Sierra Odyssey

Day 4

Saturday, July 19.  Lyell Base Camp.  10,300 feet.  6.5 miles.

Saturday.  I didn't realize it until I wrote it here.  People are mowing their lawns, washing their cars, taking their kids to soccer games and watching baseball on TV.  That all seems so distant, almost otherworldly, in this mountain setting.

Once again, I couldn't bring myself  to wake Drew from his well-earned sleep.  So, once again, we got a late start.  No complaints from me though.  I enjoyed watching the morning sun slowly light Lyell Canyon while sitting in my camp chair sipping hot chocolate.  These are the reasons we backpack - a moment of quiet luxury surrounded by pristine beauty.  I also had a chance to dry our still-wet boots and socks. 

In the morning we continued our level walk along the Lyell Fork of the Tuolumne River.  We followed the canyon's long gradual right turn until glacier-cloaked Mt. Lyell and Mt. Maclure came into view.  Here the gentle valley ends abruptly, and after a brief lunch break, we began to climb in earnest toward Donohue Pass 2,000 feet above.

The day had dawned bright, but as we climbed, the clouds began to dominate.  We stopped to talk to a northbound backcountry ranger.  He said the weather report was the same as yesterday:  30% chance of rain.  "It all depends on where you are," he said.

The climb was a pleasant surprise.  I was no longer 53, I was 30, easily gobbling up the trail.  Am I rounding the corner toward fitness?

The gathering clouds made for cool temperatures and ideal walking conditions, but the sky was continually darkening.  Drops began to fall.  We caught up with two southbound hikers and exchanged the usual trail pleasantries and weather talk.   They chose to wait out the rain there while we said we would push on.  I hadn't walked ten paces when lightning flashed and thunder rumbled close by.  I glanced back to our two new friends.  We wordlessly exchanged, "Uh oh, here we go" smiles.

Drew and I put on our rain gear and pushed on.  The rain was modest and there was plenty of tree cover, so the going was tolerable. 

We emerged from the trees here at Lyell Base Camp, a beautiful but overused site.  Despite having walked only 6 miles or so, we are staying here for the night.  Going any higher is impractical.  We are near timberline, and I don't want to be in high open country when lightning is in the area.  Tree cover and adequate campsites will be rare above here.

It's raining.  Drew is fishing while I take refuge in the tent.  We share this popular site with others stranded by the weather.  It is a beautiful setting:  a roaring cascade feeds a lakelet bounded by a meadow lavishly decorated with paintbrushes, shooting stars, red heather, white heather and elephant's heads.  Above are Mt. Lyell and Mt. Maclure.  Surging power, delicate beauty and mighty strength visible in one frame right before us.

Drew and I planned on being here yesterday.  We are meeting Renee and Vanessa in three days at Red's Meadow for a resupply, so we cannot be late.  We are making up the time by foregoing our plan to take a day and climb Mt. Lyell.  The weather precludes it anyway.  We met two hikers heading down earlier today who had come to climb Mt. Lyell and were turned back by the rain.

Ernest Hemingway is back from his fishing expedition.  I had better assemble the kitchen and "Just Add Water" to our dinner.  Light is fading and there is still housework to do.

Day 5

Sunday, July 20.  Thousand Island Lake.  6 1/2 miles.  9,880 feet.

The time of year a person chooses to walk in the Sierra involves some fundamental trade-offs.  Early or mid-season, visitors like us enjoy the fresh wildflower display - a variety of penstemons, a couple heathers, Leopard lilies, paintbrushes, Monkshoods, delphinium and on and on.  Breathtaking beauty.  The price one pays is mosquitoes, and we are growing damn weary of them.

