Memories from June 9

Today was a pretty uneventful 10 or 11 miles over Pinchot Pass. I left early and had the trail to myself it was fun getting to use map and compass since no one was around to pull out a GPS. Significant portions of the trail were under snow but Mt Wynne was a pretty unambiguous landmark. I would frequently look around and as I was beginning to settle on a route, notice tracks in the distance or a fragment of the trail. At the top of Pinchot Pass I waited for an little over an hour as about half of the group showed up. After confirming the day’s destination with Chamile, I headed down to the South Fork of the Kings River. There were a number of wet-foot stream crossings and I wasn’t in the mood for wet shoes. I bought mine thinking they would dry quickly but that hasn’t been the case so I wound up hiking at a leisurely pace in flip flops.

Pictures from the hike to the base of the pass.

Pinchot Pass is at the first bit if snow after the rock ridge on the left.

Some of the nearby rock was a strong red.

Looking back down the valley from part way up.

Rip Snorter climbing up the last bit of snow to crest the pass.

Looking north east from the pass. The route down follows to the right of those lakes.

Part way down.

A make-up photo since I forgot to take one at the top.

Farther down the valley.

Looking up stream from one of the crossings.

I got in with plenty of daylight and so took a bath in the stream and sun and did laundry.

Our camp is just across a stream and one person pitched their tent on the wrong side. Three people carried the tent, with all the belongings inside across the stream.

Memories from June 8

I woke up late today which was very much in the spirit of the day. I spent the morning drying gear and enjoying the view. I only need about 9 miles to get set up for Pinchot Pass tomorrow. Here’s the view when I woke up. The Rae Lakes were a good place to take a nearo.

When I finally did hit the trail a little before noon, the walk down the valley was great.

The were a number of interesting stream crossings.

I passed mile 800.

Though there were two markers.

The day ended with a climb up a valley with a thundering river.

Today I ran across a bunch of people who I haven’t seen for over 600 miles. They’re all hiking in a big group of about 12 people. I camped with them and had the third campfire of my trip.

That’s right. S’mores roasting with an ice axe.

Memories from June 7

Forester Pass is the highest point on the PCT (Mount Whitney was a side trip) and Glen Pass, I was told, is described by a respected guide book as having the scariest descent. That means that today, I crossed the biggest baddest of the Sierra’s passes.

The day started just as the sky was lightening. I hadn’t slept well knowing a big day was coming and so it was easy to get up when I heard Nana, Indy, Al, and Trips beginning to rustle in their sleeping bags.

Right after leaving camp in the lightening dark, I encountered what would be a theme for the day: water flooding down the trail like a stream. In some places it looks like there is a second trail which has been beaten down by hikers avoiding a flooded trail. This morning, those were running with water as well. I wound up spending a lot of time walking next to the trail as opposed to on it and judiciously picking footsteps where water would stay below the sole of my shoes.

We had left a few minutes apart but as the trail began to disappear under snow patches we converged into a single group.

The trail lead very gradually up and down a valley until just below the pass which made route finding easy enough though Indy pulled out his GPS from time to time. I’m beginning to get more comfortable ignoring the exact trail when it isn’t to be found and crossing by whatever route seems best towards an point I know it must ultimately pass.

The sun crested the valley wall.

Forester Pass is the little notch just above the hiker’s head.

Even as you approach Forester, it’s hard to believe there’s a pass anywhere in the wall. I suppose I’m just not familiar with passes but even just before the wall it doesn’t seem particularly given to passage.

It wasn’t obvious where the switchbacks up to the pass started so we went straight up a snowfield until we hit one.

Here’s a view looking West from part way up.

Forester Pass is infamous for the patch if snow you have to cross to get across a chute just before the top of the pass.

Al, Indy, and Nana switching to ice axes from hiking poles just to walk 20ish feet across the chute.

The steps to actually crest the pass were blocked by a small cornice so you have to scramble up some snow a few feet around it. It was nice to have an ice axe for this. Here’s Bushwhack cresting that short scramble.

And then I was at the top.

I took a bunch of pictures but most don’t really capture the effect because the peaks and ridges are all around you and so don’t fit in the frame together.

What goes up must come down. Another group (Bushwack, Jet Fighter, Rawhide) had come up behind up us. Trips and I started down after them since Nana, Al, and Indy didn’t want to the snow to get any softer and so only had a brief stay at the pass.

Some pictures from the descent.

When I got down to Bubb’s Creek, it was still well before lunch and I’d finished the mileage I planned to for the day. It’s crazy starting early so do something big while the snow is still hard and then being “done” with so much time left. This, however, was a fork in the road for everyone I’d been hiking with was headed out Kearsarge Pass to resupply. I took a break at Bubb’s Creek and caught up with them having lunch just before taking the Onion Trail. Nana and Al offered to take my trash bag which was really nice and we said farewell. The odds are good I’ll see them soon as I’m taking a few zero days on trail with a friend in the area of Muir Trail Ranch.

