Thick heavy storm clouds welcomed me back as I approached the Sierras, and unfamiliar sight in California. I was driving back to the trail after leading a two week expedition in the Boundary Waters, Minnesota. It was an incredible trip, but I was excited to get back to the trail. I returned the rental car and shuttled to a hostel in Mammoth City, ready for a relaxing evening after taking eight different means of transportation between the two states.
It seemed I had the hostel all to myself. On occasion I saw a person pop between rooms, but other than that it was quiet. The trip had set me back so much that I was now at the back of the pack, where there would be very few thruhikers. Most of them would have passed through already. The bubble I was with was over 300 miles ahead at this point. I was prepared to be hiking alone for a while.
Devils Postpile
Almost immediately after getting back on trail, I found myself taking a side trip to Rainbow Falls, then Devils Postpile. Both were incredible. As the afternoon wore on, clouds started building, and rain threatened to soak me as thunder rolled around overhead. Although it was only 4:00, I decided to call it a day and made camp by a creek. I had barely set up my tent when it started to rain, and I lay contently listening to the rain patter outside before falling asleep.
I had been making good timing all day when I heard rumble in the distance. I looked around, inspecting the clouds. Another storm was closing in. I couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from, or where it was going. All I knew is that I was headed for an exposed pass as a storm was in the works. Unwilling to loose time, I scurried up the hill as far as I safely could, and waited in a grove of trees for the storm to pass. An hour later the thunder seemed to be fading away, so I moved on, picking my way through boulders on the lifeless hill. I eyed the dark clouds still swirling around the mountain peak and realized I may have made a mistake; I maybe should have waited in safety longer. There was no thunder, so that encouraged me to keep on climbing. Still, I went as fast as I could to get up and over the pass, huffing and puffing in the thin air.
Smoke was pouring over a nearby pass, evidence of a fire in West Yosemite. I took a moment to catch my breath at the top, then headed down. I couldn’t see far through the heavy smoke and dark sky. Surrounding mountains were shadows and the forest below was just a swirling gray mass. I knew the fire wasn’t a threat, but I would have to breath in the smoke until I passed through the area. I dipped my buff in a nearby stream to cover my nose and mouth and use it as a sort of air filter. I wasn't sure if it really helped, but I thought that’s what they say to do, right? Plus, it made me feel like a ninja.
With ninja-like speed I hurried down the mountain. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten without the sun to guide me, but I wanted to push as far as a could downhill to get under the smoke. My theory was that because smoke rises, it would thin as I got lower. However, I couldn’t tell a difference when I finally stopped by a river to camp. The trees were still fuzzy and the smoky smell still hung in the air. I crawled in my tent as a few drops of rain started to fall and thunder started up again, the storm unwilling to move on.
Smoke, storms, hills.. the PCT was welcoming me back by giving me all its got.
The wind had shifted overnight and the air was clear as I made my way past a misty meadow. The trail was flat and beautiful. As I approached Tuolemene Meadows, I started to see more day hikers and weekenders. Those were the only kinds of people I saw since coming back on trail; other thruhikers were few and far between. A ranger stopped me to check my permit and bear canister and ask a ton of questions. I patiently responded, but I was itching to get moving again. There was a small store and restaurant a mile ahead, and my stomach was grumbling. Finally she let me go and I raced toward a parking lot. I was so excited for civilization I missed the trail cutoff and ended up walking a longer route on the road to the store. Soon I found myself at a picknick table amongst cars and tourists. I dug into a burrito, a burger, and ice cream before heading off again.
I took a quick detour to soda springs; clear water bubbled out of the ground to resemble soda. It made me thirsty. Thunder rolled overhead again, as if on que. It seemed like I could tell the time by the mid-afternoon storms. The lightning got relatively close this time, but as I was hiking in a safe area I could keep going. I moved through meadows, rocks, and pine forests, passing clear creeks, massive waterfalls, and towering rocks. Smoke had rolled in with the clouds, so everything had a hazy filter, and mountains were mere shadows in the distance.
Tuolumne Falls
I hiked until I found a nice spot to camp on a gentle cliff and ate dinner as the sky turned red and orange.
A stream crossing first thing in the morning. I started to cross twice on two separate routes and decided I didn’t like the looks of the rest of the way, so I turned around. I scouted upstream. Again, I got halfway across and got stuck. I stood on a large rock, water rushing all around me and stared at my options. All of them involved high chances of getting wet. A guy stood on the shore, watching me as he brushed his teeth, noting what I did. I turned back again, and went to one of the first crossings I had attempted. I was wasting much time on this, all to keep my feet dry. I made it halfway across, then got ready for a big step. My right foot plunged into the water and I sunk in thigh-deep. In a moment I decided to get my left foot wet as well in order to right myself. I felt the cold water seep through my boot. No use rock-hopping anymore. I trudged out of the water, glad the toothbrushing guy had wondered back to his tent and not seen anything.
I split the day into 5 mile chunks. It was the only way I would be able to mentally make it through. 5 miles. Rest by a lake and dry out. 5 miles. Stop by a creek for lunch and finish drying. 5 miles. Another lake. I watched the clouds build. There would be another storm. 5 miles. The day dragged on. Aside from toothbrush guy this morning, I had seen no one all day. I felt like I was the only person in the world. I took a brief break at the bottom of the last hill of the day. A ranger approached from a side trail, requesting to see my permit and bear canister. Before departing he recommended checking out Benson Lake. Most PCT hikers said it was their favorite lake in all the Sierras. I looked at my guide. It was .4 off trail, but there were raving reviews. Fine, I decided, I would go check it out.
As I ate crackers on the sandy beach and watched the sky darken to the music of the familiar thunder beats, I decided to stay. I could make up the miles tomorrow. I crawled in my tent as the rain started to fall gently. The storm quickly built up. A huge blast of lightning and thunder cracked directly overhead, and then it was silent.
Smoke had settled in the morning air. I passed the 1000 mile marker, but the accomplishment didn’t seem as crazy as it had on the AT. My lungs and throat burned from the smoke as I climbed up Sanora Pass, the last pass before exiting the Sierras. The land changed dramatically throughout the day, from jagged snow-peaked granite mountains to rough heaps of loose lava rock. Each turn held a new treasure. Multi-colored rock folding and twisting over itself, turquoise pools nestled in the igneous valleys, or green, rolling mountains, dotted and streaked with golds and browns.
Up and over Sanora Pass
Transitioning landscapes
I caught a ride with some dayhikers down to Kennedy Meadows North where I resupplied in their well-stocked camp store. I found a few other thruhikers legally loitering out back, and happily joined them. It seemed I had finally caught up to a small bubble of hikers, and I hoped I would no longer be constantly alone. We were made for community, and I was happy to find community again, if only for a short while. I knew I would probably be putting in bigger mile days than most of them to make up for lost time, but for the time being, I would get to know a few of them.
Once I got back on trail, I turned my back to the Sierras and headed off into Northern California territory, hoping for milder terrain and longer days.
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