make more sense to have a steadily rising “express route” higher up the slopes, with occasional spur trails dropping down to the stream?
The greatest impact of the PUDs will come at the end of the hike, when I’m dragging my tired body out with promises of that long, hot shower and that hot, salty meal. The PUDs seem endless, taking both a physical and a mental toll. No doubt I’ll be willing to swear that there are more of these pointless rises going out than there were going in!
And that’s just the first five miles to Smith and Morris. Then comes the hard part!
Crossing Stuart Fork — Carefully!
At five miles in, there is a tricky stream crossing of Stuart Fork next to an established campsite. At the campsite, a girlfriend, a boyfriend, and a tagalong friend are just waking up. They too are planning on hiking to Smith and Morris. They wish me well and tell me they’ll be seeing me later. (In fact, they will never make it that far. The road to Smith and Morris is paved with good intentions.)
The trickiness of this stream crossing is driven by the water level and the speed of the current. Of course, it’s a fool’s errand to cross Stuart Fork at any time during spring run-off—which can last well into July some years. It’s tough enough now, when the water is “only” at thigh level. Last winter was big for snowfall. Parts of the Trinities got over 40 feet of snow. So the streams are all going to be full this year until well into the fall months.
A decade or so ago, in a trip to Alpine Lake, this stream crossing was a hundred or two hundred yards farther along on the trail, in a spot where the stream was wider and, therefore, lower and slower. When Christine and I crossed, someone (from the forest service?) had tied a nylon rope to trees on either shore. That was helpful. Then, upon crossing Stuart Fork, we had to backtrack downstream a bit (to the site of the current crossing) before joining the present trail. I’m not certain what the perceived advantage is in this present crossing site. It strikes me as being less forgiving, though in this instance, I don’t “take a bath” in my crossing.
Alpine Lake Trail: Hiking Up, and Up, and Up
The trail from this point is now seriously uphill, gaining 4500 feet of elevation in the next four miles. Suck it up!
For the next half mile or so after the crossing, I make a special effort not to let my mind wander (not an easy task, for me). Don’t be distracted by wildflowers or bears or thoughts of the first peoples who lived in this area. Stay alert, Timmy, because you’re coming to a place where many, many hikers have gone wrong.
Bear Trail Junction: Pay Attention!
The trail divides in a poorly marked woody area. There’s a sign on a tree, but not in an obvious place, and it’s easy enough not even to see that there is a junction. Go left—and it’s clear from the trail use that many do—and you’ll soon ford the outlet stream from Alpine Lake, then start following a different stream and the Bear Trail up the hill. That’s the wrong way. It’s a sharp right turn at the junction that leads to Alpine Lake. (And there won’t be a stream to ford for several miles.)
Alpine Lake: A Worthy Destination, With Caveats
The climb is relentless. A hike that ended at Alpine Lake would already be a good day’s work. The long views are minimal, which probably contributes to the fatigue factor. I find, on many hikes, that once I can see the towering granite of my destination, that view can usually pull me in. I forget all about the fatigue and, therefore, feel it less. But those big views are delayed quite a while on this trail.
From the stories I’ve heard along the trail, most hikers opt to spend their first night at Alpine Lake, then hike two-and-half miles over the hill the next day. That’s my fall-back plan, though I’m hoping it won’t come to that. Alpine Lake is nice enough—14 acres, a spiky granite arête backing it up—though there are plenty of better lakes available for a lot less effort. Yes, it is a granite bowl, but trees often block the granite from view.
There is an interesting (to me) geological fact about Alpine Lake. Geologists have found evidence of glaciation beginning more than 133,000 years ago, which is over a hundred thousand years earlier than most of the other glacial evidence in these alps. (This would have been during the early years of the large-scale Tahoe glaciation in the Sierra Nevada.) That’s not to say that the early glaciers didn’t impact other areas, just that the extant evidence isn’t so clear elsewhere. (Late glaciers tend to scratch out or cover up the evidence from early glaciers.)
Alpine Lake was also where chipmunks or some other rodents chewed a hole in the bottom of the food bag Christine and I had hidden from the bears, so that we had to cut the hike short when we ran out of food. And it’s the place where we woke up one morning to a rather comic spectacle. The chipmunks were throwing themselves off the low branch of a tree and landing, spread-eagle, against the side of our tent, then slowly sliding down to the ground. Christine and I tried to stay quiet while we lay there watching the show. We didn’t want to scare them away. But it was hard to suppress our titters when that silhouette of a commando chipmunk plunged into the tent fabric, then slid slowly down the side. They did this over and over. We suspected they had practiced the technique on a host of other tents over the years.
So I have good memories from Alpine. Still, I’d prefer getting directly on to the big stuff. And now that the trail has opened up, I’m getting a second wind, and I’m eager to go all the way in. It will be well worth a little more fatigue now to have that extra time in paradise.
