Glad I didn't see a body ... I guess

We didn't find the other two bodies from the 1942 plane crash. I was relieved. I think I would have freaked out in this beautiful and terrifying place.

And just think of the video. It would have shown me huddled next to a rock, muttering "I'm ready to die. Just take me now." It would probably appear on Youtube under the headline, "He's no Indiana Jones."

I can only imagine how it would have looked to see the bleached hair and ragged sweaters of the first two mummified airmen whose bodies melted out of the glacier.

I was thrilled to see parts of the ill-fated AT-7 that went down in a roaring blizzard in November 1942. We saw both engines. A tire. Bits of bent metal.

We were hiking with author Peter Stekel, who is writing a book about this mystery. He's in the picture above at the glacier that day. He found a piece of the plane's wing.

These plane parts had been submerged in the glacier for more than 60 years. They were shiny. They looked like they had just come off an assembly line. I was amazed.

Remember, this plane went down just before Humphrey Bogart's "Casa Blanca" hit the theaters in New York City. "Wizard of Oz" was only three years old. The Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor less than a year before this crash. We're talking about a piece of 20th Century history that was preserved up there.

I remember seeing photos of the 1942 coins they found in the pockets of the two mummified airmen that were found in 2005 and 2007. The images came to mind as I climbed the rugged and dangerous talus field along the steep terminal moraine of Mendel Glacier.

Once we were on top, it looked like another planet. Massive boulders perched precariously on tiny ice pedestals. Sheered granite lay everywhere, like so much loose change. Any little seismic quiver would have brought thousands of tons of rock down from the immense, fractured columns of Mendel Peak, which stood 13,700 feet.

Sometime in the early afternoon, we heard rockfall. It sounded like a case of dynamite exploding. It might have been 250 meters from us, but it sounded like it was right next to us.

Several times, I bent down, pulled off my glove and touched the streams of pure glacial melt running all around me. These water molecules had been frozen thousands of years ago. The thought was compelling and humbling.

I never moved all the way up into the pristine ice. It was curving upward along with vertical slope of Mendel, and it seemed a little too dangerous to me. Stekel went up to see if he could find evidence of where the AT-7 struck the mountain.

We explored for a few hours -- first in sun, then under cloud cover. The temperature must have dropped 10 degrees and the wind picked up. We covered up, but we were shivering after a while.

Peter had a jacket and a good hat, but he didn't bring wind pants. In hiking shorts, he climbed all over the place, like a man possessed.

Photographer Mark Crosse and I climbed on a house-sized boulder to eat lunch. Getting down was a bit of a chore, but we made it.

We started down through the talus field later in the afternoon, picking our way along. Michele, Peter's hiking partner, fell. She is highly experienced. It reminded us that these boulders are actually in motion with ice and water below them. She knew how to fall and protect her head. She was fine. Thank goodness.

We went back to camp, next to Lake No. 5. The wind was howling. My tent was flapping everywhere. Mark huddled behind huge boulders. He didn't bring a tent. He put his sleeping bag on a large sleeping mat and wound a tarp around it for more insulation. The tent was a much better idea, in my humble opinion.

I had the best campsite among us. Peter and Michele were camped in a stout tent directly in line with the rushing wind from down canyon. They were sheltered a bit by boulders, but it was breezy over there. I was about 20 meters above Lake No. 5, perched in a spot behind a boulder and overlooking the water. It was gorgeous.

Peter and Michele came up to spend some time around my tent that evening. We ate and talked about the mountain, the crash and our adventure. He wanted to know why people would be interested in this stories. I knew the answer.

"It's the mummies," I said. "The mummies."

OK, I wish I had seen just one of those creepy things up there.

The trip log

The trip started with our drive through Yosemite National Park to the eastern Sierra, across Tioga Road. I highly recommend the cruise from Crane Flat to Lee Vining. This is the longest high Sierra route, and the sights are incredible. Of course, we had our sights on a glacier 50 miles south. We're searching for the frozen, mummified remains of two World War II-era airmen who died in a crash at the glacier in November 1942. Two bodies already have surfaced from the crash. We're hoping to find the other two on this trek.


THE TRIP TO NORTH LAKE

Saturday, Sept 6: We just passed over the edge of Long Valley Caldera. It's a massive hole -- we're talking nearly 20 miles wide -- where the Earth opened up and spewed magma all over the place.

The eastern Sierra is a vast volcanic panorama, one of my favorite places. The caldera is a great example. The explosive eruption took place 700,000 years ago. Volcanic ash from the blast has been found as far away as Nebraska.

There are bubbling hot tubs hidden in the vast countryside. I've been here when it was 29 degrees outside and snow on the ground, yet there is still steam coming out of the rocks.

We're in Bishop now. And we're here for the granite and ice. Mount Mendel couldn't be more than 15 miles west of here. So our thoughts are turning to the plane crash and the missing victims.

But for a while, it has been a real pleasure to think about the volcanic past of the eastern Sierra.

We got to North Lake just before dark. Stashed the 4-wheel in long-term parking and set up camp about 60 yards from the trailhead.


