PCT: California Section I

August of 2013

Our friend, Dave, planned this hike, and invited us to join him.  

THE GANG:

 

Dave, AKA as 'Naked Dave', although we didn't see any evidence of his nakedness on this hike. He is patient, generous, and funny.  He loves  swimming in high mountain lakes and is often seen crawling around on the ground getting a shot of a flower.  His profession is a financial adviser.

   

Bill, AKA 'The Mapster', because he has a mind for all the little details and likes to know where we are on the trail and what lies ahead.  He is steady, dependable and has a cute way of using his eyes as punctuation for jokes.  His profession is a doctor of gynecology and obstetrics.

 

Annie, AKA 'Legs', can  out walk  just about everybody on the trail and has a gorgeous pair of legs to boot.  A lover of rocks, natural beauty and whiskey. Which kind of describes her too: solid, beautiful and with a spicy wit.  She is also Dave's daughter and her profession is a geologist.

 

Alagi, also known as 'Flash', because of his good looks and his flash backpack. Born and raised in Gambia, this was his first time backpacking and being above 2000 feet.   He almost always has a smile and is often seen appreciating the beauty of God's creation.  He is also Dave's son-in-law, and Annie's brother-in-law. He works in a hospital and is studying to be a nurse.  

 

Mark is  an all around great guy and my devoted husband of 32 years. Helpful in all things, he is also always curious about people, things and places. He can engage anybody in a conversation and often does.  Farmer and rancher by trade.

 

Me.   TJ.   I'm  often silly and usually in a good mood on the trail. I ask too many questions and  take a perverse pleasure in chugging up the hills and delight in an afternoon swim.   A high-school dropout, my profession is a good book.  

* Characterizations are obviously NOT exhaustive, but this author's snap judgment.  LOL!

THE HIKE

 

After a hearty breakfast at the Tuolumne Meadows grill, we head south on the Pacific Crest Trail.  My heart is near bursting with  expectation.  It's always like this for me in the morning on the trail and especially the first day of an excursion into new territory with a group of hikers I hardly know.   I am so excited I feel like  my feet are barely touching the gorgeous granite slabs that we hike on.

 "Legs", the geologist, gives us an impromptu lecture on the forces that create such beauty.   She is passionate about geology and hearing her talk makes the rocks go from hard inanimate objects to something alive.  When I now look at rocks, I see time and energy flash before my eyes like a moving picture show.

It is a fairly easy, beautiful and short  6 miles to Glen Aulin High Sierra Camp. The waterfall and pool  are gorgeous and great for an afternoon swim.

 

The water embraces us vigorously with icy cold hands.  I think we all give a little gasp of surprise.  "Well, hello there, icy cold water".  Naked Dave (who isn't naked) is the first to venture behind and through the water falls.  His head goes under for a bit, but it all works out and soon others in the group follow his example.  We fish here too and I catch a nice rainbow trout on a gold spinner.  The camp itself is my idea of what  an east coast summer camp might have been like, with its many well-heeled tourists.

Early the next morning we are anxious to leave Glen Aulin and the crowds behind. We have about 8 miles to hike before coming to the next reliable water.  The group splits up and we make plans to meet later. 

The trail out of Glen Aulin  begins very flat with a long walk up Cold Canyon.  At the top of the canyon we enter a lovely forest of red pines.  We also officially meet Trevor and Jackie from Australia.  We had seen them the day before, but only in passing.  This day we exchange names, as  Jackie and Trevor roughly have the same hiking plan as ours, so they  unofficially became part of our gang too.  They are an interesting couple and stop  with us midday for  a quick dip in a creek and a bite to eat.  The hike after lunch is more difficult,  as we have to do a bit of climbing and it is hot. Mark opts to stay behind and hike with Naked Dave and Flash, so for the first time in my life, I backpack alone.  It is strange, but nice and I keep trying to walk faster to catch the Mapster and Legs.  But I never do.

Miller Lake is our camping destination and it is my favorite part of the day.  I take a sublime solitary swim in its cool, not cold, water.  With granite rocks on the east, sandy shore on the west, I breast stroke  down the lake through blue above and blue below. My idea of flying. A wonderful ending to about 12 miles of hiking.

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In the morning Legs and I head up the trail first and this doe comes right at us like she had a message to give us.  It's a bit strange, but sweet. I thought we have perhaps landed in Narnia.

