The Search for the Riverhound
Late in the day on Wednesday 7/14/2021, Annie Crowley and I gathered our supplies. Ice axes, a tent, layers to combat the cold temperatures, and most importantly fancy Ramen and...
Late in the day on Wednesday 7/14/2021, Annie Crowley and I gathered our supplies. Ice axes, a tent, layers to combat the cold temperatures, and most importantly fancy Ramen and Peanut Butter Cups, the essentials for what could be a long mission. Brother Colton of the lower reaches of the Tuolumne and his band of saw-wielding monkeys had recently returned from a trip down the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne. They cleared many trees from the narrow canyon, but most importantly saw traces of the elusive River Hound. They searched along the river where the polished granite slabs seamlessly merged into the roiling boil of the river, and found the River Hound’s trace. Lost in a frantic lustful lunge for a pool, the river hound had shown his presence. They searched as diligently as possible, but the heat and dwindling supplies necessitated their return to the refuge of Tuolumne Meadows. Inspired by their stories, our interest was piqued to search the headwaters of the River Hound’s sacred river.
The River Hound came into the Tuolumne Wilderness center years ago on a clear, bright summer day. He questioned Colton about anywhere the knowledgeable young man had seen slabs and rivers engaged in a prolonged dance. The River Hound had emerged from the Grand Canyon and wanted to see if other slabs could compare to his granite temple. Surprised the River Hound had never ventured beyond the Meadow, Colton suggested following the Tuolumne through Lyell Canyon. The Hound had assumed that without the towering walls and domes of the Grand Canyon, the upper reaches of the Tuolumne to be vegetation banked and lacking the slabs of his dreams. Assured that despite the nearly continuous meadows following the Lyell Fork of the Tuolumne his search would not be in vain, the River Hound sauntered up the canyon. No one had heard or seen sign of him since.
Our journey began with a busy yet uneventful day up Lyell Canyon, among the most popular trails in the High Country. Lyell Canyon, an idyllic stretch of meadows bordering the Lyell Fork of the Tuolumne River, is one of the gentlest stretches of alpine terrain I have ever encountered. Needless to say, the River Hound was nowhere to be seen, his drive leads him farther afield than the John Muir Trail and PCT can provide.
Ascending through the basin below Lyell and Maclure our search began in earnest. The river is small, so close to its birth, but the sheer magnitude of granite slabs was staggering. With slabs surrounding us and water cascading across and from under exfoliation fractures, we had reached the River Hound’s Shangri-la. All evening we searched the basins, to no avail.
The next morning we woke early and began picking our way through the exposed moraine, towards Mt Lyell. The Lyell and Maclure glaciers are the last two surviving in the park. As the climate has warmed and the prolonged drought has taken its toll, the two glaciers have receded at an alarming rate. The Lyell glacier is not even technically a glacier anymore, it no longer has the internal mass necessary for the ice to flow, a critical definition for a glacier. Seeing the remains of the Lyell glacier brought into focus the local effects of climate change. Seeing the small reservoir we are pulling from for water in the upper Tuolumne River, I thought about the possibility of the Lyell fork going dry in future summers. Not to mention the water temperature increasing and the associated algal blooms. These thoughts, while depressing, also anchored me into this landscape. It becomes personal when you see the effects in your home. I felt inspired to renew my efforts to do what I can.
We crossed the extensive exposed moraine and the minute snow patch to gain the saddle between Lyell and Maclure. From there surprisingly solid rock lead up the North Ridge of Mt Lyell. Sitting on the summit of Yosemite National Park at 8 in the morning, we were awash in feelings of home. Recognizing the features, peaks, and lakes surrounding us provided a sense of smallness, but also of place. That while we are insignificant specs on this vast mountainscape, we are also inextricably tied to it. While we sat and pondered, my mind returned to our mission. The River Hound, searching for the balance of slabs and water, for that place that fuels him. We all could learn to lessen our impact, while still finding our sense of wonder and place within this magnificent world.