Sierra Odyssey

Day 2

Thursday, July 17.  Cathedral Lake.  11.5 miles.  9,585 ft.

These mountains are beating us up.  The heavy load and steep terrain took their toll again today.

After finishing my entry last night, we were visited by the two other "crazy" bears that the ranger had told us about.  In the dark, they were quite close to us before we noticed them.  Thrashing into action (Where are my glasses?  Get the flashlight.), we spooked the bears to a safe distance where they glanced back in frustration. Four green retinas eerily reflected our flashlight back at us, one pair higher than the other.  I threw a couple of rocks harder than Drew thought appropriate, but I wanted the locals to know that they were not welcome here.  One stone elicited a pathetic bear-ouch sound and off they went.

When we shouldered our packs this morning, our tender hipbones and shoulders reminded us how much we had relied on them yesterday.  But the early going was shaded and moderate - a night's sleep and two meals had restored our strength.  We felt fresh and strong along the mostly flat upper reaches of Sunrise Creek, which offered occasional dramatic views across the Merced River drainage to Mt. Clark and the Yosemite high country.

Sunrise Creek dwindled as we rose to its source.  Here the shoulder of Sunrise Mountain steepened dramatically and we climbed from 8,000 feet to 9,600 feet in a mile or so.  Drew had no problems with the climb while I struggled, stopping often.  But Drew was the perfect companion, letting me think that my plodding pace was his preference.

After a pleasant flat mile beyond the climb, our finest view so far opened in front of us.  Rousing us from our plodding stupor, the forest unexpectedly opened and the land ahead dropped away revealing the sweeping reach of the Cathedral Range.  A half-mile directly ahead, peaceful Long Meadow served as a striking foreground and contrast to jagged Cathedral Peak beyond.

Some photos and a snack later, we dropped down into the meadow.  The views in every direction were stunning:  the lush meadow delicately intruded by a lazily twisting creek; the peaks beyond.  It was an Eden-like setting spoiled only by swarms of mosquitoes.

Our energy was renewed by the views and the level going.  Drew was anxious to fish and therefore adamant about reaching Cathedral Lake.  I wasn't sure I had the stamina to make it, knowing that we still had to cross Cathedral Pass.

Passing under Columbia Finger, we reached our high point of  10,000 feet just before we crossed Cathedral Pass.  After nine miles, I was still struggling while Drew felt strong except for tender hipbones.  I told him to go on ahead so he could start fishing.  Off he went.

At Cathedral Pass, the view of Cathedral Peak is spectacular  From there, the trail crosses, then drops down two large steps to Cathedral Lake.  The tread of each step is a half-mile meadow with Cathedral Peak always the dramatic backdrop.

We chose a campsite well above the lake for privacy and for refuge from the mosquitoes, which are bad everywhere but unbearable near water.  While Drew fished, I bathed and washed clothes on a sun-splashed granite slab beneath a gentle cascade of snowmelt. 

Drew returned empty handed from fishing just as dinner was ready.  He could only get down two bites before he was down on all fours vomiting.  Oddly, we have reversed roles.  I fell renewed, but today's effort had obviously taken its toll on Drew.  Perhaps the sprint to the lake at the end of the day did it.  Poor kid.

There is nothing to do but make him comfortable.  I rolled out his bag, made him some lemonade and told him to rest while I went looking for a place to photograph Cathedral peak in the evening light.

When I returned, Drew had set up the tent to escape the mosquitoes. He had vomited again.  A good night's rest and he'll be as good as new.

Good night.    

Day 3

Friday, July 18.  Lyell Canyon, 1/2 mile before the junction to Ireland Lake.  11 1/2 miles.  8,800 ft.

Writing these entries at the end of a long day is a chore.  The burdened walking strips me of the will and turns my brain to mush.  Already, the day seems like a jumble of snapshots that I can't reassemble into the day's sequence of events.

I awoke at 6:00 as usual and decided to let Drew sleep in.  Since he was sick last night and I didn't feel much better, I felt the rest would do both of us some good.

By 10:00, we were on the trail.  In a reversal of yesterday's pattern, we began the day feeling poorly though the going was easy.  The first four miles of the trail work around the base of Cathedral Peak and then drop 1,000 feet to Tuolumne Meadows.  Over the easiest terrain we have walked, I felt the worst.  A searing pain knifed through my back - my load seemed huge.  The continuing heat and the loose footing on the sandy glacial moraine were aggravating, but it was not enough to explain my difficulty over such easy going.

Tuolumne Meadows is one of only two places where a road intersects the John Muir Trail.  But we were delighted to reach it because we knew the Mountain Grill was there.  A couple of burgers, sodas and shakes revived our bodies and spirits.  We bought a few items at the general store next door (ibuprofen for the back, more insect repellent).  Clouds enclosed the sky and rain began to fall.  Typical afternoon thundershowers in the Sierra are short lived, but this one persisted.

Drew and I debated our options.  Considering the weather and how poorly we felt, should we call it a day in order to rest up and wait out the weather?  Or should we venture into the rain - an unwelcome prospect.  Convinced that the rain would soon pass, we donned our rain gear and walked through the Tuolumne Meadows campground looking for the point where the trail picked up again.

Now it was pouring.  Lightning and almost simultaneous thunder rattled the campground restroom we ducked into.  What the hell, let's go.

We entered Lyell Canyon through a steady rain and enjoyed the best walking on the trip thus far.  A full belly, cool temperatures, firm footing and easy going more than compensated for the rain which itself invigorated and energized us.  Drew's feet got soaked in his new Gore-Tex boots while mine were bone dry in silicon-treated non-Gore-Tex boots.  I should have treated Drew's boots.  What is the Gore-Tex for?

Lyell Canyon is a ten-mile long valley that divides the Kuna Crest from the Clark Range.  Its entire length is a broad meadow dotted with lodgepole pines and bisected by the Lyell fork of the Tuolumne River.  Here, the river meanders peacefully, gathering strength for the drama in the canyons below Tuolumne Meadows.

On a granite outcrop by a stunted lodgepole growing from a crack, I looked into a quiet pool and saw, even in the dingy light, every luminous shade of blue and green.  Just upstream, the river broadened a moment and rushed over a uniform granite slab in a thin glassy sheet, churned briefly below and then rested into the pool by which I stood.  All the moods in Lyell Canyon are peaceful.

Somehow, the rain refreshed us and dissolved the pains in our feet, hips, shoulders and backs.  Add to this the glorious setting, and we were exultant.

Five miles down the canyon we decided to pitch camp.  Drew could no longer resist walking by the promising fishing spots.  The rain had stopped, but the sky still threatened.

I could see Drew fishing below me while I set up camp.  I finally responded to his constant calls to come witness his fish-every-cast luck.  What a transformation there has been in him.  The confounding teenage Drew that inhabits the lowlands has been replaced here by a model companion.  He is considerate, determined, proud, helpful, and a source of encouragement when things are grim.  Last night,  when he was sick, he didn't complain; he was only sorry.  Earlier this evening, I was frustrated when some silly things got to me.  Drew spoke up in a constructive way, "Dad, I know I'm the worst, and I hate it when people say this to me when I'm frustrated, but...," and he proceeded to tell me exactly the right thing in the right way to adjust my attitude.

Recently, at home, there have been many reasons to wonder whether Drew has lost his way.  We have faced serious confounding issues.  But here, our uncluttered life of just walking is revealing the solid core in Drew that my wife and I worried was lost.  Between Drew and I, he is often the more grown-up.