LONG HAUL TO LAMARCK COL
6:05 a.m., Sept. 7, 2008, 42 degrees, at 9,300 feet at North Lake campground -- I skipped the tent, slept out under the stars. So did Mark Crosse. It was a beautiful glittering show overhead all night long. The temperature was still 50 degrees at 3:45 a.m. It didn't feel very cold to me. I imagine it will be a lot colder farther up. We'll make Lamarck Lake today, in a few hours, maybe less. That's good news. But you can't have a fire above 10,400 feet: No firewood.

2 p.m., Sept. 7, 2008: It's about 2 p.m, and we are at about 11,600 feet. The photo above is Mark Crosse at Upper Lamarck Lake, just before we left for Lamarck Col.

We decided to change directions and follow Peter Stekel and his climbing partner Michele Hinatsu up to Lamarck Col. We were scheduled to stop at Upper Lamarck Lake -- we've continued on.

Talking and hiking and huffing and puffing, we climbed with Peter and Michele. What a view of Owens Valley below. Finally, we reached the tarn just below Lamarck Col. I made this phone call just before dinner.

6:50 p.m. Sept. 7
Hello, I accidentally called my own voice mail. This is Mark Grossi.

I'm at 12,600 feet (wind blasting and voice quivering in the cold.) We're camped below Lamarck Col (which is the crest of the Sierra where the wind is howling and the world is primitive. Boulders everywhere. Dirty ice that has been sitting there for decades, perhaps centuries.)
(I've been hiking all day, climbing several miles straight up with the weight of a 4-year-old on my back. I'm basically comatose. But I'm determined to have a good time with this.)

It's Sunday night. Mark and I went a lot farther than we thought we would. It was a good idea. While the trail system is easily passable, it is hard to understand.

(The last sentence makes positively no sense. Here's the explanation: We would have been lost the minute we left Upper Lamarck Lake. We were going to stop for the night at the lake. Instead, we met author Peter Stekel and his hiking partner, Michele, who guided us up to the crest.)

Went about 3300 3400 feet vertical over 5.5 miles. It was a long haul.

The sun is going down, so we're going to eat our dinner, go to sleep and tomorrow climb over the top and go see Mount Mendel.

(At this point, I remember wanting to say something clever. The only line that came to me was a moronic "there's no Starbucks up here. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" I double clutched and punched out of the phone call. Pathetic.)


OVER THE TOP AND INTO THE CANYON

Good morning, wind
8 a.m. Monday, Sept. 8: The wind is an alarm clock here at 12,500 feet just below Lamarck Col. I'm remembering that last night, Peter Stekel told me he had scoured all the military records he could find.

There is little to tell us how the AT-7 crashed on Mendel. He said Mortenson, Munn and Mustonen were picked to fly that day as part of an alphabetical rotation. The trio may have even bunked together. Today we will climb the col and work our way down the Darwin Canyon headwall. It should take two or three hours on the other side. Mendel Glacier awaits.

Our destination has shrunk
2 p.m. Monday, Sept. 8: I'm in front of Lake Five in Darwin Canyon, almost directly in front of Mendel glacier. The glacier is smaller now than last year, and you can hear the rush of melting ice in the background.

This morning we went over Lamarck Col at 12,880 feet, and we had to boulder-scramble class 3 boulders, which is fairly difficult. We didn't go across the ice. It was frozen solid and too slippery. The canyon headwall is an intense downward descent of about 1,000 feet. We're looking for camp sites.


3:30 p.m. Monday, Sept. 8: I heard a whoop and a splash. Bee photographer Mark Crosse had dived into Darwin Lake No. 5. Icy-cold water made him surface and climb out quickly. But he's a polar bear.

The jagged peaks of Mendel and Darwin are directly above us now. It is ominous out here. The wind howls, clouds go overhead, and smoke comes up the canyon from some fire in the national park.

We'll be on the glacier in the morning. If all goes well, I will call and blog from there.

ON MENDEL GLACIER

7 a.m. Tuesday, Sept. 9: The temperature is about 39 degrees.

I've been smelling this strong scent all night long. Turns out it comes from a plant called old man of the mountain. This shaggy plant that I can't pronounce the technical name for, it's one of the few things -- actually there are many things up here that can survive, but there's not a lot of green in this canyon.

Today we'll be going up to the glacier. Peter Stekel tells me that he thinks there are many engine parts that we can find today, including a propeller. At least he hopes we can, and I do, too.


Noon Sept. 9, 2008: The wind is really bad today. I'm standing on a dirty edge of the glacier, not far from one of the two engines of the AT-7 that crashed here. Huge slabs of granite are perched on top of the ice, making them look like they're on pedestals. Water runs everywhere. The glacier itself has melted out far more than last year. We're not even on the clean ice itself yet, we're on the boulder-strewn ice. My advice for anyone who wants to come up here? Get in shape, get a guide, and get life insurance. We're not quite on the ice yet, we will be later this afternoon. It's a harrowing climb to get up here.

