Up at 6:30 and cleaned the burned batter off my pan from yesterday’s breakfast, then slowly got my things together, ate, drank more coffee, and finally rolled out of VVR at around 10.
I like that place. It’s too expensive, but there’s a nice atmosphere, and the employees seem less interested in taking all my money, despite the high prices. Also, we were able to play Scrabble all day and into the night on the restaurant’s patio. The waitress, Olive, hung out with us as we played, and we all joked around together.
Today, though. Right. Back up the road, back up the Bear Ridge Trail, back onto the PCT. Nothing too exciting, just ten miles or so amidst swarming mosquitoes. They’re getting more annoying as we lose elevation. I’ve been swatting at my arms all day. The only good thing about mosquitoes is how easy they are to kill, and today I massacred them. In the mosquito language, I am known simply as “The Black Doom,” and adults tell their larvae horrifying (but true) stories to keep them from acting up. Sometimes, I just knock mosquitoes out, and those rare survivors go back to their mosquito families and friends changed, haunted forever by visions of my terrifying giant hand wiping out all of the mosquitoes around them in one powerful sweep.
Anyway, we’re camped by a lake up in the mountains a couple miles short of Silver Pass. I am very cold. G’night.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Tuesday, June 23—Day 62
Took a zero at VVR today. We rediscovered bottomless coffee and Scrabble, both of which we enjoyed for hours. Between games, we walked two miles up the road to make calls on Tom’s phone at the only place he could get a strong signal.
We really did play Scrabble pretty much all day, and I don’t think I’ve enjoyed myself more in some time. This place is pretty expensive, but we’ve managed to keep the food bills low. For breakfast this morning, I bought a jug of shake-and-pour pancake batter mix for $2. I tried to make campfire pancakes, but ended up eating a lot of clumpy batter, which was still tasty and filling. You learn to not be picky out here.
We’re hiking out tomorrow. Not too early, I hope, because it’s late and all my stuff is spread out everywhere. Also, if we’re still here when the restaurant opens at 7, I can get more coffee. Something I’m becoming very fond of. ‘Night.
We really did play Scrabble pretty much all day, and I don’t think I’ve enjoyed myself more in some time. This place is pretty expensive, but we’ve managed to keep the food bills low. For breakfast this morning, I bought a jug of shake-and-pour pancake batter mix for $2. I tried to make campfire pancakes, but ended up eating a lot of clumpy batter, which was still tasty and filling. You learn to not be picky out here.
We’re hiking out tomorrow. Not too early, I hope, because it’s late and all my stuff is spread out everywhere. Also, if we’re still here when the restaurant opens at 7, I can get more coffee. Something I’m becoming very fond of. ‘Night.
Monday, June 22—Day 61
Sixty days! Two months! (Paul mis-numbered his entries, so yesterday was actually the big day.)
Two months of walking all day with a pack on my back. Two months of sleeping in a tent and going to the bathroom outside. Two months of beard on my face and two months of hair on my head. We’ve come 877 miles, and we’re feeling good.
Nothing too exciting today. We hiked ten miles to Selden Pass, crossed over the top, and put in another thirteen to the Bear Ridge Trail Junction. Five and a half more took us through swampy muck to a road, and another four or so finally brought us into Vermillion Valley Resort right before dark. A big day. The guy running the store gave us each a free beer, and we picked up our box and sorted our food by headlamp light on the porch.
There were about ten minutes where I had all of us believe that I’d left my bear canister at the top of Selden Pass, before I discovered it under my pack, where I’d left it and forgotten about it not long before. Smart.
There’s a bonfire and hikers are drinking around it and yelling. This is not a problem for me, because I can sleep through anything, and I’m real tired. ‘Night.
Two months of walking all day with a pack on my back. Two months of sleeping in a tent and going to the bathroom outside. Two months of beard on my face and two months of hair on my head. We’ve come 877 miles, and we’re feeling good.
Nothing too exciting today. We hiked ten miles to Selden Pass, crossed over the top, and put in another thirteen to the Bear Ridge Trail Junction. Five and a half more took us through swampy muck to a road, and another four or so finally brought us into Vermillion Valley Resort right before dark. A big day. The guy running the store gave us each a free beer, and we picked up our box and sorted our food by headlamp light on the porch.
There were about ten minutes where I had all of us believe that I’d left my bear canister at the top of Selden Pass, before I discovered it under my pack, where I’d left it and forgotten about it not long before. Smart.
