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September 7, 2002 28º-43º @BSH

The clouds had broken up during the night, and the weather was clear and cold. My water bottles were frozen solid. And all of our gear not under the tarp had a heavy layer of frost on it. We spread it out to catch the sun, which wouldn’t be up for an hour or so. While waiting, we chatted with the two older guys camped near us. One, the leader, said they had done this twenty five years ago and were attempting to do the same three or four day hike again. Apparently, with the same equipment. The other gentleman had a Red Sox cap on; we talked baseball for a while—turned out the impending baseball strike had been averted at the eleventh hour, and the Red Sox had promptly returned to their losing ways.

One of the men had a thermometer and mentioned it had been 21.9º that morning. As they packed up to go, he offered us some extra food; we declined (too much weight) and he left it in the bear box. They went on their way.

We had to wait until 10:10 for our stuff to dry out and for us to get underway. The previous night, I had figured we’d get to the summit of Whitney on Monday, September 9. (Today was Friday the seventh.) It really brought home how far I’d come, and how close we were. That, and the fact that I was now on Map #2 of the 13 map John Muir Trail series by Tom Harrison (the map numbers are from south to north, so Map #13 was Yosemite, and Map #1 was Whitney Portal). Also encouraging was the sign we saw today saying “Mt. Whitney 16 miles.”

The first leg of today’s hike was to be Forester Pass, at 13,180′ the highest point on the entire Pacific Crest Trail, I believe. We left camp and ascended for an hour or so through the forest. Along the way, we catch up to our friends from the previous night; they’re examing a large pile of bear scat in the middle of the trail. They’re also pretty tired and are having second thoughts. I wish them luck and we continue on. The trail emerged from the trees and we began a long trek past a couple of alpine lakes, then an ascent straight up the side of Forester, which lies between Mt. Stanford (13,973′) and Junction Peak (13,888′).The trail is well-laid out and the grade is good, so without too much effort we make it at around 1:30. A gain that morning of 2,700′, but it seemed as nothing now. The views are as usual spectacular, both looking back where we’ve been, and looking ahead. The “looking ahead” picture shows the route of the trail, and the valley in the distance is the canyon of Tyndall Creek, which is also the beginning of Map #1—the end is near. Looking back the trail from the summit, we spy the older gentlemen making their way along the tundra, slowly but (it seems) surely, so we decided not to worry about them as we continued on.

The weather was clear and chilly all day. As we descended to Tyndall Creek, we saw Fisherson sitting on a boulder near the turn-off for Lake South America. He looked despondent, and asked if we’d seen his dad. They were supposed to have met up the previous day and fish at Lake South America, but they’d missed connections and he hadn’t seen his father in over a day. We couldn’t help him; we wished him well and went on. I felt bad for him and hoped Fisherdad would turn up o.k.

Just a bit further on, we passed the turnoff for the Tyndall Creek ranger station, then began looking for the “frog ponds.” They weren’t marked officially on my map, but Bob back at Vermillion Valley Resort had suggested that area as a good campsite—I’d even marked it in pencil on my map. He’d said the sites were good there, and a bit off the beaten path; we’d have to look for them. It turned out to be exactly that way. We found the bear box there rather easily, then had to go over a ridge where we found a beautiful “pond”—actually a small lake, surrounded by a nice flat-topped mountain (in Texas we’d call it a “mesa”). (Me, cooking dinner.)

Before I fell asleep that night, I got a bit of an adrenaline rush realizing I’d be at the base of Whitney the next day. We’d reached Map #1.

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September 6, 2002 31º-41º @BSH

Up by 8:00, we circled around the very long, and very popular Rae’s Lakes, where there is a Ranger station and a few bear boxes. After passing those, the trail immediately ascends to Glen Pass. We reached Glen Pass (11,978′) by 11:00 or even earlier. The weather was windy and cold, and overcast with occasional sprinkles. Saw quite a few other hikers today.

