August 15, 2005 to August 28: Kennedy Meadows to Independence
I resumed my hike on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) at Kennedy Meadows, about forty miles south of Mount Whitney. This is a popular spot for resupply for thru-hikers due to the location of a store (Kennedy Meadows sign) just off the trail with mail service and a good selection of supplies. I savored a hamburger and chili at their grill, knowing it would be my last hot food for about two weeks.
Immediately south of Kennedy Meadows the PCT emerges from a series of designated wildernesses -- Kiavah, Owens Peak, Chimney Peak and Domeland -- managed by the Forest Service and the Bureau of Land Management (BLM.) As I munched on my food from the deck of the store I gazed south at the rugged peaks of the closest area -- Domeland Wilderness (sea of mountains) -- and looked forward to the adventure ahead.
I signed the PCT register at the store with my trail name -- Lorax -- put on my pack and headed off. My pack was at its heaviest of the whole PCT hike, with two weeks food inside a three pound plastic cannister designed to keep it safe from bears. My route headed north a short distance to a campground where I took my last step on pavement and entered the South Sierra Wilderness (South Sierra Wilderness sign.)
From this point north it is over two hundred miles -- all through designated wilderness -- before the PCT hiker sets foot on a road again! This is the longest stretch of continuous wilderness on any major trail in America. As the hike unfolded I became especially grateful for the designation by Congress of the first two wildernesses on my route -- both national forest areas: South Sierra and Golden Trout -- because both are timbered with rolling terrain and probably would have been logged and roaded by the Forest Service if conservationists had not protected them.
It was wonderful to be back on the PCT again (Pacific Crest Trail sign) after some time off, like returning home. I was also glad to be starting at a relatively low elevation, around 6,000 feet, to give me time to get adjusted as the trail gradually climbed to over 10,000 feet in the week ahead. I camped the first night on the banks of the South Fork of the Kern River, a tumbling, pristine stream (south fork.) As darkness fell, bats swooped overhead and heat lightening flashed in the distance -- a wilderness welcome. I was also pleased to learn that Congress had designated this entire segment of free-flowing river -- 72.5 miles - as a Wild and Scenic River.
When the trail left the river the next day I was reminded that this section of the PCT was a transition from the desert to the high country so much of the walk was through dry chapparal and pinyon pine (low-elevation forest.) In fact the next major creek on the route was dry so I ended the day by having to scramble off-trail to find a trickle of water below a string of willow trees. Here's a view from my campsite across the sagebrush (low mountains.) The landscape was flecked with red trumpet-like flowers, known as scarlet gilia (flowers.) As I took the picture the first hummingbird of the hike buzzed me.
A highlight of the second day was a crossing of an ancient Native American trail that was an east-to-west path across the Sierra Nevada, a route that almost became a paved road across the mountain range -- now blocked permanently thanks to wilderness designation. (Further north in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, near Mammouth Lakes, the PCT crosses another trail that almost became a trans-Sierra highway.)
With great drama the PCT descended into Monache Meadows, the largest meadow in the entire Sierra. Far in the distance appeared for the first time the granite wall of mountains in the High Sierras, including the hump-shape of Mount Whitney (meadow with rocky outcrop.) At twilight, above the meadow, its grassy fingers extended in all directions (mountain in shadows.)
The PCT again joined up with the South Fork Kern River as it emptied into the meadow (calm stream.) From the bridge above its placid waters I looked down and saw some fish feeding in the slow current; the sun flashed yellow on them: they were golden trout! The golden trout is the state fish of California and is found only on the Kern plateau. In fact, I was soon to enter into the Golden Trout Wilderness.
After leaving Monache Meadows the trail undertook a long climb up the well-watered Cow Creek past stand after stand of twisted foxtail pines. Abundant along the creek were large groups of corn lilies, bright green plants that resemble cornstalks (corn lilies.)
I was distressed that for many miles here there had been no maintenance of the PCT, overgrown with vegetation in many places; it was a challenge not to get lost! (When I was in Bishop later in the trip I went to the Forest Service office to express my concern about this and was told that Congress had slashed the trail budget for the Inyo National Forest virtually to zero. Nonetheless, the Forest Service promised me they would attempt to get a maintenance crew to work on this section next season, likely with help from volunteers.)
