Benson Lake and Matterhorn Canyon Loop
TRAIL USE
Backpack, Horse
LENGTH
50.3 miles
(over 4–7 days)
VERTICAL FEET
±10,550'
DIFFICULTY
TRAIL TYPE
Balloon
FEATURES
Canyon
Lake
Stream
Autumn Colors
Wildflowers
Great Views
Camping
Swimming
Secluded
Steep
Granite Slabs
Geological Interest
FACILITIES
Resort
Water
Campgrounds
Horse Staging
The vast lands of northern Yosemite cannot be reached on a weekend walk, because here the most sought-after destinations are all 15 miles or more from the trailhead. This loop takes you past many highlights of the area, introducing you to granite-ringed lakes; endless meadows; sharp-pointed ridges; and long, linear, U-shaped valleys scoured by glaciers. The well-traveled Pacific Crest Trail shares your route for a third of the distance, and indeed all the trails described receive reasonable traffic during the summer months, but you’ve nonetheless disappeared far into the wilderness.
Permits
Overnight visitors require a wilderness permit for the Robinson Creek Trailhead, issued by Humboldt–Toiyabe National Forest. Pick up your permit at the Bridgeport Ranger Station.
Maps
This trail is covered by the Tom Harrison Hoover Wilderness Region map (1:63,360 scale), the National Geographic Trails Illustrated #308 Yosemite NE map (1:40,000 scale), and the USGS 7.5-minute series Buckeye Ridge, Matterhorn Peak, and Piute Mountain maps (1:24,000 scale).
Best Time
Late July–mid-September is the best window for this walk. Northern Yosemite—with its abundant lakes, tarns, and meadows—is a mosquito haven, and the landscape cannot be fully appreciated if you feel unable to sit down and relax in your surroundings—especially on such a long trip. The mosquitoes start to wane in late July, and August is idyllic, with the large lakes warm enough for a swim.
By mid-September, temperatures drop and days are shorter. There are still a number of hikers completing long hikes, but it is wise to watch the weather forecast and ensure an early-fall snowstorm does not take you by surprise.
Finding the Trail
From US 395 near the northwest side of Bridgeport, take paved Twin Lakes Road southwest 13.6 miles to the entrance of Mono Village at the west end of upper Twin Lake.
The trailhead is at road’s end in Mono Village, a private resort and campground. Overnight users must pay to park their cars here—drive about 0.1 mile past the day-use parking area where you first turn into the Mono Village complex to the overnight parking lot, located farther south along the lake’s shore. Then visit the obvious campground entrance kiosk and pay $10 per trip, regardless if it is one night’s parking or many. Water and toilets are present throughout the campground.
Trail Description
You begin in Mono Village, ▶1 a private resort with cabins and a campground at the head of upper Twin Lake. Distances are measured from the campground’s entrance booth, from which two main roads depart—either works, but the right (more northerly) option is slightly more direct, and after about 0.2 mile you reach the western end of the campground. The trail now skirts a meadow’s edge as your route, a closed road, starts upcanyon. At the 0.5-mile mark ▶2 the road veers left (south) across Robinson Creek on a bridge, and a sign marks the start of the Robinson Creek Trail; you follow the trail right. After walking west a couple of minutes, you pass low granitic outcrops, and just beyond them is a bulletin board with information on the area. The first part of your hike is open forest, dominated by Jeffrey pines on the dry slopes and aspens on wetter soils, particularly near unseen Robinson Creek. Less common trees include Fremont cottonwood and western juniper, both becoming more abundant upcanyon.
After crossing a stream chortling down from the basin between Victoria and Eagle Peaks, the trail winds gently up through more open terrain with sparse conifers, sagebrush, and bitterbrush, giving you your first unbroken views of the beautifully U-shaped glacial valley—the valley bottom is nearly flat, abruptly truncated to either side by steep valley walls, cascading watercourses, and sharp-tipped peaks. As your path continues on a westward course, the floor supports increasing numbers of mule ears and diminishing numbers of arrowleaf balsamroots, two large sunflowers whose names indicate the difference in their leaf shape. The pleasant amble leads to a welcome patch of shade beneath white fir cover (2.8 miles). ▶3 This is a good spot to stop for a drink and rest beside tumbling Robinson Creek before launching into the climb ahead.
