PCT Days 48-52

Day 48
Miles Miles 745-751 (plus Trail Pass trail to the PCT)

Today is Saturday. I rarely know what day of the week it is and I only know it's Saturday because my phone tells me so. Forgetting the day of the week is currently my favorite part of adjusting to trail life. Well, only of you don't count the guilt-free joy of eating everything in sight.

I woke up this morning motivated to eat breakfast, go grocery shopping, and get back to the trail. Before hitching out of Lone Pine, and before 11am, I managed to eat at a restaurant, a cafe, and a McDonalds.

Jolly, Miles, Kimchi and I said goodbye to the Dow Motel and started our quest to hitch back to Horseshoe Meadows.

We stood on a busy corner for about 45 minutes before someone stopped to pick us up. The driver was a really nice guy named Jin who was in town before summiting Mt Whitney.

We were really grateful for the ride and tried to make sure Jin knew what he was getting in to before picking us up. I know I mentioned this before, but getting to and from Horseshoe Meadows is tough. There's only one road, it only goes directly from town to Horseshoe Meadows through 22 miles of hairpin turns up the face of a mountain. It was difficult to capture on my phone while riding in Jin's back seat, but you can see the road going up the mountain in the picture blow.

The view of Owens Valley from halfway up the road was equally as spectacular.

We were back on the trail by 2pm, leaving us plenty of time to hike a few miles. It's only 21 miles until we get to the Whitney Spur Trail and we're not summiting Whitney until Monday, so we had today and tomorrow to hike the 21 miles.

A few miles in, I got another view of Olancha Peak, the peak we camped near during the snowstorm. It's insane how much snow has melted after just one sunny day!

We ended the day after only 6 miles on the PCT at Chicken Spring Lake. This is the first big lake of the Sierras and it's clear, cold, and beautiful. Kimchi took a dip while I shivered and put on two extra layers of clothes. Maybe I'll jump into a cold lake when I have more daylight left.

We camped on the lake and I set up my tent under a big dead tree. It was the last flat spot and I spent the night hoping the tree wouldn't crush me in my tent.

Day 49
Miles 751-767 (plus 4 miles on Whitney Spur Trail to Guitar Lake)

I slept in this morning until 6:30, waking to Miles packing his tent and Jolly still fast asleep in his sleeping bag. I knew that today would be a fairly short day as we only planned on hiking 20 miles to Guitar Lake at the base of Mt Whitney, so I closed my eyes one more time before braving the chilly morning.

Ever since we reached Chicken Spring Lake yesterday the landscape has changed drastically. How did we get from the desert to the high Sierras so quickly? I know it's day 49 (and 49 is a lot of days to spend hiking), but just 9 days ago I was night hiking and trying to avoid the midday sun in the chaparral. Now I'm spending the next few weeks almost consistently over 10,000 feet in elevation.

Arriving at Crabtree Meadows around 2, I took a short break before taking the Mt Whitney spur trail for the last few miles of the day.

After turning onto the spur trail, I hiked toward the back of Mt Hitchcock, another 14k'er that blocks the view of the 14,505 foot Mt Whitney.

A little later I reached Timberline Lake, flanked by Mt Hitchcock to the southeast (the right side of the photo below).

After passing Timberline Lake I came upon one of the first great views of Mt Whitney. Unfortunately, the iPhone doesn't do it justice.

Guitar Lake is 3 miles into the 8.5 mile Whitney spur trail. At 11,500 feet, camping here tonight will get some of the distance and elevation out of the way today, hopefully making for an easier hike tomorrow.

Tomorrow's hike is 3,000 feet of elevation gain, taking place over 5 miles. There are six hikers leaving between 12:45am and 2:30am to try and reach the top during sunrise and before the snow becomes too wet. I have microspikes, thanks to my freak out at Kennedy Meadows Campground, so I feel as prepared as I can be to summit Mt Whitney in the snow.

As you can see on the map, my campsite at Guitar Lake is surrounded by three huge peaks. Mt Hitchcock to the south...

Mt Young to the north...

and Mt Whitney to the east.

I'm not sure how I feel about this summit tomorrow. I'm nervous about the dark and cold ascent, but I'm excited to reach a huge milestone in my life and on the PCT.

This campsite is surrounded by marmots. They're everywhere! As they scoped us out, smelling our tasty sweat, Miles and I watched them nervously. Will they chew through our salt-covered packs tonight? Will they eat through our tents while we only take minimal packs to Whitney in the morning? Miles threw a rock at a marmot that got too close to his tent. I hope this doesn't give us bad marmot karma.

