Yeah so I wrote a really long post about this section, published it last night, but the post failed. For some reason it didn't even save as a draft. So I apologize but this probably won't be as good the second time around. Also, this blog business is becoming more of a chore than a hobby, so from here on out I'll just be doing highlights and photos. And as always, like 98% of my Instagram photos, no edits here.
I picked up my package from the general store, bought a bearvault (aka Chairvault), threw the new eats in and we hit the trail. The next few days were kind of a blur, as I had to focus on my gait constantly as I walked and my legs were still hurting a decent amount. Plus, it was tough to be present on trail after a week of leisure spent with Erin, despite the drastic improvement in scenery. So here's the short version:
Woke up on the 27th covered in frost, leap-frogged with Lady Luck and Snake Charmer (together, Lady Charmer) all day, camped with Herro and a kid named Howl who just graduated from high school in Sausalito, the town just on the north side of the Golden Gate Bridge. One of my college roommates grew up on a houseboat there, and Howl knows one of his little brothers.
Per the physical therapist's instructions, I had to spend nearly all my free time - breaks, before bed, first thing in the morning - stretching and rolling out my legs. They'd still stay hurting after about 16 miles, but they felt noticeably better. I bought a length of PVC to roll my kegs with, but forgot it in Erin's car, so I initially used a Snapple bottle, which I had packed out in order to have some Jameson on my birthday. Eventually I used my bear canister, which was a huge improvement. My birthday was a good day, hiked with tunes for a majority of it and ate all my best food.
On the 30th, we stashed our packs and set out to summit Mt. Whitney - at 14,505 ft, it's the highest point in America, Alaska excluded (I have issues with the terms 'lower 48' and Continental US, as neither really describe what they signify). Whitney is actually off the PCT: 8.5 miles to the summit, then the return. We got a later start than we had hoped, but were flying up the trail without our packs (this is called slackpacking). About half way up we noticed some dark clouds massing above us. Not long after, we ran into Lady Charmer and Rogue, who were heading back down.
"Don't y'all see the clouds?" asked Rogue. "Them be thunderclouds!" Apparently there was a ranger up ahead advising people to steer clear of the summit. We never saw him, but we did run into Leeandrea and a whole mess of John Muir Trail hikers, all of whom told us it was snowing up at the summit. We reached the junction for Whitney Portal, 1.9 miles from summit, where the JMT continues down into Lone Pine, when it stated drizzling. There was a sign that read something like: "EXTREME LIGHTNING DANGER. LEAVE SUMMIT IF: DARK CLOUDS, RAIN, HAIL, THUNDER, LIGHTNING". It was at this point that we dropped the food, water and trekking poles we had with us and started jogging/scrambling up the mountain. 439 vertical feet and less than half a mile from the top, we heard a massive blast of thunder. We stopped, hoping it was a fluke. Another boom. We started walking back down. Then it really opened up - it stated snowing on us and thunder claps exploded every few seconds, so we hustled back down.
It was certainly disappointing to turn back before the summit, but I don't like toying with lightning, especially atop a pile of granite taller than anything in the country.
That night Don got fairly sick - couldn't keep food down. We were only two days out of Bishop but Forrester Pass, the highest point on the PCT (13,400 ft) stood in our path. We move pretty slowly, but reached the ascent to the pass the next day around 230, at which point we found Rogue, Leeandrea, and thru hiker Dune waiting for thunderclouds to pass before climbing up and over. We napped, and by 430 it had mostly cleared up, so we continued on. The top of the pass marks the beginning of Kings Canyon, which is absolutely gorgeous.
We camped with Howl that night and set out early the next morning for Kearsage Pass, where we'd hitch to Independence then bus to Bishop. We took the Bullfrog Lake trail to the pass and made it down to the Onion Valley trailhead around 330. It was rough for Don, as he had hardly eaten for fear of more stomach trouble. A lady in the parking lot gave us a cantaloupe and we caught a ride into Independence with trail angel Steve, whose wife is a 60 year old triple crowner named Steady on her second PCT thru hike.
We got into town to find that the buses don't run on Wednesdays, so we stayed in the hiker bunkroom at the courthouse motel (the proprietor called it "the Annex") with Leeandrea, Howl and Herro. The next morning we caught the first bus to Bishop, met up with thru hiker and fellow Class of 14 graduate Hans at the famous Schat's Bakkery. We stayed at Hostel California, a labyrinthine old house with a million rooms, guitars, a great VHS selection, ping pong table and the most comfortable mattresses ever.