At this point it was 12:30pm. The Rae lakes, who have been recommended to my by multiple sources lay just over 4 miles away. Unfortunately, Glen Pass was just over 2 miles away and despite being hungry, I’d front-loaded most of my food consumption for the day, not expecting to do much after Forester. I decided to go for it because the Rae Lakes would be beautiful by sunset and I could go as slow as a half mile per hour and still make it. Half a mile per hour is really slow. I dug immoderately into my discretionary supply of bannana chips (one bag of bannana chips and one bag of dried less are my only non-rationed food at this point since I didn’t have room to carry much extra leaving Kennedy Meadows and had given away what extra I did have) and slowly put on my gaiters since the afternoon snow would be soft and deep post-holing likely. Then, putting one foot in front of the other at a pace which I think of as a pleasant plod, I set off.

Going ridiculously slowly and being free of all concern as I was ahead of schedule for the day and under no time pressure was a wonderful way to get up Glen Pass. Here are some pictures. It had a much more ensconced feel than other climbs.

The switchbacks just before the top were half covered in snow in such a way as to make an interesting climbing challenge. There was a great deal of erosion between them as many had had to make the same climb which made the task somewhat more interesting. I climbed up snow when I could hoping to minimize my contribution to the problem.

Pictures from the crest of the pass.

On the switchbacks, I ran across Cashmere who I’d met at lunch. She was climbing even more slowly than I but the timing was serendipitous as it was it was comforting to have some else around for the hike down.

Leaving the crest of the pass was a snow trench deep enough to eat a hiker.

After following that a short ways you glissade (slide on you butt) since the face is steep (you can’t see the lower part from the upper) and the trail is completely buried.

Since there was no trail, Cashmere and I had planned generally to, “traverse far enough that we don’t slide into that lake then start a glissade before the edge to the other lake but still wind up on the east side of those rocks”.

It took a little adjustment but the advantage of open snow is that you can go were you want. Fortunately the snow is still thick enough that when the tracks we followed crossed over the sound of water running under the snow, it wasn’t a huge concern.

The last leg to the actual edge of Upper Rae lake was largely done by trial and error with the help of some recent tracks, though they’d been made when the snow was harder and so we frequently post holed near rocks. The greater hazard by far was the little streams that ran everywhere. My feet were merely damp and I wanted to keep them that way.

When we finally found dry trail, it was cause for minor celebration. The switchbacks didn’t even have snow them.

The final twist for the day was that the trail cutters apparently had a dive unit. Alternatively the Rae Lakes are swollen with run off. Here’s a marmot crossing the log bridge, my second of the day.

All that said, it was beautiful.

To top it off, I ran into Miles and Dan (I last saw Miles the day I left Mike’s Place) who had a fire and had caught some small fish and were willing to share with a bedraggled fellow hiker. Amazing end to the most adventurous day on the trail.

Memories from June 6.

With Whitney (about 14500ft) yesterday and Forester Pass (about 1300ft and the highest point on the PCT) less than 15 miles away, we only hiked about 8 miles today.

There were three stream crossings. Like high mountains and passes, stream crossings are much hyped as a source of danger. Wallace, Wright, and Tyndall creeks were all pretty straight forward for someone my size. Tyndall was a little fast but I wore my shoes and it was easier than the others in flip flops. Wright is less than a mile after Wallace so I hiked between then in flip flops. After crossing Tyndall I dropped my backpack at a campsite and hopped back in with my clothes on for a bath and laundry.

Nana crossing Wright Creek.

The views, however were the real highlight. Between Wright an Tyndall creeks there’s a rise next to Tawny Point.

Mount Whitney is the tallest in this picture. Due to our approach yesterday, we did really get to see it.

What made the plateau by Tawny Point so incredible was that the view was contiguous for about 270 degrees. It was a stream of mountains an a valley with Tawny Point itself being the last 90 degrees. On Whitney, you were above everything and so had different views from different edges.

Today was very pleasant and a great set up for going over Forrester Pass tomorrow.

Memories from June 5

Today I hiked to the top of Mount Whitney, the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States.

Several groups started out from Guitar Lake at around 3:30am. The sky was glittered with stars and the surrounding mountains imposing, dark outlines. It made me want to take up mountaineering just for the early morning starts.

The string of headlamps hiked haltingly over hard, crusty snow and rock, following a mix of GPS and guidance to “hug the wall” until we found the start of the switchbacks which would take us up to a long traverse after which we could summit.

In places the switchbacks were still snowed under or had been buried my a small slide of snow. These patches of snow where very steep but not wide. Crossing these required confidence in your footing and balance but weren’t particularly difficult if taken with care. Due to a number of factors, I didn’t take one with care and wound up glad to have and ice axe to hang on to while I put on the microspikes I should have before crossing such a steep slope of snow.