Day 50
Miles: 767-775 (plus 14 mile side trip to summit Mt Whitney)

I know I've expressed how much I dislike hiking at night, but this morning it seemed necessary so I ignored the dread of getting up when it's still dark outside.

Miles and Jolly waited for me to get ready before starting the ascent, but within five minutes they sped ahead and I was hiking alone. Walking alone in the pre-dawn darkness was more mentally challenging than physical. Not being able to see what's in front of me or over the edge made me focus on simply putting one foot in front of the other. Even that was hard though, the elevation forced me to walk slowly and take a break every few minutes to catch my breath.

This spur trail climbs Whitney from the western face. Most people who hike Whitney do so from the eastern face up the Whitney Portal Trail. Once the PCT spur trail gets close to the top, it merges with the portal trail and climbs the last few hundred feet.

I didn't make it to the summit in time for sunrise, but I did watch the sun come up from a little further down between two giant stone spires.

Just before the summit, you have to cross a long snow field, following the curve of the mountain.

Here is a picture of the summit with a view of the Whitney shelter. By the time I reached the shelter, everyone had taken their pictures and were preparing to descend. I stood for a while on the rocks, looking at the valley 11,000 feet below and reminding myself that on the PCT you can never be late. I want to revel in the joy of reaching the summit and take my time, but I feel rushed.

After getting sufficiently chilled and starting to get a headache from the altitude, I descended. The snowfields at the base of the mountain were more confusing in the daytime than they had been at night because you could see all of the different footpaths, not just the one right in front of your headlamp. I got lost a few times on the way down, but made it back to camp in time to find Miles packed up and ready to get back to the PCT. Marmots had chewed through a pair if pants Jolly left on a rock, but my things were untouched. I knew that I would want to take a nap if I waited too long, so I quickly packed my things.

I didn't last long, within a few miles I tucked myself under a big tree, ate a big lunch, and took an epic 30 minute nap. That may have been the best part of my day. I wasn't in a hurry and I watched the colony of ants next to me scurry around inspecting my things.

Back on the PCT, we had to ford three rivers before getting to a campsite that would position us to cross Forester Pass in the morning. 

I've discovered that I'm really bad at river crossings. In Washington there is always a bridge or rocks or a fallen tree to cross on, but in the high Sierras there is only water. I took my shoes off for the first ford, but slipped on a rock halfway through and dropped my shoes in the water. For the next two fords I just walked right in, shoes, socks and all. 

Another change of scenery before camp. Incredible, eh?

Once I arrived at camp I set my things in the sun, hoping they would dry out before the light faded.

Day 51
Miles: 775-788 (plus 7.5 mile Kearsarge Trail)

I woke up this morning and my shoes were frozen solid. They never dried out from the last river ford and I struggled to loosen them so they would fit on my sore feet. Today we hike to the highest part if the PCT, Forester Pass. I feel excited and ready as I leave camp, determined to hike at my own pace and make it in my own time.

You can see the pass in this picture below. It's the last "V" in the mountains on the right.

When I got to the base of the mountain, I was confused as to where the switchbacks were. Then I saw footprints going straight up the face of the mountain and realized that the trail was completely covered in snow. I started walking straight up, following the footprints and thanking myself for buying microspikes.

Can you see all of the people at the base of the mountain, coming to the same realization that I had and starting their steep, slow ascent?

Here is the chute on Forester Pass. It can be treacherous at times and you don't want to be the one who has to make the initial footprints after a storm, but today it wasn't so bad. It was just a few steps and much less nerve wracking than the steep ascent had been.

At the top of the pass I found Miles and Jolly sitting and enjoying the view of the lakes below. Lee and Zissou caught up, arriving at the top in their underwear. It's amazing how hot it can be in the sun, even when you're hiking on snow. Jolly decided that he wanted to do a front hand spring on top of the pass and we all laughed and watched him nervously. I caught it on video, but I can't figure out how to post it through my phone. After some snacks, we all started the long descent.

After getting down into the valley, the postholing began. The snow sank beneath my feet every third step, making the last two miles of the descent take almost 3 hours. Wet, cold, and exhausted, I took a break next to a river and dried out my feet.

