Mile 1017 to 1017 (zero)

The rain stopped during the night, then started up again in the morning. We yell to each other from our tents, “What are we doing?”  We have a quick breakfast and pack up. We are either hiking up the massive Sonora Pass snow climb in the rain, or we are hitching back to Kennedy Meadow North.

When voting on whether or not it is safe to proceed, it is not simply majority rules. If it were, we would be hiking. Klutz is very uncomfortable heading directly into a storm. She is miserable when cold and wet, and the chances of being able to dry out are slim to none. We go to the highway to hitch back down. Dish Cloth and Loren arrive. They just hitched up to join us, but are quite happy to hitch back down. The forecast for today is 80% rain, which seems silly since it is 100% raining. Tomorrow’s forecast is only 20% chance and even less the following day. We split into two groups to hitch back.

Porch Gang at Kennedy Meadows North

Back at Kennedy Meadows we relax on the porch, stare at the rain and toast Klutz’s better judgment. I load up on calories, ordering the cowboy breakfast and later a chili burger and fries. We rent a tiny cabin and cram in 6 hikers. It makes the cost reasonable, but tent and sleeping bag drying space is at a premium. Everyone here, including the workers, is tired of the rain. We can only imagine how wet, sloppy and miserable the snow climb/crawl/swim will be tomorrow.

This next stretch has extremely limited (meaning nonexistent) cell or wireless service. Any updates to this blog will be significantly delayed. The current plan is to get to Tuolumne Meadows, pick up a shipped resupply box and push on to Mammoth Lakes. Based on our food, we need to be making about 20 miles a day. Weather will be the most critical determining factor.

Mile 1024 to 1017

Pushing up the Pass

Terri and Daniel are scheduled to meet us at Sonora Pass. There is only 7 miles between me and my family. Unfortunately there is also a big climb and about 3 miles of snow.

We get an early start to avoid the softer snow. It is no where near as bad as what BLT went through the evening before, but it does give us a taste of what’s to come. Our shoes are wet and we occasionally posthole up to our knees, especially near the rocks. Rocks have a tendency to heat up in the day, melting the snow around them. When you punch through near a rock it can be quite surprising how deep your foot can go.

We have heard of many hikers getting their legs bloodied in the process, and of one hiking alone that got his leg stuck so long that he almost gave up and pressed his emergency beacon. I hear a blood curdling scream behind me, thankfully followed by laughter. Klutz has postholed practically to her waist.

Rick and Dish Cloth

After making it over the ridge, it is smooth sailing for the next 2.5 miles. I am practically running to see Terri and Daniel. Daniel has hiked part way up the trail, so he gets the first big hug. Soon after Terri gets the next. Terri had previously met Klutz and Mountain Goat, but now she gets to meet Dish Cloth (Towel, Rag, or other various ways I have screwed up his name).

At the car we gorge on delicious trail magic. Daniel has cooked ribs, which he serves to us like pulled pork on buns. Terri has a cooler full of strawberries, grapes, Starbucks iced coffee, Dr Pepper, full fat chocolate milk, apple juice, and water. We all pass on the water, given that is all we ever get to drink.

Daniel drives us from 9,600 feet down to Kennedy Meadows North, which is below 7,000 feet. We meet up with BLT, Loran, and other thru-hikers. We shower, do laundry, resupply and eat. We are not sure how everyone will fit in the car back to the trail. BLT takes a ride from some women with a dog.  While there, an exciting thunderstorm rolls through. A car arrives covered in hail. Loran and Dish Cloth decide to stay at Kennedy Meadows North for the night. Daniel and Terri drive Klutz, Mountain Goat and me back to 9,600 feet to find BLT.

When we arrive he sticks his head out of his tent, quite glad to see us. It is beginning to rain, so we quickly unload and say our goodbyes. Terri and Daniel are trying to get back within radio coverage for the Warrior’s game, and we need to pitch our tents and dive into cover. Tomorrow we have a huge snow climb, and we are praying for better weather.

The Gang at Kennedy Meadows North

Mile 1041 to 1024

In auto racing and cycling, drafting provides a physical advantage. Tuck in behind someone and let them do more of the work. I am not convinced that backpacking provides much opportunity for physical drafting, but there appears to be emotional drafting. When you are hiking within eyesight of someone, it can keep you moving. If they can keep going, well then clearly I can too. They made that switchback without stopping, surely I can.

