I’ve only dreamt of or imagined being up here, and that on foot usually. To have lived this May Lake to White Wolf experience would have been the ultimate adventure for me. My one experience with the “real” outdoors came under the wrong circumstances. War is never a good time to take in the sights. Yet, I still marveled at God’s creation there.
May Lake to White Wolf
The May Lake to White Wolf Trek offers an unforgettable journey across the rugged high-country spine of Yosemite, threading timbered shelves, exposed granite benches, and mountain passes. Setting out from the quiet sanctuary of May Lake High Sierra Camp at the base of Mount Hoffmann, a rider feels the cold mountain air carrying the sharp scent of lodgepole pine and the unmistakable metallic tang of winter. Beneath the saddle, Sierra—a strong-boned golden palomino with a thick coat filling out against the cold and a flowing white mane dusting with fine flakes—steps out with the steady, measured gait of a mount built for mountain stone. You sit deep in a heavy-leather, high-backed Wade saddle dark with oil and packed for the trail. Dressed for the biting altitude in heavy denim, double-vamped boots set firm in heavy tapaderos, leather chaps, a thick wool vest over flannel, a silk wildrag tucked tight at the throat, and a wide-brimmed felt hat pulled low against flurries, a seasoned rider moves with practiced ease across the high wilderness.
Leaving May Lake behind, the trail turns southwest, winding through dense stands of red fir before crossing the snow-dusted ribbon of Tioga Road. Before heading for our first destination we ease our way to a high perch above Tioga Road at Olmsted Point. The view of Half Dome is Iconic and seldom seen outside the park. We have to capture this view for posterity.
Turning back to our path for the day we pick up the historical trail corridor toward Porcupine Flat, Sierra’s iron shoes make a rhythmic clink-clink against glaciated granite ledges. The route drops through a narrow, boulder-strewn chute where snowmelt has frozen into clear rime ice across the stone. Sierra picks her way down with deliberate care, testing her footing before shifting her weight, her tapaderos brushing past low manzanita brush. Crossing Porcupine Creek over slippery granite slabs, the pair enters the quiet, sheltered forest basin of Porcupine Flat Campground.
Midday Feast at Porcupine Flat – May Lake to White Wolf
At the edge of the snow-powdered meadow, a column of woodsmoke marks the camp of a hardy party of fellow horsemen. These intrepid trail-riders are returning from a week deep in the untamed Sierras, where their nearest connection to the outside world is a hard two-day ride out through high passes – if the weather holds. Greetings are exchanged as Sierra is unsaddled, rubbed down, and tethered near a windbreak of lodgepole pines with a feed bag.
Gathered around a roaring campfire, boots resting near the coals, the riders swap tales of mountain wonder, deep canyon winds, and treacherous ice shelves. A hearty midday feast is shared: thick cuts of skillet-seared salt pork, Dutch-oven biscuits drenched in hot gravy, and steaming tin cups of dark, boiled trail coffee. The warm camaraderie and shared respect for the high country fill the quiet meadow before gears are packed and farewells are called.
Negotiating the Ridge to White Wolf – May Lake to White Wolf
Remounting Sierra after lunch, the trail hits the western leg of the May Lake to White Wolf Trek, climbing out of Porcupine Flat toward the high ridgelines above Yosemite Creek. As afternoon progresses, a heavy grey cloud bank rolls in over Mount Hoffmann, and a steady, driven snowfall begins to coat the timber.
Here, the gear proves its worth against the rising storm. You pull your heavy woolen slicker tightly over your wool vest, unrolling the canvas flaps over your knees to keep driving snow off your leather chaps. Your lined leather gloves grip the reins securely, and the wide felt hat sheds accumulating powder.
The trail narrows dramatically as it skirts a sheer, exposed granite shelf overlooking the upper gorge of Yosemite Creek. Fresh powder masks deep cracks in the rock, making the ledge treacherous. Sierra stops, her ears pricked forward, testing the snow with a hooved tap. You sit light in the Wade saddle, giving her full rein to find her own path. Moving step by step, she leans her muscular shoulder against the inner rock wall, carefully placing each iron shoe on solid footing until the narrow pass is negotiated safely.
Dropping into the dense, dark timber surrounding White Wolf Campground, the wind dies down, leaving a heavy, muffled silence under the snow-laden firs.
Evening Sanctuary at White Wolf – May Lake to White Wolf
Reaching the quiet grounds of White Wolf Campground, you pull Sierra to a halt near a sheltered grove. The long day’s ride through snow and ice is complete, and the evening routine begins with practiced efficiency.
After pitching a heavy canvas trail tent under low fir branches, you clear a space down to bare needles and build a hot, crackling campfire. Your wet gear is spread out on flat rocks near the fire to dry in the heat: the heavy woolen slicker, lined leather gloves, and steam-rising wool vest. Your heavy Wade saddle is unbuckled and carefully draped over a low-hanging piece of deadwood near the fire, its dark leather catching the warm glow. Sierra, wiped down and resting her tired legs, is tethered securely to the same sturdy deadwood, her long white mane catching the orange light of the flames as she chews quietly on her evening ration. Sitting back against a log with a hot cup of coffee, watching the snow drift through the canopy, the absolute freedom of the high country settles deep into your chest.
May Lake to White Wolf
Imagining these crossings in the High Sierras seems to be all encompassing. I start from where I ended the day before, open Google Earth, and start plotting. Using 3D options I can change the heading and tilt of the map, zoom all the way in and map out the actual trail we’d follow. The places it looks steep, I dismount, where the scene is overwhelmingly wondrous, I stop to stare – and lose hours to daydreaming about how I would capture this scene in camera. I’m okay with this, if a little let down that I didn’t actually do it.
Then I imagine the butt and back ache, and I’m okay with that too. 😉😋🫣🤫
Popi sends…
Other Random Thoughts: Lyell to May Lake
Can you see it?