Day 10: Two Passes- Geln and Baxter

According to the experts Yogi and Company we were advised to cross Glen Pass after 10am. It took us all of 2 seconds to agree with this thinking as memories of Forrester Pass flashed in our minds. No more crazy snow adventures please! Thus at 9:30, a time usually reserved for a “second breakfast,” we started to pack up camp.

Just as we were leaving, a ranger came over and informed us that a helicopter would be landing about 50 meters from our campsite. She strongly suggested we move 100 meters further into the woods so as to avoid the windstorm that was going to take place in less than 30 minutes. Of course we agreed to relocate, but not without inquiring why a helicopter was landing. “Ah,” she said, “a bear has been breaking into the ranger station.” As she said these last 3 words her hand pointed to a cabin just 25 meters away from our camp. “The bear specialist is leaving today.” I of course I turned towards Replay with horror in my eyes. She of course met my expression with a “darn we didn’t’ see the bear even though we were so close” smile. Thankfully it was broad daylight and not the “witching hour” for bears.

After the helicopter production, which was rather interesting to witness, we headed back up the 1 mile climb to the PCT. We had already seen the road ahead so for the next hour our legs retraced the steps from yesterday. Even though this was the second time around my legs just would not go. There was no “finding the groove this morning.” When we eventually made it to the top after what seemed like one too many steps I looked down the North side of the pass with dread. The entire North side was a huge snowfield. We zigged and zagged our way down the mountain making sure to place our feet in the upper set of tracks. When appropriate we took every opportunity to glissade to safety. The only problem with this quick way down the mountain was that I was wearing shorts and refused to put on pants. The snow was pretty soft and my bulldozing technique only left my backside in danger- of being WET! Ah thank you 1980 for the invention of spandex. What a marvelous thing!

A fine mist was raining down on us as we left the snow and wound our way around the banks of Rae Lake's islands. My legs were still incredibly slow and the bugs were in full force.
Woods Creek, only a mere 10 miles away from our starting point and bug free, was the perfect spot for an early evening dinner. A consultation of the map told us we only had 3.5 miles to Sawmill Creek. This was the last reliable water source for a long while so we agreed that even though this was a easy mile day we would make camp there.

I don’t know if it was the food that rejuvenated my legs or the beauty of the waterfall whose crystal clear water rushed past us as we climbed. The uphill climb just wasn’t that bad. The distraction of the water crashing over fallen trees, sweeping branches down its channels, and pummeling anything that stood in its way was a nice distraction. At times it did prove to be a bit of a challenge for hiking. The path, which stood no chance against this giant force was completely flooded around mile 2 of our evening stroll. My shoes did come off the first couple of times I crossed the wet path, but when the current got a bit more intense I relinquished the idea of dry feet and trudged through the stream shoes and all!

45 minutes later with wet feet we arrived to a circle of six trees and set up for the night. The bugs were a bit much so Replay headed into the tent and I enjoyed my quiet time covered from head to toe in either clothing or synthetic material.

Day 10. Monday, June 29, 2009. Mileage: 791.4 – 805 (13.6 miles)

What a wild morning. Jess and I were breaking camp after a night spent at the beautiful, alpine Charlotte Lake. A woman approached our temporary home and suggested that we move a hundred yards back from the lake because an approaching helicopter would be landing directly in front of us. I asked if everyone was okay, and she replied that there was a consistent, problem bear population around the lake and a bear specialist who had been residing here for the week was to be air lifted out of the area. One determined bear had broken in to the ranger station near our camp three times using different access points each time. Sure as the California sun, five minutes later a helicopter circled the lake, gently plopped itself in front of our campsite, loaded up the so-called bear specialists and took off shortly thereafter. It was an awesome site.


We then began the climb toward Glenn Pass, the first mile of which we had already climbed in our directional mishap the day before. Despite the fact that it was a longer climb than I had anticipated, the switchbacks made the uphill very tolerable and I felt great. We were disappointed to find lots of snow on the North side of the mountain once we summitted, although the crunchy snow allowed us to cross the snow fields without postholing. And we had a blast glissading three different times on the way down in the sections where walking on foot downhill could mean a slip and long slide.

When we weren’t racing down the snow chutes on our butts, we moved pretty slowly. The afternoon took us around a series of crystal clear lakes that rested in silence, disrupted only slightly by the pitter patter of tiny raindrops which had started to drop at lunchtime.

This was the best part of my day. I find that after days of consistent sunshine, an overcast day or rain shakes down my priorities so that few things, if anything at all, feel pressing.
We forded 4-5 rivers today, one of which was strong enough to require Jess talking me across it. The river stayed close to the trail most of the day, often building to white rapids, which provided enough background noise to allow me to loudly sing John Vanderslice’s Romanian Names album from start to finish.

Then I realized that I had lost both my hat and my sunglasses at some point in the day. I felt annoyed at my forgetfulness which is pervasive even when I only have to think about carrying the items on my back. This frustration was exacerbated by the sudden onslaught of mosquitoes. Before I got too fussy in my head, I took some initiative and dipped my body in a lake to calm down, which did the trick.

We ate dinner at Woods Creek and then walked on from 6:00 – 7:45 pm. Our campsite was very buggy and I felt ready to sleep off the day.

Day 9: Back to the PCT

The kindness of strangers is always something I've been aware of but only experienced outside of the U.S. While I was in New Zealand and Argentina numerous individuals offered me a free meal, a place to crash, and one couple even purchased a plane ticket for me. This trip however has changed my attitude. Hopefully soon I will be able to pay it forward just as all those who have helped Replay and I thus far on our journey.

So today I salute the California Drivers.

An Ode To California Drivers

We stand by the road with our thumbs stuck up so high
hoping and praying that you'll not pass us by.

The temperature and the heat is just no fun
especially when the thermometer reads closer to 101.