As the sun started to lighten the sky, the surrounding mountains slowly grew more defined.

After the switchbacks, our approach from the west joined an route from the east for the traverse to get under the summit.

The sun continued to rise, putting a soft red and yellow band across the horizon. We were on the west side of the ridge but in places were we could see though, the rocks were light up with the yellow morning rays.

The traverse and final ascent were easier than the switchbacks because the snow was wide enough to put two feet next to each other. At the end the slope lessened which made the last part the easiest.

Here I am at the highest point in the lower 48.

Trying to make the classic Excel XL symbol with my poles and ice axe. There’s a tradition at work of carrying a facsimile of the team flag to the top of Rainier. I regret not carrying on the tradition properly.

The emergency shelter. Some people go up in the afternoon and spend the night there.

The hiker I saw inside looked pretty cold though.

The top of Whitney is the end of the John Muir Trail. The JMT and PCT overlap for much of the length of the JMT.

Of course the views off the top were sweeping.

I headed down with Trips and Ramón around 7:30am so the snow would still be hard and easy to walk on. We had some self-arrest/glissade practice on one of the lower switchbacks. Yeah, we probably should have had that under our belts before the trip up. Unlike the way up, there was light so I have pictures.

That was amazing. And over by 10:10am. There is something surreal about finishing such a defining experience and still having the entire day ahead. I celebrated with a nap.

Even the hike back from Guitar Lake wasn’t disappointing, though is certainly seemed less dramatic than on the way in.

We ended the day at a field about a mile from the PCT. We hiked a total of less than 12 miles making it one of the shorter mileage days.

The only downer is that most of my food for the next seven days is Nutella. That’s not so bad in and of itself but some variety is nice and cheese, tortillas, and Snickers are most of the rest of the calories.

Memories from June 4

I was walking out of Chicken Spring Lake at 5:35am before I heard anyone else even moving. There was a good bit of up hill before getting to Crabtree Meadows but only because I had to descend to it first and wanted to be done with the climb before noon. Notably, that downhill took me into Sequoia and King’s Canyon National Park where bear canister are required.

The trail lead down to Rock Creek which was my first wet-foot stream crossing. I zipped off the lower legs of my pants,  changed into flip flops, and right after  taking my first step into the painfully cold water, decided to go dig a cat hole instead. In the end it wasn’t fast or just knee deep but was a good reminder that streams are easy to underestimate.

There were a bunch of switchbacks almost immediately after the stream which took me to a saddle with Mount Guyot to the west. The trail was hot and sandy and if it weren’t for the trees, I might have thought myself back in the desert.

At Crabtree Meadows I unexpectedly ran into Five Star and Wrong Tent who I’d met a few days ago but hung out with at the ADZPCTKO make up at Chimney Creek and again in Kennedy Meadows. Wrong Tent had summited Mount Whitney earlier in the day and so I got a bunch of intel from him for the climb tomorrow.

After an easy early afternoon, Nana & Co caught up so we headed down the trail towards Guitar Lake which is a popular base camp from which to day hike Whitney from the West. About a mile down the trail, there was another feet-wet stream crossing. Two in my first day of them! I wore my flip flops the rest of the way to Guitar Lake.

Some pictures from the two or three miles to Guitar Lake. I was awe inspiring.

Me enjoying the view from Timberline Lake.

Yes, I wore my flip flops over that snow. It was a little cold.

Looking back down the way we’d come shortly before Guitar Lake.

The size of the mountains flanking the valley made me feel dizzy.

Finally, Guitar Lake.

The walk from the PCT to Guitar Lake (it’s a side trip) was wondrous. The effect was heightened by hiking shorts and flip flops at an ambling pace, getting my feet wet here and there for no reason. I felt like a child at play. It was wonderful.

Memories from June 3

I woke up before everyone else and had the morning’s glory to myself.

Our campsite had been on a broad ridge which continued for a few miles and with overlooks mostly to the east.

Today started with a short waterless stretch to Diaz Creek which was just off trail.

Later in the day, however, there was snow melting on the trail making water extremely convenient to collect. Once I just put my water bottle next to a stone which snow melt was flowing over and collected a liter.

Also, today was the first day I started encountering noticeable snow on the trail. It was mostly small patches but I lost the trail just before Cottonwood Pass and so bushwhacked my way there.

At Cottonwood Pass I decided to tag along with Nana, Indy, Trips, and Indy’s friend Al who is joining them for a week. We’ve been leap frogging for a few days and have the same general schedule until after Forester Pass. Here they are talking with a day hiker at Cottonwood Pass getting the latest on the weather for our Mount Whitney side trip.

