Morning comes to our junction camp. It is sunny and warm. This morning we will climb 1,100 feet to Glen pass, which tops out at 10,771 feet. We hear Glen has a lot of snow on the north side, and so we begin our climb early, in order to cross the snow when it is firm. By mid-day, the snow will be soft and slippery.
I climb in the quiet of the morning, my mind darting from one half thought to another. My breathing falls into a rhythm as we climb higher into the mountains.
…
For the last few nights we’ve been in Bishop, staying at the Hostel California. It’s a funky house full of temporary vagabonds and passers-through. It’s a place of young people, not all exclusively young.
The walls are adorned with autographed pictures of known rock climbers, likely signed as they stayed here for one of their trips to the playground of the Sierras.
Each night we hear laughter outside our window in the courtyard as the smell of marijuana drifts upward. Our room has four bunks, and a private bathroom. It’s nothing fancy, but comfortable enough. Downstairs in the living room, hikers are passed out on the couch, shoes still strapped to their feet. I prefer to assume they just got off trail and couldn’t make it any further, or spare the extra calories to unhitch their shoes. But, from the smell of the courtyard last night, I suspect they forgot how to untie them, or simply forgot to care. Nevermind where their room is.
…
I updated this post with pictures
We wake to see a number of our fellow hikers have already left, looking to cross Forester Pass early. I don’t blame them. Forester Pass is the highest point of the trail at 13,200 ft, and our first major crossing with snow. On top of all that, there’s rumor of some cold weather moving in today, and snow forecasted for tomorrow. So, many hikers are planning to cross Forester then Kearsarge Pass as well to escape off trail into Independence, CA. The stretch from here makes for a 21 mile day with plenty of elevation.
We’re not certain of our plan yet. We were hoping to reunite with our friends, saving them tent spots next to us last night. But, there’s still no sign of them. It would be super human for them to be ahead of us after climbing Whitney yesterday, so we assume they are a few miles behind us. We will likely see them today.
…
We start out at Rock Creek, crawling from our tent into the cold. It’s so cold with the wind, before the sun sheds it’s rays on us we skip breakfast and coffee opting to have it further up trail. Lupine heads up the trail as I finish packing my bag.
In normal years, Rock Creek is one of the first river crossings that can be tricky due to rushing waters of snow melt. But this year is not normal. Snow pack is far, far below normal. I skip across the rocks with ease, admiring the golden brown rocks underneath the water.
…
When we awake it’s still cold. But, with muscles ready to move, I poke my head from the tent. The ground is frozen and frosted. I look to see small sheets of ice clinging to Sriracha’s tent, just a couple feet from us. Our camp site last night was cozy, given it’s size. We crawl from our tent and cook coffee, talking with Sriracha and Chef as the sun begins to warm us, thawing out the ground, slowly drying our tent, still wet from last night’s rain.
We take our time to pack, knowing we have fewer miles today. Lupine and I are planning for about 15 miles. Sriracha and Chef however are planning for 20, because they want to get as close as possible to the Mt. Whitney cutoff. Tomorrow they will get up early and summit, then try to catch up with us in a day or two.
…
We wake to a cold, frosty tent. I peek out to see what the day will look like. The sky is blue with white, fluffy clouds. There is a cold breeze. Fortunately, the sun is bright and warms our cheeks. We make breakfast and coffee, and soon head out for the day. There are 2 big climbs today and we better get started.
Jon’s back continues to feel better, but it’s still not 100%. As we climb out of Death Canyon, I feel a sense of worry and fatigue. I’m worried about Jon because I’m not totally sure I understand the nature of his back pain. Will it just go away? Could he “throw out” his back, 40 miles into the wilderness? The Sierra Nevada is a mighty range, rugged and hard with unpredictable weather and real consequences. That’s already a lot of variables to manage. I get angry, stabbing my trekking poles into the dirt as I climb. I am not mad at Jon, but at the situation. But to Jon, I imagine my anger looks pointed at him.
…We start at the south fork of the Kern River where Cow Canyon and Beck Meadows trails intersect the PCT.
It’s a chilly, beautiful morning. The sky is blue with little puffs of clouds traveling above the mountains. In the distance a grouping of dark clouds mingle.
Today marks our return to the trail after a week off for recovery. Last night we rode back to Kennedy Meadows with Sriracha and his wife and their two dogs. We camped at the general store, and I barely slept, which meant Lupine barely slept as well. Sorry Lupine.
After a week off trail, I’m anxious to get back. But I’m also worried. I feel like my back has been slow to heal, still slightly slanted to the left. As I lay in bed, I can feel an aching in my nerves, pulsing in my right leg, lighting up the circuits in my glute and low calf. I flip flop trying to get comfortable. It’s no surprise we both sleep poorly. I worry, “Is this a foreshadow of what’s to come?”
…I’m sitting on a bus heading north from Lone Pine to Bishop, CA. The Sierra Mountains are on my left, whizzing by. Lupine is at my side. Chef is behind us. A stranger naps in the seat in front of us using her armrest as a headrest.
I wish I were hiking through the alpine my eyes absorb. It’s hot in the valley. It looks cool in the high mountains. I long for my back to feel better. I fear what if I do not heal. I will feel sad. I fear letting Lupine down. I want to finish this hike, but my back has been complaining, threatening to spoil my plans.
…
Here we are again in the desert. No doubt about it today. Sand surrounds the tent. It’s before 6am when I wake up. The air is cool and comfortable, perfect temps for climbing a hill. But Lupine is still sleeping and our fellow hikers are still quiet.
I lay still, enjoying the cool morning air. I wish this could last forever, but I know it won’t. I watch the shade recede on the opposing hillside and know it will be hot soon.
…