Lone Pine to Edison Lake
Wednesday, 6/21/00: In Which I Return to the Trail after 3 ½ Week Hiatus and Have All Sorts of Trouble (Including Rain)
I’m still puzzling over where the time went after my last journal entry. I spent 3 days at Dad and Fifi’s house then took the train overnight to Salem where Ellie and LiAnna met me. I ordered more food, caught up on old mail (Post Office and e-mail), worked in the garden, cooked and cleaned, read a couple books, played a few computer games, etc. About ten days before heading back to California with Dad I began planning my stops and filling my boxes. This seemed to take forever and soon it was time to get ready for graduation and all the relatives and the party. I finished getting everything ready the night before I left and was upset that I didn’t get much done in the garden.
While I was busy, I was not getting much exercise outside of preparing for Dustin’s run in which I finished the 10K in a respectable 43:36. I knew I was in trouble when my knees hurt just sitting in the car riding to California. Dad took me to the Horseshoe Meadows Campground and spent the night there with me, quite impressed by the road up there, which climbs over 5000 feet.
This morning he left for home and I hiked back up to Mulkey Pass where I mistakenly ended my hike 20-some days ago. The pack felt heavy and my hiking step felt awkward, but I figured I could still hike 20 miles by hiking for 10 hours at 2 miles per hour.
Midmorning I met Cricket and Terry, two thruhikers relaxing in the sun, waiting for another hiker who I had to tell them I had not passed. They told me most of the thruhikers were ahead of us and in fact I caught a couple more (Merlin and Gody?) in about an hour that were hiking with Cricket and Terry and wondering where they were. I also saw five other hikers heading the opposite direction.
By 12:30 I completed 10 miles and rested and ate for half an hour. The scenery was spectacular with high peaks contrasting with green meadows. I was hiking between 10,000 and 11,000 feet (even up to 11,500) so the trees were struggling to survive, especially at higher elevations near the tree line.
I left at 1 PM for a 6-mile stretch that was all level or downhill. Usually after a long break with food I have more energy, so I expected to really crank out these easy miles. The reality was I could barely lift my legs and was more stumbling than hiking. At 2 I stopped and reconsidered my goal for the day, Whiney Creek that would put me in range of climbing Forester Pass mid-afternoon tomorrow. I decided given the shape I was in this afternoon I did not want to make one of the most dangerous climbs on the PCT in that condition, so rearranged my plan to climb the following morning when I was fresher. The biggest drawback to this is that I will be a day later at least (hopefully the food will last), so will have to hit Tuolumne Meadows Post Office on Monday instead of Saturday, which no doubt will cause worry back home. But the reality is I am not in any condition to blow off 20+ mile days in the High Sierras.
The wisdom of this decision was evident within the hour as the scattered clouds up to then turned into thunderheads which began rumbling and flashing. I waited out a brief shower then made it to Rock Creek where I planned to camp. There I pitched my new tarp and got everything inside before heavier rain hit. I was sheltered by trees so didn’t get much direct rain but was pleased that it handled the rain ok.
After resting a while I made dinner, cleaned up and hauled all the food to the bear box. Yes, I’m in Sequoia/Kings Canyon National Park, big-time bear country where you can be fined for not camping by the bear boxes. They are close enough to my planned route that using them shouldn’t be a big hassle.
Hopefully I won’t see or hear any prowling around tonight. By now they must know they can’t break into these bear boxes. I did see a deer in the meadow near here, my first deer of the hike, believe it or not. She was in the creek, a good reminder of why I use a water filter. The only other creatures around are mosquitoes, but the Bug Bivy kept them away last night, so I think it will work again.
Thursday, 6/22/00: In Which I Practice My Creek-Fording Skills
Having planned a 15-mile day I “slept in” until 6 AM. I had closed off the tarp last night, so slept very warm but the price was some condensation on the inside of the tarp. Unless it is real cold or rains, I think I’ll leave the door open in the future.
I managed to cross Rock Creek to start the day on a log, but the rest of the day’s four major crossing were all by wading. I got good at removing shoes and socks, donning sandals, making the crossing and reversing the process. At a couple of the crossings the mosquitoes were fierce so they helped motivate me to speed up the process. None of the crossings were as bad I had been led to believe they would be (I’ve certainly seen worse), likely because most of the snow is gone.
At the first one I met several thruhikers who had climbed Mt. Whitney yesterday. Two of them (Sunshine & Rog?) were hiking at about the same pace so we ended up wading all of them about the same time.
Just before the last ford we got our daily thunderstorm and I discovered a minor problem—the point on my ice axe would cut a hole in my poncho if I tried to put it over my pack. I tried various solutions (none real successful) but fortunately the rain let up and I made the last ford and on to my planned campsite. There I got my tarp up before the next big shower hit.
I lay inside resting for an hour or so, even after the rain quit. When I came out, hikers who had been waiting out the storm a little ways away began streaming past headed for Forester Pass. About 20 people passed me in half an hour and I talked to a few and waved to the rest. I pointed out a marmot to some, including one man who turned out to be deaf but could follow my finger pointing. The last to leave, Rog, asked me what the animal was, saying it appeared to be a big guinea pig. He had what seems like a German accent so didn’t know the English word.