Starting the Cross-Country Route to Smith Lake… in Thick Brush
When the trail finally does open up, I begin to see what I’m up against. Near the top of the trail, when I’m almost to Alpine Lake, I’m going to be crossing the outlet stream. I need to look for a cairn by a tributary stream right after that, because I’m going to dive into the midst of all that brush and make my way up, up, up, and over this big mountain on my right side.
Smith Lake Trinity Alps Possible Cross-Country Routes Topo Map. (Courtesy of Caltopo.com)
So I’ve crossed the Alpine Lake outlet stream at the first cairn, and now I’m plunging into what looks like a wall of steep brush. But it’s not so bad. I find the cairns to be reasonably well placed and visible through the worst of the brushy area. And if in doubt, or if the brush gets too thick, I can always bail out and ascend in the stream bed. What would happen if it were earlier in the season and the stream was running too fast for that sort of a bail out? Well, in that case, I probably wouldn’t have been able to make the initial crossing of Stuart Fork down below, so it all works out.
There’s a house-sized boulder where I get above the worst of the brush and into the more open, granitic area. From here on up, it is easy enough to see the low spot on the ridge where I will cross over. This is not like boulder hopping through a scree field. The granite is massive on this slope, with steps of ten, twenty, or even thirty feet. So there are frequently places where I need arms as well as legs to scramble up—with my backpack throwing off my center of gravity and my sense of balance.
There are still cairns to follow up here—lots of them, going off in any number of directions. Too many people trying to be helpful. After a while, I just ignore the maze of cairns and point myself toward the low spot on the western horizon, looking for a path I find manageable, and counting on the fact that occasionally I’ll have to retrace my steps and try again elsewhere.
I find a number of good springs in among the boulders, even in August. I had earlier topped off my water bottles at the outlet stream at the start of the cairn trail. But on a sunny day, at this elevation, you really can’t get too much hydration. This icy water, sipped while resting briefly among the phlox and the penstemon and the columbine and the shooting stars surrounding the spring—this is a real treat. And for a moment—in fact, from here on in—the journey becomes as joyous as the destination.
Smith Lake, Morris Lake, Sawtooth Mountain: The First View
Smith Lake, Morris Lake, and Sawtooth Mountain (photo by Tim Sims)
At long last, at around 8000 feet elevation, I top out at the divide. I’ve now climbed a full vertical mile (net, not gross) since the start of the day. But nothing behind me matters at this point. The view in front of me is STUNNING!
A white granite slope (occasionally interrupted by hemlocks and white firs) falls away over a thousand feet down to the lake basin. Smith Lake itself—and Morris Lake, too, though at this angle it is just a sliver—is colored in the deepest, purest of blues. On the far side rises jagged, impossibly steep Sawtooth Mountain, looking like the sort of precipitous mountain slope a child might draw, only this is real. Behind its ridge, in more distant, bluish hues from one valley over, Thompson Peak, Wedding Cake, and Hilton Peak stand side-by-side with snow on their shoulders above the far reaches of the Canyon Creek drainage.
I am overloaded with sensory input. The air up here is so crisp and cool. It feels and smells as though just breathing the air and drinking from these pristine springs, I could find the sustenance to live forever. And there’s this grand sense, perhaps unexplainable to the uninitiated, of being Up—capital U.
Maybe it’s partly chemical: less oxygen in the air, my brain flooded by endorphins from the exercise and adrenaline from the danger spots. Maybe it’s partly the psychology of the aloneness, the self-reliance. Perhaps my emotions are skewed somewhat by my ancestral ties to those ancient hunters looking down from their hilltop onto the savannah. Maybe it’s the purity, the untouched nature, that’s speaking to me. Whatever the precise formula, that addictive up feeling is indescribably wonderful.
No, no, let me try to describe it this way: I feel an unbearable lightness of being. No, wait, how do I describe it without including the scents and the colors from the bouquet of wildflowers growing right here on the divide? And there is so much granite (or, to be more precise, granodiorite or even monzonite), ranging in color from clean white to cool gray to the occasional weathered ecru on the slopes of Sawtooth. And the hundred-mile views! And the lakes themselves, in those sapphire blues!
Words fail.
Smith Lake Beats Grizzly Lake, Upper Canyon Creek Lake, Caribou Basin
Christine and I have long debated the merits of the Trinity Alps destination lakes. Which is our favorite? How can it not be Grizzly Lake, with its cataracts and waterfalls, with its aquamarine waters and the pure white granite visible underwater at great depths? On the other hand, the Caribou Basin is a delightful playground, with so many lake and stream options, and with peaks to climb on every side, and with its amazing sunsets. And let’s not forget Papoose Lake, walled in by its 2000-foot cliffs on three sides. Or Sapphire Lake? Or how about Upper Canyon Creek? Is any place more delightful?