The trail up the canyon headwall ascends a dozen well-graded but rocky switchbacks that lead north through head-high jungles of shrubs, staying always within earshot of unseen Robinson Creek. Above the switchbacks, the track is often wet, as water from springs dribbles along the trail, sustaining the abundant wildflowers that will distract you in summer. You continue up the gradual incline, often only a few steps from the bubbling creek’s edge, and soon find yourself in a stunningly dense aspen forest. The ever-fluttering yellow and orange leaves will astound your senses in fall as you walk down the golden tunnel. Soon after stepping across a tributary draining Little Lake to the west, you reach the north end of a large flat that extends to the shore of Barney Lake (4.1 miles). ▶4 The lodgepole forest here is littered with campsites, with an additional selection of sites to the southeast of the creek (crossed on a large logjam just downstream of the lake’s outlet) on a flat behind a granitic mass at the lake’s northeast corner. Barney Lake’s north shore has a sandy beach—growing gradually larger as water levels drop in late summer and into fall—a fine spot for a lunch break and perfect after a swim.
The western shoreline, which your trail follows, is a dry talus slope mixed with glacial debris. After rounding the base of a steep escarpment, a pair of switchbacks elevate the trail some 100 feet above Barney Lake’s inlet. In sections the walking is fast, while elsewhere, protruding rocks break your stride. Once past Barney Lake, your gaze is drawn to the domain of industrious beavers, the marshy meadow upstream of the lake. This was once a lake itself and is slowly filling with sediment. Eventually you descend several short switchbacks; wind through broken rock, past avalanche-twisted aspens, and over two freshets draining Cirque Mountain; and slowly descend back to creek level. Beyond a small campsite to the southwest of the path, the trail crosses Robinson Creek (5.15 miles), ▶5 a wet ford in early summer or a rock hop by midsummer.
From the far bank, you climb easily south above the riverbank through a mix of red fir and lodgepole pine. The trail soon leads back to the west bank of Robinson Creek, which you cross on rocks or (currently) a downed log; this crossing can be a wade and requires full attention at high flows—occasionally it can even be quite dangerous. Next the trail crosses the smaller cascading stream from Peeler Lake. Ahead lies a dry glacial till–covered slope, which you ascend via a long series of notably gentle switchbacks. Beyond you level off momentarily for a breather before darting north for a steeper ascent. The vistas east, to rough, ice-fractured outcrops of Kettle Peak, offer good excuses to stop frequently on this energetic climb. With increasing altitude, mountain hemlock, immediately identified by its drooping branch tips, now joins the mix of conifers on the cooler, more shaded aspects. Eventually you come to a small saddle at 9,185 feet and a trail junction (6.75 miles). ▶6 The left (southerly) fork is a trail bound for the Robinson Lakes, Rock Island Pass, and Slide Canyon and is the route on which you will return, while now you turn northwest (right) to Peeler Lake.
Walking moderately up in mixed open forest, cross the Peeler Lake outlet creek twice, and then switchback south up into a narrow gully. The wind can pick up as you ascend the gully, a sure sign that you’re nearing the ridgetop. The final stretch is along a magical little shelf above the Peeler Lake outlet creek, replete with a collection of picturesque mountain hemlocks. Just as you sense the lakeshore is imminent, a spur trail leads left (south) to a collection of campsites on the lake’s still unseen eastern shore (7.5 miles). ▶7 Continuing on the main trail, 9,489-foot Peeler Lake’s often windswept waters suddenly come into view, backdropped by rounded Acker and Wells Peaks in the west. A short descent leads you to—and then through—car-size granodiorite blocks that dam the lake’s outlet and beyond to the dynamited trail tread on the north shore of Peeler Lake. The trail now undulates along the lakeshore, climbing and descending repeatedly to bypass small bluffs. The largest campsite is located in a forest pocket right along the north shore. At the lake’s northwestern corner, you cross into Yosemite National Park and continue west toward Kerrick Meadow. Note that a number of areas are off-limits to camping along the lake’s west shore.
