High Sierra - Part 3

"Piss off!"

After two nights in the resort town of Mammoth Lakes, and having bid farewell to our friends who have opted to end their hike here, Coach, Advisory, and I make our way back to the trail. With our trail family having been cut in half, we expect to pick up our daily mileage a bit.

Matterhorn Creek in Yosemite National Park

August 6 - 13
Reds Meadow mile 907
to Sonora Pass mile 1017

We decide to get a cheeseburger dinner at the Reds Meadow Cafe before an evening hike out. After a side trip to the Devils Postpile National Monument, we set up camp, after only a few miles, next to San Joaquin River Middle Branch. After back-to-back zero days, it still feels like an accomplishment. A new tradition starts when Coach breaks out a pint of bourbon, and we each take a swig as a symbolic end to the day's hike.

The unique hexagonal basalt columns of Devils Postpile

The trail meanders into the eastern sections of Yosemite National Park. The terrain is still difficult, and some of the streams are still raging. This late in the season, there are very few snowfields to traverse, which is a good thing in my opinion. As expected, we're doing more miles per day here in the northern Sierra. The John Muir Trail, which shares the tread with the Pacific Crest Trail through these parts, branches off temporarily north of Devils Postpile, but only for 12 miles. The reduction in trail traffic is obvious, and we enjoy the increased solitude during that stretch. The trails rejoin at Thousand Islands Lake, and there is a small mob of JMT hikers there during lunchtime.

Lunch break at Thousand Islands Lake

The PCT traverses the less popular sections of Yosemite and avoids the more popular attractions like Half Dome and Vernal Falls. After an early morning trek up and over Donahue Pass, elevation 11,038 feet, which I found to be especially exhausting for some reason, we descend to the Lyell Canyon and follow it all the way to the camp store at Tuolomne Meadows. It takes us less than 48 hours to complete the 36 plus miles from Reds Meadow, and we reward ourselves with chili dogs at the cafe.

The camp was forced to open quite late this year, just a week before our arrival, because of the heavy winter and spring snows and the many downed trees that had to be cleaned up. It's filled to capacity with RV people, families, vacationers and the like. We spend the night crammed into a spot in the hiker section of the camp ground. A ranger gives a talk about bears at the little amphitheater as curious deer boldly snoop around the perimeter, nice entertainment before bedtime.

A small resupply at the camp store

After downing pancakes and picking up another pint of bourbon and a few other resupply items, we make our way out of Tuolomne Meadows. Some hikers opt for a side trip and hitch a ride to Yosemite Valley to visit those popular attractions. Others wait at the Post Office for a resupply package to arrive. The John Muir Trail hikers branch off a separate trail down to the Valley where their hike will end. Coach, Advisory, and I, along with our friend Constantine, hike up the road and hop back onto the PCT to continue our quest.

That's Constantine approaching Lembert Dome

Glacier-scraped landscape

Delivering provisions to rangers and outposts

Tuolomne Falls

It will take a couple more days to hike through Yosemite National Park. We trek through a series of canyons divided by high passes. It's a similar pattern... ford a river, then up, up, up, then down, down, rinse, repeat. The shoes and socks never completely dry out. It's actually a bit tedious, but being in the wilderness with my new friends is better than any alternative I can come up with. The most notorious of the Yosemite stream crossings is the Rancheria Creek, which claimed the life of one hiker just a month ago. We choose a crossing 100 yards upstream from the trail and there are a few tense moments, but we all make it across without issue.

Coach crosses Piute Creek at a log jam

Pure serenity

Just past Dorothy Lake, there is a snowy pass with a sign marking the northern border of the national park area. Soon after that, we reach the 1000 mile mark of the PCT. I'm happy to have discovered the rocks in the dirt spelling out the number, because before that, I was worried that I had gone the wrong way at a fork in the trail a while back. The others catch up to me and we do the obligatory photo session.

Constantine at mile 1000!

That night, we camp next to the creek in Kennedy Canyon. It's an extra chilly night, and thin sheets of ice form along the creek side overnight. This would be our last day in what is considered the Sierra section of the PCT, to Sonora Pass. There are still some snowfields covering the trail, but we opt for a steep detour eliminating the snowy switchbacks and pushing straight to the top.

No need to treat this icy mountain water

Sonora Pass should be the last bit of snow-covered trail

By mid afternoon, we arrive at the highway and get a hitch down the mountain to the Kennedy Meadows North resort area. We enjoy a huge dinner at the restaurant there and camp in the PCT site with several others. In the morning, a pancake breakfast has me feeling groggy. We decide to take a zero day, which turns into a double zero day. Needless to say, we enjoy the rest break, the food, and the camaraderie.