At long last the PCT emerged onto a ridge running off the towering Olancha Peak, with views of the meadows far below (rocks and trees.) I set up my tent, applauded the brilliant sunset and enjoyed my first night above 10,000 feet.
The PCT roller-coasted the next day, dropping down off Olancha Peak to scenic Gomez Meadow (meadow and cliffs) and then shooting up 2,000 feet out of Death Canyon. For all the effort I was rewarded with a vista back to massive Olancha Peak (mountain framed by trees) and forward to the looming High Sierras, ever closer (distant grey mountains.)
Hiking along the crest of the mountains there was finally my first view east down, down, down 6,000 feet to the pancake-flat Owens Valley (valley floor below.) The guidebook informed me that the dry, dusty valley at this point once was the location of a large lake -- Owens Lake -- previously famous for its fish and birds. It was drained dry by the city of Los Angeles which diverts its inflow into their aqueduct. Conservationists have begun a campaign to return the waterflows into the lakebed and to restore Owens Lake to health, as was done successfully with Mono Lake further north in the Owens Valley.
Hiking along the crest makes for great views but no water. I took a side trail down to Ash Meadow to fill up at a spring and found that this high-elevation wetland, above 10,000 feet, had been trampled and polluted by livestock. Cowpies were everywhere! I had no choice but to filter the water and live with it but I was not a happy camper. Besides being the PCT hiker's only source of water for the day, this meadow is also habitat for the endangered willow flycatcher, a bird that reflects the health of riparian areas. (Later in Bishop I left a written comment for the Forest Service: I do not oppose cattle grazing on national forest land, even in designated wilderness, but they should not be allowed in these fragile, high-elevation meadows. In response the Forest Service promised they would conduct a field inspection of Ash Meadow to determine if grazing violated their environmental
standards and, if so, they would reduce grazing there to allow the meadow to recover.)
At dusk later in the day I met two young women having supper along the trail, both from British Columbia as it turned out. To my amazement they recognized me and even remembered my trail name -- Lorax. They reminded me we had last met in Southern CA outside Warner Springs when I had corrected them for hiking south when they meant to go north. Their trail names were Bomber and Two-stroke. Their original plan was to hike continuously north from the Mexican border but due to the heavy snowpack in the Sierra Nevada they had "flip-flopped," that is, they had gone to the OR border and were hiking south to Kennedy Meadows to finish the PCT through CA. They were the first of a number of flip-floppers I passed.
The trail got higher and wilder. As the PCT climbed past Trail Mountain I could find no flat spot at twilight and set up my tent right on the footpath, like I did once in S. CA. A very exciting moment was when I reached Cottonwood Pass, 11,160 feet, regarded as the beginning of the "High Sierras," the section of the mountain range where past glaciation is constantly evident. In fact, in less than a mile the PCT passed its first alpine lake going north -- Chicken Spring Lake, set at the base of a massive granite cirque.
Cottonwood Pass also marked a big personal milestone. In 1974, during a year off from law school, I did a long, long backpack in the Southern Sierra and picked up the PCT at this point and followed it north for about forty miles. At the time I was stunned by the gorgeous scenery and for over thirty years have wanted to hike it again. At long last here was my chance!
Many travellers also start on the PCT at Cottonwood Pass due to access from a trailhead reached by road from Lone Pine, a town in the Owens Valley. From this point on I saw horse and mule trains on a regular basis (riders on horseback.)
The PCT soon entered Sequoia-Kings Canyon National Park, leaving the Golden Trout Wilderness. Distant mountain ranges sprung up on the horizon and rugged canyons opened up below. Wow! The trail gently descended to the Siberian Outpost, where I camped in an open forest of lodgepole and foxtail pines. Black-tailed deer grazed nearby.
Continuing the descent the next day towards Rock Creek I met two more hikers who recognized me from S. CA -- Kevin and Julie, a young couple I got to know during a zero day at Warner Springs. Check out their blog at http://pctadventure.blogspirit.com. I also stopped and socialized with Dave Yemm, a National Park ranger directing a trail reconstruction through a wet meadow. In the week ahead I met a number of trail workers and park rangers patrolling the backcountry -- in sharp contrast to the Forest Service.
