A true conservationist is a man who knows that the world is not given by his fathers, but borrowed from his children.

- John James Audubon



Aug 31, 2018

A Sierra Nevada Plan B: Mono Hot Springs

Despite holding a lottery slot to climb Half Dome, in the face of the Ferguson Fire, Evan and his girlfriend Madison, needed another option.


Evan Quarnstrom

As fires raged all across the state of California, I had my focus aimed towards one in particular, the Ferguson fire, which was rapidly burning west of Yosemite Valley. I formed a morning and afternoon routine of checking the Yosemite webcams, looking for non-existent visibility through the dense smoke that had ridden California’s westerly winds into the valley.

Through a lottery system, Madison and I had been successful in earning two of the 225 daily slots to Hike Half Dome on August 6. It would be my third time hiking Half Dome and I was excited for Madison to go for her first.

For those that are unfamiliar with the Half Dome permit system, the final section of the hike, which is strung with cables that you use to walk up the nearly featureless granite formation, had become so jammed with traffic that a permit system was implemented in 2010, making the hike more enjoyable and safer, but also making access more scarce and valuable. The date that you are given in the lottery is the date you have to go.

My third attempt at Half Dome would have to be shelved for the time being.

As August 6th grew closer and the smoke in Yosemite Valley grew thicker, I started to come to grips with the fact that Half Dome just might not be in the cards for 2018. Sure enough, August 5th rolled around and there still was not a damn thing to be seen in Yosemite Valley. My third attempt at Half Dome would have to be shelved for the time being.

Not wanting to waste the precious week of vacation that I had requested months earlier, a contingency plan had to be put into motion. I was not going to give up on the flowing, tree-covered peaks and crystal-clear lakes of the beautiful Sierra Nevada Range. All throughout my childhood I had camped out in a remote corner of the mountains called Mono Hot Springs and I knew that I couldn’t go wrong with a return trip. It had been over a decade since my last visit. It would be a slightly different, more remote trip than a weekend in the tourist-filled Yosemite Valley. Also, I really wanted to show Madison the magical views on the hike to Half Dome, so we had to do our best to make up for the missed opportunity and look for a replacement hike.

On the first day the wind had shifted from the prevailing westerly winds and blew the smoke southwest to Mono Hot Springs, which made for a nice sunset, but unhealthy air. Luckily the winds kept the smoke away for the remainder of our trip. Photo: Madison Snively

Mono Hot Springs just as I remembered

To me, Mono Hot Springs is a paradise of sorts, an outpost in the Sierra Nevada that tastefully chose to retain its beauty and never overdevelop. An ice cold river cuts throughout the campsites, flowing along steep granite walls and giving life to lush meadows where wildflowers bloom. Towering pine trees dominate the terrain and aroma as they work their way up as high as they can on the surrounding monstrous peaks. And of course, the main attraction of the area is the numerous hot springs that dot the river’s edge, providing a relaxing way to soak in the views.

The campsites at Mono Hot Springs are in high demand, so we booked a site at Mono Creek Campground, just a few miles down the road.

any tow from this far out in the mountains would cost me my life savings

Getting to Mono Hot Springs is an adventure in itself. You have to take Kaiser Pass, a one lane, bumpy road that reaches elevations of over 9,000 feet (one of the highest roads in California.) The road has various blind turns and unguarded cliffs that can cause precarious situations when you come across traffic heading the opposite direction. While maybe a car with some clearance and four wheel drive would be ideal, my little Nissan did the trick and made it up there just fine. I drove cautiously, as any tow from this far out in the mountains would cost me my life savings.

Getting a quick dip in the hot springs after a long drive was amazing. This hot spring is my favorite because you can alternate between the relaxing, warm water and the freezing river. Photo: Madison Snively

We arrived at our campsite in the late afternoon on August 4th, pitched a tent, and took a dip in Mono Creek just a short distance from our site. We needed to rest because we had planned a hike for the following day that would fill the void of rigorous hiking that was created by missing out on Half Dome. We intended to reach the top of one of the towering peaks that loom over Mono Hot Springs, Graveyard Peak.

