Our accidental "national park." - Owens Valley, CA - includes trip planning guide

Sunset, Sept, 1994 by Jeff Phillips

L.A.'s control of Owens Valley water has unintentionally preserved one of the West's grandest recreation areas

A BRISK LATE-SEPTEMBER BREEZE cuts across the Owens Valley near Bishop, California, carrying the mingled fragrances of cattle, wood smoke, and sage. To the west, drenched in the late-afternoon glow of the descending sun, the cloud-scraping jumble of pinnacles and spires riding the crest of the Sierra Nevada drops abruptly: a nearly impregnable wall of sheer granite blocks anchored by sage-covered hills. Steep canyons already suffused in deepening purple shadows still pulse with bold splashes of yellow, red, and orange--a final brash autumn statement of aspen edging the course of streams and creeks.

Even now, at the end of a long, dry summer, water splashes and tumbles down the canyons and into the Owens River. It is the same river whose waters, diverted south and west some 80 years ago, jump-started the Los Angeles dream. While som Bishop old-timers still insist that Owens Valley ranchers were hoodwinked by double-dealing city agents into selling their land and water rights back in 1904, today the dark, swirling waters of the river still quench L.A.'s thirst.

For retired fisheries biologist Phil Pister, who has spent his professional lif studying the region, this undeveloped valley is the flip side to the grim story of water diversions and groundwater pumping that have eradicated fisheries and wildlife and waterfowl habitats, drastically lowered water levels in Mono Lake, and left Owens Lake a dry wasteland that fills the air with alkaline dust whenever the wind blows.

Nodding at the glowing mountain panorama, he says, "This view has scarcely changed since John Muir tramped the area more than a hundred years ago. We're less than 5 hours' drive from one of the largest urban areas in the world, yet you don't find any sprawling subdivisions or tacky highway strip malls, and onl a handful of vacation home developments."

Pister buttons his coat against the chill and then voices an idea that some locals might once have considered heretical: "In the long run, it may be that the only thing worse than Los Angeles taking our water would be if it had not taken it at all. It is because of the Department of Water and Power that the Eastern Sierra today is essentially a de facto national park."

Prime time in the valley

While the Owens River still trickles south of Bishop along U.S. Highway 395 almost as far as Lone Pine, today the most accessible--and spectacular--part of the river and the mountain streams that feed it is along the 65 miles of highwa from Bishop north to Mono Lake.

Here mountain peaks pushing well above 13,000 feet form a ragged, rain-catching wilderness wall stretching from the northern corner of Kings Canyon National Park to the southeast boundary of Yosemite. Side canyon roads leading off U.S. 395 into the Inyo National Forest edge streams feeding into the Owens and end a some of the best hiking, climbing, horseback riding, camping, and fishing venue in the entire Sierra.

Come September--just as the weather begins to cool, the mosquitoes leave, and the fishing picks up--school starts, and the mountains empty out. By the third weekend, high-meadow aspen are beginning to turn, in a show that, barring a battering by early storms, works its way down slope by the middle of October, when valley cottonwoods finally yellow and mountain lodges and campgrounds begi to close for the winter.

For a quick look, you can drive through the heart of it in an easy hour and a half. But to really appreciate the natural diversity of the three areas that define this part of the Eastern Sierra, you have to get off the highway and out of your car.

Bishop: fall color drives and hikes

The morning regulars at Erick Schat's Bakkery in Bishop are already on their second cup of coffee by the time most tourists begin straggling in to buy picni sandwiches for the 19-mile drive up Bishop Creek on State Highway 168 to Lake Sabrina. If you're an early riser, you can also get coffee and pastries.

As on nearly every road heading into the Sierra from U.S. 395, loaded campers pulling boats occasionally make for slow going on the precipitous climb up this narrow canyon. After 17 miles you come to Aspendell, where the road passes a rambling collection of old mining shacks that now serve as cabins for the Cardinal Village Resort and then enters a broad, mountain-rimmed canyon choked with stands of gloriously colored aspen. The next 2 miles to Lake Sabrina make up one of the most spectacular fall-color drives in the Sierra, especially in the morning when the low sun fills the canyon with light. The lake is reputed t have lunker trout, but you may do better flicking a fly to the small, speckled brookies in Bishop Creek.

Aspens are more scattered along the 7 miles of side road branching off State 16 below Aspendell to South Lake, but the lake is such a deep, deep blue reflectin high silver peaks that it demands leisurely contemplation and shoreline boulder-hopping. The lake parking area is also the trailhead for the 5-mile climb that rises 2,180 feet to 11,980-foot Bishop Pass, a back door into Kings Canyon National Park and the Bishop area's main link to the Pacific Crest Trail