Drew and I have pitched camp here in a beautiful spot just above Thousand Island Lake.  The view over the lake to Mt. Ritter and Banner Peak - a classic Sierra Vista - is spectacular.  The island-studded lake looks like the creation of a Japanese landscape architect - too perfect to be natural - with gardens of granite and wind-sculpted whitebark pines.  But the cloud of mosquitoes that constantly surrounds each of us almost spoils our enjoyment of this site.  We chose this spot above the lake and away from a running stream to lessen their impact, but to no avail.  Our only defense is to pickle ourselves in DEET that keeps the swarm from landing.  It is tiresome and annoying.  So far, the only relief is at the highest elevations, above the meadows and streams.

After signing off last night, while Drew and I were in our bags writing and sketching, Drew got frustrated and down for the first time on the trip.  Drew takes some regular medications for ADD and depression.  He has noticed that a side effect of the drugs is the loss of his creative energy - a high price for a boy who was born a gifted artist and used to draw constantly.  He has been trying to draw and just can't.  He was frustrated to the point of despondency.  "I feel soulless," he told me, "I have no passion for anything."

We talked about stopping medication and discussed homeopathy.  "What about the 'lows' that the drugs fend off?" I asked him.  He said he would gladly endure the lows in order to relight the fire inside.

Drew rarely opens up and I was pleased at such a substantial talk, but seeing his pain and dealing with the frustration and futility of being a parent wanting to make things right is, and has been, hard for Renee and me.

Last night's dismal weather passed by and this morning dawned bright and clear.  The beautiful setting at Lyell Base Camp is even more impressive lit up by the sun.  Sleepy Drew Van Winkle and photo opportunities delayed our start until a shameful 10:00 once again.

The first mile or two was a steady climb to Donohue Pass at 11,000 feet.  With the help of a little Diamox, we were fresh, strong climbers the whole way.  The climb is above timberline on open granite past cascades and lakelets fed by Lyell Glacier.  Mt. Lyell and Mt. Maclure were an impressive backdrop.

At Donohue Pass, we lunched and looked across the Rush Creek drainage to gentle Island Pass a few mile south.  The short portion of the trail between Donohue Pass and Island Pass is the only place the John Muir Trail crosses the Sierra crest onto the east side.

To my eye, the area just south of Donohue Pass is supremely beautiful.  Though barren and treeless, it has the feel of an expansive friendly countryside rather than indifferent wilderness - cascading creeks, glacial pools, and short grass meadows. 

A brief climb to Island Pass brought is to one of the classic Sierra views.  Here Banner Peak and Mt. Ritter are first revealed in their full splendor to the southbound hiker.  Wow.  In the foreground, prime Sierra lakelets, granite outcroppings and twisted whitebark pines completed the postcard.

Here in camp, the sum effect of heat, mosquitoes and fatigue are sapping our enthusiasm.  The housekeeping chores of backpacking; getting water, cooking, washing dishes, personal hygiene, setting up the tent, properly storing food and equipment for the evening seem tedious and endless.  Where is the communing with nature part?  It seems like we do endless chores, then hide in a nylon casket to avoid mosquitoes or rain.

Tonight we are eighteen miles from Red's Meadow where we will meet Renee and Vanessa for resupply.  Our plan had called for walking most of the way there tomorrow and getting an early start the following day in order to meet them around noon.  Drew and I have decided we will start  very early and hike all the way to Red's Meadow tomorrow.  Restaurant food and showers are available there, and it would be nice to linger there and awaken at our rendezvous point.  I'll need a stick of dynamite to wake Drew before sunrise. 

Five days into this adventure, Drew and I are getting along very well.  At home, the main job of the parent of a teenager seems to be setting unwelcome limits and enforcing rules.  Will the constant and inescapable father/son intimacy of this trip exacerbate the tension that comes with battling over boundaries at home, or will we unite to achieve our simple common goal and deal with our common difficulties?  We are 10,000-feet above and two hundred miles away from the things we battle over at home.  No father and son here.  Just two smelly tired guys dealing with bugs, rain, and discussing whether or not to hike all the way to Red's Meadow tomorrow.  So far, it seems we have left behind the difficult feelings that sometimes attend those home battles.  So far.  So far.