We reached Upper Vidette Meadows by 3:30, and decided to camp rather than risk bad weather at exposed campsites closer to Forester Pass. Lots of good camping sites close to the bear box; someone else was fairly close, but the temptation of level campsites, sandwiched in among protruding, flat granite boulders, and a few trees nearby frowm which to hang clothes made the site attractive. It’s hard to explain, but sometimes the camping in the Sierra can be downright luxurious. The granite boulders of varying size provide both walls and furniture. The larger, flat ones tended to separate “rooms” from one another, as well as providing a good spot to dry socks on or for a tired hiker to lie back upon. Smaller boulders are excellent chairs, as well as stove tops, tables, and other kitchen furniture. In a site like the one we chose this day, some of the bed sites have obviously been used hundreds if not thousands of times in the past. And popular sites also usually have a kitchen separate from the sleeping areas. Sure enough, there was an old fire ring and some seats set around an area under a large tree about 100 feet from the sleeping area. About the only amenity not handy at this site was water; although there was a rushing mountain stream (Bubbs Creek) nearby, the trail to it ran through some heavy undergrowth, and the stance at the edge of the stream one had to assume to pump water was a bit akward. But the view of Mt. Stanford made the chore a bit more bearable.

Back at camp, I watched low-lying clouds rushing up the valley and scraping along the Kearsarge Pinnacles. This was one of those times where I felt my handy Yashica T-4 camera woefully inadequate. I wished I’d had my Minolta with various lenses—a zoom would have alowed for some great pictures here; then I thought about the additional four or five pounds and regretted no more. I resigned myself to etching mental images, hopefully permanent, instead.

Outside the tent at the only other occupied site there are a couple of backpacks, they look a bit odd becuase they’re relatively old-fashioned. The proprietor of the tent, an older gentleman, invites us to chat but we decide to put it off until morning. Determined not to have a repeat of the sleepless night at Marjorie Lake, I use some nearby trees to rig up my tarp to cover equipment since there had been a few sprinkles the previous night; if it rains, I’ll just hunker down in my bivy bag. Todd is concerned that my tarp will flap and make a lot of noise if high winds return (even though he’s about thirty feet away). I secure and resecure the tarp as taut as I can.

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September 5, 2002 38º-48º @BSH

In the morning, we were both freezing. Fixing breakfast and breaking camp, packing our packs, filtering water, were not easy tasks as my hands were frozen. Got out of there by 8:15. Made it to Pinchot Pass (12,130′) by 10:00. Saw Tim and Cheryl there, and they told us they, too had camped at Marjorie, only a bit above us. Go figure: I never would have thought there was anyone else at that exposed lake.

After Pinchot Pass, a long descent through occasional light rain, down through the Woods Creek junction, then up toward Dollar Lake. At Dollar, just after a pause, as we started up again a Ranger came down the trail checking out the “no camping” areas around the lake she was protecting by planting rocks in likely spots. We chatted a bit, partly about my obvious Texan aversion to turning over rocks with my bare hands, then she asked to see our permits. We complained a bit, having just reloaded our packs upon our backs, but secretly I thought it was nice to finally have someone check the permits after so much time had been spent securing them.

We continued on up to Arrowhead Lake, where there are a few people taking up the few campsites. We find one decent one, rather close to a few other folks. We halted, and camped here at about 6:00. From the camp here, there are nice views of nearby Fin Dome. Also, a couple of hikers I’ve met before come in late and camp too close, embarassingly close, to the lake shore. (That’s a flagrant violation.)

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September 4, 2002 40º-50º @BSH

I wasn’t even able to make travel notes this day because for the first time on the trip the weather became a major factor. We left camp 15 at 7:45, and I had noticed a lot of clouds at dawn. Rather unusual, as I had been keeping track of when clouds appeared in the sky, and it had been at various times in the afternoon, if at all. As we left Palisade Lake, we came upon Cheryl camped up at the upper end. They would obviously be a bit later starting than we were. We made Mather Pass,(me) (12,100′) by 9:30, a rather easy climb after all. That’s because we made it that way; finishing early the day before and tackling the tough ascents first thing in the morning seemed to be a good strategy. After the descent from Mather, in tundra-like flats, it began to rain. Just enough to get us to put our rain gear on, whereupon it stopped. I left my gear on, as the weather had now turned completely overcast and a bit cooler still, with the threat of precipitation. In fact, we hiked through various stages of rain and hail the balance of the day. We got to Lake Marjorie at 5:30. I didn’t want to venture the next pass, Pinchot, and the region of no hiking beyond, so late in the day with obviously deteriorating weather. We stopped at Marjorie.