The descent to Kerrick Meadow is pleasant, strolling in and out of lodgepole stands, across short stretches with slabs, and past fingers of meadow, all the while following alongside Peeler Lake’s westerly outlet creek; yes, that’s right, perched atop a ridge, water drains both east and west from Peeler Lake during high runoff. Your grade slowly lessens, and the line of lodgepole forest retreats to the north and the meadow pockets coalesce into a verdant cover of grass and dwarf bilberry as you slowly enter Kerrick Meadow. Though meadows dominate along the trail, heading north can yield some campsites on forested shelves and among small patches of slab—Kerrick Meadow is almost continually vegetated, making it off-limits to camping. Ahead you reach a junction where right (north) leads to Buckeye Pass, while you turn left (south) and cross Kerrick Meadow (8.8 miles). ▶8
Kerrick Meadow
Though limited in camping opportunities to a few small sandy spots atop knobs, Kerrick Meadow is a stunning location, and following the trail through the middle of the meadow is especially picturesque in the early morning or late afternoon sun. Both tarns and small rocky outcrops add dimension to the meadow; the slightly elevated meadow patches turn yellow in late summer, while the depressions remain a bright green. As you stroll along, likely distracted by Belding’s ground squirrels or marmots, dwarf bilberry, a heath species with small leathery leaves, continues to form a near-continuous mat at the meadow’s edge. At the south end of the meadow you reach another junction, where left leads to Rock Island Pass, while you continue right in the direction of Benson Lake (10.2 miles). ▶9
Beyond the junction the meadow narrows and the gradient steepens as you drop down through open lodgepole forest to reach a second, even longer meadow with Rancheria Creek meandering down its middle. The landscape here is drier than Kerrick Meadow, and as you walk along the sandy trail, you note that grass is less ubiquitous here, affording more opportunities to find campsites at the meadow’s edge or atop shallow sandy knobs. Sandpipers, always seeming out of place in a subalpine setting, ply the sandbanks flanking the river for a meal. Your views now extend south to dark-colored Piute Mountain, around whose eastern base the trail will pass. After more than 30 minutes of walking, the meadow pinches to a close (12.1 miles). ▶10 If you were to cross the creek here—only a pleasant and safe endeavor after the main snowmelt flush has subsided—you would find a tributary creek that leads 0.6 mile south-southeast to Arndt Lake. Less visited than the trailside lakes, its slab-encrusted shores offer some good campsites.
Rancheria Creek now becomes a broken gorge, and we drop rockily down, walking on gravelly benches, only to strike another sandy meadow, this one with a flanking cluster of steep domes, some with black water stains and a striking red weathering patina. Walking through here the landscape feels not that different from the striking domes ringing Tenaya Lake, except that you are many miles from a road. As before, a little searching yields some camping choices. Dropping again you reach yet another expanse of meadow, in the middle of which you cross Rancheria Creek, a broad sandy wade in all but the driest conditions. Presently a master joint in the bedrock directs Rancheria Creek briefly east, and we follow its splashing course down over broken, porphyritic (large-crystaled) bedrock slabs, then back west on another master joint along shaded slopes to a junction with the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) (14.95 miles). ▶11 Your route heads left, toward Seavey Pass and Benson Lake, while right leads down Kerrick Canyon toward Wilma Lake.
In comparison to the quick-paced meadow walking over the past 6 miles, the 8 miles along the PCT from now until Smedberg Lake are notoriously slow going—they have achieved an unfortunately negative reputation among PCT hikers, frustrated that they have to reduce their daily mileage through northern Yosemite. Instead, plan ahead, and accept that the continuous ups and downs for the coming miles will reduce your walking speed. Not only is the terrain never flat, but you are also winding between domes, descending gravelly slopes, and stepping over embedded rocks, and your stride is simply continually broken. Such is the dome country of northern Yosemite, especially as the trail cuts across the landscape from one river drainage to another, from Rancheria Creek to Piute Creek (flowing into Benson Lake) to Matterhorn Creek. At higher elevations—that is, where you just were—are the long, linear valleys for which northern Yosemite is so celebrated; you will encounter these again as you ascend Matterhorn Canyon and descend Slide Canyon, but at the middle elevations, travel is more cumbersome.