Miles and I had made a plan to camp after Forester tonight, taking a spur trail over Kearsarge pass tomorrow and having my dad pick us up and drive us into Bishop. It's my dad's birthday tomorrow and he chose to spend it waiting for me.

When I got to the spot where we were to meet, Miles  was nowhere to be found. I spotted Kimchi up the trail filling up her water bottle and she told me that he had hiked on after a nap. Still with a surprising amount of energy, I decided that I would hike out too. Maybe I could even call my dad and have him pick us up early (or maybe just me if Miles decided to hike out on his own).

Here's a look back at Forester and the valley I just hiked through. 

I found Miles at the top of Kearsarge Pass, only a few miles from the trailhead. I called my dad and he agreed to drive out and pick us up at the bottom.

Miles and I arrived at the trailhead to find my dad waiting with chicken mcnuggets, beer, water, and brownies. He drove us into Bishop, took us out to a nice dinner, and paid for my hotel room. I'm a lucky kid. Thanks dad, now I'm drunk, exhausted, and ready for sleep.

Day 52 & 53
Zero days

I couldn't get myself to blog last night, so I'm writing this on day 53. Spending a night in my own hotel room last night was a strange experience. I've not yet been on trail for two months and I already feel out of place in a room with a king bed, two sinks, and a big glass shower. Everything is so clean and comfortable and sterile. I woke yesterday hungry, sore, and confused after sleeping restlessly in the warm room. 

Miles and I ran some errands (grocery store, outfitters, coffee) and went back to our respective hotels to relax and get some town chores completed. I made a big checklist of all the things I wanted to do, spread out 8 days of groceries on the bed, and emptied my pack onto the floor. I separated and bagged my food for the next section, cramming it all into my bear canister and food bag, cleaned my cooking setup, and replaced the batteries in my headlamp. As I was sorting my maps for California section H, I started to feel nauseous.

I've been trying to be good about listening to my body, hearing when it tells me something is off or wrong, but as I curled up on the plush white bed I couldn't figure out exactly what my body was telling me. I finished Forester Pass, but I still have another pass to climb almost every day in this section. While I felt fine descending Forester, just a little wet and uncomfortable, I suddenly felt unprepared to continue. Does my stomach hurt because I need an ice axe? Crampons? Someone to hike next to me in case I slide off of a mountain? Maybe I just ate something bad? Maybe it's a crazy stomach bug from the unfiltered water I drank or the snow I ate on Forester?

I called Teddy Rose on the phone and talked to her for a while about how she's doing (she's hiking out of Kennedy Meadows in a few days) and it made me feel a bit better, less confused and nauseous. I decided to sleep and to see how I felt in the morning.

This morning I woke up feeling even less nauseous and knowing what I want to do. I decided to buy an ice axe (my pack is already heavy, so why the hell not?), and spend one more zero day alone in town to let my mind and body rest. My dad and I dropped off Miles at the trail head and I gave him a hug goodbye, not knowing if or when I'll see him again. 

Thank you Miles for your friendship, generosity of spirit, and sharing your time with me the past few weeks.

My dad dropped me off in Independence, a town closer to the trail than Bishop, and I got a room in an empty hostel at the Courthouse Motel. Thank you dad for spending your 59th birthday in the middle of nowhere, paying for your temporarily homeless son to stay in a really nice hotel and eat like a king. I feel very lucky to have such a supportive family. Look at this picture of us, we're practically twins, right?!

After a quick stop at the Subway across the street from the motel/hostel, I curled up in a ball on my bunk and took a long nap. Now here I am, at the Inyo County Courthouse and Free Library, typing my blog entry during my 30-minute time slot before the computer kicks me offline.

I know that I've adjusted to this lifestyle physically, but I feel like I'm right in the thick of the mental challenge. Being in a large, empty hostel is strange and I'm fighting the feeling that I'm hiking too slow, everyone resting somewhere else far ahead of me. I'm craving more human connection on trail, people to share this incredible experience with, but I'm also aware that sometimes when we desire something we very easily find its opposite. We desire aliveness and find death, we desire wholeness and break apart, and like now, we desire connection and find loneliness. I'm reminded of a question posed by one of my favorite dharma teachers that I often ask myself, "what would it be like if I could accept life--accept this moment--exactly as it is?"

Wish me luck on this next long section. I should be in Mammoth about 8 days after I leave this hostel, whenever that may be. Right now I think I'll buy a bottle of cheap white wine and watch the cars pass by on the porch. Cheers!