We really don't care if you are driving a beat-up truck or a snazzy Dodge Ram
your kindness and generosity gets us out of our jam.

Dallas and Royland, Tom and my new Berkley Spring WV pal
we cannot thank you enough for picking up these two gals.

I admit that I doubted the kindness of strangers
but today I stand corrected and will never think hitchhiking is a danger.

Thank you thank you from the bottom of our hearts
one day I hope to do my own part.

Day 9. Sunday, June 28, 2009. Mileage: (O PCT miles + appx 8.5 miles to campground)

So today marks 8 days of hiking through the Southern Sierras, Kings Canyon, Sequoia National, and John Muir Wilderness. From desert-like expanse, where the brush sucks every drop of moisture from my legs to the point of bleeding, to miles of sloped snow fields. We've hitchhiked in the back of a pick up truck from the tops of the Sierra peaks to the valley town below on a road that winds down a mountain face like a swirly ice cream cone. And this is only the beginning.

We slept until 8 and then spent time at the Espresso Parlor in Lone Pine on the internet and loading up on much missed caffeine. Jess sewed up a tear in our tarp tent while I called my mom, who was over the moon to hear from me. Even though the email I sent this morning about Forester Pass put her into a state of distress, talking to my parents was restorative and grounding. And reading supportive emails from my friends and family was a huge boost for me and I felt mentally ready to get back on the trail.

We hitched out of Lone Pine and into Independence with a swell man named Dallas in a pick up. From there, a guy who runs the local fireworks booth gave us a ride from Independence to Onion Valley Trailhead. We then hiked the 7.5 miles back over Kearsarge Pass to return onto the PCT.

A short side trail took us off the PCT and to Charlotte Lake, which was beautiful and home to a comforting bear box, so we decided to spend our evening here and camp.

Day 8: Kersage Pass and Lone Pine

Perhaps it wasn’t just the extra miles that made the day hard. It could have been the fact that in the last 2 days we hiked incredibly hard terrain, climbed the tallest mountain in the lower 48 states, and didn’t stop hiking until 8 pm last night. I've jump to the end of the day's events before starting from around the time the sun said "good morning" so I'll back up.

Stretching as I climbed out of the tent I felt every joint in the lower half of my body cry a little tear. I think yesterday's events had taken every single muscle and ounce of strength out of my legs. At mile 6 my hip started to give me some troubles and my pace slowed so much that I couldn't even see Replay's bright bandanna up ahead on the trail. At a trail sign our path pointed up the mountain while another pointed directly next to the water. Ah yes my positive thoughts were wandering down the flat easy path not up the mountain.

Walking up the switch backs I started talking to myself and hoping that a small wood nymph or fairy might lend a helping hand to pull me up. I did manage to catch up to Replay while she was snacking on the final bits of food in her pack. She pumped me full of positive thoughts and told me to keep my eyes on the prize. It was only 3.5 miles until a nice cold beer or a lovely glass of wine. so with that in mind I kept pushing on and on and on until we passed the 3.5 mile marker and continued onto the 2 more not seeing a hitch hiking spot in site!

Around 1:30 I cam upon a gentleman with a large map of the area in his hands. When I inquired about our point on his particular map he mentioned that we were nearing Glen pass. What! We both screamed. He then mentioned that his friends had just left him to hike over Kearsage Pass. It was 2 miles back to to Kearsage Pass, 7.5 miles to Onion Valley campground and our military training the additional 2 miles that we were back tracking had taken all the energy out of us. So with no water, only a packet of egg noodles for lunch we turned around. Within 35 minutes we found water and by 2:00 we had consumed our last bit of food. Around 3:00- yes today was all about the time watching for me- we were finally heading over the pass. At 5:00 we were in the back of Bob and Royland’s boxy Honda heading down the 22 miles to our resupply destination!

We showered quickly and threw our clothes in the wash. Not being a vetran hiker this was an interesting experiment on how to find enough semi clean clothes to wash those which were too too smelly. Wearing an interesting get-up Replay and I decided dinner was a must do even without the proper dinner attire. Dinner never tasted so good and as we were walking bak to our beds we splurged on high priced ice cream. Better yet we induldged in the surgary treat in bed! I think this might be what my heaven is especially when there is an 80's movie on TV.

Day 8. Saturday, June 27. 2009. Mileage: 783 – 791.4 (8.4 PCT miles plus 2 miles backtracking plus 7.5 miles over Kearsarge Pass to Onion Valley)

Today was tough, and I delved into a bad mood over some mileage backtracking and indulged in my mounting frustration that this was our third physically and mentally demanding day in a row. The morning was great until we learned that we had passed the turnoff to Kearsarge Pass (my fault primarily), which leads to Onion Valley Trailhead where we planned to hitch into town. I was livid at the PCT Atlas’ lack of clarity and my own insistence on the wrong direction. This confounded by hunger from not eating dinner last night or lunch today sent me into a fit of pouting.

In an attempt to ditch my attitude, I pretended that I was journalist doing a story on military training in the remote Sierras. (I later found out from a hitch that this area is, in fact, used frequently in training US military.) What really helped me out of my funk and over the pass were the gorgeous lakes nestled in the neighboring mountains. As we neared the top of the pass, I realized that this is exactly how I pictured the John Muir Wilderness.

On the seemingly endless switchbacks downhill to Onion Valley, we met a danky, L.A. couple in their 60s with two dachshunds who gave us a ride to Lone Pine. We had learned from a thru hiker, Strider, that it was best to hitch south into Lone Pine for resupply b/c the Independence grocery store had closed. As usual, Dangermouse entertained our hitch couple with talk of travel in Asia and New Zealand while I zoned out, crouching in the back of their car with the dogs. We were so amped to be back in Lone Pine for laundry and a veggie dinner. We split a pint of frozen yogurt, which was insanely exciting to both of us (so much so that we vowed to split fro yo in every town stop from here on out). After the last three days over Whitney, Forester Pass, Kearsarge Pass and then today’s backtracking, we really treated ourselves well in town.

