The video is a first‑person, journal‑style documentary of an 11‑day backpacking trek through California’s Kings Canyon National Park, focusing on the remote Valley of the Kings and surrounding high‑Sierra passes. Narrated primarily by Rip Van (Speaker A) with interjections from companions (Speaker C, Lee Hovey, and others), the footage chronicles daily progress from Bishop Pass to Muir Pass, the Valley of the Kings, Evolution Basin, and the ascent toward Paiute Pass. The narrative blends vivid natural descriptions (glaciers, alpine lakes, junipers, white‑bark pines), practical details (elevations, gear, food, weather), interpersonal moments (search for the missing companion “Libro,” camp banter, shared meals, hot‑spring relief), and reflective musings on wilderness solitude, the historic legacy of John Muir, and indigenous trail heritage. The tone oscillates between enthusiastic adventure, contemplative reverence, and occasional anxiety about the missing hiker, culminating in the group’s departure from the valley after a final night at over 12,000 ft.
Chapters
Gravitrax Films presents the Valley of the Kings, into the forbidden realm of the sewer gods. Kick back in your La-Z-Boy, put down your remote, you're coming with us. What do you say, Leebo? Rip Van, let's go! Let's go, baby! Climbing up the switchbacks to Bishop Pass. This here are the inconsolables. And this is where we're going. I'm about 20, 30 feet below Bishop Pass and about, well, maybe an 8th of a mile from it. I have to rest after every 100 paces, but it seems to work out for me. I don't know where Libro is. Somewhere down there in this barren Desolation.
Kings Canyon
National Park, the summer mecca of high-altitude backpacking enthusiasts. My first look at the interior wilderness where I'll be spending the next 11 days. Well, Lee did finally make it here. Welcome to Bishop Pass, Lee. Where are we going to go next? Next, next stop, Doozy Land. Day 2.
Frost on the ground, but I'm safe. Saved again with a life-saving 5-inch loft. Welcome to morning in camp in Doozy Land. After yesterday's physical ascent on Bishop Pass, this day we're going down. Way down to the 3,700 feet down into the warm wooded confines of La Conte Canyon. If we get there early enough, I look forward to a hot shower. What's up, Libro? Hey, morning, Rip. What's up, man? Hey, man, what's up? What are you doing?
Give me some more of that dusty trail. Beast is loaded, raring to go. I'm not, but I'm going anyway. Ready to go, Lake? Yeah. All right. Here, last good look at the, uh, Doozy Creek Lake Basin. We're closing in on our hike to the bottom. Check out the view. This is the Doozy, Doozy Creek Cascade plunging down sheer granite slope to the bottom where it pools with LaConte Canyon in the Middle Fork of the Kings River. And there's the And off to my right here, there's a truly major league juniper. I don't think I've ever seen one this healthy. Big Pete Meadow. Good morning and welcome to Big Pete Meadow. After a breakfast of coffee and oatmeal, a hot shower and a dull shave, we're nearly ready to start today's big assault on Muir Pass in the Valley of the Kings into the forbidden realm Of the super gods. Not possible. There's no easy way to do this. You set that screw jam in. Oh yeah, come back. Help somebody. I don't like fences out here in the wilderness. Lee Hubby Mercantile. You want it, he's got it. Pots and pans, whistles, bells, coffee, Evian water, hotel towels. This is where, this is where we just lunched. The last spot on this side of Muir Pass that'll have any trees. Got storm clouds a-brewin'. We're just gonna be exposed to the hard, cold, brutal elements.
Give me some more of that dusty trail.
I'm perched on a ledge, 11,640 feet above sea level, looking just down on Helen Lake. It's one of the 2 lakes that straddle Muir Pass. The other one's Wanda Lake, both named after John Muir's daughters. And that is Mount Warlow. I almost made it. Muir Pass. Medallioned by a truly hut built in the 1930s by the Sierra Club called Muir Hut. We made it, baby. We made it. This is the gateway to the Valley of the Kings. We're close. Oh yeah, my kind of place. Oh yes, drive up the government over there, and if you look off You would feel like you're fine. Or going down. I don't know. That might change. Somebody left this year, I guess. Oh wait, no, this is probably the dad that—
oh, this is probably Ah, it's about 7 o'clock. I've been in my tent for 10 hours. I haven't moved. And if you look at me, you can see why. Just outside the tent, you can see Muir Hut being lit up. Hey, Libro, you awake? Yep, I've been up for hours. What a man.