I enjoy traveling with Advisory and Coach. But it is just a tiny bit weird since they have been boyfriend-girlfriend since their first days on the trail way back in May. It's not a big deal, and I don't mind being third wheel. It seems that we have these occasional team meetings to discuss plans. When this happens, it usually means we're going to take a zero day. Zero days are usually expensive, in terms of food, accommodations, and time off the trail. I'm not sure how far I can make it this year, but I had hoped to at least get to the Oregon border.

We rented this cabin at KM North for two nights

August 16 - 20
Sonora Pass mile 1017 to
US 50 (S. Lake Tahoe) mile 1092

Once we finally get motivated to head back up to the trail, we have a tough time thumbing a ride. We wait hopelessly for about 90 minutes with no takers.

So pathetic

We step up our game and incorporate some choreography. Finally, a couple from New Zealand in a rental car pull over and we all cram into the back seat. Check out our moves in this video clip below...

We don't get too far, maybe five miles, before the skies begin to darken and thunder rumbles. We find a place to pitch our tents and decide to wait out the rain. When it stops, it's too late to bother with any more miles. The next morning, I get an earlier start than my mates. I wait around during breaks, but they don't show up. I'm fine with flying solo for a bit, so I proceed on, scratching notes in the dirt and leaving them other clues along the way.

Vibrant colors

Joining up with the Tahoe Rim Trail

After a few days, I reach the end of the section at Highway 50. I'm able to get a ride into South Lake Tahoe and even score a nice motel room at a reasonable price. After cleaning up and doing some laundry, I make my way down the street a bit to the Nevada State Line. The first casino I come to is Harrah's. I walk past all the ringing slot machines to the elevator, because my focus here is the all-you-can-eat buffet on the 18th floor. Four plates later, I'm ready for bed.

Plate #1 of 4 overlooking Lake Tahoe

Advisory and Coach roll into town the next day, sharing harrowing video of a hail storm they survived the prior evening. Coach has arranged for us to stay with trail angels that night, parents of a friend. We get pizza and beers, and then take care of our town business. I purchase some trekking poles, repair my broken tent pole assembly, and ship home my snow gear. We take a taxi to our hosts and they are super nice and accommodating.

We have another team meeting, and it becomes clear that Coach and Advisory will soon be ending their hike. They aren't exactly sure when and where, so they will take a second day off to think about it. I'm going to move on without them and complete as much of the trail as I can. The next morning, after breakfast at a local diner, we share hugs and well wishes, and our host drives me up to the trail head at Echo Lake. And just like that, I'm on my own.

Photo credit to Katie Allwood for the pictures of me. :)

High Sierra - Part 2

"Oh crap!"

My choice to join forces with a group of hikers to traverse the High Sierra is a sound one. This does not, however, alleviate all of the dangers of hiking the Pacific Crest Trail in 2017. The winter and spring months brought more snowfall to these mountains than any year in many decades, over 60 feet of snow in some places, and that has led to an extremely dangerous summer thaw. This hiking season has already proven to be the deadliest on record, and grim news spreads throughout the trail community of two separate drowning incidents at swollen stream crossings. Four people have now died while hiking the PCT this year, and others who survived mishaps share harrowing tales. Here is a story about the fatalities from the PCT website: Sadness abounds with the news of more deaths on the Pacific Crest Trail

July 24 - 28
Onion Valley Trail mile 789
to Biship Pass Trail mile 858

There are five primary mountain passes through the roughly 400 mile Sierra section that hikers worry about the most: Forester, Glen, Pinchot, Mather, and Muir. Having successfully climbed up and over Forester Pass, the highest point on the PCT, I'm only moderately concerned about the conditions for the rest of the way. For most of this section, we'll be sharing the tread with the John Muir Trail thru-hikers, and we'll be able to get good beta from those heading southbound toward Mount Whitney.

So, why did I choose this year?

The next obstacle is Glen Pass, and we've heard that it's going to be a bitch. We pack up all our things and bid farewell to Marathon, who has an eight-mile hike back to his car at the Onion Valley trail head. The rest of us, a newly formed trail family of six hikers collectively known as team Yah Yah Yah, continue on toward the pass. It's an unusually cloudy morning, a grim foreshadowing of what this day would throw at us. Each of us has packed out enough food to hike about 120 mountain miles to Mammoth Lakes in about eight more days, or at least that is our plan.

Break time on Glen Pass

But day one does not go as planned. It's slow progress up to icy slopes, but eventually we reach the pass unscathed. On the way down, a few rain drops fall. Once we get past the snow line, we're met with a web of streams of various widths and depths.

It's gonna be a wet day.

We stall out at one of the stream crossings when our Australian friend, Advisory, loses her footing while hopping over a deep stream. When I turn around, she is completely submerged in the frigid water with the weight of her backpack forcing her head under. Within a couple seconds, she is able to get her head out, and I am able to reach her arm and yank her out of the stream.

