We knew we wanted to do some sort of day hike out of Pear Lake on Saturday but had yet to decide on exactly what. Alta Peak was an attractive destination, but the clear presence of snow not only on the approach slopes but in the visible chutes and on the ridge dissuaded us from considering that option any further. The Tableland to the east of Pear Lake is a geographic wonder of sorts – devoid of trees, there are dozens of square miles of desolate rolling granite hills here, and we had heard that cross-country travel is quite easy in this area (we had also heard it is quite easy to get lost in the Tableland). Finally, in researching Pear Lake trip reports online prior to the trip, we had seen Moose Lake listed as a popular day hike – one of the larger natural lakes in the western Sierras, Moose lies about two air miles east of Pear but requires a climb up and over a ridge at just under 11,000′, then a drop of about 400′ to the lake itself beyond the ridge (an additional option would be hiking up the Class 2 slopes of “Skier’s Alta”, an unofficially-named 11,328′ peak west of Moose Lake). So, keeping all of this in mind, we heard our neighbors in the next site getting ready to go out on Saturday morning and we asked where they were headed – “Moose Lake,” said they, and we proceeded to get some very vague directions from them that involved heading eastward past a succession of two dead trees, followed by a “just contour around from there” instruction. We watched them head north from the camp up a steep, natural hillside ramp and, after filtering some water and marmot-proofing our campsite, we headed out about an hour after they did. We could see the first dead tree from the middle of the Pear Lake campground, so that was an easy landmark on which to bear as we reached the top of the north-leading ramp and turned back south – however, upon reaching the tree, we could see other dead trees (plural) higher up the slope when we were thinking we’d see only one. From the topo map, we knew there was what appeared to be a shallow chute that leads eastward out of the Pear Lake cirque, so we just kept going higher around some taller rocks and into the chute. Interestingly enough, we soon ran across a clear and well-worn use trail, and this we followed up and out of the bowl through a narrow pass in the ridgeline above. The terrain in this area was magnificent – wildflowers were everywhere, and the displays became more varied and vibrant the higher we climbed. The views over the Pear Lake basin also improved with every step – even if one foregoes the Moose Lake destination, a hike up this narrow valley is so worth the effort. As we reached the pass, we were met by a large snowfield – it seemed logical to begin bearing right up some adjacent slabs, upon the crest of which we gained a view over a beautiful glacial bowl, sporting a small lake in a meadow at its center and fed by a tumbling cascade of snowmelt water pouring down the hillside to the east. Most notably, we could also spy on the opposing eastern ridgeline a solitary dead tree, and at least more of the sketchy directions made sense. We dropped down into the basin, crossing the snowmelt creek below the lake, and began ascending gentle slabs east of the lake – recrossing the inlet stream, we climbed up the slope along the south side of the cascade to the dead tree, having to re-recross the stream to reach it (probably not the best route-finding skills, but we got this far in one piece). Things got interesting past the tree – what we heard about easily getting lost is probably quite true, for it’s a bit difficult to line up visible terrain with what’s on the map. A 40-foot contour interval can hide a lot of terrain variation, and the various bumps and gaps in front of us didn’t really line up with the general picture the map painted for us. To complicate matters further, there were snowfields everywhere, some large, some small, but nearly all had water running audibly beneath them – Jane was very nervous about crossing them, and her fears were likely well-founded when we later discovered a snowfield that was collapsing into a frigid pool at its base. It was slow going, but we picked our way to and fro through the snowfield maze, and eventually passed across the front of a prominent rock formation and headed around its west end into another broad basin containing three small lakes (Jane tried her hand at some Class 3-4 scrambling here, having to negotiate a transfer onto a narrow 15′-high ledge that sloped away from her – having himself downclimbed to more comfortable ground, Chris anxiously watched as she was able to make the transition without issue…she crazy). We thought the 11,000′ ridge was directly in front of us (and indeed it was) but the narrow finger of dry slabs we began to ascend petered out after a 100′ gain – blocked by snow on three sides, we contemplated going back at this point, but we could see a probable path along and around the adjacent lakes to the east. So, back down we went, working our way eastward and crossing over the marshy ground (like a 200-yard rock-hop, really) to the mostly-snow-free slopes east of the largest lake. Now our path to the ridge was wide open, and we made good time reaching the low saddle we had spied from across the basin. What a great decision it had been to not turn back – from the ridge, Moose Lake lay below us on its Tableland bench, completely pristine in its deep aquamarine and emerald hues. Beyond lay the southern half of the Great Western Divide, each majestic peak set against a backdrop of wildfire smoke (leaving Bakersfield the previous Thursday night, we had seen giant plumes of smoke rising from the mountains to the east, but we had been incommunicado ever since – only after returning home did we learn about the tragic Erskine Fire, still burning as of this writing, and it was most certainly the source of the smoke we saw). We took in the scene for about 30 minutes, having decided on the way up from the three lakes that we would not be making the steep descent to Moose Lake proper – the view from the ridge was reward enough, as was the fact that we achieved a new high elevation together of 10,925′ (we thought about continuing west up the ridge to the 11,000′ level, but there was still a lot of snow in that direction and we figured that could wait for another time). We retraced our steps without much fanfare, choosing to take a shortcut through a notch in the rocky outcrop and saving Jane having to repeat her risky maneuvers in the opposite direction. The views were just as stunning, if not more so, heading west, the cascade below the second dead tree being particularly delightful as we walked down its northern edge. The afternoon sunlight in the chute above Pear Lake also served to highlight the flowers there – it was quite the grand descent as we made our way off the mountain and back into camp, and it wasn’t until reaching the cliffs above the campground that we saw other people since leaving that morning. Dinner was simple ramen and beef jerky, but boy does that stuff taste good at 9,500′! The evening alpenglow was even better than the night before – we sort of missed the sunset, but watching the changing color of the cliffs above the lake was just as magical. Having moved the tent to the other side of our campsite to avoid some rocks, we were looking forward to a good night’s sleep – that didn’t really happen, but we’ll save that story for another post…