There’s a bonfire and hikers are drinking around it and yelling. This is not a problem for me, because I can sleep through anything, and I’m real tired. ‘Night.
Sunday, June 21—Day 60
By 7 am, today was the worst day I’ve had out here.
Woke up to a cold, cold morning after drifting in and out of a cold, cold night. Breakfast was an experiment: couscous soaked in cold water instead of hot, to save fuel. It was edible, but the morning air turned the water residue in my pot to frost before I could clean it. I went back to my tent and tried to pull out the stakes, but two of them were frozen into the ground, and I broke one of the loops on my rain fly trying to pull one out. Frustrated, I left them in the ground and packed up without them.
Our first few miles took us to a wide stream with no easy way across. Tom and Jerry rolled up their pant legs and forded it in their socks and shoes. The thought of soaking my boots when they’d finally dried, and then squishing around in the cold was too much for me.
I found an almost complete line of rocks going from one side to the other. There was just one step missing. I pulled a rock out of the hillside and tossed it in. It splashed perfectly into place. Success! I stepped onto the first rock, the second (my addition) and then the third. “This is going to work,” I thought. It wasn’t. The third rock was coated in a sheet of ice. As I began to slip, I leapt back to the second rock. It shifted under my weight, and I lost my balance and fell in. FURIOUS, I forded the stream as Tom and Jerry had, with socks and boots on. By now, they were long gone, and I squished up the trail on frozen feet, half soaked and never angrier at the Sierras!
After I caught up with Tom and Jerry, we made our way up Muir Pass, the last of the big mountain passes. It was a long walk on ice-coated snow to the top, but we made it. There is a stone shack at the top dedicated to the memory of John Muir, whose trail we’ve been hiking for the last week or so. The inside is just a round room with a bench encircling the perimeter, and a blocked-off fireplace. We stayed long enough to eat some snacks and take a few pictures, and then headed down the other side of the pass.
The trail took us past mountain lakes and through beautiful meadows. Later in the evening, we hit the Evolution Creek Crossing. The water was flowing fast and strong, and there was no way across, except to ford. Unfortunately, the water was too deep for rolled up pant legs. There was only one option. We took off our pants and waded in bare-assed, one at a time. The water came up to our waists, and the current almost pulled me off balance. We made it across all right, although very cold.
The rest of the day was easy. We found a good campsite at an established campground and had a fire, the first one all our own. I feel good about things right now. Just one more big day, and then we go into Vermillion Valley Resort. G’night.
Woke up to a cold, cold morning after drifting in and out of a cold, cold night. Breakfast was an experiment: couscous soaked in cold water instead of hot, to save fuel. It was edible, but the morning air turned the water residue in my pot to frost before I could clean it. I went back to my tent and tried to pull out the stakes, but two of them were frozen into the ground, and I broke one of the loops on my rain fly trying to pull one out. Frustrated, I left them in the ground and packed up without them.
Our first few miles took us to a wide stream with no easy way across. Tom and Jerry rolled up their pant legs and forded it in their socks and shoes. The thought of soaking my boots when they’d finally dried, and then squishing around in the cold was too much for me.
I found an almost complete line of rocks going from one side to the other. There was just one step missing. I pulled a rock out of the hillside and tossed it in. It splashed perfectly into place. Success! I stepped onto the first rock, the second (my addition) and then the third. “This is going to work,” I thought. It wasn’t. The third rock was coated in a sheet of ice. As I began to slip, I leapt back to the second rock. It shifted under my weight, and I lost my balance and fell in. FURIOUS, I forded the stream as Tom and Jerry had, with socks and boots on. By now, they were long gone, and I squished up the trail on frozen feet, half soaked and never angrier at the Sierras!
After I caught up with Tom and Jerry, we made our way up Muir Pass, the last of the big mountain passes. It was a long walk on ice-coated snow to the top, but we made it. There is a stone shack at the top dedicated to the memory of John Muir, whose trail we’ve been hiking for the last week or so. The inside is just a round room with a bench encircling the perimeter, and a blocked-off fireplace. We stayed long enough to eat some snacks and take a few pictures, and then headed down the other side of the pass.