Day 7: Forrester Pass

Coming off the high of climbing the tallest mountain in the lower 48 states was incredible for our hiking morale. No matter what pace we chose it was perfect. No matter what obstacle lay in our path we could cross it-or so we thought. But before I get ahead of myself I need to provide a better discussion of the days events.

After climbing Mt. Whitney we found ourselves on the John Muir Trail. The terrain was up and down and round and round. We crossed over numerous streams, creeks and rivers- some of which required shoe removal. The water in each stream was crystal clear and the meadows that we strolled through were lush and picture perfect with tiny yellow flowers lining the path almost as if we were on the yellow brick trail.

While we were enjoying a bit of baby bell cheese and tortilla at Tyndall Creek, we noticed a grouping of tents just to the right of the trail. We both took a couple guesses as to who might be camped with such a large group as a young man with a long ponytail bounded out of the woods. His group of friends had been on the trial for 28 days, but were now delayed due to sickness. They had already contacted the ranger so they did not need our assistance. We wished them good luck and hoped that their friend would recover soon. I can't imagine getting sick out here! Not only is the closest hospital a couple days walk, but food is also a huge issue!

Within 5 minutes of clearing the tent city we were hit with a giant gust of wind. Whoa! That was a shock. Just 5 minutes ago we were protected by tall redwood trees and now the biggest tree was a bush. The wind whipped across the land sounding as if there was a fleet of airplanes about to launch an attack on us. Up ahead we saw snow spotting the desolate landscape- OMG!

As we marched closer to Forrester Pass, the trail disappeared under huge snow fields. The tacks in the snow were our only indication- I kinda felt like I was following the trail of bread crumbs that was no longer- and spotting cairns was like finding Waldo in the see of Red and White stripped shirts. Hours went by and our energy wavered. The postholing was taking a huge toll on our energy reserved from lunch. At one point Replay refused to move another inch more. I went up ahead thinking that I was not going to sleep on the cold snow this evening and allowed her to take a minute. She did find her “zen” thankfully and at around 4:30 we finally felt as if were making headway in terms of getting closer to the top of the pass. The snow didn't have quite the same thoughts and continued to act against us preventing us from moving at a pace faster than a turtle.

To make matters the worst the trial to the top was a complete snow path. If I had been on my own I think I might have chosen the wrong path as some went right while the others went left. The energy between Replay and I was incredible. With 4 eyes and 2 brains we not only managed to pick the safest route, or so we thought, and crawl to the top, but we also kept one another going. Halfway up I was feeling a bit sure of myself, getting more and more comfortable with my footing on the snow. It what goes up must come down. All fo the sudden my feet were no longer holding my weight and I was falling. If it wasn’t for my wide Deva 60 Gregory pack I think I would’ve found myself at the bottom of the mountain caught under an avalanche of snow. Clawing my fingers into the snow I used all the energy I thought I had left and made a mad scramble to the rocks just to my left. There was no time to consider what had just happened. Push on and get to the top was the new motto and we weren’t that far away. After a couple more switch backs and a very very dangerous crossing which Replay volunteered to tackle first we were at the top.

We had conqured the south side of the mountian, but the north side was even scarier. Our day of physical and mental trauma wasn’t over and our thought that all would be okay once we got to the other side vanished just as the “bear went over the mountain and saw another mountain."

It took us another 3 hours to make our way down the snow field, across the spine of the mountain, traverse over snow which was melting at a rapid rate since we could hear the rushing water below as we gingerly stepped across it, and glissade down a cute because there was no other option. Finally at 10,500 feet a perfect campsite lay waiting for us.

We pitched the tent, nipped on dry no cook food and fell asleep hoping that tomorrow would be a better day.

Today we had pushed one another and encouraged each other at the most dire times. We screamed explitives and witnessed shear terror on eachother faces. Today we truly became a hiking team. I cannot imagine doing this hike with anyone but Replay.

Day 7. Friday, June 26, 2009. Mileage: 767.2 – 783 (15.8 miles)

At some point this morning we joined The John Muir Trail (JMT), which is almost entirely the same path as the PCT for the next 175 miles.


I had a lovely morning, hiking alone quite a bit and vibing on the surrounding ‘dinosaur land’. While these monster mountains make me smile nearly all day long, winding around the stacked and scattered boulders in sections that are like rock minefields bring me the most delight. Maybe I am projecting my love of New Mexico on to this terrain, but I have to say that the rock formations are the most mesmerizing and beautiful sights. (Speaking of NM, I am finally turning into the wrinkly, sun stained, old desert lady I've always wanted to be. Hands as dark and worn as an aged fieldworker.)

In the afternoon, we came to Big Horn Plateau, a long stretch that was the most consistently exposed terrain we had walked across.

As we approached what was to become the exclamation mark of the entire hike (Forester Pass, the tallest mountain pass on the Pacific Crest Trail), I had no idea what was ahead of me. I thought yesterday’s climb up Mount Whitney to be the most difficult single day of my life. I was wrong.

Forrester Pass is not only a long and strenuous uphill and descent; it often holds tight to the brutal winter conditions well into summer.

We had already hiked 7 or 8 miles that morning before beginning this 6 mile nightmare of the pass. We hadn't seen any hikers since early morning and this area is a near lifeless, lofty rock and snow mountain explosion.

As I have now learned, hiking over a 13,000 plus foot pass late in the afternoon when the snow has softened is not advisable. I can't explain the energy I had to put forth to get myself out of a posthole (when your leg sinks into soft snow) while climbing uphill on fatigued legs and feeling the altitude steal my oxygen. I also can't explain what it feels like to see half of your petite friend disappear into the snow as she postholes up to her hips, only to stop sinking because of her backpack. Often times there were creeks and rivers below the unpredictable whiteness.

