WHERE DID THAT HAT COME FROM?

DAY 4 - August 11, 2010: a whole day of downhill

Well, so far, so good. Here was the fourth day already, I was hiking pretty well, had no blisters or any other discomfort, had gone over the first pass of the seven before Whitney, and was camping in incredibly beautiful spots. So far it was pretty much like any other backpacking trip.


Tonight we’d actually touch base with civilization again. Where the trail descends to Edison Lake, a drop of nearly 3000 feet, before ascending again to 10,000+, there’s a twice-a-day ferry that takes weary backpackers to a little mountain resort, complete with a restaurant and a store. At Vermillion Resort they give JMT through-hikers a free beer and also let them stay in a tent-cabin bunkhouse. I hate to admit that after only four days I was looking forward to a little comfort. No matter that there were still more than two weeks to go . . . was I starting to feel a little smug? That first pass wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t hard, either. Donohue, three years ago, had been a lot harder, and I hadn’t had to make so much altitude on the same day. Was the JMT maybe going to be easier than I’d thought? Hmmm. Don’t jump to conclusions.
From the campsite we had to find the trail. as we walked out we saw a couple sitting on a rise a little above us, looking across at the movement of the shadows on the peaks, and they told us where it was. They (Rick and Dianne, as we later found out), had hiked over the pass really early in the morning to catch the sunrise.

We followed a creek down from Silver Pass Lake, and it swelled, first opening out into a wide meadow, then, as we came the steep side of a deep canyon, shooting off the top before sliding down a wide expanse of smooth granite and tumbling down in a cascades to join the north fork of Mono Creek.

When I reached the Mono Creek Trail turnoff, there was a tall signpost indicating that. I wish I’d taken a picture of that signpost. On top of it was a hat. Quite a good hat. Not sure what you’d call it, but it seemed a kind of cross between Panama and cowboy hat. A little medallion on the hat band which read “Adventure.” Ever curious, I tried it on. A perfect fit. Where had it come from?

There was no one around. The only reason I could imagine for that hat being there was that 1) someone had taken a break there and left it behind by mistake, then 2) someone else had come along, seen it, and put it in a prominent place so that the owner couldn’t miss it if he came back looking for it.

It was a great place for a break, good places to sit, and the stream was close, so I could refill my water bottles easily. Since we were aiming for the 4:30 ferry, this was a short day, and we had plenty of time.




I hadn’t brought a hat. Anniell and others I met on the trail had told me my face was getting quite red, and actually it was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. So, I thought. If the owner of the hat went uphill or downhill very far, he isn’t going to want to retrace his steps just to get his hat. And there’s a 50% chance he went downhill, same direction I’m going, so if I go that way and ask whomever I meet, I might run into the owner. And when I get to Vermillion I can ask at the store if anyone’s reported a missing hat. And if I don’t find anyone, well, the hat’s mine, I can use it to keep the sun off my face.

I waited until Anniell got there, and we took a kind of lunch break. Then Rick and Dianne pulled in, and we had a good hang with them. I told them what I’d been thinking about the hat, and they thought it made sense to follow up in that way. So I did. And so I became the proud and dapper owner of a very cool hat. Something new for me, I’ve never been one to wear hats.

We all got to the ferry landing quite early, so there was a long time to talk and get to know each other better. Joining in the conversation was a tall guy in his mid twenties named Chris, a bit of a hiking fanatic, who came up to spend huge chunks of time in the wilderness every summer. Some wild stories were told all around, and new friends were made.
Vermillion was quite a refreshing stop. We could, and did, for a price, get showers and do laundry. Got my free beer, slept in the tent bunkhouse, didn’t have to set up camp. And the café/restaurant, unlike just about any other of its kind I’ve seen, didn’t have hamburgers and hot dogs. What did they have? New York steak. Now I’m not that much of a carnivore, but I couldn’t resist this. And it was a HUGE cut. I could have eaten two. And out on the trail, you’re always burning way more calories than you take in, and are pretty much guaranteed to lose weight, so I wasn’t worrying about getting fat from that . . . I had probably already lost five pounds since July anyway. Had dinner and good conversation with Chris and Anniell. Shared lots of trail stories. Told Chris bout the 10-year-old boy I'd seen up there with his dad. He answered (more or less), "yeah, they're getting younger and younger. There was an 11-year-old and a 13-year-old who were just now the youngest to ever do the yo-yo."

"What's the 'yo-yo?'" I asked.

"That's where you walk the whole John Muir Trail, then you turn around and walk right back."

Hmm. Some kind of crazy, seemed to me. Actually, considering I still had15 more days in the trip, maybe I was kind of crazy.

Whatever, after dinner I felt like a million dollahs . . . .and the next day I'd have a great hat to keep the sun off my face.

We were looking for alternatives for the next day’s hike. Standard fare would be to take the ferry back, hike a mile and a half back up to the JMT, and start around 10AM hiking the 2500 feet back up to altitude, then drop down another 1000 before climbing up to the next pass, Selden. Anniell and I were going to have to leave late anyway, so taking the ferry was impractical. A lot of people advised us to instead take the Bear Creek Trail, which would just be a steady climb up to the JMT. Sounded easier. And on that note, I went back to the bunkhouse and conked out.

Next installment: How was that old Bear Creek Trail, anyhow?