Day 42, August 12, Crabtree Ranger Station, TM 1887.3–(8.7 miles)

We’re needing the end (this was supposed to say nearing the end, but autocorrect made it better)

This entry starts just like every entry from the Sierra…We were beat from yesterday. Forester with a heavy pack took it all out of me. Bunny’s hip kept her from sleeping peacefully, and, by the law of transitivity, I didn’t sleep well, either. We didn’t set alarms which allowed me to sleep until 8.

Nearing the Holy Grail of the PCT

The commotion started while it was still dark. We heard people getting ready while well before the sun was up. It wasn’t to the level of Koreans on the Camino who packed everything in plastic trash bags and then forgot which bag was which so they had to go through every bag (Camino de Santiago 2017) but it was close. It was still dark and we needed our beauty sleep. Ask anyone from my high school, I’ve been in desperate need of beauty sleep all my life. Need I say, we were last out of camp. The last ones to beat us out were the family of 5. We hit the trail at 10. 

High plains drifting

We took lots of breaks. While on one, we met old lady at the first creek crossing out of camp. She had just come over Forester this morning and she laughed that we were tired and taking an easy day. She took off and we never saw her again. I hated that old bitty. 

The highest point in the lower 48 is in sight

Rain clouds skirted us all day. I had no energy on climbs, but my pack was beginning to feel better. After today, we’ll lose another 2 days of food before we have to hike with packs again. (We will hike up Mt Whitney tomorrow so we can leave our camp all set up for the day-long side trip.) We’re hoping that will help us turn the corner.

Whitney ahead

The later part of today’s hike was across a high volcanic plain…shade was at a premium and water was scarce. We finally caught up to a couple of women who found both and were taking advantage of it. There was enough room for us to join them. I was a bit concerned because I recognized one of the girls as the blond that Bear wouldn’t pick up when we were driving to Onion Valley. We ended up playing hopscotch with them the rest of the day. 

Desolate area

When we made it to Crabtree Meadows, we asked if they were finishing up at Whitney. They said yes so we pulled the ballsiest move of or entire trip and asked if they had left over fuel—we misjudged how much we had and were very close to empty. I’d already made peace with them and explained how the people we were traveling with at the time didn’t like to pick up hitchhikers. (If your not with us, being thrown under a bus isn’t too painful.)

The backside of Whitney

We also ran into the “family” setting up camp when we made our final turn to Ranger Station. They are finishing up on Whitney as well but they don’t have to be done until the day after tomorrow. We said our goodbyes just in case we miss them. 

Our goal for the day

Camp was all set up by 4. I organized food for over an hour to get breakfast and lunch ready for tomorrow. Tonight’s supper was a colonic bonanza consisting of 3 Ramen, 2 Spam, and 2 fun size Snickers (sad size is more appropriate).

My work is never done

By gawd we’re doing it. We are setting alarm for 5 in the morning. We’re not hoping for sunrise on Whitney, but we do want to make it before the rain shows up. If we pull this off, this will be our earliest start since we made the foolish mistake of getting up at 4a on the AT to avoid hiking in the heat. That day was a bust because it was too hot to sleep and our schedules were messed up for several days after that. I’m sure everything will be fine on the highest mountain in the lower 48. 

We managed to find an isolated spot in the middle of things

EFG

Day 41, August 11, Tyndall Creek, TM 1878.9–(12.2 miles)

We’ve never been this high on trail

What a mind f@#$ this morning. How are we supposed to wake up without a hearty throat clearing? We set an alarm, but it didn’t cut it. We overslept. It was our latest start in over a month. The guilt ate me up inside. We didn’t leave camp until 9:39. Oh the humanity. 

It’s sad when all shots in the Sierra look alike

It’s 7.5 miles to Forester Pass with 3700’ of elevation gain. Astute readers readers might recall that Bunny and I have a daily limit of 3000’. Add in that my pack doesn’t really feel lighter from 1 night’s worth of food consumption. There’s only one possibility for us; every mile, to mile and a half, we had to drop packs and rest. Bear would be turning over in his grave at this (his death would be the only way this would happen if they were still hiking and hadn’t ditched us…again). 

The lower point on the right is where we’re headed

We kept an eye on the sky all day. There were dark clouds following us just like we were following a family up to the pass (I’ve often heard people describe me as a dark cloud on the horizon). In spite of our efforts to go slow, we did overtake the family about 2 miles from Forester Pass. It was a cute family of 5 with kids aged 15, 13, & 10. The youngest was a girl who was having a bit of difficulty with the altitude, but she was pushing on. She was often in back with her dad, but 10! This family is doing it right. 

