Woke this morning to a nice surprise. Camped not 1
00 feet away were Anniell and her friends, Cindy and Jennifer. I’d come in at about 1:30 PM, but they’d pulled in at 9:30, well after bedtime. We had a good visit, and as I was getting short on food, they made some helpful donations to my stash—nothing big, but some good stuff full of protein and such, add-ins to coming meals. The next day they were getting a final resupply, so they themselves wouldn't be running short. They’d been three or four miles behind me every night, having gotten started really late the day leaving Muir Trail Ranch. Anniell had been having a little rougher time, as these hikes were averaging well over a mile per day longer than on our first seven days, the passes were higher, and the drops in between just as deep or deeper than before. She had sent her tent back to get rid of some pack weight and was now sleeping in Cindy’s. Tonight, they were planning on crossing Glen Pass and getting to Charlotte Lake for their next resupply. I had planned to take another short day and sleep at Rae Lakes, then do the pass in the morning, which would probably have us ending up around the same place the following day.
It was good to see Anniell again, but at this point I was very much in a groove of hiking alone. There were all those great inner conversations, and then there was the close companionship of the Great Spirit, I didn’t want that to lose that. If Jim and Dustin had been here it would have been different: we shared some background, interests, and attitudes that would have made the trip meaningful in a different way. Jim and I went back more than 45 years, to Berkeley, to early times in Thailand! We would have had some conversations of our own, and those guys would have been finding the Spirit in their own ways. But they weren’t here, and the trip had become a way for me to get the most out of solitude and isolation, commodities hard to come by in the outside world.
In yesterday’s entry I forgot to mention it, but I had a mystical experience a bit above the usual. Coming down to Woods Creek, I was looking across at the grandeur of the peaks and valleys across the canyon. It’s amazing how commonplace these views are up here. In spite of the discomfort of hiking with a big pack on a rocky, slippery trail, I felt that I was not only the observer, but was the entire scene I was observing, that there was really no place where I left off and the rest of what I was seeing began. One with the universe, all that stuff usually reserved for LSD trips, right? And I had the distinct impression that I was getting some messages from somewhere about how to approach my life from here on out, good, positive messages. And at the same time, and this is gonna sound strange, I noticed I was smelling all the good smells of the forest, the wildflowers, the pines, firs, cedar. This was a surprise because my sense of smell has largely been AWOL for the last twenty years or so. But all today my sense of smell has been back, big-time. Must be cleaning mind and body out here.
For most of the trip I’d been thinking I had seven passes to cross, getting gradually higher, starting at around 11,0
00 feet and ending with Forester at 13,180. But yesterday Brad had pointed out that actually I should be thinking it was eight passes, since Whitney Trail Crest was also a pass, actually the highest pass of all, at 13,650 feet. I’d be doing that—plus climbing the extra 1000 or so feet up to the summit and back down again—on the next to last day. That got me rethinking my strategy, planning to get as far each day as possible, so the last climb would start higher. I’d originally planned on hiking up to Whitney from Crabtree Meadow, but if I could make it the extra 3 miles up to Guitar Lake, that would allow me to be a lot fresher for the climb up those bezillion switchbacks on day 18. In any case I’d be hiking alone, but would probably see Anniell and friends again at Guitar Lake and Trail camp, as they were planning on going out the same day as I was.So I figured to arrive at Rae Lakes in the early afternoon, take a break at the upper lake, and decide whether to go on over Glen Pass today or not.
The hike up to the lakes was fairly gradual, and I was fresh. Spectacular country. This section and the Evolution Valley/Lakes section were generally considered the most beautiful sections of the JMT.
Got to upper Rae Lake before 1 PM, and took a break till about 1:30. Rae Lakes were every bit as beautiful as advertised. I hope I can get back this way sometime. But by then I’d already decided to go on over the top and make some miles. This would make three 12,000-foot passes crossed in as many days, but it would give me a short day tomorrow, a chance to rest some before tackling Forester, at 13,000+ by far the highest so far. I could see that Glen Pass was steeper and tougher than I’d thought, but even if I took it at my geezer snail’s pace I’d still get up in plenty of time to find a place to camp.
Glen Pass was steep, all right. 
And I was starting to get used to not being able to figure out where the trail to a pass was actually heading. Eventually, as this time, I’d usually ask someone who was coming down the other way. They’d point up somewhere and I’d see a tiny human figure or two moving around up there, impossibly far off. But you learn. Just keep on slogging, one foot in front of the other, you get there. No sweat. 
It was really windy at the top. I got dizzy, but it wasn’t enough to really throw me off balance. There were 3 twenty-somethings up there, nice kids on a day hike from Kearsarge Lakes. One was an American-born Thai, he’d noticed my Siam Reap t-shirt and asked about it. He felt bad that he couldn’t speak Thai very well, had little connection to his parents’ country. 
The other side of Glen was more like the south side of Muir than of Mather or Pinchot: a narrow, winding canyon, with a tricky, rocky trail twisting down. I looked for a place to camp, passed a couple of small lakes but decided to keep looking. Finally realized I’d have to go quite a distance yet, as there didn’t seem to be any water for a long way past those initial lakes. After a couple of miles Charlotte Lake appeared. Didn’t want to go there, because it was a couple miles out of the way, so kept walking.
About a mile down ran across quite an anomoly: a whisky bottle, about ¾ full, by the side of the trail! 
I understand why it was there, I think. This section of the JMT is frequented by fishermen and weekenders on loops in from Onion Valley, to the east. A lot of them just come in to party for a few days, don't give a lot of thought to keeping packs light. I wouldn’t have wanted something that big in my pack going over that pass either. Someone got tired and figured they might as well donate some of their burden to a thirsty downhill hiker. Inspired with this generosity, I took off the top, poured a tiny shot into it, and downed it in honor of the donor. Could not imagine drinking more. Alcohol seemed a very strange and exotic creation at this point. Real thirst was actually a little problem right now. Getting just a little worried about finding a campsite with water, especially important because there was only a little left in the bottles, and it had been a hot day. So plod, plod, plod, ah, here the trail finally goes down into a canyon, there’s gotta be water . . . what? I’ve hiked 12 miles today?
It was getting late, but I found a perfect little spot at the Bullfrog Lake trail junction. Beautiful clear little stream. This was my longest day yet, 3500 feet elevation gain before coming down 1500, and yes, it was 12 miles. Three days in a row of these passes, wow. I am seriously exhausted. Glad I don’t have to go so far tomorrow.
Next entry: too much of a good thing?
No comments:
Post a Comment