The bees The place is loaded, but I'm not. We're heading off into parts unknown, hitherto yet undiscovered by man, into the Valley of the Kings. Wanda Lake, 11,420-some-odd feet in the high, high Sierra. This barren, desolate, gorgeous region opens itself up to travelers like Lee and me for 4 to 6 weeks a year during the summer. What a great place. Doing a little We're doing a little cross-country scampering over these, I don't know, talus and scree fields going into the valley of the canyons. We're on We found the Great Node in the Valley of the Kings. It's been a pretty good day so far. Hasn't been one of those days. We didn't have to hike over passes and climb down into deep gorges and endless pits, ravines. We found this place, the Valley of the Kings. We set up camp here. We're gonna be here for probably about 3 days, maybe 3 nights, and see what tomorrow brings.
I wouldn't want to be down on that little peninsula.
Oh, this is great. I know, this is the great end of the lake. You have so many different meadows where water's coming down and, uh, just awesome.
You get the pristine Two Creeks.
We have 2 species of trees that are just climaxing in the same place too.
Just so intermingled you can barely tell them apart without—
And then you have snags like that one there. That's an absolutely gorgeous snag.
That's a white bark. They're so nice.
Oh yeah, they were awesome trees, man. There's one over there on the other side. Just took a picture. You can see it. It looks— it's like an altar, man. It's curved around.
You taking a picture of this tree, or—
Yeah, I got it. I got that.
Oh, you were taking a picture of the tree? Sun.
That's good too. This is one of the most beautiful places on earth, and here we are, nobody else.
I know, it's really funny.
Oh, this is a gorgeous lake. That other one, you see it's 5 foot below just about? Yeah. What a dimension. A little pathway just creeping across the lake. Oh, this is a gorgeous lake. I'm going to learn some more native people. As I kept saying on my hike, it's just Oh, look at the reflections in the lake. Is that great or what? Oh yeah, when have you ever seen that? Sun's gone.
Day 5. I'm in my tent. Finally, a day today that I won't burden my beast. The backpack is grounded for now, at least. Let me show you our little site in this most pristine Valley of the Kings. Nestled in a, in a little flat amidst whitebark and lodgepole trees overlooking the valley of the Kings Lakes Basin and Peaks. Our tents are set, our banner is posted. This is home. We'll keep a clean sight. We talk in hushed reverence. This is a special place in the High Sierra, a valley unblemished by the ravages of sheepmen of yesteryear or the hordes of campers today. Everywhere you walk, Flowers bloom alongside snags fallen, as if frozen in time.
Dry hillsides give way to lush meadows, to forested glens, to waterfalls and lakes. This is a special place, a place where the spirits of the wilderness speak, and today, day 5, would be a good day to listen. Say, Libro. Morning, Punk. Can we look inside?
Oh yeah, you may, sure. Looks neater than outside. Libro's humble abode. No time to shave. Morning folks, it's great. Mmm, boy, this is the life, eh Libro? Excellent.
With peals of thunder ominously portending a dangerous future, Libro and I decided this may be our best opportunity for a warm meal. And this is how you do it. I'm gonna make a fire. Arguing about our ill-preparedness, whether or not we should bring a map or even rain gear. We're setting off on a day hike, go up into the great beyond, who knows where. We're leaving the Valley of the Kings. See you in a couple hours. This can only mean one thing. It's time to bathe. Okay, ready to go, Lee?
Ready to go?
Okay, ready to go? Okay, let's go.
Ready?
After a couple hours of scrambling, trying to make it back towards Wanda. We made it to the precipice of Evolution Basin. Now we're just sitting here wondering 2 things. One, how the hell do we get down there? And 2, what do we do when we get down there? Lee wants to take the trail, but he always wants to take the trail.
I'm just gonna push Winkle west.
I wanna explore the great beyond into Granite Never-Neverland. This place is awesome. So if I could get lost and you never see me again, this is where I'll be. Sapphire Lake, Evolution Basin. I feel like I'm in a time capsule. Here I am in Evolution Basin, and all around me, exhibits of glaciers that were really here millennia ago, but it seems like they were— they just left and left this debris of glacial erratics and glacially scoured, polished, clean granite. We both put our rain ponchos on here for just a brief spell. The clouds are still threatening, but the rain let up. We took them off. We took them off. I'm somewhere on a bench between Sapphire Lake and what you see before you now, Evolution Lake. Evolution Basin. The overflow. Hello. Into Evolution Valley. Day 6, Valley of the Kings still. After yesterday's greatest day hike of all times, I have to adjust today. Force a slowdown. Make myself be quiet. And force myself to listen. Listen to myself. And listen to the spirits of the wilderness. To the rocks, boulders, the great granite nodes, the ridges and the peaks. Listen to the wildlife.
The birds.
The fish. The critters. The deer. Listen to, listen to them play.
Watch them work.