We’re like parents, Mormon parents with lots of kids, debating which child they love the most. (Almost any parent, of course, will deny having a favorite. “We love them all.” All kids know that’s a lie.)
For Christine and me, this debate has continued 16 years, our opinions shifting first this way, then that, depending on which lake our feet are dangling in at the moment. But at this grand vision before me now, I know in an instant: the debate is over.
Smith Lake cliffs border deep, clear, and cold water. (photo by Tim Sims)
I have to traverse a wide snowfield to make my approach. The snowfield is dangerous, as it sits atop a boulder field. Several times my foot breaks through into the airy gap between two rocks. It takes a while. But that’s OK. I have nothing but time in this moment.
Maybe that’s the descriptor I’m looking for. In the rarified air up here, amid this sensation of floating above these paradisiacal images on every side, it feels as though there is more time. As though the universe itself has taken a deep, expanding breath. Not that time slows down, exactly, but that there is more of it, more of what we call life, within any given moment.
All this is rather vague and poetic. I’m certainly not trying to be New Age or to go all Lord Byron here. (I can’t see him hiking at these elevations; he wouldn’t have the shoes for it.) Yet this spiritual experience is why we climb. This is Thoreau’s “sucking all the marrow out of life.” There clearly are these moments in the mountains where the whole seems greater than the sum of its parts: transcendent moments, aesthetic moments, ecstatic moments.
If I were to inventory my body in this moment, I suppose my hips and shoulders would be sore from lugging a 35-pound pack nearly a dozen miles uphill—and my feet would be swelling inside my boots—and I might be a bit dehydrated. The point is, I don’t think about my body, not with what is before me. My mind is flooded (with endorphins?), and I know only joy. Joy as pure and clear and refreshing as the water in those lakes down there.
My work isn’t done. Morris Lake still lies 650 feet below me; Smith Lake is over a thousand foot descent. And I’ll relish every moment of it: running my fingers over the soft hemlock needles as I pass; stopping every fifty feet or so to make that 360-degree spin of world-class views once again; stepping gently so as not to crush either of the two heathers that carpet this slope (one blooming in deep fuchsia with white centers, the other white with scarlet centers); stopping for photos of the 50-foot waterfalls spilling into Smith from the huge granite bench between the two lakes. . . .
Want More of Tim’s Trinity Alps Adventures?
This post and the photos are from a modified version of the first part of the chapter “Smith and Morris Lakes, with Stuart Fork, Alpine Lake, and Sawtooth Peak” from Tim Sims’ book My Trinities: Playing in Northern California’s most spectacular wilderness. (I added sub-headings to help it read better as a blog post.) Tim is an excellent writer who has explored every lake, peak, stream, and meadow in the Trinity Alps Wilderness. His book is not a how-to or where-to guide; rather it is a literary and personal work that every hiker who loves the Trinity Alps should own and read. I highly recommend it!
Look for good campsites at Smith Lake near the outlet, where Bear Gulch drops east to meet Morris Meadows and Stuart Fork. Camping is even better at the many level areas surrounding Morris Lake.
Explore the Wild and Rugged Trinity Alps With This New Map!
The alpine lakes and jagged peaks of the Trinity Alps Wilderness rival the scenery of the High Sierra, without the crowds. This new highly detailed map is perfect for your next backpacking trip or day hike:
Canyon Creek Lakes, Caribou Lake, and all the main destinations
Trails with more solitude in more remote parts of the wilderness
I have been to Smith and Morris Lakes many times beginning in the late 50s when the route from Morris Meadows was still open and very do-able – later from Alpine Lake which, as opposed to Tim’s comments – I find very attractive and well worth an extended visit. As with most popular destinations in the Trinity Alps (and Smith has become one) increased visitation has led to increased abuse by backpacking morons. These are the people who haul it in and leave it behind – the ones who have absolutely no wilderness ethic. In August 2016 I spent 4 days there at the outlet camp where I found this beautiful site absolutely trashed. The place was littered with broken glass (mostly whiskey bottles), aluminum foil, a broken fishing rod, an unusable two man raft, one half of pair of Teva sandals, a broken pair of sunglasses, three C batteries in the fire pit along with lots of melted plastic, a crumpled tent pole and a t-shirt. I gathered it all up and hauled it out. When I got home I weighed the mess and it came in at just over 37 pounds. On a trip in 2012 I was camped in the same spot when 4 college kids from Chico showed up and set up camp on the ledge above the inlet to the lake. One of them had packed in a huge boom box which they proceeded to play at full volume until 3:00 in the morning on their first night. I hate to admit this but when they left camp to hike up to Morris I hurried around the lake, grabbed the boom box and brought it back to my camp where I broke it into garbage sized bits and hauled it out when I left early the next morning. I honestly don’t know what motivates some people to visit the back country… Smith Lake is a jewel and should be treated as such and it’s not just Smith… it’s every conceivable destination in the Alps. It’s too bad there aren’t more patrols in the backcountry with which to hold these people accountable for their actions.