Cumulus clouds all day and thunder in the distance, but no rain on us.  Glad to see it was 30% chance of rain somewhere else.  Hope that the stormy weather has all passed.  The tent is up but only for bug protection.

Drew has trouble falling asleep at night.  Reading aloud to him is effective anesthesia.  Reading aloud to my eighteen-year old son - this is great stuff. 

Day 6

Monday, July 21.  Red's Meadow.  7,950 feet.  18 1/2 miles.

Up at 4:00 AM, I began stuffing dew-wet sleeping bags and tents into their respective sacks while hollering wakefulness into a reluctant Drew.  But there was special compensation watching the birth of this crystalline day over Thousand Island Lake and Ritter and Banner.

By 5:00 we were underway hoping to cover most of today's long walk while the day was cool and our bodies were fresh.  Only a handful of the brightest stars remained as the eastern horizon hinted at daybreak.  We had camped midway down the shore of Thousand Island Lake some distance from the John Muir Trail that touches the lake only at its outlet.  Walking along the lake's edge, we watched the day begin.  Slate gray light in the east began to warm to an orange hue.  We walked, stopped, looked, and photographed Banner and Ritter, their aspect changing moment to moment above the peaceful lake.  Not a breath of wind.  It was like the first morning ever.

We walked a full hour along the lakeshore to reach the trail.  After crossing the lake's outlet, we quickly began climbing the divide that separates Thousand Island Lake from Garnet Lake.  The sun was now up but the day was still new and fresh.  Garnet Lake was breathtaking - a mirror reflecting Banner and Ritter from a new angle.

Climb a ridge, descend to a lake was the repeating pattern until a forest of red firs closed in and we began a steady ten mile descent toward Red's Meadow.

Early on, we both felt strong.  I followed Drew and admired his aggressive strides.  No ballerina, Drew takes a big bite of trail with each step and plants his boot with youthful strength and purpose.

I felt a diluted version of Drew's strength in the morning, but half way through the day, our energy waned.  We were both footsore - our soles getting hotter and more tender with each descending, pounding step.  Aching shoulders and hips, fatigue, and heat poisoned our mood.

We became downright angry as we approached Devil's Postpile near our destination.  The trail was deep loose sand, multiplying the effort of every step.  Why doesn't the trail drop down to firm footing along the South Fork of the San Joaquin River a few hundred feet below us instead of needlessly climbing higher above the river we knew we would ultimately join?

Drew began hobbling from foot pain, and I developed a blister from a bunching patch of moleskin I had put on my heel to prevent a blister.  The sandy footing, the heat, our soreness and fatigue, the purposeless aspect of the trail all created a frustration that crescendoed when we couldn't find the short trail spur to Red's Meadow.  The maze of unsigned trail intersections gave no hint of which way to go.  It's right here somewhere, but where?

Finally, a day hiker pointed the way and we were there.  We dropped our packs and guzzled Gatorade from the general store.  Then over to the restaurant.  We apologized for our appearance, but the waitress was unconcerned.  After a double cheeseburger, tuna melt, and a vanilla shake our spirits rose and our disgruntled mood passed.

Now, we're here at backpacker camp, a $5 a night designated site here at Red's Meadow.  We took a long hot shower in water from a local hot spring.  A good meal and a hot shower have lifted our spirits, eased our pains, and restored our enthusiasm.

This is the kind of evening I had hoped for on this trip - reclining in my camp chair, under the stars.  Good weather and no bugs.  This will be our first night out of the tent and under the stars.

We chatted with other John Muir Trail hikers here at this campground.  Two men from Scotland are doing the trail together, and an English woman is doing the trail solo.  Bravo!  All three of these people are middle aged, not spring chickens.  Folks like this renew one's faith in our species.  The fact that they have come so far to walk this trail reminds those of us who live nearby what a special place this is.

Drew and I are like children on Christmas Eve anticipating the arrival of Renee and Vanessa tomorrow.  Beautiful familiar faces will remind us that we have a loving family and a soft cozy home waiting when we return. 

More than eighteen miles today.  No wonder it hurt.