boxspring and mattress. We settled down between two small fires, melting snow, sharing a light supper of gorp, cheese, and a mini-can of potato salad. Time went pretty fast as we regaled each other with all of the really rotten things each had done during a lifetime. The waning moon rising about 10:30 amid ominous drifts of heavy clouds and the eastern light at 4:00 am marked the only milestones. Saturday morning we traversed a steep, cruddy ridge (the height of masochism). but even so had to drop almost 1000' to reach the base of the Dry Mt. mass. In so doing, we got a fine view of a bighorn sheep. Peaks don't interest Gerry, who stopped here to sleep while I did my thing alone. On the summit, overcast weather obscured wide vistas, I suspected. Few people had signed the register, none in 1973; perhaps it was hidden under snow. Dropping down, I found Gerry and we headed up and out. The disagreeable ascent the day before forced us to search out an alternate route down; we found a lovely deep canyon to the south, lined with majestic gendarmes perched on high walls, all of this flanked by lush, full-blooming yuccas and smaller, colorful blooms. Pleasant but slow and far, this route got us back to the red bus at 6:00 pm. Sunday, awakening at 6:00, we figured we could strike for Tin by 7:00. But, unlike true peakbaggers, we didn't get away until after 8:00. And then, the trip took until 6:00 that evening! This time I think we had the right route as a vague trail outline appeared from time to time, but the stops were frequent and too long for peakbagging. Gerry likes the pause that refreshes, refreshes, refreshes... The summit offered up just about the best view I have ever seen in all directions: the sublime Sierra Nevada Range stood out boldly, heavily laden with snow, the Inyo Mountains in the foreground were lightly tinted, and the massive White-Dubois Montgomery block was imperial. It all looked like a Paramount backdrop. Gerry waited for me again, at the 7600' saddle, enjoying in leisure the good air and sunshine, the solitude and mountain vistas.
BLUE BOTTLE Sierra San Pedro Martir (a short cut)				Bill Clifton
As a general rule this peak is climbed on the second day from a base camp at Los Llanitos Meadows after backpacking across the La Tasajera Ridge from Vallecitos Meadows via the main trail (middle). There are two other trails across this rocky ridge, one on the west end (short trail directly to La Grulla Meadow) and one on the east end. Over the July 4 holidays, while camping with the singles section of the San Diego Chapter, I suggested that we make an exploratory hike and see if we could climb Blue Bottle in a day from our camp, and got four volunteers. Since three of them were not sure of getting back to camp the same day, they decided to take their packs. One volunteer and I decided not to wait, so we jumped in my jeep and drove south on a bad road (only jeeps or pickup trucks should drive beyond the campsite) for about a mile and parked in a little flat beside the same wash that went by our camp below. Since our exploratory hike was so successful and we found ourselves back at camp by 4:00 the same day, I will describe in detail our route so others in the future may take advantage of it. As the main observatory road turns east near the south end of Vallecitos Meadows and starts its climb up to the observatory, turn off to the right. There are large mounds of dirt piled at this junction (garbage pits for the observatory). Mile 0.

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