Ken, thank you for being such a good steward of the Trinity Alps backcountry. unfortunately, I have also seen evidence of people behaving badly in the Trinity Alps, including lots of garbage and occasionally loud noise. Once, when I was camped at Grizzly Lake, a group of young people came in with rifles and proceeded to shoot off several hundred rounds.
i am very sorry to see such a detailed and enticing write up of Smith and Morris lakes and exactly how to get there. i think it will bring more and more traffic to the lakes, which will further degrade the area, and esp the camping areas.
i experienced the strangest and wildest freezing rain and hail storm of my 40 years of backpacking while camped up there. The weather came out of a clear, hot day in late July. The storm clouds were ink black, and the downpour lasted 10 hours.
Thompson, I hear you about your concern for beautiful spots like the Smith Lake drainage drawing too many visitors. The general concern about degradation exists everywhere in the backcountry. I’ve chosen to write hiking guidebooks and this blog that encourage people to explore the wilderness, and to do so ethically, but there’s always the chance that my writings will put people out there who don’t respect the natural environment.
I’ve also been caught in heavy summer thunderstorms a few times. Very intense while they happen, and vivid memories for the rest of my life.
I concur with Thompson: Some locations are particularly sensitive, dangerous, and/or subject to a feel of overcrowding from a relatively small number of people. It’s not just an issue of ‘disrespect’: Well-intended people following detailed descriptions cross-country will create a way-trail, damage, litter, and other impacts. Detailed descriptions also degrade the adventure of finding one’s own way. It’s imperative that guide book authors exercise some judgement about what to leave out; it’s not all about making money.
It’s November and I sat down to read and dream about this upcoming summers Trinity alps adventures. Thank you for sharing in vivid detail your experiences. I look forward to making it up to Smith and Morris this summer. Though I have not covered every corner of the alps this is one adventure that crosses my mind every time I’m up in the alps. Thank you.
Sometime back in the middle ’70s I made it to Smith Lake on my second attempt. My first attempt was an ill-fated bushwhack straight up from Morris Meadows. Blistered feet and an encounter with a rattlesnake convinced me to save this one for another time.
My second attempt was via the Alpine Lake route but at that time there were no cairns or any other sign of a preferred route that I recall. It was actually a pretty easy hike from Alpine Lake to Smith Lake especially after hiking from the Canyon Creek trailhead over the ridge to Alpine Lake the previous day. I don’t recall which month it was but Smith Lake was almost completely frozen over. There was a small clear area near the outlet and a larger clear area where the water falls into the lake. I don’t recall any signs of abuse even in that unenlightened age. Being inaccessible to pack stock preserved many places at least for awhile longer. Going out we hiked over the ridge and bushwhacked down to the Canyon Creek trail. Oh, the brush!—don’t do it, just don’t do it!
I have a favorite tiny little meadow in a hidden corner of the Trinity Alps where somebody long ago breached a morraine that had held a small pond. It is inaccessible to pack animals and is far from any established trails. Maybe some day a beaver will appreciate that spot as much as I do and bring the pond back.
I’ve been to Smith Lake from Morris Meadows, Alpine Lake, and L Lake. I tried once from Canyon Creek, but turned back after making a poor route decision.
John, I am preparing for an annual Fall trip to Morris Lake. I was reviewing information and came upon your article. Our first trip from Alpine to Morris many years ago resulted in a tough climb through brush. When we returned from Morris a few days later, we discovered the very old clipped out brushy trail and the very old and trodden upon path. We have always used this trail through the brush on later trips. Once you find this path, the trip to Smith and Morris is really not so bad, in my opinion. It sounds as if you found the path from the dry stream bed long before Alpine Lake. That is the key. The path takes much of the work out of the climb.
Personally, I would rather see the Forest Service maintain and publish such paths, than see all the various attempted routes, degraded plant life, and cairns stacked everywhere from folks just wandering around twenty different paths and routes. I suppose there will always be differing opinions.
We are heading to Smith and Morris next week for the annual October pilgrimage. The long shadows of Fall cast some great light on Sawtooth, Morris, and the “Shark Fin.” The problem with Fall has always been the amount of water one must carry from Stuart Fork to the saddle at the top of the ridge. There is generally no other water this time of year until you get directly below the saddle. There is also that long southerly exposed climb from the Bear Creek junction up the Alpine Lake trail. This can be extremely hot and dry in September and October.