We lost the trail due to snow at least ten times. It was evening by the time we crossed our last dangerous snow chute (one that, if I were being honest with myself, would have been significantly safer to have crossed with an ice axe) and reached the summit. Any personal celebration was abrupt as I looked downhill and saw that the climb down from this remote, Alaska-like scene was more precarious than the ascent. It was evident that some sections would have to be taken as glissade since it was too steep and slippery to descend on foot.

There were a lot of expletives. I don’t believe that Dangermouse nor I had ever felt so physically or mentally drained. Relying on one another for both physical support and encouragement became almost a point of survival. We were never entirely sure that we were on the trail until we had descended to flat ground and the sun had almost set. We were off the pass and had found a place to camp just before dark.

I'm glad that today happened because I learned a tremendous amount. I cannot imagine doing some of what we've done alone. Jess has been a crucial part of my everyday. We seem to peak in energy at complimentary times and her hard-ass encouragement kept me putting one foot in front of the other (and inevitably 2 feet deep into snow) even when I was hating every step.

Our campsite was not only a welcome safe haven form the intensity of Forester Pass, it was absolutely beautiful. We ate a cold dinner because it was so late by the time we got off the pass and out of the snow that it felt futile to try and cook something (plus we were bear scared at that time of night).

I love that perceived security and safety can come from setting up a simple tarp. How incredibly adaptable human beings are. I listened to the chirping of a misguided bird perched next to our tent past nightfall before drifting into a deep sleep, awash in exhaustion.

Day 6: Mt. Whitney- ZERO PCT miles!

Even without an alarm we were both awake by 5:45 am. Why I can’t accomplish this same feat when I’m sleeping in my apartment and need to get up for work is a mystery to me, but it was a welcomed change in my body’s clock. By 7:45 am we were crossing the creek and headed to the trail that would take us to the summit of Mt. Whitney, the tallest peak in the lower 48 states at 14,500 feet. We passed Timberline Lake and Guitar Lake before 9am and without trouble from the weather or altitude. As we criss crossed the snowfields marmots ran back and forth almost as if we were part of their game of tag. Perhaps they were interested in us simply because we were munching on cliff bars and food was the one thing they wanted from us.

Halfway up according to distance not time, we ran into Jack Rabbit who gave us a few tips about crossing the tougher snow fields up ahead. I of course had a moment of panic when he mentioned snow. Thankfully, I did manage to limit my questions and hide my fear with a big smile. I'm sure Replay saw right through it though! Jack Rabbit told us that the snow wasn't that bad. He did mention that the snow would get softer as the sun climbed higher so keep an eye on the time. We shook our heads okay we understand, but it wasn’t until we began our descent that this tip sunk in...just like our shoes! To us the snow was solid and hard and the 60 meters of whiteness was only a mind game. Plant a pole, move a foot, plant a pole, move a foot. The trick for me was to concentrate on my next footstep or pole placement and the snow crossings became a breeze. However as the temperature warmed and the sun’s rays began to heat then snow the once solid ground began to give way to a softer slipperier terrain. Post holing turned from a once every ten minute game of pulling my leg out of the thigh deep snow to an an every other step occurrence. Of course these issues were not part of our upward journey, but instead where challenges that we had to face on our descent when we were out of warm and our heads were screaming from the high altitude.

But that challenge was later on in the day. The first 6 miles of the trail was a steady climb with a bit of breathing chest discomfort. Nothing really out of the ordinary until we hit the warning sign. The last two miles of the climb was not only was the most dangerous section due to the threat of a severe lighting storm or a rapid change in weather but it was the start of the most intense physical challenge of my hiking career. There was a sense of relief that we were on the last two miles, but also a bit of dread. The air was thinner, we were low on water, and every step had to be carefully selected so as to prevent slipping backwards or off the side of the mountain. The top never looked that far away, but for some reason it never seemed to get any closer. It took us about an hour each mile to reach the top and when we did it was nothing but smiles. Replay and I took advantage of the excellent view and snapped more pictures than we might ever want, but hey when will I be climbing Whitney again? After pictures we planned to nap at the top seemed ridiculous, but after about 20 minutes the pounding in our heads signaled an end to the top of the U.S.A. view.

Unlike the ascent, the descent only took us 4 hours, but it felt like 8 hours. With each step in the snow we sunk down into the icy cold. Our legs were bloody and scratched from the ice crystals and our energy was at its lowest. Getting out of a posthole takes a lot more energy than I thought and worse yet was the fact that the next step might also lead to another posthole. The cycle just didn’t stop. By the time we made it to camp we had just enough energy to make dinner and crawl into bed. I think we both fell asleep before it even got dark.

Day 6. Thursday, June 25, 2009. Mileage: 767.2. – 767.2 (0 PCT miles + 17 mile trail to Mount Whitney and back)

We started the 8.5 mile trek up Mount Whitney around 8:15 am – a departure time that we hoped would ensure that we were not the first hikers to summit this snowy Sierra beast today. The first couple of hours uphill were a breeze. Seeing that Guitar Lake looked exactly like a guitar tickled me.



As we reached higher elevations and encountered snow fields, I would cross them first since Dangermouse was more nervous about walking on snow slopes. Man, we were having fun. And the mountains on all sides were just sublime. But the altitude change exhausted me starting at about 2 miles from the summit, and Danger went first from that point on. The last snow pass before the top was the longest and the most consistently snowy expanse and it cut across a steep incline. I was moving like a freaking snail compared to my normal pace but seeing Dangermouse ahead of me, making big moves, helped me keep my eye on the prize.

At the top, monumental views of all the Sierra Nevada Mountains stretched as far as I could mentally consume. My summit thrill was enough to ignore the throbbing in my head and my neck from the altitude. We took plenty of pictures at the top, including a few ‘glamour shots’, and allowed ourselves to feel a bit drunk with happiness over it all.