Just before dark a couple from Philadelphia (Angela and Duffy) pulled in to camp. We exchanged stories briefly as they had to set up before dark. As I was sitting near my tarp getting ready to crawl in, a deer walked by, circled around my camp area, coming within 10 feet and then wandered back in the woods. With that note I went to bed.
Friday, 6/23/00: In Which I Reach the High Point (Forester Pass) of the Journey and Have So Much Fun I Go on to Clear Glen Pass Also
I set my watch alarm for 5:15, but as usual did not hear it because my head was buried under the covers. I woke up by 5:30 anyway and was ready to leave at 6:30 with blue skies and great views in all directions.
I said good-by to Duffy and Angela who were just breaking camp and headed toward Forester Pass about five miles away. I quickly rose above tree line and hiked steadily uphill past various streams and small lakes, crossing patches of snow in places. About halfway there the water in the yesterday’s snowmelt began to be frozen on and along the trail.
As predicted, as I approached the cliff containing the pass I could see n way a trail could possibly go up there. But at the base (around 12,000 feet) the trail started up and I got on it. There was less snow on the cliff than on the plain below, so while I could have used my ice axe in a couple of spots, I decided to stick with the trekking poles that I was more comfortable with.
The trail was fairly wide in most places, so I felt comfortable most of the time, even when peering over the edge. While the cliff was not sheer, you would certainly fall a long way. A little after 9 I reached the pass, already occupied by two teachers from England who I had met yesterday. We chatted a bit and took pictures for each other and then they headed off.
After a snack and some more savoring of the view and my ascent to the highest point of the PCT, I followed them through the huge snowfield that eventually led to the lakes and streams visible below. All the water from the drainage flows into Bubbs Creek and I followed it down through forest and meadow with huge peaks looming on either side—the epitome of what you like to see when you hike.
But all descents must end and by afternoon I was struggling back up towards Glen Pass. I took an hour off for the afternoon thunderstorm, then hiked on up to the pass. It was not hard to there (more than a 1000 feet lower than Forester) and of course there was great view.
At the top I met Lamont and John and we negotiated the treacherous snowfields on the north side and then down to Rae Lakes to camp. Lamont is from Florida (another AT veteran), so snow is new to him. It is old and boring to me.
It is hard not to mention the mosquitoes because they are everywhere near water that is below tree line. Places that would be nice to linger in are often quickly deserted to avoid them. Rae Lakes were really bad and I used my headnet to set up camp and used the Bug Bivy in the tarp so I could sleep (well-deserved after doing over 20 miles and two passes).
Saturday, 6/24/00: In Which I Try to Repeat a Two-Pass, 20-Mile Day and Come Up Short
Some people stumbled into camp in the middle of the night and the noise and flashlights woke me. That will be my last night at an “official” campsite for a while, so I don’t expect to be bothered like that unless I go back to sleeping on the trail. Up to this point the Park Service (Sequoia/Kings Canyon NP) has put out metal bear boxes and made it illegal to camp anywhere but by the boxes. From here on there are no more boxes, so I’ll revert to the cook-one-place, sleep-another method, preferably away from water because that’s where most people (and bears) congregate and because there should be fewer mosquitoes.
The Rae Lakes mosquitoes helped me off to a 6:30 start and I was making good time following a stream down to Woods Creek, a raging torrent fortunately bridged, though unfortunately the span was a swaying cable bridge about 100 feet across, decked with slats you could peer through if you were that foolish. From there it was 3500 feet uphill and 7.1 miles to Pinchot Pass, which I figured I could reach by 12:30 or 1 (i.e., before the daily dose of bad weather.
This was hopelessly optimistic and 2 PM found me huddled against the rocks of the remaining 1000-foot cliff as the thunderheads built. I put my ice axe and trekking poles (metal) up the trail away from my semi-sheltered location (the last tree was a couple miles back) and huddled with my pack under the poncho. The rain, which included hail, lasted about 45 minutes and as my body heat from hiking was dissipating I got pretty cold (but not wet).
When it let up I took off and made it up fairly easily with only a little ice axe work required. As was becoming all too familiar there was much more snow on the far side, but it was less steep. I eventually made my way down to Lake Marjorie, where I had dinner.
This lake lies at the base of an almost sheer cliff with snow reaching down into the lake. The cliff is topped by an unnamed 12,363-foot peak. The lack of a name gives some notion of the sensory overload in this spectacular country, where may remarkable lakes, streams and mountains go unnamed on the maps.
After dinner I got in a few more miles to try and salvage my low mileage and prepare for Mather Pass, supposedly one of the toughest. The highlights of the evening walk were a couple of stream fords, the latter being the raging South Fork of the Kings River, which got nearly thigh deep. A couple miles upstream from that crossing I headed into the woods to camp.