I still consider the backpack to Morris Lake to be a bit easier than the trip to Mirror Lake via China Gulch and Grizzly Lake. Of course, finding that path from the dry stream bed is crucial. (Hint: after a hundred feet on the dry stream bed, “turn right,” plunge in and follow the footpath at your feet and the clipped branches, while the brush towers above you. It is counter intuitive.
Again, great write up. Sorry I missed this a few years ago.
Excellent summary and wonderful site here! I am new to your site, but in the process of researching routes in the Trinity Alps for a backpacking trip this summer.
In late July I plan on coming down from Bend, Oregon to backpack the Trinity Alps with 6 others. Ages will range from 15 to 79. Four are pretty experienced packers, but three are relative newbies. Everyone is in pretty good shape. I am wondering if you have any suggestions for a four to six-day trip given the group description. AM strongly considering a Canyon Creeks Lakes/Boulder Creek Lakes trip, but am wondering if there are any other trips you’d recommend. Also, I see in the above post you mention an L Lake to Smith Lake route. Is that a reasonable route if a few of us who have the experience want to make an attempt, or is it filled with hate and anguish? It looks stunning, but I don’t want to put anyone at risk to get to it. I’d really appreciate your thoughts.
Canyon Creek Lakes drainage is a good bet, although it’s the most popular hike in the Trinity Alps. Right now the trailhead is closed due to damage from a fire last summer, but it should be open by summer (though check first).
L Lake to Smith Lake is dicey, although doable for people that have a lot of experience. I remember one steep section that was scary for me, plus lots of loose talus to climb up/down.
Also consider the Four Lakes Loop, which would allow you to tack on other lakes like Granite, or Emerald and Sapphire. (That’s covered in my 100 Classic Hikes: Northern California book.)
Thanks for the quick reply, John. I’ve got your book and checked out that trip too. Frin descriptions and photos I’ve seen, my completely uneducated opinion was Canyon Creek seemed a bit more scenic. That said, we’ll all have fly rods with us, so the more lakes the better!
I had noticed the fire closure on another site and will check with the local forest service office about that. That brings to mind an additional question: Do you know if the Canyon Creek drainage was significantly impacted by that fire, and will the trail take us through a large burn? (Not necessarily a deal killer, but if a large swath of the drainage is burned, it might be a deciding factor.)
A friend of mine and myself just completed this adventure. Grueling. Very low water year and extreme temperatures made for some very difficult ascending. I glossed over your writings before we embarked on our journey, but sometimes I get more out of it after I have experienced it myself. I have reread your story now that I have experienced it. Great description of your journey. I wish we would have had some water in more places. We did have to pack our own water for much of the ascent.
You didn’t speak of your descent. I assume you went down the way you came in. We decided to try descending Bear Gulch. We pulled it off. It was a little crazy having no literature to feed from, but since I gloss over things anyway and tend to learn on the fly, it probably wouldn’t have changed our decision.
Trail was easier than expected. Needs a little pruning work and a few more cairns but very predictable and passable considering its cross country nature. There is water halfway up to Alpine in a major ravine that intersects the trail and more water in the ravine you climb to get to the saddle when you first see it intersect the trail. Just dive into the ravine and there is a bathtub cistern of fresh water that beats the heck out of that marginal outflow creek water. I love that secret spot so don’t trash it. I rest there for hours before heading further up the ravine through the brush and onto the granite slabs. Anyway, there is fresh water if you know where to look. I was there the last week of September 2020. The place was deserted except for two hunters at Alpine. I am going back on the fourth of July thereabouts in 2021. I want to see the high country with little streamlets and wildflowers. Maybe I will take my Fiskars compound pruners. You may notice my handiwork. I love that trail, the views of Little Granite Peak, the granite slabs, and the view from the high point at the saddle above the lakes. It is epic. The area looks like a spaceport on another planet. Somebody needs to cut a trail up from Upper Canyon Creek Meadows. It would definitely be the fastest and most direct route but it would invite too many up from that area that is already teeming with campers. Best leave it undeveloped on second thought and work on the Alpine Lake route only. Be sure to get water after you make the ford on Stuart Fork at the first spring you cross because it is Last Chance (want Ibcall it) until you make that intersecting ravine halfway up. There is also a very nice campsite there marked by a large cube shaped boulder alongside the trail. Most people are oblivious of the water to be found there. It just doesn’t cross over the trail but rather runs alongside it.
