Today we have a long but beautiful climb up to Muir Pass. The trail follows the Middle Fork Kings River up into the snowy alpine, where it begins. The first 3 miles of the trail is through the Le Conte canyon. It’s a peaceful place. The meadows are soggy with recent snowmelt and wildlife is abundant, enjoying the warm, sunny morning.
After nearly 12 hours, we emerge from our tent. Apparently, adjusting to physical exertion at elevation is exhausting. We are feeling rested this morning, and ready to tackle our fourth pass in four days.
I make us coffee and breakfast and then after packing up, we immediately ford the South Fork of the Kings River. It’s a cold crossing and I can hear my own voice in a high pitched exclamation above the roar of the river.
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The original plan for today was to hike over both Pinchot Pass and Mather Pass (only 8 miles apart) to the Palisade Lakes. That’s where Chef and Sriracha are heading. But after yesterday, Lupine and I have our reservations. Or, at least, I certainly do.
Yesterday was only about 12 miles and I was exhausted. I started the day feeling great, charging ahead over Glen Pass and then down the snow field to Rae Lakes. Then I hit a wall. The elevation sapping my energy, all I wanted to do was nap. Then as we descended, my sciatica began to fire up shooting jolts down my leg. Aside from the sharp pain, it also rubbed on my mind, wearing me down. I thought I was doing better… But am I?
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