Little did we know what this special day would bring and how  we would find ourselves in a Survivor episode or perhaps a fairy tale by the brothers Grimm.  Perhaps that doe did have a message for me and I just didn't listen.

It seems as if we were transported to the southwest while climbing the 1600 feet up to Benson Pass. The trees were spaced well apart and there were many rocky outcroppings.  I had been  jogging all morning to keep up with Legs, so I wait here to hike with  Mark and we have fun tracking Legs with her trademark Keens.

We catch up to her at beautiful Smedburg lake where she is slaying fish.  Blood lay  on the granite rock where she had bludgeoned the head off her first catch.  She apparently couldn't find a knife.  She ends up catching a total of 3 big fish and after the whole gang comes together we fry them up and eat them. 

 

Most of us swim too.  You can see me way out there if you look hard.  Coming out of the lake I slice my arch on a sharp piece of granite.  Luckily the Mapster/doctor was in and has  steri-strips to close it up.   It is late afternoon, and Flash is struggling with the altitude,  but we decide that we need to get further along the trail to be able to make Kennedy Meadows by Sunday.  The Mapster and Legs leave the lake first.  Remember this.

Naked Dave, Flash, Mark and I begin the hike together, but I soon scoot ahead to try to catch up to the others. The trail begins with a short section of up, but then it  quickly descends.    I come to the area we had decided earlier we were going to camp at, but Legs and Mapster aren't there.  Peculiar. I check for Legs' Keen footprints and find them continuing on, so I did too.

Things are beginning to feel weird as the shadows grow long.  I wonder where everyone is.  Then I hear a commotion behind me and turning see Mark running down the steep trail towards me. Apparently,  Legs and Mapster had accidentally gone off trail at the lake (AKA: Got Lost!)  and I am the one everyone is now trying to catch...  OOPS!  Apparently, someone else is also wearing a size 9.5 woman's Keens.

By this time, we are well past that intended camp site and no  water is available until Benson Lake, a few miles away.  It gets dark. We hike on and on through what now seems like sinister woods with boogey men or the Big Bad Wolf lurking around every corner.  Legs busts out  some whiskey  and we all take a swig.   Our fortitude strengthened we make it to the lake, giggling a bit.   The  beach glows white in the moonlight and I fall backwards over a log laughing and donkeys begin to bray with thier bells tinkling loudly in the pitch black night.  It is surreal and fun and an epic ending of a day of hiking  16 miles.

In what feels like the blink of an eye it is morning.  We find ourselves washed up on a huge white beach.  Benson lake is aptly called the Riviera of the Sierra.  It is beautiful.  

Today's hike is uneventful.   I make sure to not scoot ahead as we travel through fairly open terrain.

After a midday break at another sparkling lake we continue over a small pass.

There are flowers and currants and fresh spring water flowing from rocks above the trail.  (To prove they are currants, Naked Dave eats handfuls.)

The canyons here are steep and the movie Jeremiah Johnson  comes to mind and I think how I wouldn't want to get caught here for the winter.  This area of the Sierra is called the wash board because it goes up and down all day.  We pass Jackie and Trevor's tent along an almost dry creek, but don't see them. It is the first day we haven't chatted with them.

The last bit of the day is hot and steeply up and then steeply down.    We camp as soon as we make it to Stubble-field Canyon Creek.    A  trail work camp is near us and we hear them singing Happy Birthday to Andre'.  I wonder if they have cake. White Lightening, a PCT hiker, who is way behind schedule, camps with us and we share some food.  The darkness comes quickly in the canyon and we go to bed.  There is a lot of noise in the night and I dream of wild animals and robbers.  Of which there were none.  It is only Legs relocating her tent, due to the snorers and the neo-air mattresses, which sound like someone is wrestling midgets.  Or so she said.

We meet Andre' the next morning and wish him a happy birthday. This photo is not him.  This is Ryan from Cal Poly.   He is the trail boss and enjoys his time fixing the trails.  We enjoy their work too and make sure to thank them.

Midday at lovely Wilmar Lake. I decide to go skinny dipping, only to end up having other hikers stop by.  OOPS.  My mistake.  By the time the coast is clear I am a frozen Popsicle.    Mark and I wash clothes with our ziploc bag method and hang them up to dry.  The gang arrives and we discover that Flash has sprained his ankle.  Poor guy.  Legs, now also called, The Trout Slayer, catches some nice ones while Mark and I catch nothing.