LOST CAMERA -- Rock Creek was the first major, high-elevation alpine stream of my PCT trek. It was fast, loaded with boulders, full of cold, cold water -- and very beautiful. I could see trout feeding in the quiet pools and the banks were filled with birdsong. Wanting the perfect picture, I crawled out onto a log over the creek and began to compose an action shot upstream of the rushing waters. I was about to push the button when the log broke, dropping me into the frigid creek below! I lost my hold on the camera and it was gone in a second in the turbulent current. I rushed down the creek hoping the camera would catch in a log or a rock but it was gone, along with about twenty pictures. Only when I got out to dry off did I realize I was fortunate not to have been injured in the fall. As a result I have had to use photos for the remainder of this entry from other sources.
The next day, as I descended from Guyot Pass I was cheered up by spacious views west of the Mineral King area, marked by the massive, triangular Sawtooth Peak. It made me remember vividly a key reason why I had come here as a youth. Back in the early 1970's the Forest Service had granted a permit to the Disney Corporation to build a giant ski resort in the remote Mineral King Valley. Seeking to preserve this wildland the Sierra Club sued all the way to the Supreme Court to block the project, losing in a famous decision that trees do not have standing to sue. I wanted to see the controversial valley for myself and after backpacking through it was convinced that it should be saved. The happy ending is that Congress in 1978 transferred Mineral King to the National Park Service, as a part of Sequoia-Kings Canyon NP, which has kept it pristine!
The PCT next descended into Crabtree Meadow, with awesome views east of the giant wall of mountains that included Mount Whitney, Mount Russell and Mount Hitchcock. From here many thru-hikers take a side trip up to Guitar Lake, beyond to the crest of the range and then north past Mount Muir to the peak of Whitney at 14,491 feet. At the top is a stone cabin for emergency shelter (peak of Mt. Whitney.) I was facing a climb to the highest point on the PCT in a few miles so I decided to put off the ascent of Mt Whitney. I'd love to come back and do it from the east side out of Lone Pine, better rested and with a much lighter pack.
While at Crabtree Meadow I chatted with a park ranger who warned me about "rogue" bears in the section ahead who raided hikers' food. I felt secure with my Garcia plastic food cannister that bears cannot open, although I was very much hoping for a sighting of a black bear -- "ursus americanus," as the textbooks call them (black bear.) While I did not see one on this trip I did come across two or three piles of bear scat colored red with berries along the trail going down Kearsarge Pass.
The PCT rose in stages to the windswept Bighorn Plateau, the first section of this trip above timberline. The area is named after the Bighorn Sheep that have established a herd nearby. The views are spectacular in all directions, especially looking across to the the Great Western Divide. I was also amused with three or four sightings of yellow-bellied marmots -- about the size of plump woodchucks. In fact, they are the largest member of the rodent family in North America. They would sit on their hind legs and wiggle their noses at me as I hiked past!
The trail dropped back into the forest for a ford of Tyndall Creek and then began what I knew would be the hardest ascent of my PCT trek -- the climb up and over Forester Pass, at 13,180 feet the highest point on the entire PCT. The term "pass" is not exactly accurate. For the hiker going north, like me, it is basically a straight wall of granite with a notch at the top. In fact, the switchbacks going up were blasted out of solid rock. In the photo, you can see the notch in the top center of the wall (Forester Pass.)
I decided I would hike up as far as I could and camp at the base of the wall. The route wound up and up across a barren landscape and finally reached two lakes at the bottom of the wall. This was the highest I'd ever camped -- at 12,400 feet -- with no windbreak to be found. Fortunately the evening was pleasant, with no wind, even balmy. The sunset made the circle of giant mountains around me blaze with the color of fire.
The ascent up the wall the next day was thrilling. The trail was all granite -- no trees, no creeks, no bushes -- only a tongue of snow at the top to aim for. In the sections blasted out of the mountain the PCT was also narrow, only three feet wide in places. I felt like Spiderman climbing up a building; with each step the vista to the south opened up to reveal lakes and mountains far to the horizon (view from Forester Pass.) Near the top the trail crossed just below the tongue of snow and then wound around above it to the Pass. I struggled up and sat down on the narrow ledge next to the sign for the Pass and soaked in the views in both directions, feeling the joy of the fellow in this picture (hiker at Forester Pass.) It was hard to believe that at over 13,000 feet I was still looking UP at mountains in all directions.