Forging our own path to Graveyard Peak

We woke up early on our first morning in the Sierras and heated water for a hot oatmeal breakfast. We had a solid thirteen-mile round trip hike on tap with just a hair under 4,000 feet of elevation to gain. The destination was Devil’s Bathtub, a natural lake in the high Sierras, and Graveyard Peak, one of the many mountains that form part of the semi circle of granite that encompasses the lake.

The first portion of the hike was a relatively mellow climb that breezed by. In just under two hours we had completed the 4.5 mile, 1,000 foot climb up to Devil’s Bathtub. Considering that so many of the lakes in the Sierras are damned, it was refreshing to see a pristine, natural lake. The water was crystal clear, as every detail of the lakebed could be discerned from its edge. The lake and the scenery were stunning, enough to the point that I would recommend to most people that they end the hike there and enjoy the lake for the day, avoiding the merciless climb up to Graveyard Peak.

The morning light and lack of wind on the lake made for an amazing view upon arriving at Devil’s Bathtub. It was about a 2 hour, 4.5 mile hike from the trailhead with 1,000+ feet or so of climbing. The mountain in the center of the photo was our next destination, Graveyard Peak. Photo” Evan Quarnstrom

Passing on an inviting dip in the lake, we decided to save that for the afternoon and trudged on to accomplish our goal of summiting Graveyard Peak. A steep, but relatively short trail-less, two mile hike up a sharp ridge on the east side of the lake was all that stood between us and a panoramic view of many of the barren peaks of the high Sierra.

I gained a new appreciation for hiking on trails.

As we gained elevation searching for the ridge that would lead us to the peak, I gained a new appreciation for hiking on trails. Looking for the path of least resistance through boulder fields and thick brush makes the distance you hike at least twice as much as it would be with a trail. We knew that the ridge looked pretty steep from where we scouted it on the shore of the lake, but it was steeper than it appeared. The relentless incline required frequent breaks and the thinning oxygen at over 10,000 feet didn’t make matters any easier.

The terrain up to Graveyard Peak was pretty steep and rough. Photo: Evan Quarnstrom

false peak after false peak

As with climbing peaks goes, we kept passing false peak after false peak. (A peak that blocks the view of the true peak, making it appear as the top of the mountain.) The immensity of the mountain made our progress feel increasingly slow.

As we were approaching what appeared to be the true summit, we noticed a plume of smoke rising through the pine trees just a couple miles across the lake. It was too much smoke to be a campfire, but we couldn’t see any flames that indicated it was a wildfire. Various scenarios started racing through my head. If this indeed was the beginning of a forest fire, we were an awfully long way from our car and there was an abundance of dry timber sitting between us and safety.

For the meantime, the fire didn’t seem to be growing and we were so close to the peak that we continued on, too close to give up on our goal. We arrived to the top of Graveyard Peak four hours after first setting off from Devil’s Bathtub, surely the steepest, prolonged hike I had ever done without a trail.

Finally arriving to the top of the peak. This isn’t actually the true peak. There is a rocky outcrop a couple hundred yards up the ridge that is slightly higher, but not very accessible without climbing. Also, note that on the right side of the photo you can see the smoke plume that was making us nervous. Photo: Evan Quarnstrom

Reaching the top is as, if not more, rewarding than I had hoped for, as dozens of high Sierra Peaks come into view, with lakes, valleys, and even a few glaciers (I think?) adding to the scenery. Not too far to the northwest you could see the billowing smoke of the Ferguson Fire giving the sky a distinct hue of grey.

A helicopter had arrived and was circling the smoke, giving me the idea that it wasn’t a drill.

As we took in the 360 degree scenery, I kept one worrisome eye on the aforementioned smoke rising out of the trees across the lake. A helicopter had arrived and was circling the smoke, giving me the idea that it wasn’t a drill. A glorious rest in the clouds at 11,500 feet had to be cut short, knowing that it would be best to work our way back towards the car in the case that the fire got any worse.

You know how sometimes its hard to wrap your mind around the size of outer space? I was having that feeling, but with the overwhelming amount of untouched peaks and lakes in all directions with potential for backpacking. Photo: Madison Snively

We hastily began the descent, hopping from boulder to boulder. The return trip back to the lake took only half the time (two hours) and this time we came at the lake from the north side to explore the opposite shore that we had seen in the morning.