In 1982 a coworker pitched going to Smith Lake. After research I suggested the Morris Meadow route. He said the Canyon Creek route was shorter. I pointed out that when topo lines are almost touching it is very steep. First mistake;I picked the lake. I’ll pick the route. Second mistake; he said he was in great shape and an experienced backpacker. So Canyon Creek to Middle Falls then straight up toward Smith. An insane ascent. You will be taking your packs off and roping them up 30ft. Brushy inclines. Jettisoned heavy items, hatchets. Etc from prior climbers start being seen. 3/4 of the way up my fellow hiker physically begins to break down, knees mostly. Can’t make pass. Camp on trail. Next mistake; I now see my climbing partner is loaded down with two cameras, two long lens, a bottle of wine and some can goods. Next day make lake, camp on south side in trees, just beautiful.. three days later head out. Partner too stoved up to go back the way we came in. Start today Alpine Lake, he’s at half speed. Leave Alpine, down hill then start over trail to Canyon Creek which is where my truck is. He’s down to barely able to walk. I go ahead a quarter mile, drop my pack, return to him, put on his pack, go past my pack. I do piggy back all day. We camp on trail that night. Next day,July 29th was my birthday. Piggy backed his gear to. Trailhead. You can figure the obvious lessons here. Five years later went back to Smith from Morris Meadow, still grueling. Ramhorn
With regard to the PUDs on the Stuart Fork trail: these were necessitated by the massive flooding of 1964. Prior to that, the trail rarely strayed very far from the river. But multiple huge washouts of steep hillsides required a new route–hence the PUDs. My dad and I made the trip in 1965. Occasionally, we’d mistakenly get on the old trail, only to find ourselves at the edge of a cliff and having to retrace our steps to get back on the new trail.
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I have been to Smith and Morris Lakes many times beginning in the late 50s when the route from Morris Meadows was still open and very do-able – later from Alpine Lake which, as opposed to Tim’s comments – I find very attractive and well worth an extended visit. As with most popular destinations in the Trinity Alps (and Smith has become one) increased visitation has led to increased abuse by backpacking morons. These are the people who haul it in and leave it behind – the ones who have absolutely no wilderness ethic. In August 2016 I spent 4 days there at the outlet camp where I found this beautiful site absolutely trashed. The place was littered with broken glass (mostly whiskey bottles), aluminum foil, a broken fishing rod, an unusable two man raft, one half of pair of Teva sandals, a broken pair of sunglasses, three C batteries in the fire pit along with lots of melted plastic, a crumpled tent pole and a t-shirt. I gathered it all up and hauled it out. When I got home I weighed the mess and it came in at just over 37 pounds. On a trip in 2012 I was camped in the same spot when 4 college kids from Chico showed up and set up camp on the ledge above the inlet to the lake. One of them had packed in a huge boom box which they proceeded to play at full volume until 3:00 in the morning on their first night. I hate to admit this but when they left camp to hike up to Morris I hurried around the lake, grabbed the boom box and brought it back to my camp where I broke it into garbage sized bits and hauled it out when I left early the next morning. I honestly don’t know what motivates some people to visit the back country… Smith Lake is a jewel and should be treated as such and it’s not just Smith… it’s every conceivable destination in the Alps. It’s too bad there aren’t more patrols in the backcountry with which to hold these people accountable for their actions.
Ken, thank you for being such a good steward of the Trinity Alps backcountry. unfortunately, I have also seen evidence of people behaving badly in the Trinity Alps, including lots of garbage and occasionally loud noise. Once, when I was camped at Grizzly Lake, a group of young people came in with rifles and proceeded to shoot off several hundred rounds.
i am very sorry to see such a detailed and enticing write up of Smith and Morris lakes and exactly how to get there. i think it will bring more and more traffic to the lakes, which will further degrade the area, and esp the camping areas.
i experienced the strangest and wildest freezing rain and hail storm of my 40 years of backpacking while camped up there. The weather came out of a clear, hot day in late July. The storm clouds were ink black, and the downpour lasted 10 hours.
Thompson, I hear you about your concern for beautiful spots like the Smith Lake drainage drawing too many visitors. The general concern about degradation exists everywhere in the backcountry. I’ve chosen to write hiking guidebooks and this blog that encourage people to explore the wilderness, and to do so ethically, but there’s always the chance that my writings will put people out there who don’t respect the natural environment.
I’ve also been caught in heavy summer thunderstorms a few times. Very intense while they happen, and vivid memories for the rest of my life.
Do not publish routes! Let people that are able figure them out for themselves. Smith Lake will become a trash heap with your help. Shame on you.
In the back country I knock over all cairns I come across. Let people find their own way. Much more enjoyable for them and better for the landscape.
I concur with Thompson: Some locations are particularly sensitive, dangerous, and/or subject to a feel of overcrowding from a relatively small number of people. It’s not just an issue of ‘disrespect’: Well-intended people following detailed descriptions cross-country will create a way-trail, damage, litter, and other impacts. Detailed descriptions also degrade the adventure of finding one’s own way. It’s imperative that guide book authors exercise some judgement about what to leave out; it’s not all about making money.
Thank you for sharing your perspective, Loren. Overall I share your concerns, but probably not to the same degree.