Back to the route—heading uphill for the first time in many miles, you switchback up a steep slope bedecked with mountain hemlocks to a little passageway nestled between two domes. The trail bends slightly left to reach a cluster of small tarns, while straight ahead lies a lake with some camping options on its western side. Other camping options present themselves near the tarns, especially for hikers with small tents keen to spend the night in a patch of sand atop one of the view-rich domes. Winding along past small wildflower patches and between slabs, you cross Seavey Pass (15.75 miles) ▶12 and begin your descent. Gradual at first, you continue along a high shelf cradling additional lakes, all with slabs extending to their shores. No large campsites present themselves, but a small group will most certainly locate a flat, sandy patch to plop their tent—note that several of the lakes, including one below and west of the trail, have larger flat areas near their inlets. Scooting past the last in the series of lakes, the trail begins to descend more seriously on short switchbacks descending a steep, sheltered draw with lodgepoles and hemlocks.
The grade abruptly ends at a meadow at the imposing eastern base of Piute Mountain as the trail bends south (17.0 miles) to follow a tributary toward Piute Creek. Excepting brief forested glades, the trail diligently descends a dry slope of pine-mat manzanita and huckleberry oak, growing atop a mixture of light-colored granite and darker metamorphic rocks. Rounding a corner, you see Benson Lake ahead. Your trail eventually reaches the valley bottom, and after a short, flat stretch through lush forest, you reach a junction with a spur trail that leads to the lake’s shore (18.55 miles). ▶13
Though not included in the mileage, a side trip to Benson Lake is hardly optional—this is one of the more remote lakes to which every Yosemite lover makes a pilgrimage. The 0.4-mile spur trail leads through nearly flat, lush forest of white fir, lodgepole pine, and the occasional aspen. To your side is Piute Creek, a gushing torrent in early summer, transforming to a lazy trickle with big sandbars by early fall. Just beyond, you reach the famous Benson Lake beach. The entire northeast shore is an open sandy bank, growing even wider as the lake’s water level drops in late summer. Being relatively low-elevation, Benson Lake is remarkably warm for swimming, or you can simply bury your feet in the warm sand while staring across the expanse of water and the dark cliffs descending from Piute Mountain. You will find campsites at the back of the beach or in the forest at the far northeastern tip of the lake.
Back to the PCT, you quickly reach Piute Creek, just where two forks merge, both of which you cross independently on fallen logs. Should these logs be missing, this is a dangerous crossing in early summer, potentially requiring a retreat to quite deep but calmer waters near Benson Lake’s shore. Now begins a long uphill along the banks of the Smedberg Lake outlet creek—more of a raging stream in early summer. Crossing over a rocky knob, with a possible campsite perched atop, you cross the creek on rocks and head up a dry slope, again a mixture of granite and metamorphic rocks. You note occasional junipers decorating exposed knobs and small clusters of lodgepoles or hemlock growing in flatter patches as you keep climbing slabs and through gravelly channels between outcrops. Crossing the creek again, you briefly enter a wet glade with possible campsites, and then revert back to dry, rocky terrain beside the cascading river. Passing a small tarn, you spy a headwall ahead, down which tumbles a small waterfall (20.75 miles). ▶14 Here you must again cross the creek, almost always a wade and a difficult one at high flow; head a little upstream of the trail for the best options.