Snowmelt flooded portions of the trail by the time we began our descent and I postholed to the point of nicks of blood on my bare shins. I was so eager to get back to camp, convinced that my headache would be cured at the sight of my tent for some reason, that I jogged the end of the Whitney side trail to Crabtree Meadows.

Jess said that if she could do it again, she would bring snow gear or at least proper boots (we both wear trail runners). I thought it was one of the hardest hiking days I’ve ever had, but I don’t think I would change anything or prepare differently. What an accomplished feeling. I don’t really have a list, but if I did, I could check off summiting the tallest mountain in the lower 48.

Day 5. Wednesday, June 24, 2009. Mileage: 753.6 – 767.2 (13.6 miles)

The PCT winds unpredictably over passes, around boulders, across rivers in ways that portray a definite but not easily understood narrative. Even though every mile of the PCT seems to vary from the one before, there is a sure, consistent flow and quiet rhythm in the path. There are enough stories laid bare by the trail to keep me occupied all day long.

Today consisted of a couple tough ups and downs. At peaks we could see Mount Whitney in the increasingly accessible distance. We told ourselves it didn’t look too bad, but I am nervous about how I will handle the altitude. We crossed a lot of creeks, one of which I used to ice my tired ankles. We camped at Crabtree Meadows about 8.5 miles from the top of Mt Whitney, so we can spend all of tomorrow getting up and down the mountain.

I’ve discovered that the morning and evening are my favorite times to hike; there is extra space around me. I also like hiking in the early morning just because I am desperate to warm my limbs. My sleeping bag has lost its down from improper storage over the last 5 years and I’m super cold at night.

My big animal count has reached but two deer and the rodents, but Dangermouse thinks she saw a wolf this afternoon. We are not even sure if wolves are around this area, so I think it may have been a coyote.

Today’s song: Rainbow Country, Bob Marley. (Mostly just the line “sun is a risin’; moon is a risin’”.)

Day 5: Crabtree Meadows

Today was like one giant roller coaster ride. Our morning began with a 7 mile descent into Sequoia Kings Canyon National Park. We started at 11,500 and by the time we hit the bottom of the mountain range we were at 9,500. Alas we didn't stay long at the lower elevation according to the map’s instructions and sure enough within an hour we climbed back up to 10,500. All the ups and downs made my knees feel like pins and needles, but the adrenaline rush-like that of the big drop from the tippy top of the coaster- made me want more. The funny thing about long distance hiking is that I just can't get enough. It seems that every mile I add to the the total PCT distance I can't help, but crave those extra two miles at the end of a long day. In just 5 days, Carter and I have surpassed our mileage expectations. I really think we will end up covering more of the PCT than we planned.

Each day on the trail brings different adventures and they are never the same. One day it is a test of our ability to locate a clean water source and the next is how to ford an overflowing creek. It is sometimes annoying to have these two extremes within a day, but I suppose this is part of the challenge that keeps my mind active during the day. Thankfully, today's particular challenge- a swift moving knee deep creek- wasn't too terrible. Earlier hikers had been kind enough to fashion a bridge out of two downed Aspen trees. Reminding myself to use my grade school gymnastic skills I gingerly placed one foot in front of the other. The logs were a little wobbly due to the rushing water and the width of the bridge surely would never be acceptable in an engineers mind, but I successfully crossed it without a mishap. Whew!

Next up on the list of challenges for the day was the climb from 9,000 feet to 10,500 in less than 2 miles. In a normal hiking setting, I might ignore the quick altitude gain. While carrying 40lbs extra on my back I was very aware of every hill and bump that crossed my path. I don't think I've ever stopped to catch my breath so often. I even stopped counting the number of switchbacks - it is kinda like counting sheep- once I got to 20. For those of you who are new to the world of hiking a switchback is essentially a crisscross in the trail. It is used most often when the trail gets a bit tight or climbs quickly in altitude. This particular part of the trail did just that. Tight turns, steep inclines, and rocks galore provided the ultimate workout for my calve and butt muscles. Needless to say I was all too excited to see Carter at the top of the climb relaxing by a stream icing her ankles in the cold water. Of course in true Carter form she enjoyed every minute of the uphill battle and thought is was amazing! We compliment one another so well!

Diaz Creek was definitely a welcomed relief especially for my tired bodies. Even better than the cool chilly water that soothed my tired feet was the large flat rocks that provided the perfect napping spot. I've never been a fan of napping, but I must say there is something about snoozing in the wilderness that is just too tempting to pass up. Before I knew it 30 minutes had past and it was time to move. We still had 4.5 miles until Crabtree Meadows which was to be our base camp to Mt. Whitney.

Even writing the word makes my skin crawl. There is something about the idea of climbing the tallest mountain in the lower 48 states that just scares me to death. I've never thought of myself as a chicken, but every snow covered mountain we see I shake with fear. Actually come to think of it I saw a wolf fun by me today and I wasn't the least stressed about it. Yet Mt. Whitney makes be a bit crazy with fear. Finally we did make it to the base of the mountain. I was surprised to learn that none of one of my "it" mountains was the real Mt. Whitney. In fact the one mountain peak that looked the least scary from the our new vantage point is actually the mountain we were going to climb tomorrow. I guess it won't be that bad after all.

Day 4. Tuesday, June 23, 2009. Mileage: 745.6 – 753.6 (8 PCT miles plus 2.5 from Horseshoe Meadows)

I’ve been thinking about my simple, trail happiness versus the nuanced, emotionally wrought happiness that I feel in the urban rhythm of New York City. Walking the pleasantly graded trail today, I felt an uncomplicated but raw satisfaction; a simplicity of self content that stretches itself gracefully and generously alongside the quiet trail. It feels rooted and fundamental, this sense of here and now happiness. It doesn’t rush or lag but flows forward; its current drifts unfettered and smooth.