It’s November and I sat down to read and dream about this upcoming summers Trinity alps adventures. Thank you for sharing in vivid detail your experiences. I look forward to making it up to Smith and Morris this summer. Though I have not covered every corner of the alps this is one adventure that crosses my mind every time I’m up in the alps. Thank you.
It’s truly one of the major hiking adventures in the Trinity Alps, and Smith Lake is stunning.
Sometime back in the middle ’70s I made it to Smith Lake on my second attempt. My first attempt was an ill-fated bushwhack straight up from Morris Meadows. Blistered feet and an encounter with a rattlesnake convinced me to save this one for another time.
My second attempt was via the Alpine Lake route but at that time there were no cairns or any other sign of a preferred route that I recall. It was actually a pretty easy hike from Alpine Lake to Smith Lake especially after hiking from the Canyon Creek trailhead over the ridge to Alpine Lake the previous day. I don’t recall which month it was but Smith Lake was almost completely frozen over. There was a small clear area near the outlet and a larger clear area where the water falls into the lake. I don’t recall any signs of abuse even in that unenlightened age. Being inaccessible to pack stock preserved many places at least for awhile longer. Going out we hiked over the ridge and bushwhacked down to the Canyon Creek trail. Oh, the brush!—don’t do it, just don’t do it!
I have a favorite tiny little meadow in a hidden corner of the Trinity Alps where somebody long ago breached a morraine that had held a small pond. It is inaccessible to pack animals and is far from any established trails. Maybe some day a beaver will appreciate that spot as much as I do and bring the pond back.
I’ve been to Smith Lake from Morris Meadows, Alpine Lake, and L Lake. I tried once from Canyon Creek, but turned back after making a poor route decision.
So which route is preferable?
I think the route from Alpine Lake is safest.
John, I am preparing for an annual Fall trip to Morris Lake. I was reviewing information and came upon your article. Our first trip from Alpine to Morris many years ago resulted in a tough climb through brush. When we returned from Morris a few days later, we discovered the very old clipped out brushy trail and the very old and trodden upon path. We have always used this trail through the brush on later trips. Once you find this path, the trip to Smith and Morris is really not so bad, in my opinion. It sounds as if you found the path from the dry stream bed long before Alpine Lake. That is the key. The path takes much of the work out of the climb.
Personally, I would rather see the Forest Service maintain and publish such paths, than see all the various attempted routes, degraded plant life, and cairns stacked everywhere from folks just wandering around twenty different paths and routes. I suppose there will always be differing opinions.
We are heading to Smith and Morris next week for the annual October pilgrimage. The long shadows of Fall cast some great light on Sawtooth, Morris, and the “Shark Fin.” The problem with Fall has always been the amount of water one must carry from Stuart Fork to the saddle at the top of the ridge. There is generally no other water this time of year until you get directly below the saddle. There is also that long southerly exposed climb from the Bear Creek junction up the Alpine Lake trail. This can be extremely hot and dry in September and October.
I still consider the backpack to Morris Lake to be a bit easier than the trip to Mirror Lake via China Gulch and Grizzly Lake. Of course, finding that path from the dry stream bed is crucial. (Hint: after a hundred feet on the dry stream bed, “turn right,” plunge in and follow the footpath at your feet and the clipped branches, while the brush towers above you. It is counter intuitive.
Again, great write up. Sorry I missed this a few years ago.
Thanks for the excellent and detailed advice Tim; this is very useful!
I’m sure you’ll have a great time — and likely have it all to yourself.
Hey John.
Excellent summary and wonderful site here! I am new to your site, but in the process of researching routes in the Trinity Alps for a backpacking trip this summer.
In late July I plan on coming down from Bend, Oregon to backpack the Trinity Alps with 6 others. Ages will range from 15 to 79. Four are pretty experienced packers, but three are relative newbies. Everyone is in pretty good shape. I am wondering if you have any suggestions for a four to six-day trip given the group description. AM strongly considering a Canyon Creeks Lakes/Boulder Creek Lakes trip, but am wondering if there are any other trips you’d recommend. Also, I see in the above post you mention an L Lake to Smith Lake route. Is that a reasonable route if a few of us who have the experience want to make an attempt, or is it filled with hate and anguish? It looks stunning, but I don’t want to put anyone at risk to get to it. I’d really appreciate your thoughts.
Canyon Creek Lakes drainage is a good bet, although it’s the most popular hike in the Trinity Alps. Right now the trailhead is closed due to damage from a fire last summer, but it should be open by summer (though check first).
L Lake to Smith Lake is dicey, although doable for people that have a lot of experience. I remember one steep section that was scary for me, plus lots of loose talus to climb up/down.
Also consider the Four Lakes Loop, which would allow you to tack on other lakes like Granite, or Emerald and Sapphire. (That’s covered in my 100 Classic Hikes: Northern California book.)
