The Benson Lake Loop

The is looking from the north end of the beach, looking back towards Volunteer Peak along the route of the trail.

Benson Lake

The Benson Lake Loop, August 2002

After a short look around, I turned left towards the inlet to find a camp. The first thing I noticed was the well used look of the area, and the second thing I noticed was the abundant piles of horse droppings scattered everywhere, including along the beach. Someone really needed to patrol the area with a shovel and a gunny-sack. Still, I found a reasonably level shaded grassy spot for sleeping and unloading gear reasonably far enough away from butt-nugget piles. After a setup and second lunch in the warm sun and air temperature, I was ready to explore.

The lake is indeed a worthy destination with perhaps the longest sandy beach in the Sierra, very much like the beach of Tenaya Lake. There were some encroaching bands of shrubbery trees, but the beach itself was a consistent broad band of shoreline. At the far north end of the beach was a section claimed by a semi-permanent trail crew camp whose occupants seem to enjoy their property way too much. Along the nearly deserted beach were scattered sandy camps, which were sometimes sheltered by trees. The water, to my surprise, was fairly warm, so I gathered my sweaty cloths and chair to do laundry and take an unfettered swim.

The nice beach where I had a good swim. To the right is the area of the outlet. Lots of domes and polished granite here.

After my brisk swim I sat in my chair and admired the vast rocky bowl that held this huge lake. Nowhere could I see a reasonable route around this lake, though the north shore offered the best chance for such a hot rocky excursion. The northern slopes of the lake seemed rocky, bushy, with some talus and scree thrown in for good measure. The best way to the outlet seemed to be by some flotation device over the lake, which some of the trail crew amply demonstrated. For myself, I preferred my chair and a swim while enjoying this unusually calm and warm day.

The is looking from the north end of the beach, looking towards the lake outlet.

Back in camp I hung up my laundry to dry, dressed into clean clothes and read my book in my chair, thoroughly enjoying myself in my picture postcard surroundings.

Towards late afternoon, visitors from the north slogged into camps some distance from me and I wandered over for a chat with whoever seemed inclined to jaw a little. Soon afternoon became evening and the dinner hour, chores were done, books read, and at last it was time for bed under clear starry skies.