The trail took us past mountain lakes and through beautiful meadows. Later in the evening, we hit the Evolution Creek Crossing. The water was flowing fast and strong, and there was no way across, except to ford. Unfortunately, the water was too deep for rolled up pant legs. There was only one option. We took off our pants and waded in bare-assed, one at a time. The water came up to our waists, and the current almost pulled me off balance. We made it across all right, although very cold.
The rest of the day was easy. We found a good campsite at an established campground and had a fire, the first one all our own. I feel good about things right now. Just one more big day, and then we go into Vermillion Valley Resort. G’night.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Saturday, June 20—Day 59
A hard-fought 20 miles today. We woke up at 5:30, took down camp, and headed up Mather Pass. The snow was still icy and slick in the morning air, which made the pass dangerous, but still (to me) preferable to postholing and hiking in wet socks for the rest of the day.
Speaking of which, we didn’t have to ford anything today! My boots have finally dried out, and I’m pretty happy about it.
We had lunch near a stream. The water was clear enough to see to the bottom, and there were fish swimming around. Tom caught one, cooked it, and ate it. Jerry caught one and let it go. I was too busy making mashed potatoes to bother trying.
After lunch, the trail took us into gorgeous pine forests. This is a beautiful place, and it seems to jump-start my memory, which brings back totally unrelated moments from my childhood as I hike. I’ve been thinking about home all day, about family and friends and old times and future plans, and about how I’m not going to take things for granted anymore. I’ve also been thinking about how much further we still have to go. Truthfully, I’ve never felt so much like quitting and going home as I did today. I think I’m safe for now, though, because our next stop, Vermillion Valley Resort, is still two days away, and short of being airlifted, there’s no way for me to leave the trail before then. I can do this. One step at a time. ‘Night.
Speaking of which, we didn’t have to ford anything today! My boots have finally dried out, and I’m pretty happy about it.
We had lunch near a stream. The water was clear enough to see to the bottom, and there were fish swimming around. Tom caught one, cooked it, and ate it. Jerry caught one and let it go. I was too busy making mashed potatoes to bother trying.
After lunch, the trail took us into gorgeous pine forests. This is a beautiful place, and it seems to jump-start my memory, which brings back totally unrelated moments from my childhood as I hike. I’ve been thinking about home all day, about family and friends and old times and future plans, and about how I’m not going to take things for granted anymore. I’ve also been thinking about how much further we still have to go. Truthfully, I’ve never felt so much like quitting and going home as I did today. I think I’m safe for now, though, because our next stop, Vermillion Valley Resort, is still two days away, and short of being airlifted, there’s no way for me to leave the trail before then. I can do this. One step at a time. ‘Night.
Friday, June 19—Day 58
Pinchot Pass sucked. We’d camped seven miles short last night, and I found myself tired and sluggish for those seven miles. The area before the pass was beautiful. Grassy meadows with Deer grazing, unafraid. Blue skies, lakes, and the bright orange and deep green of pine trees, all framed by rocky, snowy mountains.
When the trail began to climb up the pass, things changed. There was a lot of snow on the south side of the pass, and the sun had already warmed it to melting. I postholed the whole way up, sinking in to my shins, my knees, my hips. Trying to get out of hip-deep snow is exhausting after a while, and when we finally crossed over the top of the pass, I was both triumphant, and a sort of poor winner, saying all sorts of terrible things and making gestures at the slopes behind us. The mountains returned the favor, as we had to ford river crossing after river crossing, each one wider and faster than the last. For every ford, I took off my boots and socks, rolled up my pant legs, and stepped in the freezing cold water. The current tried to sweep my feet out from under me, and almost succeeded a few times. The water pushed and pounded my legs, reaching halfway up my thighs and soaking my pants, and it was all I could do to keep my balance, stepping carefully and not so carefully on the rocks along the bottom. None of us fell in, but we were soaked and freezing anyway when we finally set up camp. I can still hear the roar of water all around me. I miss the desert. ‘Night.
When the trail began to climb up the pass, things changed. There was a lot of snow on the south side of the pass, and the sun had already warmed it to melting. I postholed the whole way up, sinking in to my shins, my knees, my hips. Trying to get out of hip-deep snow is exhausting after a while, and when we finally crossed over the top of the pass, I was both triumphant, and a sort of poor winner, saying all sorts of terrible things and making gestures at the slopes behind us. The mountains returned the favor, as we had to ford river crossing after river crossing, each one wider and faster than the last. For every ford, I took off my boots and socks, rolled up my pant legs, and stepped in the freezing cold water. The current tried to sweep my feet out from under me, and almost succeeded a few times. The water pushed and pounded my legs, reaching halfway up my thighs and soaking my pants, and it was all I could do to keep my balance, stepping carefully and not so carefully on the rocks along the bottom. None of us fell in, but we were soaked and freezing anyway when we finally set up camp. I can still hear the roar of water all around me. I miss the desert. ‘Night.