It’s a long, winding trail up

The dark clouds were getting more ominous. I warned Bunny to be brave for the kids sake. This was a mistake. Pointing out Bunny’s irrational fears only starts a fight. Her irrational fears are rational to her. Plus, I was telling her what to do (“be brave”). Only Bunny’s dad can tell her what to do. If she wants to be afraid and scare the kids who are being brave, that’s her right and NO ONE will tell her differently (coincidentally, Bunny’s dad is also afraid of storms but not nearly to the same degree). In spite of my “telling” her to be brave, she actually kept it together. In all fairness, though, the storm never came. 

Always time for a break

About a half mile from the top, the little girl and her dad passed us while I was taking a break. As soon as they were out of earshot, Bunny asked me “Are you going to let a 10 year old girl pass you?” I thought I might point out that my pack was near 50# and hers can’t weigh more than 10#. It’s hardly an apples to apples comparison when she’s not carrying an equivalent load. Instead of getting into it, I managed to gasp out a “yes.”

The spot where we first ran across the family of 5 getting water

Needless to say, I was the last to the top of Forester Pass. The family was up there having a snack and Bunny was filming me stagger up. This is the most weight I’ve carried at the highest altitude I have carried a loaded pack. I did hike to 17,800’ in Nepal, but my day pack didn’t weigh 10#. I’ll bet I could have beaten a 10 year old up that time. 

Looking back on what we just climbed

We stopped for a snack and a chat. The family was finishing up the JMT and are exiting the Whitney Portal in a couple of days. They were a very fun family that loved hiking in the Sierra (mainly because the mother grew up in the Sierra and couldn’t imagine hiking anywhere else). The father, Paul, was a police officer. The oldest son was Paul the 3rd or 4th. (My phone died where I had their names written down and I lost all the info.) The daughter, 10, Brooklyn, was incredibly mature for her age. Sadly, I can’t remember the mom’s name or the middle son’ (no wonder middle kids feel overlooked). I do remember that the kids had their own YouTube channel, Groms4life, because we both used the number 4 in our channel names.

Groms4life

Coming down was an entirely different experience. Had Bear been with us, he would have had to lead because he would have had a cardiac arrest behind Sassy. The exposure was well over 1000’ on a narrow trail. We let “the family” leave before us so they wouldn’t see us acting scared. We could see young Paul ahead of us leaning into the mountain to avoid standing up straight and looking over the edge. We were not alone in our assessment of the sheer drop. This lasted for well over 1/2 mile. The south side is much steeper than the way we climbed. I couldn’t imagine crossing this pass with snow on the trail. 

And that’s where we’re headed

A stop was required once we got to the bottom. I was in a post adrenaline rush fatigue. I needed a snack, and I needed to verify I wasn’t carrying an extra load in my pants. Bunny found us a sheltered spot off trail to get out of the wind. While we were snacking, the family passed us again. (We actually passed them coming down because young Paul was being more cautious than we were.)

After the worst is over…I didn’t feel comfortable using a camera higher up

The closest to describe what the hiking was like once we were off the pass was our experience in Brannock Burne Moore Scottish Highlands. We were on a high, windswept plain between mountains. There were just two differences: we were not on an old military road, and the rocks were a different color, and 3, no midges. 

Monument to a volunteer who died building this section of trail
He was only 18!

The clouds grew much darker once we were past the rock slide known as Forrester. We were, once again, racing a storm to camp. It was our kind of walking now…slightly downhill and a well used track. We were fast, but we couldn’t catch up with the family of 5. When we made it to camp, they already had their tents up. Once again, my butt got kicked by a 10 year old girl. You beat me today, Brooklyn, but watch out when my pack gets lighter. 

That rock slide is Forester Pass

It was a very crowded camp and flat spots were at a premium. There had to be well over 50 people here. We ended up climbing uphill into the woods to find a spot in what is, probably, normally the bathroom section of camp. We set up our tent and got everything inside before the rain started. It turned out to not be nearly as bad as the sky looked, but it was a steady sprinkle which got me wet when I got water.

Trees ahead, but easy walking

A bear box in camp is nice, but with so many people in camp, it was beyond full. We slept with our food in the tent so we could cook in the vestibule as usual. There were so many fresh smelling hikers just starting out on the JMT that any bear with a modicum of self respect would leave us alone and go for the sweet, freshly scented hikers. 

EFG