276 



Sierra Club Bulletin 



your animals as environment dictates. When our animals were in 

 motion the cook contended earnestly that the gray and the roan re- 

 sponded best to the names of "Annie" and "Roonie"; but the packer 

 maintained that "Flapjack" and "Jerkey," while not productive of 

 increased speed, at least fell on attentive ears. 



Our route led back a half-mile to the old road up the North Fork 

 of Bishop Creek and past the Southern Sierras power plant at 

 Bishop Park. Here the trail leaves the road just below the junction 

 of the North and Middle forks, the auto road continuing up the 

 Middle Fork past the Wilshire gold mines and to Lake Sebrina. 

 The trail, at a steep grade, joins and climbs up the tumbling cata- 

 ract of the North Fork. North Lake, the first body of water, is dis- 

 appointing, being a quarter-mile length of dirty pond surrounded in 

 part by marshy shores. We stopped for lunch in an ideal meadow a 

 short distance above the lake, where the only storm of our eighteen- 

 day trip, hail alternating with rain, the flash of lightning, and the 

 heavy roll of thunder, decided us to make it an overnight camp. 



Perhaps here a reference to one item of our equipment will be 

 pardonable. The writer, after considerable experience, has finally 

 found a kaiak that has proved the decisive factor in maintaining a 

 proper balance. These wooden kaiaks are of the usual oil-can-box 

 size, but made of end pieces three-quarters of an inch in thickness 

 and side and bottom pieces nine-sixteenths of an inch in thickness. 

 At the ends, completely around the box, are nailed strap-iron bands 

 three-quarters of an inch in width and an eighth of an inch in thick- 

 ness. The adjustable strap-loops which hook over the pack-saddle 

 crosstrees are riveted to the kaiak and continue on down to and 

 across its bottom and three-fourths of the way up the other side. 

 These straps are an eighth of an inch in thickness and one and a 

 quarter inches wide. The kaiaks weigh eleven pounds each, an extra 

 weight for the animal, but a remarkable medium for maintaining a 

 load balance and unbreakable tables, seats, or cupboards around 

 camp. 



Our next camp was on the shore of an unnamed lake, popularly 

 called "Loch Leven," located on the North Fork of Bishop Creek 

 about three miles below Piute Pass — a beryl-green sheet of water 

 more than a quarter of a mile long and three hundred yards in 

 width. Dwarfed alpine white pines crowded down to the water's 

 edge, like desert travelers around a water-hole. Our travel was al- 