The team rushes to action, looking for dry clothing and setting up shelter. Pastruzzi and Coach try to build a fire, but it's raining hard now and there is no dry wood or kindling to be found. We get Advisory into dry clothing and clean up her bloody knee. We all take a long lunch break under a tarp strewn between some trees. We're all pretty rattled by what just happened, but fortunately, Advisory is going to be okay.

Regrouping after Advisory's adversity.

We march on, but within a mile, we reach a waist deep stream crossing. So after all of that, we all get wet anyway. Soon after, there is a nice established camp site overlooking the Rae Lakes. We've traveled only a little more than three miles today, but it looks like we're stopping. One of the downsides of hiking in a group is that there are a lot more breaks, more waiting, and less productivity. Still, there is safety in numbers, and that's never been more evident than today.

Drying out after a short but stressful day.

The three mile day proves to be a big setback because we're starting to understand that our progress through these mountains will be more slow and tedious than we had anticipated. Mostly, we're worried that we won't have enough food to get us to the next resupply. On a more positive note, the scenery leaves me awestruck almost constantly, and the budding friendships are the best part.

Morning buck

Favorite shot from Rae Lakes.

Rae Lakes runner-up shot.

Lunch with Pastruzzi, Anthony, and Trip.

On the way up to Pinchot Pass, we approach an especially rapid stream. It's not as deep as some, but it's slippery, and just below this crossing is the confluence with a larger stream that dumps over the side of the mountain. So it's the consequences of a missed step as opposed to the actual task at hand that stokes my level of fear.

Seriously?

Okay, let's do this.

In this video clip,Trip makes it look easy.

At our pace, we don't make it up Pinchot Pass in one day. I've heard of other hikers who are able to do two passes in a day, but I don't see how. The altitude zaps me of my energy. I have to practice what I call "active breathing" on the long ascents, focusing on a rhythmic pattern of "in-in, out-out." When things get really tough, it's "in-in-out, in-in-out." If I don't focus on this, I'll notice that I'm getting winded quickly, and my legs just don't want to power me as well and my productivity reduces to a snail's pace with frequent stops.

At night time, I'm exhausted, but again, the altitude makes sleep difficult. When camping at elevations over 10,000 feet, I'm noticing that I wake up frequently gasping for breath. There is just not enough O2 per normal breath to make everything function properly. It's a problem, but with each passing day, my systems are adapting to this strange new environment.

Some sketchy rock scrambles.

Trip gets an assist from Pastruzzi.

Anthony approaches Pinchot Pass.

Slowly descending Pinchot Pass.

One day after knocking out Pinchot Pass, we're set up to get up to Mather Pass before lunch time. But the intelligence we receive from southbounders is troublesome. The trail is difficult to find because of numerous snowfields interspersed with rock and boulder scrambles. Near the top, we are faced with a bad option of climbing up a steep snow bank or a worse option involving a steep field of loose rocks. We all make it to the pass, safe but exhausted.

Hi from Mather Pass!

The descent from Mather Pass is even more treacherous. Snow fields block the trail, and much of the traverse is by trial and error, with lots of butt sliding down boulders. We're rewarded later when we stop for a long swim break in the Palisades Lakes.

Things get real when we take a look at our food inventories. Everybody is running low on food because it's taking so long to get through these mountains. There is even talk of bailing out for an unplanned resupply in the town of Bishop. The opportunity for this side trip is tomorrow when we reach the Bishop Pass trail head. From there, it would be a twelve mile hike up and over Bishop Pass to a campground where there is a shuttle into town. While people mull over this option, Coach and I try to catch some trout in the creek; coach has a hook and line, while I'm using my bug net and some branches. Neither of us has any success, but here's a video clip of the efforts.

I've already decided I'm not going to Bishop. After my resupply trip to Independence and Lone Pine last week, it's just too much time off trail, and I'll figure out how to get by with what I have by managing my rations and increasing my productivity. Coach and Advisory concur with my plan. Anthony, Trip, and Pastruzzi decide they will all go to town. They will hike on to spend the night at the junction to Bishop Pass, a few miles further than where the three of us make camp.

So we say our goodbyes and make some lame plans about how and where we'll get back together, but in my experience, this rarely works. I believe there is a better chance we won't meet up again unless they skip forward to meet us up the way. But if they do this, they will miss out on Muir Pass, one of the most iconic places on the Pacific Crest Trail. If they hike out and back through Bishop Pass, they'll never catch us since they'll be a few days behind by then.

The next day, we reach the trail junction where there is a note from our friends wishing us luck. They've also left us some Skittles and other treats from their stash. The three of us proceed, but it's a different feeling with just half of our group. It feels like a Yah, or sometimes a Yah Yah, but nothing close to a Yah Yah Yah.