The trail’s gradient now increases, and you quite rapidly climb 700 feet via steep, tight switchbacks; thankfully the walking is on soft forest floor beneath cool hemlock cover. Soon after the ascent eases you reach your first trail junction in many miles, where right leads down Rodgers Canyon toward Pate Valley, while you turn left, toward Smedberg Lake (21.45 miles). ▶15 If it is nearing nightfall, one option for camping is to head an easy 0.5 mile south along the Rodgers Canyon trail toward Murdock Lake, where you will find quiet campsites to the south of the lake, with Volunteer Peak reflected in the shallows. Following our route along a lovely lodgepole pine and hemlock shelf, dwarf bilberry carpeting across the forest floor, the trail quite soon leads to another junction, where straight ahead leads to Smedberg Lake, while a right turn heads over a pass to Rodgers Lake, a longer detour to campsites (21.75 miles). ▶16
Continuing on toward Smedberg Lake, you wind along forested shelves and between narrow passageways in the pervading slabs and bluffs, all the while circumnavigating the base of near-vertical Volunteer Peak. Though vertical fractures adorn its face, the minimal talus at the peak’s base attests to the rocks’ integrity. Climbing again, admire the views west to massive Piute Mountain, Benson Lake visible at its foot. Stripes of trees across the landscape indicate where wide-scale fractures in the rock have allowed deeper soils to accumulate. Soon you crest a small pass and begin your final descent to Smedberg Lake. Small single-tent sites present themselves in sandy patches among the slabs as you descend, or as soon as you reach the lake, turn left to find abundant campsites along the lake’s western edge (22.8 miles). ▶17 The campsites surrounding Smedberg Lake are well filled most midsummer nights and understandably so because this lake’s location is strikingly beautiful; you may feel differently in early July, as I once did, when, having forgotten mosquito repellent, I walked past the lake without pause, desperate to part ways with the swarms of mosquitoes.
The landscape is now larger scale again, lacking the intricate slab passageways that defined the last many miles of trail, and the walking is correspondingly faster. Passing Smedberg Lake and some smaller campsites on slabs and in small lodgepole stands around its southern and southeastern edges, you climb gradually alongside meadows and then more steeply as you trend toward Benson Pass. You mount a series of sand-and-slab benches. The rock here is predominately granite with large crystals—note the giant rectangular feldspar crystals in some outcrops—decomposing to a coarse-grained soil that creates a decidedly slippery walking surface atop underlying slabs. The gradient eases as you pass through a broad meadow, drying early and covered with lupines in late summer. It segues to a narrow, sandy gully that you ascend. Though unmarked on maps, this channel has water in it late into the summer. At its head the trail sidles south across a steep, gravelly slope, leading to the flat summit of Benson Pass (24.9 miles). ▶18
Continuing east, the trail descends through more slippery decomposing granite and then skirts north above a broad, often dry meadow landscape. A few camping options present themselves at the meadow’s edge. The topography again steepens, and while the trail descends steep switchbacks, the creek pours down a narrow slot in rocks. Below you reach a small meadow opening ringed by lodgepole pines and then the shores of Wilson Creek, marking the halfway point in your loop (25.95 miles). ▶19 In the nearby lodgepole stands, you will find several campsites along the west side of the crossing.
Granite slabs and pools along Wilson Creek
Crossing the creek atop logs or rocks, the trail now turns southeast to begin a 2-mile descent to Matterhorn Canyon. Each time I walk the length of this creek, my thoughts are immediately drawn to the massive scars down both canyon walls, a testament to the tremendous avalanches that tear down these slopes. The trees lay flattened, all pointing away from the flow of snow, meaning uphill directed trees were knocked down by slides that crossed the creek and flowed up the other side. Only beneath steep cliffs do mature forests persist because the cliffs slough snow continually, never letting it accumulate enough thickness for a more destructive slide. The beautiful slabs lining the creek also demand your attention, especially if your feet need a soak as you bask on the smooth, sunny rocks for lunch. Camping is limited on this descent to a few small forested shelves overlooking the stream. Toward the bottom of the straightaway, topography dictates that the trail twice crosses the creek, on rocks or downed logs, depending on water depth. Soon beyond the second crossing, the trail sidles away from Wilson Creek, leading you onto steep bluffs, where gnarled juniper trees clasp at small soil pockets, and your rocky route switchbacks steeply down among them. You are now staring at the lower reaches of Matterhorn Canyon, and quite soon your trail diverges for good from the banks of Wilson Creek, reaching the relative flat of the canyon floor (28.1 miles). ▶20
