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.