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"it was a dark and stormy night!"

 

The cool mountain water tasted good in the hot California sun. The straps on my pack seemed to cut into my shoulders even as I sat and rested. The thin air of 12,000 feet made breathing laborious and my sides hurt from the effort. But for my partner David Moore and I this was no ordinary camping trip. The ocean was many miles away. We would be diving where no human had gone before.

At an altitude of 12,818 feet Tulainyo Lake is the highest in the continental United States. Located in the eastern Sierra near Mount Whitney, Tulainyo lays in a crater-like depression created by the merging of two great mountain peaks. Icy cold and the color of deep sapphire it is truly a jewel set in this lonely and desolate place.

I wanted to dive Tulainyo since first hearing about it 20 years ago. On the last week of September, 1997 I would get my chance.

For this first dive David Moore seemed the ideal choice for a dive partner. A medical technician by profession his knowledge and skill would be helpful in case of an emergency. He was an experienced diver for many years as well as a rock climber as I was. All our experiences in the ocean as well as the mountains would soon be put to the test.

It took eight hours from our homes on the Monterey Peninsula to reach the little, desert town of Lone Pine just below the Sierra foothills. A short drive from downtown led to Whitney Portal, gateway to the Mount Whitney trail. Arriving late that night and unable to find a campsite, David and I parked our car, threw our sleeping bags on the pavement and settled in for the night. Our trip almost ended when another late arrival almost ran over me with his 4 X 4.

The dawn was crisp and clean when David and I awoke the next morning; there were many others around us packing for the trail. The trailhead began at 8,000 feet. Tulainyo Lake lay hidden almost a mile above us. Which meant at least a two-day hike to reach it. We ate quickly and prepared our gear.

Along with packs, sleeping bags, stove, food and extra clothing we carried masks, fins, dive suits, regulators and pony bottles. All in all each of our packs weighed about 80 lbs. Heavy at sea level; we wondered how they would feel at 13,000 feet? A little past 8 o'clock in the morning David and I found the trailhead and began our climb. The well maintained trail lead slowly upward snaking its way along a steep canyon wall. At mid-morning the temperature rose to 80°an added discomfort to our self-imposed task.

We left the main trail and followed a more primitive one along the north fork of Lone Pine Creek. This part of the trail was surrounded by thick ferns and tall conifers giving us some temporary relief from the hot sun. The trail, more rugged than the first, has been used for many years by rock climbers headed for Mount Whitney's steepest face.

The trail zigzagged several times through the creek and David and I struggled to make our way over slippery, moss covered rocks and the heavy undergrowth. Once out of the forest we faced the most dangerous part for our climb, the Eberbacher Ledges.

Perched on a high granite face, this series of ledges would lead us to the upper part of the trail. Difficult at best with a light load we wondered how we would fair•3with the monstrous sacks we carried on our backs.

Starting from a knarled pine tree, I followed David upward moving from one hand and foothold to another. A single slip would lead to a 200-foot fall to the trees below. We reached a long horizontal ledge and followed it east for 100 feet until we had to climb upward again.

A longer ledge brought us back over to the main trail and we rested on the shore of Lower Boy Scout Lake.

Dominating the skyline was the shape of Mount Whitney and its satellites the Keeler Needles. Several parties of climbers passed by commenting about David's pack, strung with dive fins and regulator. When we tell them our goal of wanting to dive Tulainyo Lake they shake their heads as if questioning our sanity. Perhaps their reasons are the same as ours, to find oneself, whether by climbing a steep rocky face or diving a high mountain lake.

From information garnered by a local storekeeper in Whitney Portal we decided to take a different route. One that would prove less exhausting and technical than the trail guide suggested. One seldom used by hikers. From Lower Boy Scout we started climbing a loose, dirty slope heading north.

The slope crested to an isolated valley and we followed a small stream leading upward. An hour later after climbing a green, mossy hill saturated by water from the stream underneath we decided to make camp.

Unloading our packs we laid out our foam pads and sleeping bags on the soft sandy glacial moraine and stretched out. It felt good to take our boots off and relax after hiking with heavy packs for 12 hours. The stove was lit, a can went into the pot and David an I settled in for a good nights rest. We would need it. 1,500 feet above us loomed the wall of Mount Carillon. Like a great natural dam it held the waters of Tulainyo Lake. Tomorrow we would have to find away over this barrier. If we could.

We awoke to a Technicolor dawn coming over the distant White Mountains. A quick breakfast of hot chocolate and poptarts saved us time from cooking. We would carry only what was necessary in order to save weight. Into our packs went dive gear, tanks, one bottle of water each and an energy bar. We would leave everything else back in camp for our return.

