Kern Peak, Golden Trout Wilderness (SPS)

Obscure and enigmatic, Kern Peak looms over the southern portion of the SPS list for its sheer inaccessibility. It sits smack dab in the center of the Golden Trout Wilderness, due west of such touchstones as Olancha and Cartago Peak. It gets climbed but a fraction as often as these, however, for it is entirely hidden from either the eastern or western flanks of the range (though keen eyes can spot it from the summit of Mount Whitney.) 

We hiked Kern Peak in June, which is slightly late in the season for such low terrain, and we paid for it dearly during a couple sweltering hours before gaining elevation. 

After boondocking on Blackrock Road, we set out at 4AM by headlamp along the Casa Vieja trail, which drops 600 feet to the similarly-titled Casa Vieja Meadow. These 600 feet of descent, which felt harmless in the cool of the morning, would be downright brutal on our return. We crossed Ninemile Creek and passed a group of backpackers who had set up camp beside the water before making our way along a seemingly interminable series of meadows. Each was more scenic than the last, and colorfully named: Beer Keg Meadow (falsely advertised, alas); Bog Hole Meadow; Redrocks Meadow. The going was lush and damp, with numerous water sources arising in the form of creeks and seeps and springs.

We opted for a more gradual ascent by trending east along the Redrock-to-Templeton Meadow Trail, where at last we caught sight of our objective. Setting off cross-country, we negotiated a wide boulder field and gained the spine of Kern Peak itself. There was a bit of heavy breathing as we ascended to the summit, where a shattered bridge no longer offered safe passage over a relatively harmless gap. We hopped across and enjoyed views to all directions. I celebrated our ascent with some questionable cheese while Jason slurped down a handful of sport gels. We descended by a picturesque route, hiking south along the ridge until forced to drop into the swale of Redrock Meadows to rejoin the trail. Jason had aspirations to climb Indian Head—a singular knob of ochre rock—which I promptly disabused him of. 

On the pleasant slog back, wildflowers abounded: Yellow goatsbeard, wild geranium, snowflower and mountain bluebell. The miles flew by—outside of that final 600 feet of gain—and on reflection we both agreed the day was unexpectedly pleasant.

All 27 miles of it.