Listen to the water. Got tired of listening, so I decided to make some noise. We're on our way down to that lake. Come on. Come on. That one in the middle has legs. He's got legs. Get him! He's got legs! It's starting to sprinkle and blow real hard, so I'm out of here. We're ridge running, uh, from that little tadpole lake Up to, up this area up here. This is a no-name, no-name peak just above the Valley of the Kings. So we're ridge hopping the ridge above the Valley of the Kings. Again, I don't know what got me started on this. I was really tired when I started, but here I am. You'll see it as I see it. Feet away from the top. Pretty hairy going, as you can see. I don't consider myself a mountain climber, but— And I'm probably still— I'm still not, but I had to perform some maneuvers that were beyond my normal reckoning, my normal imagination. See if I can do this with only 2 feet and one hand. Oh baby, I think I got it. Ah, check it out. I'm on the ridge above the Valley of the Kings, and I'm looking over At what seems to be the top of the world. Oh man. It's Mount Darwin on your right. No-namer in the foreground. Forget what that big one is back there. Amazing. Up here over the clouds. Looking back over the Wanda Lake area. Mount Rainier in the far background. Looking at the, uh, Goddard Divide with Mount Goddard coming into the center. There's Marmot Node. There's our little clump of trees. There's the lake you went swimming in yesterday. There's the lake that had that doe and a baby fawn. Amazing. Tonight will be my last night in the Valley of the Kings. It'll also be my 4th night sleeping at well over 10,000 feet. I'm at about 12,000 right now. I'll be going down into warmer climes, leaving this rarefied ether, until about 6 days from now. When we exit the park, way the hell over there somewhere. That's where we just were. Crazy, huh?
Day 7, Marmot Node, Valley of the Kings. The sun's slow rise reflects in ripples the cirque of peaks and nodes and feeding fish on Valley of the Kings lakes.
This special, special place. Too bad I must go. Down into canyons and valleys many, many miles away to hot springs where I can cleanse this body the way the Valley of the Kings has cleansed my soul. Tougher Colby Meadow. Nobody here. A little bit of a hairy log crossing here at, uh, what is Colby Meadow? Let's see, uh, see how Leebo can handle it. As long as the tree holds up, I'm all right. McClure Meadow, Evolution Valley, John Muir Trail. Take a listen. Evolution Meadow. In Evolution Valley. On the John Muir Trail. Lower Goddard Canyon and the introduction of new trees, junipers and Jeffrey pines in the foreground here. And we're on our descent downriver to the hot springs. Day 8, Goddard Canyon. Good morning, camp. Didn't feel like getting up today. Could have stood in bed. But there's 2 words that got me up and out. Made me coffee, made me shower, makes me pack my bags. Hot springs! This is just pure, pure muddy bliss. There isn't an aching muscle in my body. This is just great. I'm sitting in a hot tub, I'm trying to waste some time. I've been working like a dog. I've been mewling over time. Seriously tired. I'm on foot, not sitting. It's hard to ease my extra pain, to relax my tensions, all my trouble, to absolve and forgive my sins. I'm all sticky and sweaty, all crusty and cranky. So tired. Water feels so good. When I'm sitting in this hot tub, I feel much better. But then, hot tub, I be working like a dog. Tomorrow, all over again. Seriously, seriously hot time. Water feels so good. I'm sitting in a hot tub. I'm trying to waste some time. I've been working like a dog. I've been muted over time. I'm on a backpack trip, Valley of the Kings. Seriously hot. On my way home from heaven. Water feels so good. My feet are I'm stinky and sweaty. Seriously. Day 9. Today starts the big push out of here. We're gonna be going up Paiute Creek, going up about 4,000 feet over the next 3, 3 and a half days to Paiute Pass. I'm already starting to worry about civilized things like, will my car start? Will it even work? Will I work? Money, you know, usual things. But meanwhile, I'll be walking on a moccasin route, an old Indian trail traveled for thousands, maybe tens of thousands of years by Paiute and Miwok Indians. It was their trade route. They would trade pinyon pine nuts and obsidian for acorns and leathers or whatever. And I suppose the special ones would even come up here and hunt. Anyway, I love the smell of horseshit in the morning. It smells like backpacking. Oh, give me a big mountain woman, one who can carry my load, long as she can fish fightin' Don't care if she looks like a toad. Oh. Good morning. Day 10, Hutchinson Meadow. I'm in my tent. Check out the view.
Ah.
