Pacific Crest Trail 2017 - A Song of Ice and Fire

I chose the Summer of 2017 for my Pacific Crest Trail thru-hike attempt because it just fit into my schedule nicely. I could not have picked a worse year. The record-breaking snow levels from the winter and spring frightened me into delaying my start date by two months to mid-May, but the ice-covered Sierra and overflowing streams still presented great challenges. Additionally, I took a week off the trail to escape a dangerous heat wave in the Mohave Desert. And now, hikers face more uncertainties as a very active fire season has resulted in wide swaths of trail closures further to the north in Oregon. It's late August, and most aspiring thru-hikers have hitched a ride around the closed sections. Others have flip-flopped all the way to the Canada border to hike southward in hopes that the closures will reopen. Many others have simply quit altogether.

August 22 - Echo Lake mile 1092
to August 31 - Belden Town mile 1287

My ride out of South Lake Tahoe drops me off at the trail head off Rt. 50, and soon I reach Echo Lake. My plans are uncertain, one day at a time, but now I'm on my own, just like when I started way back in May at the Mexico border. But now there are far fewer aspiring thru-hikers remaining out here.

After entering into the Desolation Wilderness, I wait out a thunderstorm in my tent, then wander off the trail and get lost for a bit, and then pass Lake Aloha just before sunset. This time, getting lost proves to be a lucky break because the exiting storm clouds paired with the setting sun beyond the lake paints a surreal and beautiful orange landscape.

One of my favorite sunsets of all time

Lake Aloha, Desolation Wilderness

For the first time, I feel like I'm hitting my groove on the PCT. By starting my days early in the morning and hiking until about dusk, I'm able to knock out 20 to 25 miles a day without much discomfort. My cardiovascular system is as good as it's ever been after hiking in the High Sierra for the past month. My breaks are less frequent and of shorter duration. Things like balance and agility are also much improved. I don't dread the all day uphill sections. Crossing a swift creek on a narrow fallen tree seems less treacherous. The snow and ice is basically not an issue at all any more. My thoughts flow freely to pass the time as I walk. My daily routine is firmly entrenched, and by solo hiking, I feel like there is no limit to what I can accomplish. Humans were meant to walk; we are all wanderers by design and through evolution, and only in the past few generations have we as a species gotten away from that. I know this to be true now from my personal experiences.

Dicks Lake and Fontanillis Lake, Desolation Wilderness

The next resupply town is Sierra City, and I'm hoping to catch up with some other hikers there. I make my way through the beautiful Desolation Wilderness catching an occasional glimpse of Lake Tahoe off to the east. I pass by the ski resorts at Alpine Valley, Squaw Valley, and Sugar Bowl near Donner Pass.

At the Donner Pass, I enjoy a cheeseburger lunch while making an amazing realization. By my calculations, I can still make it to the Canada border this year. All I have to do is average 25 miles a day and hope it does not snow in the North Cascades before Halloween. I make a commitment to myself to go for it, and I share this commitment on social media just to make it real. That's just 1500 miles in 60 days, with an extra week built in for zero days. It's a stretch, but very doable, weather permitting of course.

Granite Chief Wilderness

Tinker Knob

Donner Party Memorial at the I-80 rest stop

With renewed vigor, I push on toward Sierra City, always minding that 25 mile-per-day pace, but not fretting if I come up short by a couple miles. I arrive in time for a late breakfast, a double breakfast actually, of pancakes and a breakfast burrito. After purchasing a few provisions and exchanging strategies with a couple fellow hikers, I arrive back at the trail late in the afternoon for an evening hike up to the Sierra Buttes, which turns into a bit of a night hike before I find a spot flat enough and clear enough to pitch my tent. I immediately regret forgetting to charge my head lamp batteries in town because I can barely see in front of me for the last hour in the dark.

Sierra Buttes night hike

I'm a couple days from the next resupply point where the trail passes through tiny Belden. On the way, I opt for a road walk into Bucks Lake for a burger and a beer. It cuts some trail miles as I loop back, but the added road miles actually increase my total for the day. Again, it's a bit of a night hike up the mountain before I spot a clear patch where I can sleep. This time, I've remembered to charge my batteries during my burger stop, very useful.

Middle Fork Feather River

I had seen familiar names on the registers at the trail heads, and I had heard from a southbounder that many of my friends had taken a side trip to Reno for a couple days, so there is hope that I'll catch up to them soon. I don't mind the solo hiking, and in fact, I rather enjoy it. But human interaction is necessary from time to time, and I'm happy to find many of them hanging out in Belden when I arrive there on the evening of August 31st.