David took the lead. We climbed up the bouldered talus slope to the wall of Mount Carillon. We would try to ascend by way of a narrow gully splitting the otherwise unblemished granite face. The gully was loose and broken, which made the climbing easier. But part way up David reported a large overhang baring any further advancement.

We would have to try further up the canyon.

It took us more than an hour to cross the rugged boulder field, cursing each loose rock under each step. The canyon ended in a cul-de-sac. At its head a cathedral-like rock formation of minarets and flying buttresses. At its foot we discovered a tiny lake.

We tried to rest but it was impossible to catch our breath in the thin air of 12,000 feet. Half an energy bar and a few gulps of water later, we were on our way again.

For every three steps upward David and I had to stop to catch our breaths. A long rocky ramp led to another, steeper gully. Too steep without ropes and climbing gear. All above us was smooth, unclimable rock. But far to the left was a nightmarish slope of loose rock and dirt.

David attempted to ascend the face but only succeeded in sliding down to his starting point in a small avalanche of small rocks and boulders. While David rested, I tried a different approach. By carefully climbing over a jumble of boulders further left I could avoid the loose slope for most of its length. After climbing a short chimney I was forced onto the loose slope. Digging my fingers into the soft earth I felt for any solid area I could place my hands and feet. The fear was intense knowing one wrong move and I would be out into space. A few more moves and I squeezed through a gap between two projecting rocks.

I called down to David to come up. The way was clear.

With a sudden burst of energy I climbed quickly on easy and solid holds. After pulling up over a large boulder I reached the top of the crest. David, panting hard joined me a few moments later and we saw, after two days of effort the lake we had come so far to dive.

Below us was a natural basin filled with such a huge volume of water it seemed almost surreal on this high and isolated plateau, 3,000 feet in length and half that across, its far shore was lined with glacial ice. A crescent of white luster reflected on the indigo blue water. Excited, we descended quickly and soon found ourselves on Tulainyo's east shore. The first order of business was to unpack.

We carefully laid out our gear atop some large boulders.

Wanting maximum comfort David brought his Mobey drysuit while I opted to save weight and took a light O'Neill surf suit. This I was later to regret.

After suiting up we connected our regulators to the pony bottles. Each would contain only about 15 minutes of air but we felt that would be enough time for this first exploration. Before leaving we consulted high altitude dive tables but found that Tulainyo was way off the chart.

For safety we would venture no deeper than 30 feet. Since we didn't take weight belts David stuffed the pockets of his drysuit with stones while I filled an old shot belt I had brought. Once prepared I grabbed my nikonos camera and we entered the water.

There was no beach, just a disorganization of rocks at the waterline. The shallows seemed to disappear just a few feet from where we stood. Only after we took our first look underwater did we see that the lake floor just dropped off a few feet from the shore. We floated for several minutes adjusting our equipment and then upended for this first dive under the surface. As we descended it occurred to me that for every foot of depth we lost an equal amount of altitude.

The water was incredibly clear. Most mountain lakes I have visited were green from the high algae content.

But Tulainyo seemed to be clean of any vegetation. The steep rocky slope of the drop off disappeared into the depths. How deep we did not know but one nearby lake was marked at 600 feet. Because of its size Tulainyo could have been twice that depth. The origin of Tulainyo's water is a mystery. Because of its isolated location no streams or other tributaries feed it. There was not enough snowfall during the winter. Perhaps an underground spring was the answer? We did not see any life what so ever. Not a fish, polliwog or insect. I peered into many cracks and openings between the rocks but detected no movement. The lake's environment seemed to be sterile. But this world did not seem dead to me. It had a mysterious life all its own.

As David and I swam 30 feet below the surface we felt like Armstrong and Aldrin. The magnificent desolation of the bottom of this mountain lake was our Tranquility Base. We returned to the surface to get our bearings and take a few pictures. David was toasty warm in his drysuit but I was shivering in my thin neoprene suit. I decided to go back to shore while David went for another dive.

Sitting on a flat rock with my feet dangling in the water I took off my mask and hood. By chance I looked down and saw movement. Straining my eyes I saw a tiny fish about the size of a toothpick. Reaching down I tried to catch it but the little fish darted toward deep water.

Tulainyo Lake was not sterile. There was life here. What other creatures there are were probably hidden in deepwater.

When David came back to shore we took off our suits and laid them out to dry. At this altitude the powerful ultraviolet would soon dry our suits. Not wanting to get a bad sunburn we dressed quickly. Finding a comfortable spot we relaxed for a while, enjoying the warm sun and the good fortune that our goal was reached.

Before leaving we carved our initials into a quarter to commemorate our dive and tossed it into the water. Perhaps the next divers will find it. After packing up our gear David and I started climbing up the slope and back to civilization.

 

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