The north shore is where all the snow runoff feeds the lake from the mountains, resulting in deposits of sediment that had formed beautiful, gradually sloping sandy beaches. Noticing that the smoke from the perceived fire had not gotten any worse, we decided that a well-deserved break was in order and we got our daily bath of fresh water.

That evening we arrived at the car, as exhausted as ever, nearly 12 hours since we commenced the hike. Hiking to Graveyard Peak had used up nearly all the hours of daylight at our disposal, but I was satisfied as it definitely felt like a worthy replacement of Half Dome.

Photo: Evan Quarnstrom

Recovery at Doris Lake

After the overly strenuous start to the trip, our second full day in Mono Hot Springs was to be a mellow day to allow our muscles to recover. We rose a little later than normal and headed to the hot springs.


We spent the greater part of the day relaxing at a lake just a mile away from the Mono Hot Springs campsite. Doris Lake is a small, hot spring fed lake, known for its steep granite walls that make for excellent cliff jumping. These cliffs had been the cause of much allure, anxiety and fulfillment for me when I was younger. I always wanted to be like the adults and jump off the highest rock, called Eagle Rock for its resemblance to the head of a bird. After many years of working my way up, I finally was able to do the highest rock jump. A great weight off my shoulders after years of looking off the edge and not jumping.

In my return to Doris Lake I needed a smaller warm up jump and then I was ready to repeat my jump from Eagle Rock. I climbed the rock and jumped off before my mind could process the potential (and unlikely) consequences of the jump, avoiding any second guessing that might turn me back.

I jumped off Eagle Rock not because I felt like I had anything to prove, but I knew that if I didn’t it would be on my mind until the next time I came back, and who knows how long that would be.

The rest of the day was spent swimming, reading, and snacking on the granite shores of the lake.

Hasta Luego Mono Hot Springs

For our third and final day we had played around with the idea of taking on another daunting hike to one of the many peaks in the area, but we had enjoyed our day lounging around the lake so much, that we scheduled a similar kind of day again.

For our final day we completed a hike up to a prominent rock formation called Devil’s Table (which was more strenuous than I remember it being when I was younger) and ended the day at Tule Lake, named for the dense tules that thrive around its shore.

Standing atop Devil’s Table looking towards Kaiser Pass, the only way to get in and out of there in a car. Photo: Evan Quarnstrom

More swimming, reading, and fresh mountain air provided the perfect end to this trip.

paradise nestled up in the Sierra Nevadas

Mono Hot Springs surely isn’t Yosemite. It’s an entirely different kind of trip and despite my desire to hike Half Dome for the third time, maybe a couple days in Mono Hot Springs was what I was truly looking for after all. Hiking, swimming, cooking, and enjoying hot springs with nostalgic memories of my childhood sprinkled around every corner of the mountains made for an excellent stay up in the enchanted land of no cell service.

I sure hope I don’t have to wait a decade again to return to this piece of paradise nestled up in the Sierra Nevadas, hence why it’s an ‘hasta luego’ and not an ‘adios.’

Evan Quarnstrom grew up in the quiet surf town of Santa Cruz, California, where unsurprisingly he developed a love for the ocean and nature. At 18, Evan headed for San Diego in pursuit of warmer weather and an education. Evan attended San Diego State University to study International Business, finishing of his degree off with a year-long study abroad program in Chile. Evan is now the Marketing and Media Manager at the International Surfing Association.

You can follow Evan on Instagram.

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Jun 14, 2019

Riding Through Rajasthan

On the back of an indigenous Marwari horse, known for its warrior spirit, a female-only group rides 160 miles across India through villages that have never been visited by foreigners.



Margaret Reynolds

The adventure began before we even arrived at our destination. Racing through the twisting narrow back allies of Delhi, we were late. Our train to Ganganagar was leaving in ten minutes and we hadn’t made it through the swarm of Delhi traffic to the train station. We rounded a corner and came to a screeching halt as the road ahead was completely closed off at the intersection with no hope of a resolution any time soon. Honking horns, a constant accompaniment to Delhi traffic, now rose to a crescendo of cacophonic sounds as frustrated drivers expressed their annoyance. “Out! Out!” our guide shouted, and we leaped from the van and ran through the street. We were weaving around traffic which bolted forward erratically to gain inches, trying to maneuver their way free of the jam, while we stayed alert to avoid being bumped or hit. Some drivers called out to us in Hindi words we only understood by their tone. Blindly following our guide, using our adrenaline to power us through the crowd, we made it to the train and our sleeper cars minutes before departure and hoped that the bags coming behind us on porters made it too!