Thursday, June 18—Day 57
Made it through the night without being murdered by poisonous spiders, and met up with Kevin, our ride to the trailhead. Kevin had stopped as we were hitching to Lone Pine from Independence, and after driving us to town and showing us around, had given us his card in case we needed a ride to the trailhead later. What a guy!
After he dropped us off, we began the four mile climb back up to Kearsarge Pass. It took a long time, and I lost a cherry pie along the way, not realizing it later, whereupon I threw my pack around in a tantrum.
Still, lost pies aside, the climb wasn’t too hard at all, and, although my body started out still sore from days before, I soon felt great to be hiking again, gaining ground and putting miles behind us. We made our way up to Glen Pass and slipped, slid, and postholed down the snowy slopes on the other side. We stopped at the beautiful Rae Lakes for lunch on top of some rocks, and I got my second sunburn of the trail. Third. I forgot that the sun, reflecting off the snow, burns just as well as the sun shining straight down, and ended up with a sunburn after Forrester Pass.
Next is Pinchot Pass. Like Bronson Pinchot, Balki from “Perfect Strangers.” I wonder if that show’ out on DVD yet. ‘Night.
After he dropped us off, we began the four mile climb back up to Kearsarge Pass. It took a long time, and I lost a cherry pie along the way, not realizing it later, whereupon I threw my pack around in a tantrum.
Still, lost pies aside, the climb wasn’t too hard at all, and, although my body started out still sore from days before, I soon felt great to be hiking again, gaining ground and putting miles behind us. We made our way up to Glen Pass and slipped, slid, and postholed down the snowy slopes on the other side. We stopped at the beautiful Rae Lakes for lunch on top of some rocks, and I got my second sunburn of the trail. Third. I forgot that the sun, reflecting off the snow, burns just as well as the sun shining straight down, and ended up with a sunburn after Forrester Pass.
Next is Pinchot Pass. Like Bronson Pinchot, Balki from “Perfect Strangers.” I wonder if that show’ out on DVD yet. ‘Night.
Wednesday, June 17—Day 56
Blah blah Independence Lone Pine blah. Let me tell you about just now.
We’re back at the campground we stayed at the night before last. It’s half a mile out of Independence, bordering the road, and there’s a fee required ($10 per vehicle) to stay. We came in at night, and are not paying, since we don’t have a vehicle. It seems silly to pay to camp on a patch of dirt with broken glass everywhere when we camp in better spots for free on the trail, and we’re poor.
Right. Anyway. So, we pick a site, the closest one to the entrance off the road. There’s a fire pit and a picnic table with big spiderwebs underneath. We choose our spots and set up our tents. I’m just throwing my sleeping pad and bag into my own tent when I see movement under the table. I point my headlamp, and there, crawling around one of the webs, is a giant black spider with long, spindly legs. On its huge, disproportioned backside, I can see the red hourglass markings. It’s a BLACK WIDOW. And there, on the other side of the table, is ANOTHER ONE. AND ANOTHER. We set up camp right in BLACK WIDOW TOWN.
We have moved away from the table, although still too close for my tastes. All my stuff is inside my tent tonight. It’s a good thing that all our tents are in good shape, that nobody’s zipper is malfunctioning and leaving Black Widow-sized gaps open at night.
Suddenly, I miss home even more. Night.
We’re back at the campground we stayed at the night before last. It’s half a mile out of Independence, bordering the road, and there’s a fee required ($10 per vehicle) to stay. We came in at night, and are not paying, since we don’t have a vehicle. It seems silly to pay to camp on a patch of dirt with broken glass everywhere when we camp in better spots for free on the trail, and we’re poor.
