Sierra Odyssey

Day 18

Saturday, August 2.  Arrowhead Lake.  12 1/2 miles.  10,500 ft.

The day dawned  clear and hopeful at Marjorie Lake.  We climbed the couple miles to Pinchot Pass and gazed beyond into a broad alpine basin - the source of Woods Creek preparing to descend toward the South Fork of the Kings River.

Drew started slowly, weary physically, or more likely, weary psychologically.  I think he is growing tired of this tedious, endless walk.  Right now, this magnificent country is not compensation enough for him.

The descent from Pinchot Pass at 12,100 feet down to the Woods Creek crossing at 8,500 feet is simply horrible.  There must be a better way.  Dropping nearly 4,000 feet in 3 1/2 miles crushes  bones and spirits alike.  Having hiked it before, I told a mild-mannered couple we meet regularly on the trail that they would be angry by the time they completed the descent.  When we met again at the bottom, they emphatically confirmed my assessment.

From the low point at Woods Creek, we climbed four miles and 2,000 feet to this spot at Arrowhead Lake.  The weather was mostly clear, but clouds kept building.  The inevitable rain came several times on our walk, but lightly and briefly.  Drew led the way with newfound energy that seemed to rise out of utter determination more than any joyful effort.  Each stride seemed to say, "Let's get this over with."

On arrival here at Arrowhead Lake, his spirits picked up.  We found a site and pitched the tent just before (conveniently, for once) the only extended rainfall of the day began.  Tucked in the tent, secure from the rain, we talked about the food we want to eat when we get home and the dwindling number of days left on our trip.  This lifted Drew's spirits for the entire evening and allowed him to reflect with some pride on having carried a heavy pack 170 miles over difficult terrain.

After several hours of rain, the sky is mostly clear.  We continue to hope this strange wet weather pattern has passed and that clear weather will prevail for the remainder of the trip.  I can't stand being in  the tent when I know that the sky outside is filled with stars.

Stove problems at dinner tonight.  It has been balky for several days, but this time I couldn't conjure up a strong blue flame.  A dead stove and we can't finish the trip.  I checked the jet - all clear, but when I opened the valve after priming, I got no powerful hiss of air and fuel racing out.  I took it apart yesterday, but no improvement.  At best, I get interrupted hissing and regular popping.  At worst, a lazy yellow flame, then nothing. 

Hopefully, the now-clear sky means Drew can enjoy this beautiful spot tomorrow in the morning light.  It is spectacular here, but we barely looked up when we arrived as we raced to set up camp ahead of the rain.

Two passes in two days.  And two passes in the next two days.  Strength grows, but so does the exhaustion at the continuous effort. 

Day 19

Sunday, August 3.  Bubb's Creek.  10 miles.  10,000 ft.

Finally, the perfect day.  I looked out of the tent this morning at Arrowhead Lake, and there was not a single cloud in the sky - not one.  Something about this morning signaled that none would come.  We had started earlier days with a clear sky only to walk in a downpour by lunch.  But this morning, every reflection of morning light was a little brighter.  It was in the air, and we felt it.  It would be a glorious day.

I roused Drew for a morning photo session to take advantage of the fresh light on this glorious spot near Rae Lakes.  He shuffled around broadcasting his indifference, but we recorded a lovely morning.

All this added up to a late start - 10:30 - but our high spirits and energy level matched the morning.  We passed Rae Lakes and started the climb up Glen Pass.  We have grown so much stronger on this trip.  Climbing 1,500 feet to a 12,000-foot pass is much more enjoyment and much less drudgery than it was nearly three weeks ago.  Drew's spirits were high, fueled I suspect by his growing strength and visions of the finish line urging him on.  We descended the far side past Charlotte Lake.  Before dropping down to Bubb's Creek, we were treated to a sweeping view up the broad glaciated valley toward its source and 13,200-foot Forester Pass - tomorrow's target.  We've settled for the night here in an idyllic grassy site by the creek, roaring except for a calm eddy that made a perfect dunk site. 

Drew found ingredients to create quesadillas, which excited him to no end.  His enthusiasm has soared.  Now, at 8:10, he's making hot chocolate. 

Which brings up the damn stove.  This morning I noticed that the bolt that is welded to the burner assembly and that, with the attaching nut holds the assembly in place, sheared off - just broke off.  Last night, I had to disassemble the stove because it wouldn't work.  When I took it apart a small bit of burnt debris, I guess, fell out and the stove worked fine.  Same thing again tonight.  How can this brand new $135 stove fail on a 25-day trip with normal usage?  It's nuts.  No stove - gotta go home.  Simple as that.

Last night Drew and I both had our sleep disturbed by pain - Drew in his hips, me in my knees and buttocks.  Tonight, two Motrin as preventative medicine.

Strangely, pain appears when we stop.  While walking, all soreness is masked by the effort.  My knees are always stiff and the bottom of my feet are just numb from the pounding.  The pressure points where I carry the weight of my pack - hips and shoulders - are fine with only minor irritations.

So finally, I get to relax in my Thermarest chair and write and read under the dimming sky and the coming stars.  The Kearsarge Pinnacles on my right that define one side of this valley nudge harmless clouds that fluff along those jagged crags.  Orange sunset light warms them.  A show everywhere.  There is still faint light in the west along with a quarter moon that will set soon.  Can't see this stuff on a rainy night in the tent. 

Three passes in three days - a fourth tomorrow.  The last one is Mt. Whitney in four days or so.