pct

When I awake to the alarm at 5 am I can hear the wind swirling around overhead, stirring above the trees. I envision the clouds swirling and twisting like liquid in a caldron. I remember watching the clouds last night move quickly across the sky. Before falling asleep I slipped in some earplugs to help clear my head. Fortunately our tent sits sheltered beside some boulders, avoiding most of the wind. 

I ask Lupine how she’s doing as her eyes barely open. “I’m tired” she says as her eyes then seal back shut. I’ll lay here a little longer and then get moving I decide. Lupine wakes up at 6, and writes a quick and simple account of the day.

Woke up at creek. Slept in till 6. 

Breakfast and coffee at our campsite. We are tired this morning and need come caffeine to get moving. 

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I awake. It’s cold. I see Lupine’s head is still tucked under her sleeping quilt. I’m relieved. I’m not ready to wake up. I tuck my head back under my quilt. 

We originally planned to rise early To make up from lost time yesterday, from our venture to Yosemite Valley. But we clearly are not hardcore, dawn dashing, mile crushing thru-hikers. I’m okay with that. My bed is comfy. Last night was the first night with my new pad, a simple foam pad. The previous two nights were spent sleeping on a pile of clothes like a dog. 

When I notice Lupine’s head stick out from her sleeping quilt, she says “I signed my shares”. She just got an urgent message last night from her employer. They just secured more funding and are issuing more shares to the employees, but she needed to sign by the end of the week. We’re lucky we were in Tuolumne for an extra day and that she has a tiny bit of phone service. Otherwise we’d be gone past the weekend. 

When we get up, I stack my gear on the picnic table and pack it into my bag. I say to Lupine, “it’s going to be a good day. I’m just going to put that out into the world”.

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We camp at the Agnew Meadow trailhead with plans of getting up early this morning to beat the heat, and possibly do Donahue pass today. But, those plans don’t come to fruition as we ignore the first light, hiding our heads under our sleeping quilts. I’ve come to grip with the fact we are not early risers on the trail.

We awake at 8 am and immediately get up, pack and begin hiking. I feel groggy on the trail as we climb without our coffee. We start the day with switchbacks and green grass. The trail is lush, with Lupine growing everywhere. In a week or two much of it will bloom. 

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Lupine and I remain in Mammoth Lakes for two days. We initially planned to stay for just one day, but when it came time to checkout the following day, we couldn’t bring ourselves to leave. Still tired, we chose to spoil our bodies with a second day of rest. And our bodies are thankful after the 10 days of trail we’ve subjected them to, And the countless more we will.

We get a ride to the trailhead from two friends from Seattle. They happen to be in the area climbing, and offer to give us a ride then they hike with us for the three miles over mammoth pass to rejoin the PCT. From there we all snag a selfie and wave goodbye. We may see them in a couple days as they’re going to Tuolomne to climb, and that’s our next stop as well in a couple days.

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We wake with a single goal in mind, get to the Bear Ridge Trail and hike into Vermilion Valley Resort. It’s been 8 days in the wilderness, and we are eager for fresh food, beer and relaxation. The 7 mile trail to VVR is fairly uneventful, and we make good time. We see peek-a-book views of Thomas A. Edison as we hike down. The lake is very low, since California is in drought. Usually there is a boat which ferries hikers from the PCT to the resort, via the lake, but since there is not enough water in the lake to make the trip, we walk.

VVR is a rustic and simple place. Upon our arrival, we were greeted with a free beer, and a tour of the grounds. Chef, Sriracha, Blue, Machete, and several other hikers we know are sitting outside the little store, drinking beer. Everyone looks dirty and exhausted. The strain of our arduous journey through high Sierras written on everyone’s faces.

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