Right. Anyway. So, we pick a site, the closest one to the entrance off the road. There’s a fire pit and a picnic table with big spiderwebs underneath. We choose our spots and set up our tents. I’m just throwing my sleeping pad and bag into my own tent when I see movement under the table. I point my headlamp, and there, crawling around one of the webs, is a giant black spider with long, spindly legs. On its huge, disproportioned backside, I can see the red hourglass markings. It’s a BLACK WIDOW. And there, on the other side of the table, is ANOTHER ONE. AND ANOTHER. We set up camp right in BLACK WIDOW TOWN.
We have moved away from the table, although still too close for my tastes. All my stuff is inside my tent tonight. It’s a good thing that all our tents are in good shape, that nobody’s zipper is malfunctioning and leaving Black Widow-sized gaps open at night.
Suddenly, I miss home even more. Night.
Tuesday, June 16—Day 55
Woke up to rain this morning, but I was warm and dry in my tent. I put off writing until way too late, and now I’m real tired, so this will be short.
Independence is small. We picked up our food box and got a hitch to Lone Pine, which is bigger, to pick up a package Tom had sent there. There is a McDonald’s. I ate five double cheeseburgers and three McCheeses. And a McFlurry.
My beard is a force to be reckoned with.
We’re staying at the Something Villa Whatever Hotel. It’s cheap and the shower is down the hall, so I walked around in a towel. No one could hear anything over the collective sighs of all the ladies that were just swooning all over the place. It’s like, hey, control yourselves, right?
It’s so late at night! I usually go to sleep at, like, nine.
We’ve crossed the highest elevation on the trail, Forrester Pass. There’ll be hard times ahead, but I know we can do this. Just one foot in front of the other. Good night!
Independence is small. We picked up our food box and got a hitch to Lone Pine, which is bigger, to pick up a package Tom had sent there. There is a McDonald’s. I ate five double cheeseburgers and three McCheeses. And a McFlurry.
My beard is a force to be reckoned with.
We’re staying at the Something Villa Whatever Hotel. It’s cheap and the shower is down the hall, so I walked around in a towel. No one could hear anything over the collective sighs of all the ladies that were just swooning all over the place. It’s like, hey, control yourselves, right?
It’s so late at night! I usually go to sleep at, like, nine.
We’ve crossed the highest elevation on the trail, Forrester Pass. There’ll be hard times ahead, but I know we can do this. Just one foot in front of the other. Good night!
Monday, June 15—Day 54
Big, big day today. We woke up at four (!) to get to Forrester Pass as early as possible. First, though, we ran into some problems.
We have been very fortunate on this adventure in that nearly every creek, stream, or river we had to cross was well bridged in some way. Today, however, we met our match in Tyndall Creek, a wide body of fast flowing water. The few rocks that sat in the creek were icy and dangerous, and left gaps too large to jump anyway. After searching up and downstream, it was clear that we’d have to ford it. I took off my boots and socks, rolled up my pant legs, and stepped in. The water was icy cold, and my feet were almost numb by the time I made it to the other side. If the Sierras are this cold in mid-June, I don’t want to think about what winter must be like up here.
We made it to the base of Forrester Pass by nine. The trail had been partially obscured by snow, and sets of footprints left by other hikers led straight up the slope. We followed them with difficulty, picking up the switchbacks of the trail where they weren’t covered, and scrambled up sections of loose, rocky mountainside. It was a dangerous climb.
When we finally made it to the top, we congratulated ourselves briefly before looking down the other side. There was snow everywhere, and the trail was nowhere to be seen. We picked a set of footprints that ran to the left and followed them carefully down the slope. By now, the sun had softened the snow, and I stepped through a few times, sinking down to my hips. After a few slips and some close calls, we made it down to the bottom, and headed to the treeline for lunch. My boots and socks were (are) completely soaked, and the sun had disappeared behind heavy clouds, taking with it any chance of drying them. I sloshed for four miles before the trail took an upward turn.
We had mistakenly (stupidly) been under the impression that, from Forrester, it would be a downhill to where we split off to enter Independence. This was way wrong. In order to get to Independence, we’d have to cross Kearsarge Pass, another two-or-three thousand foot climb. Since we had no choice, we climbed up to our second pass of the day. Halfway up, I was totally exhausted. I shuffled up the slope at glacial speed, 100 steps at a time. Between breaks to lean on my poles, catch my breath, and wonder how I would ever get through the rest of the Sierras. At one point, I got so hungry that I ate a bag of couscous without cooking it, just poured the dry pasta in my mouth. It was very crunchy.