It was a slight bummer to leave on the Fourth, especially seeing as the hostel was throwing a big party and their hot tub was finally going to be fixed, but we headed back to trail; six of us packed into Leeandrea's friend's five seater SUV, along with five packs and a very spoiled Husky.
I picked up my package from the general store, bought a bearvault (aka Chairvault), threw the new eats in and we hit the trail. The next few days were kind of a blur, as I had to focus on my gait constantly as I walked and my legs were still hurting a decent amount. Plus, it was tough to be present on trail after a week of leisure spent with Erin, despite the drastic improvement in scenery. So here's the short version:
Woke up on the 27th covered in frost, leap-frogged with Lady Luck and Snake Charmer (together, Lady Charmer) all day, camped with Herro and a kid named Howl who just graduated from high school in Sausalito, the town just on the north side of the Golden Gate Bridge. One of my college roommates grew up on a houseboat there, and Howl knows one of his little brothers.
Per the physical therapist's instructions, I had to spend nearly all my free time - breaks, before bed, first thing in the morning - stretching and rolling out my legs. They'd still stay hurting after about 16 miles, but they felt noticeably better. I bought a length of PVC to roll my kegs with, but forgot it in Erin's car, so I initially used a Snapple bottle, which I had packed out in order to have some Jameson on my birthday. Eventually I used my bear canister, which was a huge improvement. My birthday was a good day, hiked with tunes for a majority of it and ate all my best food.
On the 30th, we stashed our packs and set out to summit Mt. Whitney - at 14,505 ft, it's the highest point in America, Alaska excluded (I have issues with the terms 'lower 48' and Continental US, as neither really describe what they signify). Whitney is actually off the PCT: 8.5 miles to the summit, then the return. We got a later start than we had hoped, but were flying up the trail without our packs (this is called slackpacking). About half way up we noticed some dark clouds massing above us. Not long after, we ran into Lady Charmer and Rogue, who were heading back down.
"Don't y'all see the clouds?" asked Rogue. "Them be thunderclouds!" Apparently there was a ranger up ahead advising people to steer clear of the summit. We never saw him, but we did run into Leeandrea and a whole mess of John Muir Trail hikers, all of whom told us it was snowing up at the summit. We reached the junction for Whitney Portal, 1.9 miles from summit, where the JMT continues down into Lone Pine, when it stated drizzling. There was a sign that read something like: "EXTREME LIGHTNING DANGER. LEAVE SUMMIT IF: DARK CLOUDS, RAIN, HAIL, THUNDER, LIGHTNING". It was at this point that we dropped the food, water and trekking poles we had with us and started jogging/scrambling up the mountain. 439 vertical feet and less than half a mile from the top, we heard a massive blast of thunder. We stopped, hoping it was a fluke. Another boom. We started walking back down. Then it really opened up - it stated snowing on us and thunder claps exploded every few seconds, so we hustled back down.
It was certainly disappointing to turn back before the summit, but I don't like toying with lightning, especially atop a pile of granite taller than anything in the country.
That night Don got fairly sick - couldn't keep food down. We were only two days out of Bishop but Forrester Pass, the highest point on the PCT (13,400 ft) stood in our path. We move pretty slowly, but reached the ascent to the pass the next day around 230, at which point we found Rogue, Leeandrea, and thru hiker Dune waiting for thunderclouds to pass before climbing up and over. We napped, and by 430 it had mostly cleared up, so we continued on. The top of the pass marks the beginning of Kings Canyon, which is absolutely gorgeous.
We camped with Howl that night and set out early the next morning for Kearsage Pass, where we'd hitch to Independence then bus to Bishop. We took the Bullfrog Lake trail to the pass and made it down to the Onion Valley trailhead around 330. It was rough for Don, as he had hardly eaten for fear of more stomach trouble. A lady in the parking lot gave us a cantaloupe and we caught a ride into Independence with trail angel Steve, whose wife is a 60 year old triple crowner named Steady on her second PCT thru hike.
We got into town to find that the buses don't run on Wednesdays, so we stayed in the hiker bunkroom at the courthouse motel (the proprietor called it "the Annex") with Leeandrea, Howl and Herro. The next morning we caught the first bus to Bishop, met up with thru hiker and fellow Class of 14 graduate Hans at the famous Schat's Bakkery. We stayed at Hostel California, a labyrinthine old house with a million rooms, guitars, a great VHS selection, ping pong table and the most comfortable mattresses ever.
It was a slight bummer to leave on the Fourth, especially seeing as the hostel was throwing a big party and their hot tub was finally going to be fixed, but we headed back to trail; six of us packed into Leeandrea's friend's five seater SUV, along with five packs and a very spoiled Husky.
posted from Bloggeroid
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