Camp at Marjorie was pretty brutal. The winds were high, and rain and sleet were periodically falling. I set up the tarp to protect us cooking dinner, then the winds, rain and sleet increased substantially. There were not many good camping places along this lake, and we both shared my tarp which was anchored precariously over a boulder. Even under the tarp, the wind was blowing so fiercely that water and sleet got into much of the gear underneath the perimeter of the tarp.

A couple of times in the evening we heard a thunderous crash, roar and rumble which was not thunder. It was a huge rockslide on the steep mountain face surrounding Lake Marjorie on the opposite side. We never could narrow down the exact location, as we could never see any rocks or dust cloud aftermath. But the sound, especially echoing through the lake basin, was unmistakeable.

The night was pretty brutal, as the winds were high, maybe 30-40 knots, all night long. Therefore the tarp flapped incessabntly, making sleep nearly impossible. I didn’t get more than a half hour sleep, and I suspect the same was true for Todd. On hindsight, I would have just zipped myself up in my bivy.

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September 2, 2002 41º-59º @BSH

We left Evolution Lake at 8:00, and made our way up around it, Sapphire Lake and Wanda Lake (named after one of Darwin’s daughters). I thought to myself there was indeed camping available at these spots, and perhaps we could have gone further the day before, but none would have been so pleasant. (Here I am, and behind me Wanda Lake and Lake McDermand.) As we left Evolution Lake, we came upon a sign saying there might be a 9:00 a.m. “escort” to go through the fire zone at Palisade.

Made Muir Pass (11,955′)—and the famous Muir Hut—at 11:30; very nice scenery, a few other hikers at the top, including a couple with the man proclaiming he was “thru hiking the PCT in sections.” Whatever. Also, this couple had hired packers to carry all their stuff.

We then began a rather long descent in what became a rather cloudy day.We finally arrived at the LeConte Ranger Station at around 5:00, and a sign there again indicated there may be a ranger escort the next morning so we went on to Grouse Meadows. Grouse Meadows was beautiful, even though there was obvious smoke coming up from the fire down the valley. Went to sleep a bit apprehensive about the following day.

We’d done 13.6 miles that day, I’d done 137 for the trip. I thought about that total for a while and I was impressed. (!)

August 31, 2002 Upper Sally Keyes Lake 36º-63º @VLC

37.27506, -118.87703

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Commenced this morning at 8:10; got to Muir Trial Ranch by 11:30 after a rather steep descent. I could feel the warm humidity of the lower elevation. We opened the gate and went into the ranch. I’d read several times about the protocol here; sit down at the picnic table and the dog will bark, and they will come and find you. Well, basically that’s what happened, although it took a while. A rather elderly woman came and took me to a brick outbuilding which held dozens of five gallon buckets such as the one I’d shipped. I found mine easily enough, signed for it. I gave the woman a couple of rolls of film and some postcards to mail, which she said she would. She was surprised I had my own postcards.

Todd and I sat down at the picnic table to delve into my goodies; I had shipped way too much, but I knew that. Regretfully, I left the fifth of rum in the bucket. There was a can of chicken breast meat; and some of the tortillas had gone a bit green around the edges, so at Todd’s suggestion we ate a form of chicken fajitas right then. We also shoveled down as many Oreos and Fig Newtons as we could. I repacked my dehydrated food, my Milkman, and some other things, but realized I couldn’t hold all the Power Bars. I also replenished my homemade jerky supply. Sadly, I left a lot of goodies in the trash.

After about a half hour, Tim and Cheryl came in to get their resupply. I forced Oreos and Fig Newtons upon them; they stayed behind as we left. I realized we’d probably never see them again as they had plans to exit the trail in a couple of days.

I don’t remember too much about the next couple of miles. I do recall that my pack was now much heavier with ten more days of food stuffed into it. Finally, we got to the backcountry entrance to Kings Canyon National Park, where there was a large bridge over the rushing San Joaquin River (actually Piute Creek). As we took a break there, we met a group coming out of the park. One of them made a comment about the handgun he’d been hiding. Whatever.