Now begins a long uphill as you walk the 7-mile length of Matterhorn Canyon to Burro Pass at its head. Excepting the final mile, the gradient is never steep. Surprising to me is how few campsites exist, especially during the upper miles: like many of northern Yosemite’s canyons, the floor of Matterhorn Canyon is very wet, as endless seeps ooze water where the steep walls flatten. This means that for long stretches, you must search for small, flat, generally tree-covered knobs to make your home. But for this first stretch, campsites are everywhere. You are traipsing well west of Matterhorn Creek through flat lodgepole pine forests and will find an acceptable tent site just about anywhere you wish. Emerging into an open meadow, you reach a broad crossing of Matterhorn Creek, a wade in all but the lowest of flows and a wade over rounded boulders requiring caution at peak runoff, and just beyond reach a junction where you part ways with the PCT (29.3 miles). ▶21
Turning left and walking up along the stream’s eastern bank, your route is mostly within lodgepole pine forest, occasionally trending into small meadow patches. The vegetation is mostly quite lush—grass grows beneath the lodgepole pine forests and the meadows are thick with color: a dense patch of tall purple delphinium in one place; corn lilies in marshier locales; Sierra tiger lilies along the banks of tributaries; and sagebrush on a dry, sandy knob. Crossing to the west bank of the creek, on rocks or wading at high flows (30.55 miles), ▶22 you traipse briefly along a narrower shelf above the creek and drop back to the creek to ford it again in the middle of a meadow. This time you cross on a series of rocks that only emerges at low water and otherwise have a long, broad wade. Back on the stream’s eastern bank, the forest starts to thin as you approach the 9,000-foot mark. Your eyes are drawn upward to the steep eastern wall of Quarry Peak and the bright-white talus blocks that lie at its base. This stretch of Matterhorn Canyon is undeniably U-shaped, but while scoured clean and deepened by the glaciers, its orientation was achieved long before the ice fields covered the landscape. The sandy flats along this stretch of trail are the last guaranteed campsites for a large group as you head upward; from here until you cross Burro Pass, there are only a few sites with space for more than two tents. With the creek continuing to bubble by your side, you pass scattered stands of lodgepole pine and hemlock, cross sandy patches, and eventually cross Matterhorn Creek for the fourth time (31.8 miles). ▶23
About now you leave forest cover for good, marching upward along a meadow corridor. A small waterfall descends the slabs overhead. Evidence of endless avalanches partially explains the general lack of forest stands. The abundant moisture contributes as well—conifer species do not establish in locations where their roots are wet most of the summer growing season. This combination of factors gives the landscape a decidedly alpine feel, even though you are just above 9,000 feet, just barely higher than lodgepole-clad Tuolumne Meadows. Rounding one corner, the sharp-tipped Finger Peaks come into view, and then around the next bend, Sawtooth Ridge and Burro Pass are visible to the east. A drier patch of landscape affords some camping options in sandy patches, but it is soon marshy again from the endless springs at the cliff’s base. With continued walking, the view becomes ever more dramatic. Whorl Peak, soon due east of the trail, demands ever more attention. Excepting a few particularly marshy areas, the walking is quite easy, with few rocks to break your stride. Belding’s ground squirrels stand at attention throughout the meadows. I love watching the youngsters during the first weeks they are allowed to explore outside their burrows. Their juvenile curiosity almost gets the better of them as they stare at you approaching—then suddenly the instinct to escape overwhelms them and they race for their burrows, sometimes tripping themselves as they race forward and stare backward all at once.
Almost imperceptibly the slope increases, but at some point, around the 34-mile mark, it is noticeably steep, first continuing its due-north trajectory and then bending more eastward. Climbing through meadows and past little seeps, you soon begin an ascending traverse across the base of the Finger Peaks toward Burro Pass. The plants dwindle in height, while polished slabs and large boulders become more prominent—or maybe, you are just staring at the stunning granite summits that ring your location. Passing a few small sandy one-tent campsites that entice those wishing to spend their night with this vista, you soon find yourself climbing the first switchbacks since you entered Matterhorn Canyon. They lead purposefully to the summit of Burro Pass, where you will undoubtedly take a well-earned break (35.4 miles). ▶24 The view from here is stunning, especially north to Sawtooth Ridge. A few moments of staring at the odd-shaped protrusions and pinnacles on the skyline, and one immediately comprehends the inventive names assigned to these features: the Dragtooth, the Doodad, Three Teeth, and Cleaver Peak.