This is markedly different from the precarious self-content that I create and maintain in the city. On any given day as I navigate the city, my content teeters on a tenuously balanced beam. Happiness in a city is personal and highly nuanced – it can dazzle and soar, and yet it can plummet and bruise easily. It can feel like an undeserved and delightful gift; yet the quiet murmur that this gift is temporary and it can and will fade is always heard and understood. Long distance walking in primarily uncompromised nature mellows my temperament to a fundamental happiness that registers as more sustainable.

We spent last night at a hostel in Lone Pine which provided us the opportunity to do laundry, shower, resupply, replace the fleece I left in the truck of our hitch, and eat at a restaurant. I woke up early in the hostel eager to return to the PCT. Tom, the trail angel we met our first night out, was in town and he gave us a ride back to the trailhead. Riding in a car and moving at a pace far beyond that of our 2.5 mile per hour clip made me quiet. This combined with my gratitude for the ride back into the mountains turned me practically mute, so Jess did all the talking during the ride.

Today was a near perfect day. Once back on the trail, we hiked to a clear and beautiful lake for a chilly dip in the water (there are snow patches on the ground). I found this flat, hot rock to sprawl out on and was so content there I told Jess that I had found a new home on this here rock. The chipmunks around the lake enjoyed climbing atop our backpacks in an attempt to sneak some food. We also saw our first marmot today! Those chubby little babies are so full of personality.

I gave Jess the name Dangermouse this morning for her pervasive anxiety about the bears, the snow, Mount Whitney, Forester Pass, etc, etc. Her list of fears is updated daily as newly perceived hurdles present themselves, but some of it is half in jest – we giggle about her snow fears and how well her new name suits her. We both know she can handle nearly anything that comes her way.

Lone Pine was a convenient town with a lot of old West character and friendly locals, but I am very pleased to be back in the tent and on the trail. Our 2.6 mile night hike was through white sand and boulders so uniformly pale that it looked like we had hit a blanket of snow. The sky moved through a palette of blues unlike any theater of shades I have ever seen before. I have to bite my tongue almost every night to keep from telling Dangermouse that this was the happiest day of my life.

Day 4: The Nero Day...back to the PCT

Oh trail towns! How I love thee! It was so nice to wake-up this morning and head down to a coffee shop rather than heat up a package of Quaker Oats. I’ve decided that a cup of coffee served in a nice big cup is better than anything else in the world. It just tastes so good! Plus The Espresso Bar was one of those coffee shops that you just want to sit in for hours...and hours we did sit! In true hiker form we had been up for sometime and hoped that we could be out looking for a hitch back to the trail before noon. Unfortunately for us the local sport shops didn’t have the same mindset. Carter needed to fix her trekking poles, which kept falling out and purchase a fleece since she had accidentally left her fleece in the back of our hitch. I needed a new bite valve for my bladder and a pair of gaiters. The outfitter store listed on the door that it would open at 8 but we sat outside the shop for almost 2 hours before the doors opened. While we sat I stressed about the snow on Mt. Whitney and by the time the store was opened I had received my trail name, Danger Mouse. The one good thing that came out of our "camp out" in town was that we secured a ride from Tom the “trail Angel” back to the trail head. Again, as we headed back up the white knuckle road to the trail head, I had a bit of sweaty palm issue and a wave a nausea as we made some of the final turns. Tom seemed to enjoy my height fright and took the turns a bit fast for my liking. At the top we all exchanged emails and promised to send pictures.

Back tracking is never fun but it occasionally has to be done. We headed back to the Cottonwood Pass where knew we could pick the PCT back up. The terrain was pretty steady for most of the day and after about 3 hours we found ourselves at our very first snow patch! At the next big trail marker we got a big confused as there was a sign pointing to Rock Creek Trail off to the right. According to the map and to Carter’s calculations we were not supposed to be crossing this particular junction so soon. Of course I simply thought we were amazing and could walk at the speed of light, but Carter stood her ground. After several minutes debating and a couple of wandering strolls down both trails, we spotted 2 girls. They confirmed Carter’s earlier thoughts that no we had not crossed Rock Creek Trail. Chicken Spring Lake, a destination on our map, was just over the ridge.

This small hiccup in the marking of the trail signs was not the first of the day. It seems that the PCT is marked only sporadically and not necessarily with all the trail markers listed in the Atlas or the PCT map. We learned that the signs pointing to specific destinations are sometimes a bit off the trail and depending on what particular National or State forest a hiker happens to be in depends on the signage for the PCT.

With the trail confusion settled, we headed for Chicken Spring Lake. Soon enough we found the high Sierra glacial cirque lake and immediately stripped down to our swimming attire. The water was chilling to the bone! Just putting my toes in made my skin turn to goosebumps, but on the count of 3 we both dove into the icy water. While the chipmunks ran circles around us we let the sun’s heat dry our freezing bodies.

As the sun began to shift it’s warm rays we decided dinner was in order. Fighting off the chipmunks from stealing items from our packs was a bit of a challenge while cooking dinner, but we were successful in the end. Mmm Mountian House Vegetable Ginger StirFry!

After dinner we packed up all of our cooking supplies and decided to walk another 2.5 miles to the Seasonal Spring. The light was still pretty decent and an evening stroll does wonders for the day's mileage. We walked up and above the lake and continued up and up as the sun began its descent in the West. The views of the surrounding mountains were incredible as the sun reflected off of the white limestone rocks filling the valleys below with a warm red glow.

Just as the sun was begining its final goodbyes, we found the spring. Just before “lights off” we set up our tent and crawled inside to watch the sky turn from red to indigo.

Day 3. Monday June 22, 2009. Mileage: 732 – 745.6 (13.6 PCT miles plus 2.5 to get hitch)

Climbing out of Death Canyon in the morning provided views of the Sierras that gave us a sort of giddy high. We could see that we were headed for snow but the excitement of it all overpowered any snow anxieties. (We also thought we could see Mt Whitney and took a series of ‘There it is!’ pictures of what we later learned was just a very tall mountain and not the tallest in 48 states).