The descent was equally spectacular, with rugged peaks and valleys everywhere. Below timberline, after endless switchbacks, I enjoyed the roaring cascades of Bubbs Creek and was happy to camp in the company of pines and mosses once more. Especially stunning at sunset were the rosy, church-like columns of Kearsarge Pinnacles high above me. It's no wonder John Muir felt the presence of God in this "Range of Light." The trail dropped down and down to Vidette Meadows, with its giant Jeffrey pines and warm breezes. From a granite stronghold to a lush, old-growth forest, I had sampled a pristine cross-section of the Sierra Nevada in only a few miles.
I soon came to the side trail to Kearsarge Pass and the town of Independence beyond it, where I would resupply. This section of the PCT is so remote it would be a nine-mile side-trip over a 12,000 foot pass just to get to the nearest road. The side trail went past beautiful Bullfrog Lake and then began a steady stair-step towards the pass. I followed the approach from last time and hiked as far up as I could by the end of the day, again camping above timberline. At sunset a predatory hawk or falcon swooped down on a flock of songbirds and caused a loud outburst of alarm calls; the drama of life and death goes on, even in the most beautiful of settings.
I woke up the next day almost tasting the fresh turkey sandwiches and ice cream awaiting me in town. To my amazement I got up and over the rocky pass with very few breaks and was heading downhill by 9:30 towards the trailhead at Onion Valley. Long descents are always fun and scenic and this one had lakes, waterfalls and granite ridges to enjoy. The trail left the park and passed briefly through the John Muir Wilderness before reaching the road.
By a stroke of good fortune I flagged down a ride from a couple leaving about when I arrived and was dropped off at my motel in town within the hour. Independence is a small and sleepy town, without a stoplight, even through it's the county seat of Inyo County. As I checked in, I could hear the story on their TV of Hurricane Katrina blasting away at the Superdome. Welcome back to civilization, I thought.
In fact, it did turn out to be a tough return. I learned without hours that a close friend had just been diagnosed with advanced cancer and was soon to undergo a major operation. I decided to go back to the Bay area and help out as best I could. So, the next day I took a local bus to the town of Bishop, rented a car and headed off.
The good news is that the operation went well and that prospects are good for her recovery. The beauty and the peace of my mountain adventure also gave me an inner calm that assisted me in helping those in need and in getting through the stress of this crisis with my own serenity intact.
I expect to get back on the PCT for another long stretch by late Spetember or early October. My experience with this medical emergency also makes me appreciate more than ever how precious are these times when we can celebrate life and nature to the fullest.
Immediately south of Kennedy Meadows the PCT emerges from a series of designated wildernesses -- Kiavah, Owens Peak, Chimney Peak and Domeland -- managed by the Forest Service and the Bureau of Land Management (BLM.) As I munched on my food from the deck of the store I gazed south at the rugged peaks of the closest area -- Domeland Wilderness (sea of mountains) -- and looked forward to the adventure ahead.
I signed the PCT register at the store with my trail name -- Lorax -- put on my pack and headed off. My pack was at its heaviest of the whole PCT hike, with two weeks food inside a three pound plastic cannister designed to keep it safe from bears. My route headed north a short distance to a campground where I took my last step on pavement and entered the South Sierra Wilderness (South Sierra Wilderness sign.)
From this point north it is over two hundred miles -- all through designated wilderness -- before the PCT hiker sets foot on a road again! This is the longest stretch of continuous wilderness on any major trail in America. As the hike unfolded I became especially grateful for the designation by Congress of the first two wildernesses on my route -- both national forest areas: South Sierra and Golden Trout -- because both are timbered with rolling terrain and probably would have been logged and roaded by the Forest Service if conservationists had not protected them.
It was wonderful to be back on the PCT again (Pacific Crest Trail sign) after some time off, like returning home. I was also glad to be starting at a relatively low elevation, around 6,000 feet, to give me time to get adjusted as the trail gradually climbed to over 10,000 feet in the week ahead. I camped the first night on the banks of the South Fork of the Kern River, a tumbling, pristine stream (south fork.) As darkness fell, bats swooped overhead and heat lightening flashed in the distance -- a wilderness welcome. I was also pleased to learn that Congress had designated this entire segment of free-flowing river -- 72.5 miles - as a Wild and Scenic River.
When the trail left the river the next day I was reminded that this section of the PCT was a transition from the desert to the high country so much of the walk was through dry chapparal and pinyon pine (low-elevation forest.) In fact the next major creek on the route was dry so I ended the day by having to scramble off-trail to find a trickle of water below a string of willow trees. Here's a view from my campsite across the sagebrush (low mountains.) The landscape was flecked with red trumpet-like flowers, known as scarlet gilia (flowers.) As I took the picture the first hummingbird of the hike buzzed me.
