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.