Sunday, 6/25/00: In Which I Make It Over Mather Pass (Barely) In Good Shape and Meet Someone Who Didn’t
It was a very cold morning and it took a little longer to get going, but I was off by 6:45. At the first stream crossing, I jumped to a boulder with a sheen of ice, slipped and landed on both shins. While this was painful (and bloody), at least I stayed atop the rock instead of taking an unwanted (though needed) bath. I cross 30 to 40 streams per day due to all the snowmelt and the terrain. The streams range in width from four feet to 40 feet, most about calf deep. At each I evaluate whether to cross on the rocks or spend 10 to 15 minutes wading because of the shoes/sandals/shoes routine. Anyway, I guessed wrong here and learned a lesson.
As has gotten to be the norm, it took a lot longer to reach Mather Pass than I thought. It was similar to Forester Pass in construction and I was glad to have my ice axe going up. Going down was pure hell, where then ice axe was an absolute necessity, as the snow was nearly as hard as concrete (it still being morning) and very steep. I would knock a hole in the snow with the ice axe to anchor myself, take two steps (in others tread, thank goodness), then drive in the ice axe again and repeat. It was a long exhausting descent and I took a long rest including a sponge bath and clean clothes when I reached clear ground. Lamont and John, who had descended shortly after me, went on ahead.
After the rest I began the long descent by the Palisades Lakes and then down the canyon of Palisades Creek via the “Golden Staircase”. It goes without saying the views spectacular. Near the top of the staircase I met another hiker limping down whose name was John Randall. He had slipped earlier in the day trying to go up Mather Pass heading south and banged his knee. He asked me to give a message to the ranger if I saw one to notify his daughter (just graduated from high school like LiAnna) to pick him up back where he started since he was not going on as planned. I had him write the note out so I could get it right and asked him several times if he would be okay. He assured me he could move all right and didn’t need medical attention (he had already hiked 4 or so miles), so I reluctantly bid him good-bye.
After the long descent along Palisades Creek I turned up the Middle Fork of the Kings River, which fortunately I didn’t need to ford. I had dinner along here. A few miles up I came to a ranger station that was boarded up, so I left the note from John Randall at a junction sign there. I had given a copy of the note earlier to Lamont and John when I caught them (typically we passed each other 2 or 3 times each day) and kept a copy myself. I went to Big Pete Meadow where I set up camp for the night on the edge of a thunderstorm. Today’s rain was a little late.
Monday, 6/26/00: In Which I Clear Muir Pass, Visit Evolution Valley and Discover I Must Evolve Some More To Ford Creeks
I started off toward Muir Pass with my typical overconfidence about how easy this would be, especially since Jardine called this a “walk-up and walk-down.” Ha! I ran into John and Lamont early on and they said a ranger showed up after I left and they gave him the note about John Randall, which made me feel better.
Muir Pass is almost 12,000 feet and faces east/west instead of north/south like the others I’d crossed, so there was much more snow, starting well below 11,000 feet. I also did not look at the map carefully so mistook a lower lake for the higher one near the pass, and thus was disappointed when I came to the second lake and realized there was still more than a mile to go.
There were several stream crossings, which were bad, but it became worse as I got higher because the streams were under the snow. I could hear them and only wonder if I was going to be the one to fall through the snow to the icy water beneath.
I wasn’t and reached the stone hut on top finally around 2. There was an informal register started by Adam on June 5. It was good to know he made it and from his descriptions of the conditions I’m glad I waited three weeks. I left quickly to avoid the building thunderstorms through lots of snow past several lakes and down a steep ascent into Evolution Valley (landmarks in this area all named after figures in this field of study).
I made it into the trees and huddled beneath them as the daily thunderstorm hit. Along Evolution Creek I stopped for dinner, then headed on to try and get the “difficult” ford of that creek done before dark.
When I got to the crossing point, it was swift and nearly waist deep. John and Lamont had just crossed, and I started across where they had gone. Part way out I realized it was too swift for me, so returned to the shore to find a better place. Part of this hike is about stretching your limits, but one must also recognize when they are reached. I walked back upstream (clad in sandals, underwear and pack I must have been quite a sight) until I found a better spot ¼ mile away. The water reached my waist but was slower and I safely reached the far shore. I went another ½ mile, then bedded down for the night.
Tuesday, 6/27/00: In Which the Creek Doesn’t Get Me But the Mosquitoes Do
The morning started with a plunge down to the South Fork of the San Joaquin River, fortunately bridged twice as the trail follows its canyon for several miles. From there I climbed up to Seldon Pass, the day’s challenge at “only” 10,900 feet. There wasn’t much snow but some mosquitoes, an ominous sign at that elevation.
Sure enough, the mosquitoes got worse as I passed the various lakes and then hit Bear Creek, which drains this region. When it came time to ford Bear Creek, I wasn’t sure whether it was going to be worse to drown in the swift water or be eaten alive by the mosquitoes. I chose the latter, but soon was hiking with all my clothes on with only face and hands to protect.
I decided to try and camp at the top of the ridge leading to the next supply stop. The climb up the ridge late in the day (this was only my second 20+ mile day since returning) was long, steep and damp, which meant many mosquitoes. Even on the dry top of the ridge there were clouds of the fiends and with dark approaching I resigned myself to my fate and made camp. I must confess during that stretch I began thinking about excuses for ending the hike. I’m just glad the Bug Bivy keeps them off while I sleep.