There is, however, an opposite effect that can happen when the distance between you continues to grow. He was just there. Am I really going that slow? I am never going to catch him. Oh come on, he has to go to the bathroom at some point. I think of this as drag racing. The opposite of drafting.

For backpackers, drafting or drag racing are mental. I am convinced thru-hiking is 80% mental. I think most people who meet me think I’m 100% mental, so I feel well positioned for this activity.

BLT and DC

There is no rain during the night, which makes it much easier to pack. It is Dish Cloth’s birthday. We set our sights on a tent site in a little over 17 miles. It will not get us as close to Highway 108 as we had hoped, but it will position us to hike the last 7 miles before the 3 miles of snow gets too wet and soggy. We have quite a lot of elevation change today and much of it steep.

We continue to meet more familiar faces, including Hot Mess, her mother GBH, and later Flash. We are very relieved to find that the rumors of Flash’s death on Foerster Pass were greatly exaggerated He appears relieved as well.

Again, we are not setting any speed records. BLT hears about a prime rib dinner at Kennedy Meadows North, and pushes on to the highway tonight. The rest of us stick to the original plan, knowing that Terri and Daniel we be monitoring my SPOT location in order to time their arrival at highway 108.

We are camped next to the muddy Carson River, which provides relaxing white noise. Clouds have been forming, but so far no thundershowers.

Mile 1063 to 1041

Snowy Mountains

Although the stars finally make an appearance late in the night, in the morning everything is still wet. The rain soaked the tent on the outside and the condensation did the same for the inside. I will need to find time to dry everything in the sun, but l can’t wait for that now. Everything gets packed up wet. I feel luckier than “7”, a northbound thru-hiker who managed to set his tent in a depression, which is now a fairly decent sized pond.

Today our goal is another 20 miler. We are trying to position ourselves for yet another 20 on Monday, and then an early arrival on Tuesday at highway 108. We hope to meet my wife Terri and son Daniel to help us resupply. The challenge is that there is a lot of snow before the highway. We want to camp as close as we can, but not in the snow.

Snow Traverse

We have increasing snow traverses on the north side of the mountains. We cross Highway 4, which is the same highway our cabin is on, about an hour to the west. Before the flip, I had envisioned getting picked up here and taken to our cabin for some R&R. Given the crazy snow at Sonora Pass (108), we actually need more help there.

Because we are about half way from where we jumped to Chester, we are starting to see Northbound hikers we know that pushed through – Rymond, Tinkers, Oatmeal, Whiskers, and more. It is fun to see them and share stories, but it significantly slows us down.

We camp by Asa lake. The mosquitoes are not as bad as feared, and we are hoping for a reprieve from the thundershowers.

Crossing Highway 4

Mile 1082 To 1063

The mocking bird is misnamed. It is really more of a mimicking bird. It has a talent for reproducing the songs of other birds, and like me, seems to posses an unnatural fondness for the sound of its own voice.

Snow Drift

There is however another bird, a truly mocking bird of the cruelest kind. It is the Mountain Chickadee. Thru-hikers, when traveling at higher elevations such as Mount Laguna, Big Bear, or the Sierras, are subjected to its haunting mocking call. Oh sure, your grandmother may have taught you to recognize its call as “chick-a-dee-dee-dee.” And there are times when that’s exactly how it sounds. But there are other times when this cruel creature mocks thru-hikers in a manner reminiscent of a test in the Hunger Games. Once you know what this little bird is actually saying, you can never get it’s mocking call out of your mind. You will hear it over and over again, torturing you. The call of this little monster is clearly and unmistakably – “A Cheese Burger!”

I did not invent this claim of cheese burger. In fact, at a rest break I mentioned the haunting cheese burger bird to a thru-hiker. He immediately turned to his buddy and said “See, I told you that bird was saying Cheese Burger!”

The Chickadee could just as easily say “Brussels Sprouts” or “Blood Pudding”. But no, this little mocker clearly understands the power of words.

Vista

Our goal today is 20 miles. There is a tent site at Lilly Pond in 19 and change, which is close enough. We continue to traverse minor snow drifts, foreshadowing the significant snow we expect at Sonora Pass in a few days. The forecast again is for afternoon thunderstorms, yet we seem to be struggling to keep moving. It seems when we set a lower goal, we manage to live down to it. At highway 88 (Carson Pass) the visitor center volunteer rangers provide trail magic, in the form of apples and soda. We enjoy the magic, but it seems to be slowing us down rather than speeding us up. We see dark clouds around us all day, but nothing actually dumps on us.

