Sierra Odyssey

Days 13 and 14

Monday, July 28 and Tuesday, July 29.  Le Conte Canyon.  8,700 feet.  14 miles.

Yesterday was all I hoped this trip would be as well as a continuation of what it has been.

We woke early at Evolution Lake.  We were camped in a community of weather weary backpackers who all seemed to be here more due to weather conditions than choice.  However, the compensation is that this lake is, I think, the most beautiful on the trail.  The curling shoreline, the small just-so islands, the wind-sculpted whitebark pines that manage a living in the cracks of this glacier-raked granite.  All warmed in soft morning light.

We walked through a crystal clear morning to Muir Pass - perfect walking and so far, the most memorable part of this trip.  By 8:00, we were on our way.  We are now both feeling fit and strong, so we enjoyed the manageable gradient past Evolution Lake, Wanda Lake up to the Muir Hut at the summit of Muir Pass.  The morning was glorious, perfect weather.  The surrounding peaks, the crystalline lakes and the perfect cascades connecting them - all combined to make a magical scene for two rain weary walkers.  We stopped at Wanda Lake (named for one of Muir's daughters) for a snack, some photos, and frog watching.  All alone at Muir Hut atop the pass, we made entries in the register and started down the other side.

Several times on this trip I have noticed that on the south side of the passes, the terrain is far tougher than the north from which we have come.  Silver Pass down to Mono Creek, Selden Pass to the South Fork of the San Joaquin River - Drew and I agreed that both would be horrible to climb.  The descent from Muir Pass to here, Le Conte Canyon, at the junction of the John Muir Trail and the Dusy Basin/Bishop Pass Trail was likewise relentless.  I was glad to be descending.

The summit of Muir Pass marked the daily decline in the weather.  Once again, I hoped the gathering clouds were just mountain fluffies blowing innocently by.  Drew and I stopped and cooked a hot lunch just beyond the pass.  As we were packing to leave, one of our constant companions, thunder, gave notice that something serious was brewing.

Having crossed the pass, we vowed to walk through whatever might come.  What came was a repeat of yesterday's torrential hailstorm.  Hailstones were big enough and came hard enough to be uncomfortable on our heads.  But we walked through it - five miles or so - to here.  Eventually, the hail turned to rain, but the intensity did not abate.

So, here we are a day early.  We had set aside a day to climb Mt. Goddard, but as with Mt. Lyell earlier, weather has ruled that out.  This morning, our first in Le Conte Canyon, dawned cloudy robbing us of the hopefulness that came with past clear mornings.  The additional day here will be a nice opportunity to wash clothes, bodies and just rest.

Our physical state is good.  Drew is strong - no foot or boot issues - only soreness where his pack rests on his shoulders and hips.  Even then, those complaints are occasional and faint.  We've noted that each of us appears to be losing weight, but we eat all we can.

The effects of my Bridalveil Falls tumble persist but ease.  My left little toe is still twice the size of my right one.  My left foot is still swollen, as are both of my knees, but remarkably these things don't seem to hamper performance.  Though our strength grows, I do notice that late in the day, my walking gets sloppier and full attention must be given to each step.

My new internal frame pack with its more contoured carrying system has been a joy to carry.  It virtually eliminates the raw, highly tender pressure points I experienced with my old external frame pack.

Tomorrow we meet Peter for a resupply.  He will leave from the trailhead at South Lake and meet us in Dusy Basin just this side of Bishop Pass at noon.  Will he be there?  Will it hail or rain or thunder and lightning when we meet?  Is he prepared for that?

The weather is at the center of all we do and any logistical consideration.  How long can it last?  It is uncanny - almost unbelievable.  So un-Sierra-like.  It can't last.  It can't last.

Day 15

Wednesday,  July 30.  Palisade Creek, a mile above Le Conte Canyon.  8,400 feet.  5 1/2 miles from last camp.  17 mile day including resupply side trip.

I have enjoyed nothing on this trip more than reading to Drew in the evenings.  Up here, after a long day of walking, when dinner is done, and the sun sets, it's bedtime.  Drew has always had trouble falling asleep, and reading to him these evenings has helped him drift off.  He says repeatedly that he enjoys it.  So, last night, as always, we crawled into our bags, and I finished reading Leslie Marmon Silko's Ceremony by the light of my head lamp.  Drew was anxious to hear the ending.  Reading your 18 year-old son to sleep - great stuff.

Meanwhile, I fell asleep worrying about how bad weather predicted for today might affect our rendezvous for resupply.  Dusy Basin, our meeting spot, is just below 12,000 foot Bishop Pass - open and exposed - not a safe place in a mountain storm.  Would we have to climb the five miles and 3,000 feet up in pouring rain, thunder and lightning?  Would Peter, the person bringing our food, be prepared for such weather?  Could he manage the climb over Bishop Pass?  Would he?  What if we don't make the connection?

Ten years ago, I had made similar arrangements with a packer to meet at Dusy Basin for a resupply at noon.  By 3:30, no one had appeared.  We couldn't return to camp - we had no food.  We would have to walk eight miles over a 12,000 foot pass, then drop 2,500 feet to the pack station with no food or sleeping bags hoping that our supplies were there.  That's what we did.  As things turned out, the packer had mistakenly planned to deliver our gear the next day.  Graciously, they fed us, gave us a place to sleep, and most importantly, a horseback ride back to Dusy Basin.

All my worries were for naught.  The morning dawned divinely clear and warm.  Clouds floated innocently by, and all was lighthearted.  The climb to Dusy Basin is long and steep, but Drew carried the only pack and that was lightly laden with some trash and exposed film.  To my relief, we met Peter with military precision.  He greeted us with, "You've lost weight," plus two welcome treats, an apple fritter from Schat's Bakery in Bishop, and even better, a fresh apricot.