Some of the hikers in Belden had been there for the past four nights. The quirky little town has a way of drawing hikers in and not letting go, with its hotel, restaurant, bar, store, free camping, and population of fewer than 20 rather eclectic souls. The residents inhabit campers by the creek or rent tiny cottages along the main drag through town. I can't help but wonder if this is some strange bizarro world, and I think this might be the actual Hotel California... you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.

It's Labor Day weekend, and one of the locals, Shawn, has cashed his disability check and is throwing a party for all hikers in town and any locals from here or the nearby canyons. It's one of the strangest days of my life, but I'll save that for another story at a later time.

Hiker trash reunion in Belden, last of the NoBo's

September 2 - Belden Town mile 1287
to September 16 - Interstate 5 / Dunsmuir mile 1501

By Saturday at noon, I'm ready to get out of here. They are expecting an annual gathering of about 100 motorcycle enthusiasts who are said to not interact well with the hiker trash. Even though the temperature is 100F, I finally make my way up one of the longest and most dreaded ascents along the PCT. By this time tomorrow, I will have gained more than 7,000 feet of elevation, much of which is in treeless burn scar areas.

Farewell Belden Town, you weirdo!

The hike out of Belden is not only hot but also solo. It seems that the group that got hung up there this week is bailing out. Some of them have a ride to Quincy and plan to hike the Oregon Coast Trail. Others are flipping to a point north of the fire closures. I decline the offer to join them. Now it feels like I'm the very last of the true northbound thru-hikers still out here.

Two days later, I awake to an eerie site after camping near an old burn area. Thick smoke has settled into the valleys around me. I can't tell if it's smoke drifting in from far off wildfires or if there is a new fire nearby sparked by the previous evenings thundershower. Regardless, it's a bit unsettling, and I'm sure I'll have to make some decisions soon about how to handle the closures in Oregon, about 350 miles of closed trail, possibly more.

I pass the halfway point of the PCT and score a ride into Chester from a very cool state trooper. I decide to get a room for the night to shower and explore options. The next day at the library, Twister is there researching alternative plans with a couple other hikers. They are going to join the ranks of the refugee PCT'ers who have hopped onto the Oregon Coast Trail.

It's here where I learn about a new fire that has closed the trail in Northern California beyond the town of Etna. This, for me, is a game changer. I've come to terms that I'm not going to make it to Canada this year after all. I revert back to my original plan to go only as far as the I-5 near Dunsmuir where I can hop on the Amtrak and work my way back east. I guess I'll come back to California next year, if it's in the cards.

Evening thundershower, sweet rainbow

Apocalyptic scene

So I get a hitch out of Chester back to the trail head. I hesitate because of the ominous echos on the weather radar, but I go for it anyway. This is a decision I quickly regret. About two miles from the highway, I find myself surrounded by relentless lightning strikes with no place to take shelter. The skies finally let loose and I pull a tiny tarp over my pack and myself, crouch down, and wait out the downpour for about 40 minutes. I'm reminded of a similar situation on the Appalachian Trail in Virginia back in June of 2014.

Check out the volume and frequency of the thunderbolts in this clip...

From Chester, it's only 170 miles to the train station, but I believe there are still many great memories to be made out here. The next day, not long after entering the Lassen Volcanic National Park, I take a side trail to check out the Drakesbad Guest Ranch to see about the dinner buffet. I meet some pretty cool people there, and in the process, I score some unexpected trail magic: free dinner, a free late-night soak in the hot spring pool, and a free bed in one of the cabins... AMAZING!

A couple days later, I roll into Old Station late in the morning. I take advantage of a diner there and grab a light resupply at the gas station next door. I'm meeting quite a few southbound hikers these days, but almost no northbounders. I visit with a guy named Bandit who is heading south to complete his triple crown (Appalachian Trail, Continental Divide Trail, and Pacific Crest Trail). Bandit was able to get through Oregon before all but one of the fire closures, and he barely beat the California closure at Etna. Late in the afternoon, I start up along a significant waterless stretch, camping on a ridge high above Hat Creek.

The days are flying by, and I'm sad that this hike is coming to an end in just a few days. I stop in at the Burney Mountain Guest Ranch for a night, with dinner and breakfast included in the camping fee. On their computer, I book a flight from Portland to Kentucky, but not for two weeks. I receive a message from Madjac and his wife Jacque, who I met on the Appalachian Trail a few years ago, and I'm invited to spend some time at their family property on the Oregon coast at the end of my hike. I think I'll take them up on this offer, sounds nice!