I did make it to the top eventually, and after a short break, we started the descent down the other side, ending four miles later in a parking lot, where a guy named Rick gave us a ride into town.
We are in Independence. The thing I’m most excited about is that, for the first time in two weeks, I have phone service. I’m gonna call the hell out of people! Tomorrow. ‘Night.
We have been very fortunate on this adventure in that nearly every creek, stream, or river we had to cross was well bridged in some way. Today, however, we met our match in Tyndall Creek, a wide body of fast flowing water. The few rocks that sat in the creek were icy and dangerous, and left gaps too large to jump anyway. After searching up and downstream, it was clear that we’d have to ford it. I took off my boots and socks, rolled up my pant legs, and stepped in. The water was icy cold, and my feet were almost numb by the time I made it to the other side. If the Sierras are this cold in mid-June, I don’t want to think about what winter must be like up here.
We made it to the base of Forrester Pass by nine. The trail had been partially obscured by snow, and sets of footprints left by other hikers led straight up the slope. We followed them with difficulty, picking up the switchbacks of the trail where they weren’t covered, and scrambled up sections of loose, rocky mountainside. It was a dangerous climb.
When we finally made it to the top, we congratulated ourselves briefly before looking down the other side. There was snow everywhere, and the trail was nowhere to be seen. We picked a set of footprints that ran to the left and followed them carefully down the slope. By now, the sun had softened the snow, and I stepped through a few times, sinking down to my hips. After a few slips and some close calls, we made it down to the bottom, and headed to the treeline for lunch. My boots and socks were (are) completely soaked, and the sun had disappeared behind heavy clouds, taking with it any chance of drying them. I sloshed for four miles before the trail took an upward turn.
We had mistakenly (stupidly) been under the impression that, from Forrester, it would be a downhill to where we split off to enter Independence. This was way wrong. In order to get to Independence, we’d have to cross Kearsarge Pass, another two-or-three thousand foot climb. Since we had no choice, we climbed up to our second pass of the day. Halfway up, I was totally exhausted. I shuffled up the slope at glacial speed, 100 steps at a time. Between breaks to lean on my poles, catch my breath, and wonder how I would ever get through the rest of the Sierras. At one point, I got so hungry that I ate a bag of couscous without cooking it, just poured the dry pasta in my mouth. It was very crunchy.
I did make it to the top eventually, and after a short break, we started the descent down the other side, ending four miles later in a parking lot, where a guy named Rick gave us a ride into town.
We are in Independence. The thing I’m most excited about is that, for the first time in two weeks, I have phone service. I’m gonna call the hell out of people! Tomorrow. ‘Night.
Sunday, June 14—Day 53
The Green Shark has a malfunctioning zipper, and I could not be more annoyed about it.
We climbed Mt. Whitney, as promised. It was a tough four miles or so up snowy switchbacks, the air too thin for normal breathing. We climbed for four or five hours before finally reaching the top. It was very cold up there! The bite valve on my hydration tube kept freezing, and I would have to chew on it to crush the ice crystals blocking the tube to get water. At the top of the mountain, there is a stone cabin, a shelter for anyone who climbs up. I did not go inside, choosing instead to check out the view, which was beyond description. Snowy mountains on all sides bowed down below us. We were kings.
I had a cell phone signal for the first time in nearly two weeks, and managed to make two quick calls before it was time to go. I wish I could have stayed up there longer, despite the freezing cold, but we were in a hurry.
The climb down went very quickly. Almost too quickly, once or twice. The snow was softening as noon approached, and my feet slid around on the drifts. My trekking poles saved me more than once, and I can’t believe I haven’t broken them yet. Near the bottom, the footsteps of previous hikers led us down a steep snowy slope. Instead of creeping carefully down the hills, I ran at full force. The air at the bottom was warm, and when I finally stopped, I took off my jacket and stood in the sun. I have learned to appreciate warmth.
Tomorrow we’re going to climb Forrester Pass, which is at something like 13,000 feet. It’s going to be another big day. ‘Night.
We climbed Mt. Whitney, as promised. It was a tough four miles or so up snowy switchbacks, the air too thin for normal breathing. We climbed for four or five hours before finally reaching the top. It was very cold up there! The bite valve on my hydration tube kept freezing, and I would have to chew on it to crush the ice crystals blocking the tube to get water. At the top of the mountain, there is a stone cabin, a shelter for anyone who climbs up. I did not go inside, choosing instead to check out the view, which was beyond description. Snowy mountains on all sides bowed down below us. We were kings.