A highlight of the second day was a crossing of an ancient Native American trail that was an east-to-west path across the Sierra Nevada, a route that almost became a paved road across the mountain range -- now blocked permanently thanks to wilderness designation. (Further north in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, near Mammouth Lakes, the PCT crosses another trail that almost became a trans-Sierra highway.)
With great drama the PCT descended into Monache Meadows, the largest meadow in the entire Sierra. Far in the distance appeared for the first time the granite wall of mountains in the High Sierras, including the hump-shape of Mount Whitney (meadow with rocky outcrop.) At twilight, above the meadow, its grassy fingers extended in all directions (mountain in shadows.)
The PCT again joined up with the South Fork Kern River as it emptied into the meadow (calm stream.) From the bridge above its placid waters I looked down and saw some fish feeding in the slow current; the sun flashed yellow on them: they were golden trout! The golden trout is the state fish of California and is found only on the Kern plateau. In fact, I was soon to enter into the Golden Trout Wilderness.
After leaving Monache Meadows the trail undertook a long climb up the well-watered Cow Creek past stand after stand of twisted foxtail pines. Abundant along the creek were large groups of corn lilies, bright green plants that resemble cornstalks (corn lilies.)
I was distressed that for many miles here there had been no maintenance of the PCT, overgrown with vegetation in many places; it was a challenge not to get lost! (When I was in Bishop later in the trip I went to the Forest Service office to express my concern about this and was told that Congress had slashed the trail budget for the Inyo National Forest virtually to zero. Nonetheless, the Forest Service promised me they would attempt to get a maintenance crew to work on this section next season, likely with help from volunteers.)
At long last the PCT emerged onto a ridge running off the towering Olancha Peak, with views of the meadows far below (rocks and trees.) I set up my tent, applauded the brilliant sunset and enjoyed my first night above 10,000 feet.
The PCT roller-coasted the next day, dropping down off Olancha Peak to scenic Gomez Meadow (meadow and cliffs) and then shooting up 2,000 feet out of Death Canyon. For all the effort I was rewarded with a vista back to massive Olancha Peak (mountain framed by trees) and forward to the looming High Sierras, ever closer (distant grey mountains.)
Hiking along the crest of the mountains there was finally my first view east down, down, down 6,000 feet to the pancake-flat Owens Valley (valley floor below.) The guidebook informed me that the dry, dusty valley at this point once was the location of a large lake -- Owens Lake -- previously famous for its fish and birds. It was drained dry by the city of Los Angeles which diverts its inflow into their aqueduct. Conservationists have begun a campaign to return the waterflows into the lakebed and to restore Owens Lake to health, as was done successfully with Mono Lake further north in the Owens Valley.
Hiking along the crest makes for great views but no water. I took a side trail down to Ash Meadow to fill up at a spring and found that this high-elevation wetland, above 10,000 feet, had been trampled and polluted by livestock. Cowpies were everywhere! I had no choice but to filter the water and live with it but I was not a happy camper. Besides being the PCT hiker's only source of water for the day, this meadow is also habitat for the endangered willow flycatcher, a bird that reflects the health of riparian areas. (Later in Bishop I left a written comment for the Forest Service: I do not oppose cattle grazing on national forest land, even in designated wilderness, but they should not be allowed in these fragile, high-elevation meadows. In response the Forest Service promised they would conduct a field inspection of Ash Meadow to determine if grazing violated their environmental
standards and, if so, they would reduce grazing there to allow the meadow to recover.)
At dusk later in the day I met two young women having supper along the trail, both from British Columbia as it turned out. To my amazement they recognized me and even remembered my trail name -- Lorax. They reminded me we had last met in Southern CA outside Warner Springs when I had corrected them for hiking south when they meant to go north. Their trail names were Bomber and Two-stroke. Their original plan was to hike continuously north from the Mexican border but due to the heavy snowpack in the Sierra Nevada they had "flip-flopped," that is, they had gone to the OR border and were hiking south to Kennedy Meadows to finish the PCT through CA. They were the first of a number of flip-floppers I passed.