July 28 - August 3

Bishop Pass Trail mile 858

to Reds Meadow mile 907

We continue on with a goal to get right up to where the snow fields begin below Muir Pass. We're told that while Muir Pass is not a difficult climb, there is a snow field for more than five miles. So at the end of a long uphill day, we find the perfect spot to camp.

Beautiful spot for a lunch break.

A room with a view!

Most hikers try to climb over the snowy passes early in the morning before things get soft and slushy from the sun. We get an early start, but the late July sun is already doing its work when we reach the snow field. The so called snow bridges over the streams cause us some anxiety, as it's just a matter of time before they give way to gravity. Sun cups, caused by the uneven pattern of the thaw, make navigation difficult over and around divots up to three feet deep.

Snow bridges

and sun cups.

After a long ascent, we are once again rewarded with amazing scenery from Muir Pass and the stone hut there.

Fitty Shrimp (me!) with Advisory and Coach

Optical illusion?

Inside Muir Hut, elevation 11,955 feet

Just so vast!

For the next several miles, it's a slushy descent in to the Evolution Creek, which connects a bunch of cool looking lakes. 

Sharing the meadow with two does.

Where Fitty at?

The three of us have hatched a new plan to make a side trip via ferry across Edison Lake in a couple days to spend a night at the Vermilion Valley Resort, better known as the VVR among hikers. There is a little store there where we can get a light resupply to get us to Mammoth Lakes. Also, we're learning that those who are thru-hiking the John Muir Trail always have too much food and are more than willing to share with us starving PCT'ers.

Over time, experienced thru-hikers master a skill known as "yogi-ing," and I'm teaching my new friends how to do it the right way. Basically, it's begging, but without actually asking for anything. It works like this: I try to strike up a conversation with everyone I meet along the trail, and I quickly work something into the discussion to the effect of, "Gosh, it's still a few days until I get to town. I sure hope my food stash lasts." There is also a look that goes into it, an expression of desperation. I know, it's pathetic, but it's very effective. Sometimes I'll find that I've scored from a yogi when I did not even realize I was yogi-ing. Coach quickly scored some Starbursts and other sweets from an old guy on a section hike. A Canadian guy gave us a huge bag of trail mix and a roll of badly needed toilet paper. The main reason this works, in my opinion, is that most folks on the trail are just awesome people. 

Time for a break from the sun in this tiny house.

These two...

Among the giant Ponderosa pines

The last pass before our side trip is Selden. There's not much snow and the trail is not overly tough. The views, though, are fantastic!

Looking South from Selden Pass.

Looking North from Selden.

In the meantime, I receive word via satellite text messaging that our friends who went to Bishop have now hitched up the highway to Mammoth Lakes. They will either hike south to meet us or they will meet us when we arrive in town.

The morning ferry over to the VVR

The VVR trip is quick, a 24-hour run, but expensive. They offer free camping to hikers, and the first beer is free. Still, the restaurant and store are costly, not to mention the cost of the ferry. Upon arrival, I immediately had a double breakfast, and later I had a steak dinner. It's pretty amazing that everything is on the honor system. You start a tab when you arrive and you settle up before you leave, and that's that. Since I do not normally mail resupply packages ahead like some hikers do, I don't mind paying extra for the supplies I need from these little remote stores. I fully understand it's a chore for the storekeepers to get the stock they need. 

Eat? Oh, I did!

Within 48 hours, we arrive at Reds Meadow and take the bus down into the ski resort where we hop onto a second bus down into the town of Mammoth Lakes. It's a bustling Saturday, and there is a big music festival going on in town, so finding accommodations is not easy. We quickly run into our friends in the heart of town. We find a big room that is expensive but not so bad when split between six people. It's a glorious reunion and turns into quite a party. We decide to re-up the room for another night because of the news from our friends. Trip and Pastruzzi are done with the trail. After evaluating finances, they are making plans to get home to England. Anthony has made the same proclamation, except he's going to L.A. It's sad, but that's how it goes. At least we got a couple days to have proper goodbyes, a rarity on the trail. Usually people just get ahead or fall behind, never to be seen again.

I'll never forget these goof balls.

A tearful goodbye in this clip...

While the snowiest of the passes are behind us, there are still a few mountains to conquer. Additionally, we're hearing about some dangerous stream crossings within the next week as we trek through Yosemite. Even more disturbing than that is the recent news of wildfires breaking out through parts of Oregon. A section of the PCT near Mount Jefferson has been closed for a couple weeks, and now we're hearing about new closures, some with detours, some without. These are things we'll have to sort through in the weeks ahead. We figure to be finished with the Sierra section at Sonora Pass within one week.

TO BE CONTINUED IN NEXT POST.