A day out of Burney, I stop for an extended break at McArthur-Burney Falls Memorial State Park. The falls spill 129 feet from a spring fed creek into a magical misty basin. It rates among the most beautiful waterfalls I've ever visited.

Burney Falls

Later in the day, I notice flakes of ash falling on me. Later, I spot a wildfire on a neighboring mountain. Soon, a recconaissance plan circles the mountain, and I'm a bit spooked that I might be walking into the fire. A large C-130 flies low above me to water bomb the fire which seems to be only a couple miles away as the crow flies.

Here's a video clip of the fire with the recon plane off to the right...

The trail eventually zags away from the fire, so there is no imminent danger. Still, it makes me more comfortable with my decision to end my adventure soon.

A few days later, on the morning of Saturday, September 16th, I reach the service road along I-5, thus ending my hike at about the 1500 mile mark. I'm saving the remaining 1150 miles for a future adventure, probably next year, but we'll see.

Castle Crags, I'll start here next year.

Unwinding in Oregon
September 18 - 26

While the hike is over, the summer adventure continues on. My flight out of Portland is over a week away, so I've made arrangement to travel to the Oregon coast, taking Madjac up on his generous offer to host me. So after two nights in Dunsmuir, I hop on the pre-dawn northbound train to Albany, Oregon, followed by a shuttle bus ride to the coastal town of Newport. Madjac meets me there early in the evening.

We grab a few groceries and head up the coast to Otter Rock, where Madjac's family has owned a vacation home since the 1970's. His mother still lives there, in the original structure, and the attached A-frame serves as the guest house for family and friends. The A-frame was constructed when there was a risk that the main house atop a high bluff would be lost to the encroaching sea.

Jacque and Madjac prove to be great hosts, and we have a very nice visit. For me, it's the perfect buffer between trail life and heading back east to the so called "real world." On the second day of my stay, we're heading back to the house after a bowl of clam chowder at Mo's, and I spot a group of four backpackers finding shelter from a rain shower in front of the fire department. Madjac asks, "Do you know those guys?" After a minute, it hits me.... "Yes!" I cross the street and realize that it's a mix of different people I met along the PCT at different times, but now they are hiking the Oregon Coast Trail as a group. Our meeting here at Otter Rock is purely by chance.

The foursome is invited to spend the night with us at the A-frame, and in typical hiker fashion, they accept. Turning down trail magic is almost unheard of in the backpacking and thru-hiking community.

Madjac and Jacque, wonderful hosts!

Whale watching

Dreamcrusher, Moonwalker, Highlander, and Constantine join the mix

View from the A-frame's deck, beautiful!

Up that bluff to lunch

Soup at Mo's

Madjac with his mother, Eleanor

Devil's Punchbowl

The reunion with the guys is a lot of fun. The next day, they try their best to drag me along for the last week or so of their hike along the coast. Unfortunately, I don't have enough days before my flight to do this, or I would. So after lunch, they pack up and I watch as they head south.

Happy trails, boys!

After four days on the coast with my friends, there is one more reunion to be had before my flight. I've made arrangements to spend a few days with my Sierra hiking mates, Coach and Advisory, in Eugene. Madjac and Jacque need to drive over there anyway for supplies, so we all meet there at the Costco.

Coach's parents live outside of Eugene, and I'd met them earlier in the summer when they vacationed in their RV along the PCT just south of the Sierra section. They have offered up the same RV for my use during my days in Eugene, and it works out perfectly.

It's more good times hanging with Coach and Advisory, but alas, the trip is coming to an end. Advisory will remain in Oregon for another month until her visa expires and she returns to Australia. The two of them will try to sort things out as far as the future of their relationship which began when they met about day two on the trail back in May.

My plan, as of now, is to return to northern California next summer to pick up the PCT right where I left off. This has really been an amazing summer, and I'm so happy I decided to hike along the Pacific Crest Trail for four months.

How I Didn't Die in the High Sierra - Part 3

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 trail traffic is obvious, and we enjoy the increased solitude during that stretch. The trails rejoin at Thousand Island Lake, and there is a small mob of JMT hikers there during lunchtime.

Lunch break at Thousand Island 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. Its 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. :)

How I Didn't Die in the High Sierra - Part 2

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 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. 

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 Mt. 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.