Through Fire and Ice

Kennedy Meadows to Donner Pass

“Is that smoke? Someone must have a big campfire.” Were the responses to seeing a plume of white smoking coming from a cluster of trees close to Monache Meadows. Pac-Man and I tied bandanas around our faces and grabbed our Ice axes. We dropped our packs and headed cross country to the source of the smoke. There was a small sage field, ablaze and several dead trees. I wold like to think that if we had a larger party than four, we may have stood a chance at extinguishing the mysterious fire. On later reflection, It was unstoppable. Rather than retrace our steps to Kennedy Meadows, 12 or so miles, we chose to press onward and look for a cel signal higher up in the mountains. Dragon-Ant made a heroic push for a summit, making 12 miles in three hours and calling out to report what we had found.

Despite early warning The Clover fire burned some 16,000 acres and detoured many hikers in the next week. Lumbar, Sheik Olivier, Ninja Tortoise, and the Waffles who caught up with us at camp reported the fire had grown noticeably. Side note: This was my largest camp party. Nine hikers.

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“My batteries are dead. I have to get replacements if I am going to climb Whitney!” I told Lumbar, Dragon-Ant and Sheik Olivier. Two hours later I found my self at what I thought was Guitar Lake, looking up a drainage toward the spires of treeless 13,000 and 14,000 foot peaks. I scrambled up boulders to find a frozen lake. “This must be Guitar Lake” I thought. I picked my way through the sun cups and rocks on the shoreline. By noon I was looking up the north face of Whitney. I had gone up the wrong drainage and was debating climbing the steep slope. I thought I could really surprise the trio who had gone ahead of me.

Ice axe out and crampons on I started up the slushy slope. Passing 13,000 feet easily. I found a gently sloped chute and climbed diagonally up and right. I looked at my altimeter, 13,500 feet. 1000 feet to go! But as I climbed higher, I found the snow dangerously unstable. six inches of slush sat on a frozen layer and the slope was getting steeper. Several loose rocks sat in the snow fields and at close to 13,700 feet I finally came to my sense. “This isn’t safe!”

Altitude can do weird things to people. Some get headaches, some get nauseous, I get delusions of grandeur. Though I still think I could have climbed it. I now have a tumultuous relationship with peak bagging. It doesn’t seem important to me, but part of me regrets not having bagged Whitney.

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Between Kennedy Meadows and Yosemite, the PCT rarely descends below tree line and crests numerous 11,000 foot passes: Forester, Glenn, Mather, Muir, Pinchot to name a few. I celebrated Forester Pass with an Apple, and Muir Pass with an Orange. I had to keep up my fresh fruit tradition.

I hiked from Kearsarge Pass to Mammoth with Lumbar and Olivier, stopping at Vermilion Valley Resort (VVR) for a brief rest. The southern Sierra Nevada was one of the most spectacular places I have ever visited. In early June, it is still wintery. Snow covers every north facing slope. Every pass is covered and many lakes still have thick ice. Runoff is high resulting in swift cold creeks and dangerous crossings. Water pools everywhere it can and forms small creeks on the trail. It is impossible to keep one’s shoes dry. Some people pack shoes specifically for creek crossing, but this rarely works out well. Most hikers find that having quickly drying shoes is the best remedy. An hour of hiking will get them mostly dry. I followed this advice and stayed warm, mostly. Only a couple mornings did I find my shoes frozen solid.

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From Mammoth to Echo lake I hiked solo. This was the most solo hiking I had yet done. It was also through the area where Yosemite's problem bears are sent. I didn’t see one.

After the Southern Sierra, this area was somewhat less remarkable, though still beautiful. I found that I preferred the sparse, stark, icy, arctic landscape above treeline.

The trail in Yosemite is poorly marked and maintained in an interesting sort of way. There are stairs, and it seems that the trail is always built in a drainage. I couldn’t go more than 100 yards without marching through a puddle.

On June 21st Lightning struck. It struck again. Hail fell and I tossed my poles aside and crouched on the ground like the books say to do. Just south of Ebbet’s Pass and almost at the highest point, I had to make it over. I grabbed my poles and made the pass on a dead sprint, glissading the north side. I wish I had video of that one!

Two days later I awoke to smoke. I was camped just south of The Elephant’s Back near Carson Pass. Inquiries at the Carson Pass ranger station revealed no news about fires. Through thick smoke, I made 12 miles to Echo Lakes where I met my cousins Dylan and Billy. I marched up wearing my salt stained red shit, dirty bandana and a frayed straw hat I had bought at Red’s Meadows to replaced a hat I had lost a day earlier. Billy greeted me with the words. “You smell homeless”

Dylan, Billy and I hiked to Tamarack Lake and set up camp. I had to return to Eco Lake the next morning to retrieve my resupply box from my parents. I packed up much of my cousins’ unneeded gear and set off to retrace my steps. It was only a three mile hike, but I just so happened to meet two northbound PCT hikers, Disco, and P.O.D. with whom I had camped after Forester Pass. Satisfied with my explanation as to why I was hiking south, they went on their way.

I returned to Tamarack Lake with fresh food, and my parents! Two miles later at Lake Aloha, My dad fished out of his pack two four packs of sausage, two loafs of bread and a head of cabbage. With three differing cook sets, a Whisperlite, a canister, and my alcohol stove, we cooked and ate sausage by the smoke shrouded lake. That was the best trail meal to date. While all three stoves cooked similarly, everyone was interested to see my soda can alcohol stove spitting out hot blue flames. No wonder many hikers use those!

My cousins and I parted ways with my parents and camped at Gilmore Lake. The mosquitoes had gone from being almost non existent even in Yosemite to being a major force. Our evening’s activities such as diner and fishing were cut short thanks to the pesky insects and we crawled into our respective tent, Billy and I into our tiny one man shelters and Dylan into a palatial three man tent.

The next day we made decent miles and camped at Richardson Lake, just outside Desolation Wilderness. The cousins were thoroughly spent and decided to bail out on a road to Meek’s Bay, where my uncle’s sailboat is kept. I caught up with the hiker Stilts who had passed us in Desolation and we hiked to I-80 together.

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There were almost 2000 separate fires in June of 2008 in California, one of the most destructive fire seasons ever. Most were started during the lightning storms around June 21st.