The north side of Burro Pass holds snow long into the summer season, so take care as you descend the uppermost switchbacks—my most recent crossing was in early August of a low snow year and there was still a patch of snow to navigate. Soon on flatter terrain, you begin your descent of upper Slide Canyon, walking through flower-filled wet meadow environments and across slabs, Sawtooth Ridge always looming over your right shoulder. White mountain heather with bell-shaped flowers, light purple alpine shooting stars, and orange-red-colored Peirson’s paintbrush are three of the most ubiquitous companions. Two small tarns lie on a shelf southwest of the trail, providing beautiful alpine campsites (albeit poor swimming choices), and are easily reached with a short detour off the trail. The trail is steep, rocky, and incised, dictating a slow pace as you pick your steps carefully. Continuing down, you pass occasional small campsites, eventually crossing the nascent Piute Creek. About here are your last uninterrupted views of the Sawtooth skyline, should that be a prerequisite for your campsite’s location. You skirt a large, often marshy meadow and depart into the first continuous lodgepole pine forest you have encountered in many miles.
Sawtooth Ridge from the summit of Burro Pass
The going is pleasant as you continue downstream. Though still mostly a narrow trail, it is less eroded once under forest cover. Beautifully glacial-polished slabs glisten beside the trail, several with sandy flats at their centers that make enticing campsites. Piute Creek is a little to your south but easily within reach to fetch water. As you’re walking down, look regularly ahead and to the left, where Slide Canyon bends southward—your route will diverge to the right by this point, but you should glean glimpses of a monumental rockslide that scarred the side of Slide Mountain, burying Slide Canyon under 2.5 million cubic yards of rocks. Some boulders rolled 200 feet up the east side of the canyon. This stretch of trail is also noteworthy for the tangles of downed logs, the aftermath of windstorms. A few last mediocre camping options present themselves to the south of the trail just before you reach the trail’s low point in Slide Canyon (38.05 miles). ▶25
Climbing steadily through dry, open lodgepole pine forest, the trail first traverses up and left before completing six switchbacks. These lead toward a creek, which you follow upward through an increasingly open landscape, emerging into a finger of meadow before stepping across the creek. How quickly you find yourself back in an alpine environment always astonishes me—and in a lovely patch of meadow surrounded by flat slabs and sandy patches; camping options exist with a little snooping away from the trail and meadow corridor.
The trail meanwhile cuts west across a grassy shelf with scattered trees and then descends to enter a narrow slot positioned between two steep, polished granite slabs. Up through sandy, gravelly soil you walk, as this channel leads to a broad bench, in parts meadow covered and elsewhere with sandy flats. The east side of Mule Pass is a collection of steep granite bluffs and polished slabs, interrupted repeatedly by these flat benches, creating a mysterious landscape—even staring at the map you keep wondering just where the trail will wind upward. Holding snow well into July—or beyond—the small streams bisecting the meadows flow through most of the summer, providing water should you wish to camp in one of the many sandy patches among slabs to the east of the trail. The view of the pinnacled Kettle Peak, Sawtooth Ridge, and Matterhorn Peak ringing the horizon, with the Finger Peaks in the foreground, is truly stunning in the evening light. Steep, rough switchbacks climb the final slope to the high point, as you turn back to savor the view east one final time. Facing forward, you are probably surprised to realize Mule Pass, the drainage divide, lies in the middle of the sandy flat to your west, so descending briefly you leave Yosemite National Park and reenter Hoover Wilderness (40.0 miles). ▶26