Author Margaret Reynolds is an experienced horseback rider who prepared for this trip with previous rides in both Europe and Africa.
Some of our group in the sleeper car of train.

Awaiting us in Hanumangarh, a short distance from Ganganagar, was the Bhatner Horse Fair, a once-a-year festival to celebrate, compete, and market the famed Marwari breed indigenous to India and unlike any other breed worldwide. Missing our train would have meant missing the Fair and it was an event that we planned our entire Rajasthan riding safari around.

“We discovered that we were the main attraction.”

The next morning, we arrived at the fair. It was the last day and while most of the events were completed, we discovered that we were the main attraction as they rarely had foreigners, and there were no other women there. We were given the red-carpet treatment since we were accompanied by Raghuvendra Singh Dundlod, affectionately known as Bonnie, a nobleman of the Shekhawati clan and reputed to be the savior of the Marwari’s. He has dedicated his life to the promotion and protection of the breed which he considers the true ambassador of Rajput culture and heritage. We were followed by a beehive of fair attendees, drawn to us like honey, and even interviewed by the local media. It became clear that our presence held so much more value than just our own education and enjoyment; we could offer support to Bonnie’s cause through our words and interest, as well as in undertaking the week-long safari to showcase these beautiful steeds to his countrymen.

Bonnie educating us on the horses while being observed by other fairgoers.
In breeder tent at the Bhatner fair with Bonnie, our guide and emissary (Margaret wearing bright scarf).

The next day we greeted our horses and mounted into traditional military saddles. The horses were proudly adorned with cloth martingales baring the rich red and saffron colors of Dundlod Fort, and the ride began past sheep herds along the Indira Gandhi Canal. These majestic horses, with warrior spirits, known for their stamina and power were the perfect partners for our eight-day safari across 160 miles of desert. We rode through the heart of Rajasthan, across the Thar desert, far from the bustling cities of the Golden Triangle, now populated by robust crops of millet and mustard enabled by the newly built canal system.

Our group freshly mounted ready to ride out. Margaret and Noel on far right.

“These majestic horses, with warrior spirits, were the perfect partners for our eight-day safari.”

The route was a new one as each year the progress of India’s roads, establishment of new agricultural fields and corresponding fences creates the need for a different trail. We passed through villages that had never been visited by foreigners. Women and children came rushing from all directions to shout “Hi” and “Hello” and shyly wave at us. We were followed for miles by young men on motorcycles whose English focused on the word “selfie” as they came armed with their cell phones to take pictures of this unusual parade of noble horses and white-skinned foreigners. We were welcomed guests wherever we traveled.

Passing through a village in Rajasthan.
Being greeted by villagers along the route.

Our first night by the village of Raika Ki Dhani, we were greeted by dozens of villagers who came to watch us—they observed us sharing chai and popadum, a crispy tortilla-like bread spiced with pepper whose flavor snaps in your mouth just like the texture, as we sat around the fire and chatted about our day. Bonnie regaled us with entertaining tales from his many adventures such as the time they were almost attacked by misinformed villagers who thought his group was hunting their sacred antelope. The locals stood quietly, respectfully, yards away and crept ever closer like sandhill cranes, en masse one step at a time, until the camp staff intervened.

Evening view of tents.
Inside view of the tents.

“We were all wearing smiles that transformed our souls and changed us forever.”

In the morning, the son of the landowner on which we camped, fluent in English, came to us requesting our presence at their home in the village so we could meet their women. Delightedly, we accepted and drove to their brick and adobe home in the village. Many generations live together, and women join the family home of their husbands. When we arrived, there were a dozen people and when we left many dozens as villagers heard of our presence and joined the gathering. The women are beautiful, graceful, and shy but so friendly and welcoming. It didn’t take long to bridge the language barrier as they let us hold their children, shake their hand, and take many pictures together. We aren’t sure who enjoyed it more. We were all wearing smiles that transformed our souls and changed us forever by the time we left.

Invited inside a local village family home.