Gorgeous sky overhead and with a fairly flat trail ahead the afternoon hike to camp is near perfect for us.

Grace Meadow, our camping destination, has a small creek full of little fish that I teach how to fly as I snag them  and then fling them up on the bank.  Hence flying fish.  We meet up with the Mapster who has been in the lead today and has already picked a camping spot.  He had hiked around a lot  looking for the perfect site and we appreciate his scouting.  Later the others join us and we all camp far apart like a little village.  

I awake feeling sickly, but enjoying the beautiful sky makes me forget all about my upset stomach.  Leg's Achilles heel is bothering her so she hikes with us mere mortals and we enjoy her company. 

We horse around and do a photo shoot at  the Pass.  We can tell we have exited the 'wash boards' as the countryside is wide open.  Frankly, it is a relief as the hiking up and down the canyons has  been difficult for all of us. Alagi is especially getting quite the first backpacking trip with all the altitude issues and a sprained ankle.  He has been a great sport though and has kept a big smile on his face.  

It is another incredibly gorgeous day and we take the time to sit and enjoy the flowers, sky and sunshine.

Flash looking as dapper as ever.

This area is  pretty and western postcard appropriate.  I think about the emigrants who brought their wagons and all their belongings right through here.  While these photos make the land look fairly flat, there are quite a few steep ups and downs.

 

Legs and her dad get a chance to hike together.

Leech Lake.  Well, really it's officially called Emigrant Meadow Lake, but after swimming, the Mapster calmly points out leeches on Legs' legs.  Needless to say, we all checked our bodies thoroughly.  Every nook and cranny.

This photo does not do justice to the flowers everywhere.

A prettily, perched rock.

Our camp for the last night on this section.  We purchased a new Big Agnes Copper Spur 2 tent this year.  We love it for its 2 doors, ease in setting up, lightness and room for the two of us and our gear.  As you can see, it even has an easy way to attach and anchor the rain fly, just in case, but sleep with the stars!  It's a keeper.

We enjoy waking up to our favorite mountain 'parrots', with their strange alien sounds.  Clark's Nutcrackers are ubiquitous to the Sierra and we've grown fond of their loud sounds.  After packing up we head down the trail towards Kennedy Meadows with mixed emotions.  It is always sad to leave the wilderness, but it is also good to think about eating a big, fat, juicy hamburger.

Relief Reservoir

Beautiful bridge crossing the Middle Fork of the Stanislaus River.

The trail turns in to a dirt road with  tamer waters west of us.

Kennedy Meadows with that big, fat, juicy hamburger I had been dreaming about.

ZERO DAY:

Kennedy Meadows North has a pack station, store, restaurant and saloon as well as tent camping, RV camping and many cabins to rent.  They also have laundry facilities.  Yay!  Most of the cabins are new and the first night we stay in one of these.  The prices are very reasonable and I thought it would be a great place for a family to have a get together.

The gang is now just the four elders as both Legs and Flash had to return to their everyday lives.  We enjoy the place and try to find things to do.  It is kind of weird not walking.   We eat and drink a lot.  Prime Rib the first night.  Yummy.   We have a rollicking tournament of horseshoes that gets down to Naked Dave and Mark.  It is a  close game, but Naked Dave squeaks out a win. The finalists are hilariously entertaining.  They wag their bottoms and jump in the air and bump bellies shouting, "bully".    Mapster and I sit on the cabin porch, drinking brandy and laughing at their antics. 

The Aussie hikers, Trevor and Jackie, are here too and join us on the porch for a chat.  Jackie is an outdoor educator at the university level and Trevor a retired General Practitioner who has also written an adventure travel book about kayaking in Russia.  (Mark and I have since read the book and loved it.  It's on Amazon and called, Paddling Through an Enigma: Whitewater Rafting and Mountain Journeys in Siberia and Middle Asia.)

This is Rose Cabin.  The oldest cabin on the place built-in the late 1800's. It is like entering into a time portal.   They don't regularly rent it out, but the gang of four got to share it for the second night.   (Although Mark and I slept outside because as well as being seeped in history it's seeped in smoke and I have temperamental lungs).