Thanks for the quick reply, John. I’ve got your book and checked out that trip too. Frin descriptions and photos I’ve seen, my completely uneducated opinion was Canyon Creek seemed a bit more scenic. That said, we’ll all have fly rods with us, so the more lakes the better!
I had noticed the fire closure on another site and will check with the local forest service office about that. That brings to mind an additional question: Do you know if the Canyon Creek drainage was significantly impacted by that fire, and will the trail take us through a large burn? (Not necessarily a deal killer, but if a large swath of the drainage is burned, it might be a deciding factor.)
I think it only burned on one side of the drainage and that most of the drainage was not burned.
FYI: this is a good source of info on the Trinity Alps:
https://www.facebook.com/trinityalpswilderness1984/
A friend of mine and myself just completed this adventure. Grueling. Very low water year and extreme temperatures made for some very difficult ascending. I glossed over your writings before we embarked on our journey, but sometimes I get more out of it after I have experienced it myself. I have reread your story now that I have experienced it. Great description of your journey. I wish we would have had some water in more places. We did have to pack our own water for much of the ascent.
You didn’t speak of your descent. I assume you went down the way you came in. We decided to try descending Bear Gulch. We pulled it off. It was a little crazy having no literature to feed from, but since I gloss over things anyway and tend to learn on the fly, it probably wouldn’t have changed our decision.
You are correct. Unreal place!
Trail was easier than expected. Needs a little pruning work and a few more cairns but very predictable and passable considering its cross country nature. There is water halfway up to Alpine in a major ravine that intersects the trail and more water in the ravine you climb to get to the saddle when you first see it intersect the trail. Just dive into the ravine and there is a bathtub cistern of fresh water that beats the heck out of that marginal outflow creek water. I love that secret spot so don’t trash it. I rest there for hours before heading further up the ravine through the brush and onto the granite slabs. Anyway, there is fresh water if you know where to look. I was there the last week of September 2020. The place was deserted except for two hunters at Alpine. I am going back on the fourth of July thereabouts in 2021. I want to see the high country with little streamlets and wildflowers. Maybe I will take my Fiskars compound pruners. You may notice my handiwork. I love that trail, the views of Little Granite Peak, the granite slabs, and the view from the high point at the saddle above the lakes. It is epic. The area looks like a spaceport on another planet. Somebody needs to cut a trail up from Upper Canyon Creek Meadows. It would definitely be the fastest and most direct route but it would invite too many up from that area that is already teeming with campers. Best leave it undeveloped on second thought and work on the Alpine Lake route only. Be sure to get water after you make the ford on Stuart Fork at the first spring you cross because it is Last Chance (want Ibcall it) until you make that intersecting ravine halfway up. There is also a very nice campsite there marked by a large cube shaped boulder alongside the trail. Most people are oblivious of the water to be found there. It just doesn’t cross over the trail but rather runs alongside it.
In 1982 a coworker pitched going to Smith Lake. After research I suggested the Morris Meadow route. He said the Canyon Creek route was shorter. I pointed out that when topo lines are almost touching it is very steep. First mistake;I picked the lake. I’ll pick the route. Second mistake; he said he was in great shape and an experienced backpacker. So Canyon Creek to Middle Falls then straight up toward Smith. An insane ascent. You will be taking your packs off and roping them up 30ft. Brushy inclines. Jettisoned heavy items, hatchets. Etc from prior climbers start being seen. 3/4 of the way up my fellow hiker physically begins to break down, knees mostly. Can’t make pass. Camp on trail. Next mistake; I now see my climbing partner is loaded down with two cameras, two long lens, a bottle of wine and some can goods. Next day make lake, camp on south side in trees, just beautiful.. three days later head out. Partner too stoved up to go back the way we came in. Start today Alpine Lake, he’s at half speed. Leave Alpine, down hill then start over trail to Canyon Creek which is where my truck is. He’s down to barely able to walk. I go ahead a quarter mile, drop my pack, return to him, put on his pack, go past my pack. I do piggy back all day. We camp on trail that night. Next day,July 29th was my birthday. Piggy backed his gear to. Trailhead. You can figure the obvious lessons here. Five years later went back to Smith from Morris Meadow, still grueling. Ramhorn
Wow, Ramhorn, that was quite the adventure, and a grueling one at that. I tried to hike solo from Canyon Creek to Smith and got stopped at a cliff.
I’ve also carried others’ packs a couple of times, including for a friend who’d hurt his knee.
With regard to the PUDs on the Stuart Fork trail: these were necessitated by the massive flooding of 1964. Prior to that, the trail rarely strayed very far from the river. But multiple huge washouts of steep hillsides required a new route–hence the PUDs. My dad and I made the trip in 1965. Occasionally, we’d mistakenly get on the old trail, only to find ourselves at the edge of a cliff and having to retrace our steps to get back on the new trail.