Every view that I capture at the end of each blink is different than the image before. The scenery here alters drastically during the mileage covered within a day; we walk through dry, pebbly sand with views of snow in the distance. I’ve never seen anything like it before. The huge and mysterious boulder formations shape the uneven expanse into a kind of maze reminiscent of a dinosaur land. The sun switches quickly from friend to foe as it warms my numb, fumbling hands at sunrise and later hangs like a fire in the air. All of this lends to an exciting sense of this area’s intensity and unpredictability.

We crossed paths with a thru hiker named Buddy several times today. Though I felt slow all day, we made awesome time. Because we covered more miles a day than expected, we hitchhiked into Lone Pine a day or two early. To get into the town of Lone Pine, we walked about 2.5 miles off trail to Horseshoe Meadows trailhead. Jess, a thru hiker named Splash, and I got a ride with a man who had been horseback riding on the PCT. We rode in the back of his truck along the edge of terrifying and massive cliffs that reminded me of the greatness with which Jack Kerouac described Big Sur. It was the wildest ride of my life.

Jess gave me the trail name Replay today for verbalizing observations that she makes seconds earlier in what becomes a bizarre repetitive conversation. My defense is twofold: 1) Social constructivism – When Jess says “I see another hiker ahead”, I hear just that. Jess sees another hiker; I don’t think there *is* another hiker until I see the hiker myself. 2) Hiker brain – It is too beautiful out here to focus.

Day 3: Heading to Lone Pine, CA

Like the previous morning we started the day very early. This time, however, when the clock hit 5:45 am neither one of us wanted to stay in the tent any longer. The nighttime sounds and various visiting critters prevented me from achieving any sort of restful sleep until around 2am. Carter, however, slept like a “bug in a rug” and was ready to leave camp by 7:15.

The morning climb was pretty steady and in what seemed like less than an hour we were on the crest line. The saddle’s landscape turned into sheer cliffs and craggy rocks, which in my mind became the perfect hideaway for both a bear and a cougar. Almost every 15 meters I stopped to listen for any “weird” sounds that might be from an animal up above. Finally at the top we pointed to the snowy mountain peaks in the distance. In true scared Jess form, I pointed to the mountain covered with the most snow and adamantly proclaimed “that is Mt. Whitney.” Ah FEAR!

Since we hadn’t bothered to camp near a water source last night we were on the look out for what the atlas told us would be a side trail to a small stream. It wasn't until midday that a sign on a tree pointing to a stream and a Corral did we drop our bags and fill up. Buddy, one of the campfire hikers from the night before last, joined us at the water source and we chatted and enjoyed a snack together. He was attempting to eat all of the food that didn’t fit in his bear canister in the next two days. Feeling that we shouldn’t indulge in his food since we were heading to town that day, we politely said no. We had only been on the trail for 3 days and the need for “real food” wasn’t something that was dire at this point. I did drool a little as he munched on his Tolborone chocolate!

With snack time over we started on our way. Mulkey Pass was our next destination. From that point on we knew that we only had a couple of miles to our first hitch spot. At the junction of Mulkey Creek and the PCT we met up with Buddy, who passed us even though we left him at snack time, and Splash. Splash was also at the campfire the night before and was heading into Lone Pine like us. She asked if we could be her “hitchbrides.” She immediately followed this comment with a "don't worry I'm not a lesbian or anything." We laughed and promised to wait for her at the bottom.

The walk down to Trout Creek was a bit longer than expected and much steeper than imagined. We thought is was only going to be a 1 mile hike out to a trailhead, but realized it was 2.2 once we made it to the bottom. Honestly we were both too excited to really care at that moment yet once our feet hit the pavement a bit of dread set in as the wait for a ride into town lasted longer than any of us thought.

At first we asked fellow hikers and campers for a ride. Once this failed we positioned ourselves at the junction of two roads about 1/2 mile down the road from the trailhead. We eventually flagged down a grand Cherokee with two cute boys. They only had room for 2 people so we declined the ride. 15 minutes later a large green pick-up with a young couple were more than happy to let us sit in the bed of the truck.

Now riding in the back of a pickup is one of my favorite activities. Riding in the back of a pickup that is driving down a very very steep incline with no guardrails is not an activity I wish to engage in again. I entertained Splash with my shrieks of terror and terrified facial expressions for the entire 22 miles into town. Once at the bottom my breathing slowed and my heart rate returned to normal. I’m not really looking forward to the trip back up!

With a huge thank you and a wave goodbye we left the green pickup and headed into the Whitney Portal Hostel. Since the shared women’s room was vacant we opted to bunk up together. The price of a single room was 60 and the shared room 20! What a steal! The only downfall of the entire deal was that there wasn’t a TV in the room, but who cares when you’ve got a shower, hot water, and a clean bed.

Day 2. Sunday, June 21, 2009. PCT mileage: 717.6 – 731.6 (14 miles)

The heavy discomfort that builds in the legs from this kind of consistent exertion is almost entirely mitigated by the satisfaction I obtain from the strength in the movement. Sometimes I feel like a horse that pushes forward without hesitation, proving with each step that she will keep moving through the muscular tension.

I slept very cold last night, particularly my toes, and strangely my butt was freezing. Once it was late enough to not feel like a jerk waking Jess, I was up and moving to get warm. It was another cloudless, blue sky day. The second half of the morning was a steady ascent to a tremendous Southern Sierras view of snow-capped peaks. The vastness of the landscape punctuated with views from higher and higher perspectives was exhilarating! The altitude (10,500 ft) was noticeable in that I found myself stopping to slow my breathing a few times. We could supposedly see Mount Whitney in the distance, but we aren’t sure if we are looking at the right peak.
The downhill today did not hurt my knees but Jess mentioned that it was slightly painful for her. The mosquitoes are out, so finding break spots and camp sites without their swarming is essential to a good mood. Water has been plentiful enough so far. I haven’t hit that hiking, mental zone that I love to access while walking. I’m mostly thinking about mileage (the numbers obsessed part of me feeds off this aspect of long distance hiking) and singing to myself (today’s rotation included The Dirty Projectors’ Knotty Pine). We camped about .3 miles past Death Canyon Creek in a nook of the white rock canyon, which reflected spectacular yellows and pinks at sunset.

