By whatever definition you care to use, today was an epic fail at 10 before 10. It was a nice enough looking morning, but, after talking with Trash Can, Store Brand, and Birthday Girl last night, we decided we were only going to hike six and a half miles. This would put us at the start of the 20 mile long section of snow which they said was miserable. We had talked about it and decided an 18 mile day would just be too much for us in the snow. It wasn’t difficult to talk Bunny into sleeping in.
The leisurely start, which seems to have become our norm of late, allowed us to completely dry the tent. We had started to cook away from the tent last night, but then it started to rain. Bear bags went away and tent cooking stayed for yet another day. I’m counting on bear skittishness more than I should. I can count the number of times on both hands that we didn’t hang bags last year. Most of those times we weren’t the least bit concerned because we stowed our food by Bear and Sassy’s tent knowing Bear got a bye from his namesakes.
Even with the late start, we were near the start of the snow packed trail before 1. We were both feeling well and were confident that we could easily find a place to camp that wasn’t snow covered, so we decided to push on another couple of hours. We saw people’s tracks in the trail leading to the shady side of the mountain. Consulting the map, we decided that if we followed the tracks, we would be committed to over four miles of snowy hell before the trail intersected the road again. Knowing what was ahead, we decided to follow the road and break trail if we needed. The road was completely clear at this point.
We gambled and lost. We may have gotten a half mile of clear road before we got into virgin snow 6-8’ deep. Since we were on a “road”, theory says it should be easy to follow even if it was snow covered. The higher we went, the deeper the snow got, and the harder it was to find the path of the road. I could take about 10 steps before I’d have to consult Guthook to see if we were still on the road. There were so many downed trees to climb over which didn’t help any. 45 minutes of work had gotten us less than a half mile higher up. We just gave up and returned to the broken trail behind us.
If we had been smart, we would have stopped when we returned to the broken trail and had some clear, snow-free space to put up our tent. Normally, Bunny is uber-cautious, but it was early and she was confident. I figured, if Bunny’s not even afraid, we’ll be fine since 95% of the time when Bunny IS afraid, we’re not even remotely in danger. Little did I know that snow throws off her caution-meter.
The trail lead right into the shady side of the mountain into the deepest snow we had covered yet. I occasionally used Guthook and verified we were still on the trail, especially after a steep section of trail, but we were always dead on. As we got close to Moosehead Creek (where we thought we were going to stop for the day), we lost the trail. The footsteps just disappeared. We were less than 0.1 mile away. We searched and searched, but couldn’t find the footsteps we were following and Guthook just completely spazzed out on us. It was bouncing all around saying we were to the left of the trail, then bounce to the right and back again. We weren’t moving and it couldn’t get a lock on our position. I started freaking out.
We tried pushing on to Moosehead Creek and breaking our own trail thinking we’d catch back up with the steps. We couldn’t see any place the trail might even run because the terrain got so steep. There were so many “tree-wells” that we couldn’t even walk around without sliding down into them. I really started to panic now. Bunny actually tried to calm me down now rather than egg me on. When she got me calm, we decided to return to the last place we could see the steps. If this didn’t work, we’d have no choice but turn around and head back to Burney.
The tracks had ended in a clump of trees. I searched all around and found the trail turned back and up. It was when I found this that I remembered the trio talking and telling us there was one section that went up steeply and might be hard to find. I felt relieved to be back on broken trail…until I noticed huge bear tracks following in the same footsteps. I did my best to step on every bear track so Bunny wouldn’t see them and panic. I was calmer now, but not calm enough to calm her down if she started getting into a panic.
The trail led up to the road we had tried to break trail on earlier. When we got up top, I saw the bear tracks turn the opposite direction that we were headed, so I went ahead and told Bunny. She was already in “keep Easy calm” mode, so she didn’t react at all. That turned out to be great, because Easy started to panic once again. This time, for reasons other than trail or bear. I was worried about even finding a place to camp. The snow was way over 8’ deep everywhere. From our experience on the AT last year, with the gear we have, I know we won’t be able to get or stay warm camping on deep snow. We are using a ZPacks tent which is not free-standing and our Big Agnes sleeping pads just downright suck in the cold (even though they claim to be insulated).
It was now too late to make the cabin before dark. I can’t feel my feet because they are so cold and wet. We can’t set up the tent in all this snow. If we do find a way to set up the tent, the sleeping pads suck and we’ll freeze. If anything happens to Bunny, I’ll be blamed by everyone. I discovered, I’m not ready to die for the sake of hiking the PCT. I discovered a very useful secret for dealing with Bunny in grave situations…sink first and sink fast and Bunny will stay calm.
Bunny stayed optimistic that we’d be able to find a spot to set up the tent. When we got to the top of the ridge we were ascending, we found some exposed rocks right on the trail. We were able to clear the spot enough that our tent would fit. There just wasn’t enough energy in either of us to make it to the cabin. We were a bit exposed sitting on top of bare rock at 6050’ with no trees or shrubs around. The sky to the north of us looked dark and ominous, but we had no choice. I piled the rocks on the corners and guide line lines hoping that we’d stay standing even in a strong wind. When we had tried this in France a couple years ago, we had failed miserably at keeping the tent up.
Bunny got in and started arranging our gear. We combined all the water we were carrying and discovered we had less than 1/2 liter between us. I got back out and melted enough snow that we could have hot tea and each have a hot water bottle to warm up with. I even melted water so we could have coffee in the morning if we survived the night. Bears be damned, we ate in the tent. Being mauled by a bear did sound warming.
EFG