The rest of the day’s hike was following the trail up the San Joaquin River valley; nice and steady uphill but a bit strenuous because of the additional pack weight (two more photos) . As we crossed the river in Franklin Meadows, a woman stopped there asked me some questions about the trail. As I pulled out my map to indicate to her what I was talking about, she said, “Ooh, a map. We need to get one of those.” I gave her and her male friend some directional advice, wondered to myself how long it would be before they were completely lost, and went on about my business. Later, around 5:15, we’d reached the point where the trail ascended steeply into Evolution Valley. Todd was anxious to see Evolution Valley, as was I, but I was too beat. The additional weight had really taken a toll on me; we camped near the trail.

August 30, 2002 Quail Meadows to Upper Sally Keyes Lake 34º-60º @VLC

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We ended up going 14.8 miles today; started at 7:50 and finished about 6:00 p.m. About a 4,000′ gain according to Todd. The guidebooks indicated a difficult ascent up Bear Valley, but it seemed pretty easy. That rest day did wonders. Saw a few hikers and a few fishermen on the trail today, took my last picture of the roll at Selden Pass, and camped at Upper Sallie Keys Lake. Tim and Cheryl had caught us at Selden Pass, and we chatted briefly about the resupply ahead at Muir Trail Ranch. Then they went on; they always did like to hustle on it seemed. I shot the last picture on my roll at the pass. After descending sharply from the pass past Heart Lake, the terrain flattened out for about a mile; I actually went ahead of Todd here, which showed me that we were going maybe a bit too long that day.

We went on to the upper Sallie Keyes Lake, a beautiful one of a pair of lakes. We each scouted around a bit to find a comfortable camping spot. I noted several tents on the opposite shore of the lake; one of the few times on the trip I could sense other folks in the vicinity of my camp. As I calculated the day’s distance, I realized how strong I had felt; the day off had done my stamina and/or strength wonders. The ascent out of Vermillion Valley had seemed like nothing. The clear, open sky seemed unusually expansive that night, and I saw a fireball and several meteors before I nodded off.

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August 29, 2002 Silver Pass Creek to Lake Edison and Vermillion Valley Resort 45º—71º @MHP

The next morning, I had an excellent breakfast at the cafe. While sipping coffee, planning the next leg of the trip, and reading week-old Fresno newspapers (desperately seeking but with great futility finding little information on college football) I noticed an official U.S. Forest Service vehicle drive up and a uniformed officer talking with several folks on the porch outside. I ignored him for the time being and went back to my coffee. A bit later, I ambled out on the porch and saw a large, hand-lettered sign: “John Muir Trail/PCT Closed.” It went on to say that because of the “Palisade Fire” the section of the JMT beyond Palisade Creek was closed and would be closed through Labor Day weekend and they hoped it would then open, but they couldn’t say. It mentioned alternatives for going through the meadow; all of which were exits from the mountains (Dusy Basin, for example). In other words, not acceptable, nor practical for the through-hiker. Through-hikers were instructed not to continue south.

I went back into the cafe to tell Todd about this and we evaluated our options. We even consulted with the cafe employee. Together we decided the most prudent thing to do was to continue on and reevaluate when we reached the fire zone. After all, it would be at least four days until we got to Palisade Creek.

We waited for the afternoon ferry, doing various maintenance jobs on our packs, bags, or feet and lolling in the sun in the meantime. We settled our bills; mine was $101, and well worth it. Finally, we got on the ferry (after a half-mile hike: the rapidly receding water line placed the ferry hookup point further out every hour). Jim was off that day, so one of the younger folks tending the business drove the boat. We departed on the same shore we had gotten on the previous day; a crowd of about a dozen was there to get on board. Todd and I hiked up a bit to Quail Meadows, where we made camp. Not a particularly scenic camp; rather claustrophobic, dense forest, obvious signs of previous horse camps around, and several widowmakers looming over us. Also, Todd would have to use his “Ursack” here; the supposedly bear-proof bag. Since he had just resupplied, he had too much food for his cannister and put some surplus in his Ursack and tied it to a tree.

The day had seen some clouds; in fact, Jim had early that day remarked that in his experience, the clouds over the mountains would build up a bit higher every day until finally unleashing a thunderstorm, then recede for a while. We had indeed seen them building up a bit every day, but so far no storm.