Day 2: Cow Creek Caynon

When I turned over and looked at my watch it said 5:30 am. “Oh no!” I thought to myself “this isn’t going to work out well for the first day of hiking.” At that exact moment Carter and I both looked at one another in our 1.5 person tent and without speaking agreed that we needed at least another hour of sleep. Eventually, the clock did hit 7:00 am and there was no arguing that it was time to get out of the confines of the tent. Our destination today was up and over a 13,000 foot climb. Where we landed after that point we had no idea nor were we really concerned. In the original planning stages we estimated that we would hike between 10-14 miles a day. In a shocking turn of events, we had hiked 14 miles the first day. I wonder if we will walk 20 miles by the end of our trip?

As we climbed through fairly dense evergreens, hoping over large pine cones that reminded me of pineapples, and posing for pictures with a few of them (think David’s the Thinker), we noticed that all of the sudden we were in the middle of a boulder field. All around us were white rocks and sagebrush. In the smallest of spaces, paintbrush flowers grew between the cracks and rocks. The landscape was so different than the dense forests of the East Coast that it kept my attention for the majority of the climb. However around 11 the air became thick with heat and the altitude started to drain our lungs of oxygen. Once the trees disappeared and there were only switchbacks in front of us we stopped to consult the map. We had climbed from 7840 to the top of Monache Creek Bow, which was at a towering height of 10540! Both Carter and I had mentioned the tightness in our muscles and the slight pounding in our heads but had managed to keep a pretty comfortable pace the entire morning.

Climbing the last 50 meters, I began to freak out a bit as the tops of the mountains looked white instead of gray and green. My worst fear thus far was the threat of snow. I’ve never really hiked in snow. The thought of climbing over multiple mountain passes and maneuvering across steep mountains grades covered in whiteness was not really a comforting thought.

At 1:30 Carter spotted a shady tree and we took off our shoes to stretch our feet while we dined. Before we knew it an hour had passed and the afternoon sun began to turn the once cool air to a less than comfortable heat. It didn’t help matters that our water bottles were low and with every step the air became thicker and thicker. The map mentioned that water wasn’t far but we must have done the math wrong. By the time we actually made it to the creek, it was a “no speak” zone while we both took care of business.

An old log covered in sap, a fact we didn’t realize until we stood up, provided a 15 minute break before our entry into “Dinosaur Land.” Dead trees and large white boulders competed for space with the sage brush that seemed to be the ultimate winner. Just from walking 2.5 miles through this terrain our legs were bloody and covered in scratches. To top it off our feet were incredibly tired, my legs were loosing steam, and Death Canyon Creek, our destination for dinner, seemed to be running away from us rather than towards us.
Finally at the creek we learned from the swatting hands of fellows hikers that the creek was a hot bed for mosquitoes. Hungry and tired, Carter suggested we move up wind and make dinner within walking distance of the creek, but far enough away from the loud buzz of the bugs. Rice and beans was the menu item for the night and I have to say that I rather enjoyed this tasty treat. Topped with Laughing Cow cheese it makes for a hearty meal that filled our bellies and helped us walk a mile up the trail where we set up home for the night. A bed of pine needles provided a cushy bed for our over exhausted bodies.

Day 1. Saturday, June 20, 2009. PCT Mileage: 703.8 to 717.6 (13.8 miles)

Saturday, June 20, 2009

The 3 hour drive with Reed from Los Angeles to our starting point at Kennedy
Meadows ended in a steep, winding ascent into the mountains, providing views
from the backseat that induced both burning anticipation and a healthy amount
of self-doubt about taking on the Sierra Nevada range.

I weighed my pack at Kennedy Meadows General Store and it came to 35 pounds
with water and 4 days of food. However, a white-bearded man informed me with
astonishingly little concern for the preciseness of lightweight backpacking that
the scale is off by “about 5 pounds in one or the other direction.” So it seems my
pack weighs somewhere between 30 – 40 pounds. Interesting.

The terrain today was occasionally desert-like but walking along the river
countered the dry heat. Jess and I eyed a pink mountain in the distance and wondered what would cause
one mountain to appear cloaked in cotton candy in a range of sandy and green peaks. We reached the base
to discover with wonder that this easy to moderate mountain climb would be through a vast and even
spread of light purple wildflowers. Wildflowers to the left, wildflowers to the right, ahead, and behind;
it was like walking into a fairytale.

The remainder of the day was through meadows surrounded by cragged mountains and a couple miles of a
burnt section. After our first five miles, a 15 minute break reminded me how restorative a short rest off my
feet can be. When we reached the South Fork Kern River in Monache Meadows, I was surprised to have
walked almost 14 miles since noon on our first day. We planned to hike another mile or two after dinner but
were lured into a lively gathering of about fifteen thru-hikers for some trail magic (i.e. someone who
provides hikers surprise food, drink, transportation, anything really. Some who do trail magic regularly are
called trail angels).

A trail angel named Tom had hiked in a guitar, margarita mix, fish, and other goodies for a mixed bag of
hikers who had all started walking in Campo, Mexico. I get the feeling that because there are no shelters on
the PCT, seeing this many long distance hikers in one place is rare, so we made a home for the night by the
river with our new friends.

So many times today I giggled and grinned to myself, thinking “we are actually doing this.” I feel at ease
about the adventure ahead of us and wanting of nothing else for myself than this.