I had a cell phone signal for the first time in nearly two weeks, and managed to make two quick calls before it was time to go. I wish I could have stayed up there longer, despite the freezing cold, but we were in a hurry.
The climb down went very quickly. Almost too quickly, once or twice. The snow was softening as noon approached, and my feet slid around on the drifts. My trekking poles saved me more than once, and I can’t believe I haven’t broken them yet. Near the bottom, the footsteps of previous hikers led us down a steep snowy slope. Instead of creeping carefully down the hills, I ran at full force. The air at the bottom was warm, and when I finally stopped, I took off my jacket and stood in the sun. I have learned to appreciate warmth.
Tomorrow we’re going to climb Forrester Pass, which is at something like 13,000 feet. It’s going to be another big day. ‘Night.
Saturday, June 13—Day 52
Didn’t sleep so well last night, despite camping early. The wind picked up at night and made the walls of my tent flap back and forth. This is not unusual, but the sound was similar to that of footsteps crunching on the pinecones and needles around my tent. I kept expecting to see lumbering shadows cast on my rain fly, or a large, furry head pop up under my vestibule to grab my pack in its teeth. I call this “Bearanoia.”
We made it through the night un-beared and left camp at 6:30 am to put in some tough miles. I’m not great at climbing, to be honest, and climbing past 10,000 feet seems much harder. It’s worth noting that Jerry, who hikes normally at a slower pace, is way better at uphill stuff than me. To this end, on bigger climbs I usually fall back and shuffle uphill like an old man, meeting Tom and Jerry at the top. When it comes to downhill or level ground, or even slightly uphill hiking, I am like lightning, though. Rest assured.
We made it to Crabtree Meadow, a gorgeous field of grass with a river flowing through and snow-capped mountains in the distance. One of those mountains is Mt. Whitney, which I’m told is the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States. We’re going to climb it tomorrow. It’s not part of the trail, but we’re here, and close as we’ll ever be.
We parted ways with Steve, who is not climbing Whitney, and set off on the trail to Guitar Lake, which lies at the base of the mountain. We set up camp 2 miles short in a rocky field, made dinner down by the river that runs alongside the trail (I can hear the water pounding) and set our bear canisters some distance away from our tents. Tomorrow is going to be a big day. Goodnight.
We made it through the night un-beared and left camp at 6:30 am to put in some tough miles. I’m not great at climbing, to be honest, and climbing past 10,000 feet seems much harder. It’s worth noting that Jerry, who hikes normally at a slower pace, is way better at uphill stuff than me. To this end, on bigger climbs I usually fall back and shuffle uphill like an old man, meeting Tom and Jerry at the top. When it comes to downhill or level ground, or even slightly uphill hiking, I am like lightning, though. Rest assured.
We made it to Crabtree Meadow, a gorgeous field of grass with a river flowing through and snow-capped mountains in the distance. One of those mountains is Mt. Whitney, which I’m told is the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States. We’re going to climb it tomorrow. It’s not part of the trail, but we’re here, and close as we’ll ever be.
We parted ways with Steve, who is not climbing Whitney, and set off on the trail to Guitar Lake, which lies at the base of the mountain. We set up camp 2 miles short in a rocky field, made dinner down by the river that runs alongside the trail (I can hear the water pounding) and set our bear canisters some distance away from our tents. Tomorrow is going to be a big day. Goodnight.
Friday, June 12—Day 51
11,000 feet, and it is getting cold! The mosquitoes, at least, were not an issue today.
Here is a problem: when I’m not hiking, the wind makes me very cold. In the morning, and at every break, I am freezing. So, I put on extra layers. Problem solved! But, once I start hiking, I become warm. Now, I’m wearing extra layers, and I can either stop to take them off, and maybe put them on again in five minutes if the sun goes behind clouds and the wind picks up, or I can just hike with them on. Today, I hiked for too long with them on, and now most of my clothes are damp with sweat at the end of the day. I’ve got them in the foot of my sleeping bag to dry out, or at least keep warm through the night, and now I have nothing to use for a pillow. Lame.
Haven’t seen any bears, but we’ve started cooking away from camp and leaving our bear canisters far away, as well as our garbage and anything that smells. The Sierras are beautiful, but camping in bear country is a pain.