It is Mountain Goat’s birthday, but we are actually celebrating crossing the 1,000 mile mark. It seems strange because the miles were counting up before the flip, but going south we are now counting down.

We do make it to camp in time to setup before the rain. Every time I come out of my tent it rains. When I go back in it stops. This happens enough times that I start believing I am the rain maker. We can see lightning, but so far the worst of the storm appears to be passing us to the west. By 8:00 it is our turn. It is raining pretty hard and continues for about an hour.

Lake reflection

Mile  1091 to 1082

I wake in a good mood. Last night we watched the Warriors beat the Cavs in game one overtime. We eat as much as we can of the cinnamon rolls and cherries, then check out. We take another death-walk down highway 50 to catch a bus to Stateline, then a second bus back to the outfitters. I grab a sausage biscuit and some coffee at McDonald’s, and scramble across the street to hitch to the trail.

An English woman, whose son just completed his Wilderness First Responder certification and is today in Search And Rescue (SAR) training, picks us up. She tells us that during the last snow storm he went backcountry skiing, crossed his tips and broke both bones in his leg. He had to coach his buddies through his own splinting and evacuation on a snowboard. She hopes that giving us a ride to the trail will bring good karma to her son when he needs it next. Perhaps I should change my hitch sign from “To Trail” to “Free Good Karma”.

Afternoon thundershowers are in the forecast. Our goal is to make 9 miles to a tent site by a small lake and get setup before the rain. We have a brief climb, then meander through trees and patches of melting snow. My shoes and socks again are soaking wet. Unlike the desert, there is water everywhere.

Mules

When we arrive at the lake there is a couple on mules, who have ridden in from highway 88. They ask BLT to take several pictures of them, wish us a safe journey, then ride off. I’m pretty sure the mules thought we were jackasses, since we were carrying our own load.

We set up tents and cook an early dinner just in time. Dark clouds roll in, bringing exciting lightning and thunder. The time between flash and bang quickens. Our elevation is over 8,500 feet, but so far we experience no snow or hail, just a good solid rain. Anything that melts the snow is welcome, but anything that adds to it is not. I can feel the temperature dropping. It feels nice to be in my down sleeping quilt, just a little strange to be here before 5:00 pm. This could be a long night.

Lake side camp

Zero

Pine Cone Resort

Today is a day to resupply and hide from the rain. We death-walk the highway to a breakfast place that turns out not to exist. Instead we grab a quick java at a coffee bar, then hike a trail back to Stateline. We skip the Nevada casino buffets and walk to a breakfast place in California, where the special is cream cheese stuffed French toast with fresh strawberries. We resupply at a dollar store and Safeway, do laundry and plan our next week.

Because it is a zero day, I figure this is a good time to share my gear and typical packing process, for those with interest in such topics.

I wake in my Z-pack 10 degree sleeping quilt. Because of mosquitoes, I am in my Protail Tarptent rather than cowboy camping. I pull my hiking pants and shirt from my cuben fiber sleeping quilt stuff sack, which I used as a pillow.  I change from my sleeping base layer into pants and shirt, and put on my Darn Tuff socks and Brooks Cascadia shoes. I crush the quilt into the stuff sack. I let the air out of my NeoAir xlite sleeping pad and roll it up. I stuff the clothes I am not wearing (base layers, socks, sock liners, underwear, gloves) into a yellow stuff sack. My toiletries go in the light blue stuff sack – toothbrush, tooth paste, toilet paper, hand sanitizer, toe nail clippers, tiny pocket knife, Imodium, Band-Aids, etc. In my bright blue stuff sack go the electronics, extra batteries, cables, plugs, external batteries, etc. I push everything to the front of the tent and climb out.

After breakfast I pack up. I stuff my shirt pockets with today’s snacks. First into the backpack is my BearVault canister, standing upright. It is filled with all my remaining dinners, snacks, and breakfast. Next to it I tuck my empty Ursack, which I use to protect food and trash from rodents and bears. Also stuffed next to the canister is my Pocket Rocket stove, my Neoair sleeping pad, and my mess kit. The mess kit is a titanium pot in a homemade cozy, inside that is a titanium mug in another cozy and a tiny sponge. That makes layer 1.

