October 23, 2025.
We camped in the Buttermilks outside of Bishop because, well, it’s a beautiful place to camp. While Aaron worked in the van all day, I set my sights on the highpoint: Grouse Mountain.
When you look at the Sierra Nevada Mountains that loom over the western landscape, it’s hard to also call this small lump a “mountain”. It’s a loose aggregation of large, granite boulders with some vegetation holding it all together. Nonetheless, I found a route, it was close to camp and I needed something to occupy myself for a few hours. I packed a bag and off I went.
I’d learned on our last visit there that water runs through a steep, brushy creekbed between the camping area and the highpoint. So, I found a route description that mentioned a place to cross the creek. I followed dirt roads past several campers, then peered at the thick ribbon of trees lining the ravine. Yay, I thought, I need to find a route through that.
I slid down the steep scree slope into the belly of the beast. I attempted, in vain, to find the least brushy part. Ducking under branches, I sat down and took my shoes and socks off. Carefully, I waded through the rushing water and got to the other side. At least now I could enjoy the boulder hop!
Not so fast. I still had to get up the other side of the creekbed, which meant more steep sand. I hadn’t brought my hiking poles because I thought I’d just be dancing across granite boulders all day. But alas, they would have come in handy here.
After slipping uphill on sand, dodging prickly pear cactus and navigating between the ponderosa pine trees I finally reached something of a rocky ridge. Those beautiful granite boulders were large and tedious. It required a lot of mental energy, micro-navigating and backtracking. I got zero photos of the route from this section.
At last, I reached the saddle and the going got much easier there. Just before the summit, I found a fun scrambly line but it was over just after it begun. Ahhh the views from the top were stunning! I pulled out my snacks, then my painting kit. It was too incredible up there to just up and leave. Although I hadn’t planned to be out this long, I did not care. I knew I’d never be back at this place so I had to spend as much time as possible there. The weather was 10/10, there was not another soul around, it was so peaceful. If I could have put that moment in a bottle, I would have.
On the way back, I knew I didn’t want to down climb the annoying lower half of the ridge. Instead, I retreated to the saddle and went down the very steep but very easy sandy chute that split the north face of the mountain. Again, I wished I’d had my poles but it was safe enough and over pretty quickly. At the bottom, I bushwhacked through the trees, bushes and cacti towards the creek. I figured it would be equally annoying no matter where I crossed, so I didn’t bother backtracking all the way back to the spot I originally came across.
I repeated the fight with the trees, the taking off of the shoes and the scrambling up a slippery slope, then popped up on to the regular desert stuff. From there, it was a breeze to get back to the van. What a fun little adventure!