We caught up on Lance Armstrong and the Tour de France and a 9 out of 10 hot streak by the Giants - by now, another world.

We parted with Peter, excited to have briefly connected with the outside world, and walked the five miles back to camp.  We had covered the ten-mile round trip in five hours and found ourselves back at camp at 1:00.  Rather than spend another night in Le Conte Canyon, at Drew's suggestion, we quickly broke camp and put four more miles under our belt.  The bad news:  Our packs were newly laden with a nine-day supply of food.  The good news:  The packs will never be this heavy again and will lighten everyday for the remaining nine days of the trip.

It is testimony to our growing strength that we could hike to Dusy Basin and back and still have the strength and desire to break camp and move on.

Conversations with Drew on the trail today and recently have been animated and interesting.  Details I can't recall, but it has been fun to connect like two contemporaries rather than as father and son.  Movies, comedians, comic gags come up as well as life stuff.  Drew has also impressed me with his resolve on this trip.  Complaints have been minor and the kind anyone might raise.  But to my greatest delight, he has plainly said that he is enjoying this trip.

Our walk to this new camp was ideally suited to our new heavy packs - gently downhill following the descending flow of the Middle Fork of the Kings River.  We stopped to admire and photograph Grouse Meadow then turned left up Paradise Creek to begin our climb to Mather Pass.  We are camped here by Paradise Creek a mile above the confluence with the Kings River.

Clouds are always present but this evening there is more blue than gray.  I have hedged my bets and erected the tent, but our sleeping bags are rolled out under the stars.

Always thinking of Renee and Vanessa.

Day 16

Thursday, July 31.  Palisade Lakes.  5 1/2 Miles.  10,650 ft.

I left you last night sitting under the stars optimistic about an evening in the open.  After signing off, Drew and I lay in our bags watching quite a show.  It included everything; countless stars, shooting stars, lightning, thunder - then a few drops.  It rained all night long for God's sake. 

The morning dawned promisingly - half blue, half clouds, so Drew and I packed up our wet tent, wet sleeping bags, wet socks, wet boots, wet or damp everything, and hit the trail hoping to beat any bad weather.  The final climb to Palisade Lakes is up what is called the Golden Staircase.  It was one of the last portions of the trail to be built, and it is easy to see why.  The trail is a seemingly endless series of switchbacks etched and blasted into a long steep granite wall - a project seemingly suited to the Army Corps of Engineers.

Drew really struggled up this steep, long ascent.  At the top, we had some lunch and then...steady rain.  Though we didn't travel far today, with the few additional miles we did at the end of yesterday, we had reached our desired destination.  So, after tromping around lower Palisade Lake for some time looking for a suitable tent site - problematic near timberline - we once again set up the tent in the rain, climbed into our bags and fell asleep.

A couple of hours later, we awoke to bright sunshine.  I took the opportunity to put everything out for a drying session.  What a beautiful spot here between lower and upper Palisade Lakes with Mather Pass looming above.  Hopeful weather - cloudy, but clearing.  Drew got sick, but ate well and is feeling better.

Stove problems (sputter, then out).

Cool evening.  Does this mean storms have passed?

Day 17

Friday, August 1.  Marjorie Lake.  12 miles.  11,200 ft.

In a pathetic sort of way, considering how our expectations have been lowered during this trip, today was a good day.  But really, I'd say, a downer.

I got up at least four times last night to pee and the sky was crystal clear, countless stars.  I was so disappointed when I woke to a sky covered with stratus clouds that looked as though rain was imminent.  In a panic I roused Drew, which doesn't meld well with Drew's morning lethargy.  But I wanted to get over Mather Pass before the rain hit.

On the trail by 7:30, we reached 12,080-foot Mather Pass in two hours.  Looking back north, we were treated to a great view of the Palisades with several 14,000-foot peaks looming above their namesake lakes where we spent last night.  Looking south, the landscape dropped away to broad glacier-carved Upper Basin scattered with shallow high mountain lakes feeding the newly-born South Fork of the Kings River.  Miles beyond, we could see the approach to Pinchot Pass.    

Drew struggled up the pass as he did yesterday up the Golden Staircase.  Impressively, he didn't utter a word of complaint.  His stomach troubled him requiring a couple pit stops on the climb.  His uneasy stomach and probably the continuing poor weather have soured Drew's mood,  but his commitment to finish the trip never waivers.

I have felt very good the past two days - foot issues and soreness in my legs and feet are my only problems.  The ball of my foot is numb, and I wonder if my little toe is broken.

Despite this, I powered up and over Mather Pass.  As we dropped into Upper Basin, the rain began.  After a steady eight mile descent along the South Fork of the Kings River, we crossed it and climbed one mile here to Marjorie Lake.  The gentle rainfall was tolerable, almost pleasant, though it began around 10:00 am and continues now at 8:00 pm with only the briefest respites.  But we walked, cooked and pitched camp through it and are happy to be dry and warm in our small but safe tent.  Walrus Arch Rival XV, you have served us well.  Bless you.

Marjorie Lake is just under Pinchot Pass, and we will cross it first thing tomorrow.  With the crossing of Mather Pass, we will have knocked off seven of the trail's eleven passes.

We chatted with a volunteer who is staffing a backcountry ranger cabin nearby.  He said this weather is supposed to break tomorrow.  He forecasts good weather by tomorrow or Sunday.  Oh, please.

Drew's down mood, his intestinal unease, the weather - all tend to make me think of racing to the end.  But I must keep my eye on the simple task at hand - walk, deal with the rain, comfort Drew until he bounces back.

The rain continues to patter the tent.  Now, I'll read to Drew.