They say ended about a mile later at Chicken Spring Lake. There were two tents there when we got in (we also got a weather report on Whitney from them) but while we were still drying from a quick dip in the cold water a dozen or so PCT hikers rolled in. We seem to be forming something of a “bubble” where the same set of hikers wind up independently coming up with the same itinerary.

Memories from June 2

I have a warmer sleeping bag for the Sierras. It’s big and soft in a way my lighter one isn’t. I slept so well last night I might as well have been in my own bed. I also used my puffy and had shell as a pillow instead of an inflated water bladder. All of this despite waking up with frost on the bag.

Since I didn’t eat a full day of food yesterday and the food I stuffed into my pack’s mesh pocket was definitely more than two days, my pack is probably as heavy as it has been for the entire trip. Not 70lbs like they used to have but they had thick hip belts and padded shoulder straps. It’s surprising how quickly a few thousand feet of climbing can wind you. I don’t know if it’s the pack or altitude which always brings my breath up short when I start walking again. I think I’ve rested and my first few steps disagree.

The first part of the day was spent climbing about 2500ft to about 10500ft.

A bunch of people stopped for water at Cow Creek but given the duration we all stopped, it was more about catching our breathes. I met Raw Hide, Trips, and Nana. Trips has a good habit if just politely standing and enjoying the view instead of driving herself to a sweaty, hyperventilating mess. I decided to take a leaf from her book.

Over lunch Flapjack tried to repair his Kindle. Note the workbench, toolset, and electrostatic wristband he packed out for just such an occasion.

The peak elevation today was on a traverse under Olancha Peak.

We just have 15 miles to do today and so I took a side trip to near the top. There wasn’t a trail, I was expecting to just go up until I didn’t feel safe or couldn’t go higher. I found two cairns in the process and what might have been indentations left by an adventurer from a previous season.

I only made it to the lowest of three peaks. Here’s the highest.

There was a hill to the south which looked like it might have had enough room to camp on top.

The view was amazing. It was like an overview of where we’d come from.

As the trail descended the soil changed to a light sand. The trees’ bark became more orange. There was less brush. The stones became lighter in color, larger, and more round.

Over dinner by a stream I tried to give away the extra food I’m carrying. There weren’t many takers until a group came by where one person had been planning on resupplying earlier than the others and they were trying to figure out how to share their food in a way so they could all get out to Independence instead of Lone Pine.

Nutella in Zip Lock bags is very messy. Eventually Half Spoon pointed out that there was a stream so I could turn the bag inside out, lick it clean, then wash my muzzle and paws. I still couldn’t get it clean but got enough off that I didn’t feel bad putting the rest in my trash bag. I am hikertrash.

I’m camping tonight on an overlook with Flapjack, Hiccup, and Half Spoon. We watched the sun go down. I don’t have pictures because if I took pictures of everything pretty, I’d have a video.

Memories from June 1

Kennedy Meadows is called the gateway to the Sierra. Today I finally stepped through that gateway. After using the phone at Grumpy Bear, the local restaurant, to touch base with friends I’ll be meeting in the Sierras, I set off with Flapjack and Hiccup. Here’s a departing shot from the Kennedy Meadows General Store which serves as home base for most hikers laying over there.

All packed up and ready to go. I have 12 days of food. 10 in a bear can. After that I stuffed the mesh outer pocket and underside of the hood with everything I could fit and called it two days of food.

First stop was at the South fork of the Kern River. It was early afternoon so we spent twoish hours staying cool. Of course being in the water doesn’t prevent some people from writing blog entries or whatever Wrong Way is up to here.

As the trail started to wind slowly upwards it was obvious that we weren’t in the desert any more.

Flapjack spotted a strange cloud. We debated if it was a fire and decided not.

It’s surprising how sharp the edges of burn areas are. Wildfires seem to be very arbitrary in what they decide to incinerate and what they decide to avoid.

Beck’s Meadow was amazing by sunset. New favorite sight of the trip.

After Beck’s Meadow wasn’t too shabby either. Sunset + Sierras is like cheating at a beauty contest.

Just about everything today has been more beautiful than the entire rest of the trip save for some really unique areas.

I cowboy camped on a sandbar next to another crossing of the south fork of the Kern River.

Today was fantastic.

Memories from May 31

Having resupplied yesterday, I didn’t do anything today. I need to get in touch with two friends I’m meeting mid-Sierras but have no cell service, the payphone is broken (apparently a hiker fed it $2 in pennies), the general store won’t take money for the use of their phone, the only other public establishment (a bar restaurant called Grumpy Bear’s) is closed today, the internet cafe previously run by a trail angel names Tom was shut down, and the nearest town is 30 miles away. I’ve decided to hike the start of the Sierras with Flapjack and Hiccup at an easy pace and they’re leaving tomorrow so there’s no rush.