5:30 p.m. Sept. 9, 2008: Author Peter Stekel today found part of an aluminum wing to the AT-7. It was a gully-wash of pure glacial melt. He photographed it, then continued his search in a brisk wind, with clouds racing overhead. We followed and saw some of the most incredible pieces of the Sierra.

Huge slabs of granite in columns 800 feet tall climbed the sheer cliffs at Mount Mendel. There were Hummer-sized blocks of granite standing on pedestals of ice.

The trip to get here is tough and dangerous. I can see why nobody is touching the wreckage.

What a beautiful, rare and terrifying place.

STORM MOVES IN DURING DEPARTURE

6:45 a.m. Sept. 10, 2008: We're going to pull out today. It's very cold: windy all night last night, in the 30s. Clouds are moving in over the crest. Hopefully we don't ... (and then the rest of Mark's message was lost in the wind).

After this phone call, we had a harrowing climb up the canyon headwall. The wind went from merely bad to unbelievable as a storm moved in. We watched as clouds encircled Mendel Glacier across the canyon from us. The boulders were huge. Many were shifting. This is a simple Class III scramble for experienced people. We are not experienced. Picking a path, keeping your balance and fighting to keep your 40-pound backpack on. It was as tough as anything I've done in the Sierra.

4:25 p.m. Sept. 10, 2008: On the return from Darwin Canyon today, storm clouds gathered at the crest. As we boulder-scrambled 1,400 feet nearly straight up, it began to hail on us.

The hail was beginning to turn to snow and we realized that Lamarck Col, our destination, is one of the worst places you can be in lightning and a thunderstorm.

Photographer Mark Crosse found the proper route to get to the Col. Two days before, we had stopped for more than an hour to take pictures and make a satellite phone call.

This time, we passed without stopping.

We boulder-scrambled along the ice below the Col, and when we got down we just kept going. Thunder and lightning began about an hour later, and it hailed on us again near Lower Lamarck Lake.

It seemed like a fitting way to end this expedition -- lots of lightning and thunder but no real damage.


AFTER WE RETURNED, THESE THOUGHTS:

A serious downhill walk
Noon Thursday, Sept. 11: Mark Crosse and I took quite a hike to return from Darwin Canyon. If you consider that we climbed to Lamarck Col at 12,880 feet and walked down to North Lake at 9,300 feet, our legs absorbed nearly a 3,600 foot decent -- that's a very grueling walk.


Without a water filter
Photographer Mark Crosse and I returned from the Sierra about a week ago, so I think it's safe now to talk about this: We didn't filter our drinking water for a couple of days.

There just didn't seem to be a need when we were in remote and pristine Darwin Canyon, beneath several glaciers. We were drinking melted ice that had been up in those glaciers for centuries. Very few people are up here. But understand, I've been writing about filtering Sierra drinking water for 15 years. Here's a typical passage from a 2005 story:

In a mountain range boasting giant sequoias, Half Dome and Mount Whitney, Dr. Robert Derlet confirms there are bacteria linked to human feces in lakes and streams. There aren't many toilets in the backcountry of the 400-mile-long Sierra.

I brought my water filter with me on the trek to Mendel Glacier. I used it when we were around Upper Lamarck Lake and the Lamarck Col. More people, more chances of problems.

But Darwin Canyon? Nah. The water was so good.

In case fishing enthusiasts are wondering, I didn't see evidence of fish in those glacial tarns.


Hangin' with a pika
I kept hearing this kind of whistling chirp -- or maybe was a bark -- near my tent at 11,500 feet in Darwin Canyon. Turns out, it was a chubby little pika, and I was sleeping on his turf.

I had never seen a pika in the wild. They are rabbit-like critters, often called rock rabbits or whistling hares. Pikas can't live in warmer temperatures. As the planet warms up, they are forced to live at higher elevations.

The pika in Darwin Canyon was ticked off about my presence. I'm not sure, but I think he attempted a food raid while I was climbing to Mendel Glacier.

Who won this little tiff? Well, I packed up my tent and left Wednesday. Score one for the pika, zero for me.

Wondering about Wanda

This is Wanda Lake, a little more than 11,000 feet. The glacier behind the lake on the 13,000-foot peak has been there centuries, perhaps thousands of years.

I have always wondered what this place looks like in winter. There are no Webcams at Wanda, which was named after one of John Muir's daughters.

When we camped at Wanda two years ago, it was late August. We were in the midst of an eight-day trek on the Muir Trail. The night-time temperature was in the high 20s. The silence was broken only by the dripping of the melting glaciers. So soothing.

It is a barren, treeless basin. It could be mistaken as a wasteland of broken granite and icy wind. It is not. It is the frontier, the place where some life retreats to survive. If the hearty creature or flower cannot compete at lower elevations, it can find refuge here. If it can find food. And if it can survive the night.

And the winter.

Beneath the snow and wind-scoured peaks right now, high-mountain flowers are hunkered down, dormant and waiting for better times. Deep roots sustain them, huddled in the shelter of talus and scree fields.

Burrowed deep in rock crevices, the smallest creatures hide from the cold. They live at the edge of starvation for weeks. They breathe the thin air and hold on.

It is a bright new year for us. For them, it is the long winter night in an alpine wonderland.