A brief set of switchbacks down a dry, sandy slope leads to a wet meadow, resplendent with diminutive meadow wildflowers, including yellow primrose monkeyflower, pink mountain laurel, and purple Lemmon’s Indian paintbrush. At the northern end of the meadow lies a small whitebark pine–encircled lake. Following the labyrinth of sandy passageways between the stunted trees leads to some small campsites along the north and northeastern sides of the lake. Beyond, tight switchbacks descend to the east of a large rockslide, where massive, angular blocks fill the gully. Your sheltered passageway holds snow late into the year and can be icy early or late in the day—take care. The many points on Crown Point, straight ahead of you, exist due to joints in the rock, causing it to fracture along perfectly straight planes. Leveling out briefly, you descend again, this time on an old moraine deposit, before crossing the Snow Lake outlet creek and reaching the junction with the trail leading left to Snow Lake and Rock Island Pass, while you trend right toward the Robinson Lakes (41.35 miles). ▶27
Aspen groves below Barney Lake
After briefly walking along a sandy slope above a series of tannin-rich tarns, you resume a switchbacking descent between fins of rock. The trail soon reaches the next flat, this one cradling Crown Lake. Camping is prohibited near the outlet of this well-used lake, but there are possible campsites if you head about 0.1 mile east of the outlet. Granite bluffs border the trail almost continually as you wind your way ever lower. Robinson Creek bubbles to the side, comical dippers bobbing endlessly on midstream boulders between brief forays into the water in search of insects; these dark-colored birds are also known as water ouzels. Dense glades of hemlock provide shade as you drop toward the largest—and lowest elevation—of the Robinson Lakes (42.7 miles). ▶28 Like Crown Lake, the cliff bands and boulder fields limit camping options around most of this lake; the best site is on a knob at the northwestern corner of the lake. Climbing gently, you promptly reach the next Robinson Lake, at which camping is prohibited. Skirting the edge of the lake leads to the final Robinson Lake, this one more a tarn, brilliant blue-green in color. Giant rock blocks, the aftermath of a long-ago rockfall, comprise part of its shoreline, with the clear water filling the gaps between the boulders. Passing a few places to camp on a pass beyond the lakes, the trail descends briefly through hemlock forest to reach a junction you will recognize from several days ago; you now turn right toward the trailhead, while left leads back to Peeler Lake (43.5 miles). ▶29 From here, retrace your steps to the Mono Village parking area (50.3 miles). ▶30
| ||
▶1 | 0.0 | Start at Mono Village parking area |
▶2 | 0.5 | Turn right from road onto Robinson Creek Trail |
▶3 | 2.8 | Trail steepens |
▶4 | 4.1 | Barney Lake |
▶5 | 5.15 | Lowest Robinson Creek crossing |
▶6 | 6.75 | Right at Peeler Lake–Robinson Lakes junction |
▶7 | 7.5 | Right at spur trail to Peeler Lake’s east shore |
▶8 | 8.8 | Left at junction at north end of Kerrick Meadow |
▶9 | 10.2 | Right at junction at south end of Kerrick Meadow |
▶10 | 12.1 | Meadow pinches closed |
▶11 | 14.95 | Left at Kerrick Canyon junction |
▶12 | 15.75 | Seavey Pass |
▶13 | 18.55 | Straight ahead at Benson Lake spur junction |
▶14 | 20.75 | Cross Smedberg outlet creek near waterfall |
▶15 | 21.45 | Left at Rodgers Canyon junction |
▶16 | 21.75 | Left at Rodgers Lake junction |
▶17 | 22.8 | Smedberg Lake |
▶18 | 24.9 | Benson Pass |
▶19 | 25.95 | Northern Wilson Creek crossing |
▶20 | 28.1 | Southern end Matterhorn Canyon |
▶21 | 29.3 | Left at PCT–Matterhorn Canyon junction |
▶22 | 30.5 | Second Matterhorn Creek crossing |
▶23 | 31.8 | Fourth Matterhorn Creek crossing |
▶24 | 35.4 | Burro Pass |
▶25 | 38.05 | Low point along Slide Canyon |
▶26 | 40.0 | Mule Pass |
▶27 | 41.35 | Right at Rock Island Pass junction |
▶28 | 42.7 | Lowest Robinson Lake |
▶29 | 43.5 | Right at Peeler Lake–Robinson Lakes junction |
▶30 | 50.3 | Return to Mono Village parking area |
MILESTONES