The trail got higher and wilder. As the PCT climbed past Trail Mountain I could find no flat spot at twilight and set up my tent right on the footpath, like I did once in S. CA. A very exciting moment was when I reached Cottonwood Pass, 11,160 feet, regarded as the beginning of the "High Sierras," the section of the mountain range where past glaciation is constantly evident. In fact, in less than a mile the PCT passed its first alpine lake going north -- Chicken Spring Lake, set at the base of a massive granite cirque.
Cottonwood Pass also marked a big personal milestone. In 1974, during a year off from law school, I did a long, long backpack in the Southern Sierra and picked up the PCT at this point and followed it north for about forty miles. At the time I was stunned by the gorgeous scenery and for over thirty years have wanted to hike it again. At long last here was my chance!
Many travellers also start on the PCT at Cottonwood Pass due to access from a trailhead reached by road from Lone Pine, a town in the Owens Valley. From this point on I saw horse and mule trains on a regular basis (riders on horseback.)
The PCT soon entered Sequoia-Kings Canyon National Park, leaving the Golden Trout Wilderness. Distant mountain ranges sprung up on the horizon and rugged canyons opened up below. Wow! The trail gently descended to the Siberian Outpost, where I camped in an open forest of lodgepole and foxtail pines. Black-tailed deer grazed nearby.
Continuing the descent the next day towards Rock Creek I met two more hikers who recognized me from S. CA -- Kevin and Julie, a young couple I got to know during a zero day at Warner Springs. Check out their blog at http://pctadventure.blogspirit.com. I also stopped and socialized with Dave Yemm, a National Park ranger directing a trail reconstruction through a wet meadow. In the week ahead I met a number of trail workers and park rangers patrolling the backcountry -- in sharp contrast to the Forest Service.
LOST CAMERA -- Rock Creek was the first major, high-elevation alpine stream of my PCT trek. It was fast, loaded with boulders, full of cold, cold water -- and very beautiful. I could see trout feeding in the quiet pools and the banks were filled with birdsong. Wanting the perfect picture, I crawled out onto a log over the creek and began to compose an action shot upstream of the rushing waters. I was about to push the button when the log broke, dropping me into the frigid creek below! I lost my hold on the camera and it was gone in a second in the turbulent current. I rushed down the creek hoping the camera would catch in a log or a rock but it was gone, along with about twenty pictures. Only when I got out to dry off did I realize I was fortunate not to have been injured in the fall. As a result I have had to use photos for the remainder of this entry from other sources.
The next day, as I descended from Guyot Pass I was cheered up by spacious views west of the Mineral King area, marked by the massive, triangular Sawtooth Peak. It made me remember vividly a key reason why I had come here as a youth. Back in the early 1970's the Forest Service had granted a permit to the Disney Corporation to build a giant ski resort in the remote Mineral King Valley. Seeking to preserve this wildland the Sierra Club sued all the way to the Supreme Court to block the project, losing in a famous decision that trees do not have standing to sue. I wanted to see the controversial valley for myself and after backpacking through it was convinced that it should be saved. The happy ending is that Congress in 1978 transferred Mineral King to the National Park Service, as a part of Sequoia-Kings Canyon NP, which has kept it pristine!
The PCT next descended into Crabtree Meadow, with awesome views east of the giant wall of mountains that included Mount Whitney, Mount Russell and Mount Hitchcock. From here many thru-hikers take a side trip up to Guitar Lake, beyond to the crest of the range and then north past Mount Muir to the peak of Whitney at 14,491 feet. At the top is a stone cabin for emergency shelter (peak of Mt. Whitney.) I was facing a climb to the highest point on the PCT in a few miles so I decided to put off the ascent of Mt Whitney. I'd love to come back and do it from the east side out of Lone Pine, better rested and with a much lighter pack.
While at Crabtree Meadow I chatted with a park ranger who warned me about "rogue" bears in the section ahead who raided hikers' food. I felt secure with my Garcia plastic food cannister that bears cannot open, although I was very much hoping for a sighting of a black bear -- "ursus americanus," as the textbooks call them (black bear.) While I did not see one on this trip I did come across two or three piles of bear scat colored red with berries along the trail going down Kearsarge Pass.
