Yesterday I stopped just short of Dick’s Pass. From Dick’s pass you can see Dick’s Lake and Dick’s Peak. Ok, so I got to wondering who is this Dick. Dick’s Lake is pretty big and Dick’s peak is pretty tall and his Pass, well it was very impressive as well. Here is some information about Dick for you taken from the internet which was taken from the book Tahoe Place Names by Barbara Lekisch.

Dicks peak was named for an eccentric Englishman, Captain Richard ‘Dick’ Barter, also known as ‘the Hermit of Emerald Bay’ or the ‘Hero of Robber’s Roost.’ ‘Captain Dick Barter was an old sailor (or shell-back, as he expressed it), who was employed by Mr. [Ben] Holladay to remain on the place and keep things ship-shape.’ In 1870 he was sixty-five years old and had ‘lived in this lonely spot for about seven years. There is not a residence within miles of him, and often for weeks or months at a time, he does not see a human being. He is a Robinson Crusoe in actual life.’ (San Francisco Daily Alta California, August 22, 1870.)
‘In Ben Holladay’s house at Emerald Bay is a masterly piece of workmanship in the shape of a full rigged man-of-war, with men, guns and all the usual appurtenances and appliances. This Dick made during his hermitage, and for the remainder of his time he floated idly upon the lake, took charge of Holladay’s house and grounds, or worked upon his own grave! Strange as it may appear, on a rock island in Emerald Bay, he fashioned a grave out of solid rock, built over it a house, erected above it a Catholic cross, and gave directions to have his body placed in the stony crypt. He loved the lake, and for hours at a time drifted about in his boat. At times he drank heavily, and when he felt the stupor of intoxication stealing over him he would row toward the middle of the lake, lie down in his boat and drift with the waves until he became sober. Poor Dick! he left Glenbrook one fearfully windy day much the worse for liquor, and off Rubicon Rocks his boat was seen to disappear. When the storm subsided his trusty boat was found crushed to minute fragments in the clefts of the rocks. One oar, much worn and chafed by rocks and waves, lay with the pieces of boat. The other oar was found three months afterwards in the same place, worn but slightly. The inference was plain. Captain Dick carried with him the last oar to the bottom of Tahoe. How it became detached from his death grip no one knows, but all his old friends regard this oar as a sad messenger sent to tell that Captain Dick’s body has no further claims upon this upper world, not even upon the grave he prepared.

The hiking day was unremarkable in that nothing happened out of the ordinary. It was remarkable for the beauty and just plain joy of hiking. I am still meeting people because there seem to be a lot of people that hike the Tahoe Rim Trail but there are no PCT’ers.