The ride was swift with many fast canters through the desert, lined up side by side on a sandy two-track, with every horse competing to be in front. Astride the powerful Marwari thundering through the desert is an experience in which your soul is freed, and you are in the moment, feeling like you are riding on the wings of warriors past. You hope it never stops and if it were up to Koel, my lovely Marwari mare, it wouldn’t. She is a successful endurance horse that can go forever and is pleased to show you her power and speed.

The famous Marwari inward tilting ears—view to the desert.

Animals are esteemed in India. Cows, dogs and even pigs are considered holy and roam freely throughout India, including the cities. Drivers don’t honk at them even though they honk at everything else. They feast on grass and garbage or food provided by shopkeepers or families. While those of us in first world countries drive through our suburban neighborhoods, expecting to see the standard home with two car garages and the glow of multiple TVs, as we passed each home in the village we found a courtyard with a camel which served as the beast of burden pulling carts of supplies or crops, a few water buffalo that provide milk, a dog or two and likely sheep or goats for milk and meat. These precious animals, so essential for survival, are well cared for in a country known for its poverty.

The indigenous Marwari horse.

Life is simple in the villages. Days are repetitive and the work is essential –laundry, gathering fuel, cooking, and tending fields. Our presence in their villages provided some respite from the day to day existence. Often, a young boy would lead the way through town shooing goats, cows, or other animals out of our path and showing us the way to the community water trough so our horses could have a refreshing break, feeling pleased with his important role.

“The earthiness that filled the air was far preferable to the gagging stench and pollution of the city.”

Unlike the cities with their explosion of people and constant stench created by the recipe of uncontrolled diesel fumes, sewage, and trash, the villages were peaceful and calm. Here the smells were not of diesel but of livestock. Camels, so common in courtyards and hitched to carts, are ruminants. They chew and swallow their food into rumens where it is fermented, then burp it back up into their mouths later for more chewing. It smells a bit like a compost heap on a warm desert day. Cow patties are the most common source of fuel and they are being shaped by bare hands, then dried for use, usually within the courtyard or sometimes on the roof. Inexplicably, these smells weren’t offensive as they seemed harmonious with the way of life and the use of the land and its resources. For this Midwestern equine enthusiast, the earthiness that filled the air was far preferable to the gagging stench and pollution of the city.

Riding through a village.

We rode for 6-8 hours a day stopping for a break mid-day for lunch and a rest, avoiding the hottest sun of the day. Just before lunch, Bonnie’s staff raced ahead of us in the “gypsy” jeep to set up a small camp, with chairs and sleeping pads and to prepare the food, a buffet of vegetarian delicacies such as dal and curry flavored vegetables with steamed rice and endless chapatis. We were reliably greeted by villagers or passers-by, a camel driver, or young lads on their bikes, as we rested. Our biggest challenge was in finding an appropriate and private spot for a comfort break without being observed.

Men gathered with invitations to their homes.
Photo Op and Interview with the local press while the crowd watched. Margaret in a bright scarf to right of the horse.

“The future of the Marwaris has become our new cause.”

Our eight days through the desert was not a ride for the inexperienced. For those experienced riders who have come to believe they have tried it all, this ride surpasses expectations—not just because of the majesty of the Marwari’s but for the combination of culture, history, and riding which is unparalleled. I have worked up to this event by riding through other countries from Europe to Africa and the magic of this ride transcends them all.

Riding through a village being led by a young man.

The Marwaris, which drew us to India like snake charmers beckoning cobras, were everything we expected and more. We learned that they are banned from exportation which is leading to declines in the quality and popularity of the breed. The future of the Marwaris has become our new cause as we have so much respect for these amazing animals.

Dancing Marwari.

The days included challenge and leisure; hardship and comfort; and speed and stillness which have come to define India to me. It is a country of contrasts—from city to village; from western dress to traditional kurtas and saris; from Muslim to Hindu; and from ancient to modern buildings and customs. It is a country with many possibilities and it was exciting to experience first-hand the range of the country’s legacy and promise for its future.

Margaret Reynolds is a speaker, author, and advisor to organizations on improving business performance and increasing revenue growth. She is an avid competitive trail rider, winning back to back National Championships with NATRC in 2017 and 2018. Every year she and her adventurous friends find a new country to explore on horseback. mreynolds@breakthroughmaster.comhttps://www.breakthroughmaster.com/

Feature image: Group send-off at Bonnie’s Dunlod Fort


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