The PCT rose in stages to the windswept Bighorn Plateau, the first section of this trip above timberline. The area is named after the Bighorn Sheep that have established a herd nearby. The views are spectacular in all directions, especially looking across to the the Great Western Divide. I was also amused with three or four sightings of yellow-bellied marmots -- about the size of plump woodchucks. In fact, they are the largest member of the rodent family in North America. They would sit on their hind legs and wiggle their noses at me as I hiked past!
The trail dropped back into the forest for a ford of Tyndall Creek and then began what I knew would be the hardest ascent of my PCT trek -- the climb up and over Forester Pass, at 13,180 feet the highest point on the entire PCT. The term "pass" is not exactly accurate. For the hiker going north, like me, it is basically a straight wall of granite with a notch at the top. In fact, the switchbacks going up were blasted out of solid rock. In the photo, you can see the notch in the top center of the wall (Forester Pass.)
I decided I would hike up as far as I could and camp at the base of the wall. The route wound up and up across a barren landscape and finally reached two lakes at the bottom of the wall. This was the highest I'd ever camped -- at 12,400 feet -- with no windbreak to be found. Fortunately the evening was pleasant, with no wind, even balmy. The sunset made the circle of giant mountains around me blaze with the color of fire.
The ascent up the wall the next day was thrilling. The trail was all granite -- no trees, no creeks, no bushes -- only a tongue of snow at the top to aim for. In the sections blasted out of the mountain the PCT was also narrow, only three feet wide in places. I felt like Spiderman climbing up a building; with each step the vista to the south opened up to reveal lakes and mountains far to the horizon (view from Forester Pass.) Near the top the trail crossed just below the tongue of snow and then wound around above it to the Pass. I struggled up and sat down on the narrow ledge next to the sign for the Pass and soaked in the views in both directions, feeling the joy of the fellow in this picture (hiker at Forester Pass.) It was hard to believe that at over 13,000 feet I was still looking UP at mountains in all directions.
The descent was equally spectacular, with rugged peaks and valleys everywhere. Below timberline, after endless switchbacks, I enjoyed the roaring cascades of Bubbs Creek and was happy to camp in the company of pines and mosses once more. Especially stunning at sunset were the rosy, church-like columns of Kearsarge Pinnacles high above me. It's no wonder John Muir felt the presence of God in this "Range of Light." The trail dropped down and down to Vidette Meadows, with its giant Jeffrey pines and warm breezes. From a granite stronghold to a lush, old-growth forest, I had sampled a pristine cross-section of the Sierra Nevada in only a few miles.
I soon came to the side trail to Kearsarge Pass and the town of Independence beyond it, where I would resupply. This section of the PCT is so remote it would be a nine-mile side-trip over a 12,000 foot pass just to get to the nearest road. The side trail went past beautiful Bullfrog Lake and then began a steady stair-step towards the pass. I followed the approach from last time and hiked as far up as I could by the end of the day, again camping above timberline. At sunset a predatory hawk or falcon swooped down on a flock of songbirds and caused a loud outburst of alarm calls; the drama of life and death goes on, even in the most beautiful of settings.
I woke up the next day almost tasting the fresh turkey sandwiches and ice cream awaiting me in town. To my amazement I got up and over the rocky pass with very few breaks and was heading downhill by 9:30 towards the trailhead at Onion Valley. Long descents are always fun and scenic and this one had lakes, waterfalls and granite ridges to enjoy. The trail left the park and passed briefly through the John Muir Wilderness before reaching the road.
By a stroke of good fortune I flagged down a ride from a couple leaving about when I arrived and was dropped off at my motel in town within the hour. Independence is a small and sleepy town, without a stoplight, even through it's the county seat of Inyo County. As I checked in, I could hear the story on their TV of Hurricane Katrina blasting away at the Superdome. Welcome back to civilization, I thought.
In fact, it did turn out to be a tough return. I learned without hours that a close friend had just been diagnosed with advanced cancer and was soon to undergo a major operation. I decided to go back to the Bay area and help out as best I could. So, the next day I took a local bus to the town of Bishop, rented a car and headed off.
The good news is that the operation went well and that prospects are good for her recovery. The beauty and the peace of my mountain adventure also gave me an inner calm that assisted me in helping those in need and in getting through the stress of this crisis with my own serenity intact.
I expect to get back on the PCT for another long stretch by late Spetember or early October. My experience with this medical emergency also makes me appreciate more than ever how precious are these times when we can celebrate life and nature to the fullest.
posted by peterkirby at
5:16 PM