Outside, The sun, sun has just risen. On my little perch above the Paiute. I'm halfway up towards Paiute Pass, up the Pine Creek Trail. Just below Timberline. I don't know where Libro is. Somewhere down there. The Libro! It's day 10. I'd say it's somewhere around 7 o'clock, maybe even later. I still don't know where Libro is. I think he might have taken the low road. I took the high road by accident. Last time I saw him, I saw him this morning. He took off and he was by the river bathing, and I passed him. I went to the river to bathe and he passed me, and that was it. That was the last time I saw him. I can't imagine anything having gone wrong, but you never know. The only thing that worries me is that he had these bizarre dreams last night. Didn't tell me what they were except that he kept getting in predicaments and then waking up. I hope he's not in one of those predicaments. Me, I've found an airy little perch here above Humphreys Basin. I got my— I didn't eat all day, just wiped out when I got here. Ate a Snickers and a liter of water and Now, as you can hear, I'm cooking dinner, or I'm boiling water. Instant. And I tell you what, if there wasn't instant coffee in this world, I don't know what I'd do. Anyway, I found this little, airy little perch here. It's a room with a view. Let's get up and take a look. The back window here has a marvelous View of Mount Humphreys. This is the viewing area with all these beautiful bees and birds. I'm in the lee of an enormous whitebark pine that has sheltered this little plateau, allowing the grass to grow, which is why I'm here on a nice soft sandy spot. Even though there's clouds all on the horizon, I don't have my windscreen— my rain screen up yet. I'm not that intimidated. And here I have erected an enormous stump and placed my bright yellow Electrolux rain poncho Um, on display. Or if he's down there somewhere and he comes up the trail towards Paiute Pass, he's bound to see it. In addition, I'm probably going to Flash my flashlight down there. If I know Lee, he collapsed at the nearest flat spot. He never found a flat spot he didn't like, and it's probably on one of those lakes. Well, in the morning— hoping I get a good night's sleep and don't fret— in the morning I'll go down and Run around looking for him, but right now I'm just too tired. Time for coffee.
The sun's just about to rise. Guess I will too. Still no no lead, but last night I went up to. I was on top of some nodes up here on the other side. Yelled out, yelled out his name. Say Libro. I yelled out into a small wind, but I did hear it echo once. I continued hiking, and I was— as I was coming back to my tent, I started hearing some yelling back. I couldn't really discern what it was other than, couldn't make it tomorrow, something like that. And I was thinking, is that Lee? Then when darkness fell, I was watching the stars come out and the silhouette of the mountains. I started flashing my flashlight down towards The golden trout lays, which if I don't leave, it turns out. And then the flashlight started flashing back. Now, all this could be Lee, all this could not be Lee. Only time will tell.
Don't really know. Anyway, today is the 11th day. 11th full day. Tomorrow We'll be back at the Kennedy's car, God willing. The extravaganza, the Valley of the Kings extravaganza will be over.
If I could change it, I probably would, but I can't, or I won't, or I don't know I should. Ask God for forgiveness, try to be good. If I could change it, I probably, I probably would. If I could, if I could smile through this anger, I would. But I can't, or I won't, or I don't, though I should ask your forgiveness. Try to be good. If I could smile through this anger, I probably would. If I could. It's a big word, understood. What else can I
Still no Libro. It's about 12:15 on the 11th of It's the 7th day. I've just completed a circuit of the trout lakes, and, uh, there is no sign of them. Felipe! Felipe! Felipe! Pretty good echo. Finally made it back to base camp. Maybe this Electro Monk wasn't such a good idea. I sure couldn't see it from down there, and I knew where it was supposedly. Got some verga happening. Over there to the— I guess that would be the east— west, rather. Oh man. Next move? I don't know. See if we can weather this out and do Pirate Pass. It's not too far from here. Maybe I could yell over it. Damn, look at this. Let me tie stuff down. Well, I'm going up to Paiute Pass. It's wintry, it's windy, blustery, a lot of storm clouds, but really not a lot of rain. It looks like there's somewhere I'm going. But, you know, I know Lee. He's starting to smell home, and he probably like probably tried to make the pass today. So Paiute Lake is probably where I'll stop.
If I could be what you want me to be, if I could.
Bayou Pass. I've had still no luck finding Libro. Um, my best hope is he'll be waiting down at the carton, only a couple miles down.
I'm gonna go get him. Maybe, maybe 800, 900 feet. Not very far. As I was coming down over here, walking down there from Coney Perch up there in the above timberline, bushwhacking my way through the boulders, the hawk came back. I saw it actually Actually, I didn't see it at first, but his shadow came right over me, and then I looked up, blocked the sun, and I saw him and another one, or her and another one. Maybe mates, maybe they were friends. I hope, I hope they weren't spirits of the wilderness.
If I could change it, I probably would. But I can't, or I won't, or I don't know I should ask your forgiveness, try to do good. If I could change it, I probably, probably would. If I could. If I could. If I could. Yeah.
The beast is loaded almost, and guess who's here? Oh, I ought to kill the son of a bitch. There he is, white as a lamb, innocent as snow. The mountain traveler, the prodigal son. And my nightmare, my worst nightmare, is over. No phone calls to a distraught, grieving wife with wailing kids in the background. No phone calls to, uh, the ranger station, all-points bulletin, missing Lee Hovey. No, fresh as a daisy. I ought to kill the son of a bitch. Mama. Son's gone.