When I get home, after I finish this thing, I’m gonna eat a big bowl of cereal with milk and toast with butter and jam while I sit on my couch and watch cartoons. Then I might take a nap. G’Night.
Here is a problem: when I’m not hiking, the wind makes me very cold. In the morning, and at every break, I am freezing. So, I put on extra layers. Problem solved! But, once I start hiking, I become warm. Now, I’m wearing extra layers, and I can either stop to take them off, and maybe put them on again in five minutes if the sun goes behind clouds and the wind picks up, or I can just hike with them on. Today, I hiked for too long with them on, and now most of my clothes are damp with sweat at the end of the day. I’ve got them in the foot of my sleeping bag to dry out, or at least keep warm through the night, and now I have nothing to use for a pillow. Lame.
Haven’t seen any bears, but we’ve started cooking away from camp and leaving our bear canisters far away, as well as our garbage and anything that smells. The Sierras are beautiful, but camping in bear country is a pain.
When I get home, after I finish this thing, I’m gonna eat a big bowl of cereal with milk and toast with butter and jam while I sit on my couch and watch cartoons. Then I might take a nap. G’Night.
Thursday, June 11—Day 50
Today’s hike took us through many grassy meadows. Small creeks and streams ran everywhere, and we could see snow-capped mountains in the distance. We climbed to 10,500 feet, our highest elevation yet. The next four days or so will make that seem like nothing, though.
The Sierras are full of trade-offs. We no longer have the heat of the desert, but it could snow, rain, or hail at any time. There are no more rattlesnakes, but we are in bear country, and must be very careful. The scenery is beautiful, but the elevations are high and the air is thinner, which makes climbing harder. There’s water all over the place, but there are also mosquitoes.
The mosquitoes. I sat, cooking dinner and watching ten, twenty, thirty of them float erratically around me. I don’t know what compels all insects to try and get into my ears, but I’m sick of it. There’s nothing in there for you! I slapped my shoulder at one point and killed three of them. A triple KO! Steve says that they’re going to be much, much worse. I am concerned.
On the bear front, we did pick up our bear canisters in Kennedy Meadows. All of my food, or as much as I could fit, is now in a giant, bear-proof plastic container. The rest is hanging in a tree, and I solemnly hope that no bears get it down, because I’ve got snacks in there.
We’re camped in Death Canyon. I don’t know why it’s called that. My ice axe is in my tent. G’Night.
The Sierras are full of trade-offs. We no longer have the heat of the desert, but it could snow, rain, or hail at any time. There are no more rattlesnakes, but we are in bear country, and must be very careful. The scenery is beautiful, but the elevations are high and the air is thinner, which makes climbing harder. There’s water all over the place, but there are also mosquitoes.
The mosquitoes. I sat, cooking dinner and watching ten, twenty, thirty of them float erratically around me. I don’t know what compels all insects to try and get into my ears, but I’m sick of it. There’s nothing in there for you! I slapped my shoulder at one point and killed three of them. A triple KO! Steve says that they’re going to be much, much worse. I am concerned.
On the bear front, we did pick up our bear canisters in Kennedy Meadows. All of my food, or as much as I could fit, is now in a giant, bear-proof plastic container. The rest is hanging in a tree, and I solemnly hope that no bears get it down, because I’ve got snacks in there.
We’re camped in Death Canyon. I don’t know why it’s called that. My ice axe is in my tent. G’Night.
Wednesday, June 10—Day 49
We are in the Sierras. The Sierras!
Packed up, had lunch, whatever. We didn’t get out of Kennedy Meadows until mid-to-late afternoon. We met back up with Steve, who’d spent the last two days in town with his family, and hit the trail. Right away, the difference in environment was apparent.
We walked up a grassy hill, turned a corner, and before us was a grove of pine trees. The ground was covered with tiny purple-pink flowers, so small and numerous that they seemed to form a thick haze. Every mile is more beautiful than the last. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. ‘Night.
Packed up, had lunch, whatever. We didn’t get out of Kennedy Meadows until mid-to-late afternoon. We met back up with Steve, who’d spent the last two days in town with his family, and hit the trail. Right away, the difference in environment was apparent.
We walked up a grassy hill, turned a corner, and before us was a grove of pine trees. The ground was covered with tiny purple-pink flowers, so small and numerous that they seemed to form a thick haze. Every mile is more beautiful than the last. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. ‘Night.
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