For layer 2 I insert a trash compactor bag, and fill it with the things I do not want to get wet. Sleeping quilt, toiletries bag, electronics bag, down jacket, rain jacket and clothes bag. I tie the bag shut with a red wire tie. The pack cover clips shut.

In the side pouches I put my IsoPro fuel canister and SmartWater liter water bottles. The back mesh pocket contains my Sawyer Squeeze water filter, Instaflator air pump for sleeping pad, SeaToSummit long handled titanium spoon, tiny towel, and various items like drying socks.

I brush out the tent, then remove the trekking poles which double as tent poles. They need to be resized back to 120cm, my preferred trekking pole length. I remove the stakes and stuff the tent into its stuff sack. The tent gets wrapped up in a small closed cell pad and strapped to the top of my pack. I shake off and fold up my Tyvek ground cloth. It is attached to the back of the pack with bungee cords built into the pack.

In the right pack belt pocket I have my smartphone, in the left is my headlamp, iPod nano and digital recorder which I never seem to use. My fanny pack has my video camera, batteries and extra SD cards. Around my neck hangs sunglasses and reading glasses. The entire ensemble is topped off with a ridiculously large sun hat.

I am probably missing a few items, but you get the general idea. It turns out you can survive for 5 months with a lot less stuff than you think.

And, oh yes. In my pants pocket is a plastic ziplock bag, containing my homemade Tyvek wallet, credit cards and cash. This last item seems to resolve everything else.

Mile 1098 to 1091

Aloha Lake in the Morning

Although l had feared wind, I have a surprisingly calm night. My tent is completely covered with lethargic mosquito-looking bugs, which thankfully are not. It is almost pathetic how easily I can flick them off. After hiking a brief incline, l head down to and along Echo Lakes. It is a resort community and there are cute boat-access only cabins. This entire stretch from the Desolation Wilderness to highway 50 is designated as no camping. Frankly, if you did, you would be in someone’s cabin yard.

Echo Lakes

Highway 50 is very busy, with cars and trucks moving fast. We hitch for an hour with no success. Klutz has a list of trail angels and I start dialing for saviors. I work through the entire list – mostly answering machines, an occasional I would love to help but I am in Florida right now, or Texas, or whatever. One Mike would love to help, but is in the middle of baking bread. Robert is out of town, but wants to help us anyway, so he offers us a 50% discount at a place he owns, the Pine Cone Resort in Zephyr Cove. It has a kitchenette, WiFi, cable TV, hot tub, sleeping for 6 in various beds and couches, and is close to Safeway and the post office. All this for two nights, including tax and fees, for $113.01. Divided by 5 of us, that’s $22.60, or $11.30 per night per person. Sweet!

Eventually another trail angel named Mike agrees to pick us up. He has to drive home, change cars, then drive 20 minutes to where we are. All this to drive 5 smelly strangers to a South Lake Tahoe outfitter.

On a side note: whenever we hitch a ride, we apologize for our smell. The typical reaction is: “Oh, I have smelled worse.” This actually means, “Yes, you smell terrible.” The problem with knowing the code is that you can also read what is NOT said. For example, a “Sorry for our smell,” which instead triggers: “lt’s all part of thru-hiking,” really means: “Yes, I have never smelled worse!”

After getting a few things at the outfitter, and feeding our faces, the reality of our accommodation choice becomes clear. It takes two buses, with a layover at Stateline, to get to Zephyr Cove. The bus driver takes us a stop too far, and we have to hitch back to the Pine Cone Resort. The “close” Safeway and post office is actually a mile death-defying road walk down highway 50. The magnet on the fridge is for a pizza joint that has been bought out by Domino’s, and they no longer actually deliver here because “We are in the middle of nowhere”. Luckily the local bar has decent food.

On a positive note, the place is quaint, has coin laundry and we can watch the Blackhawks win game one of NHL finals.

Mile 1122 to 1098

Richardson Lake

Today I leave camp early, knowing I will face significant snow going over Dicks Pass. It is over 9,000 feet high and approaching from the north means we are going up the unmelted side. What I did not realize is how many fantastic alpine lakes we will pass on this day. Before the pass is Richardson, Velma, Fontanillis, and Dicks.  After the pass we will visit Gilmore, Susie, Heather, and eventually Aloha.

Dicks Pass

The snow traverse going up Dicks Pass is over a mile. It is afternoon so the snow is soft and wet. We follow the tracks of others and only posthole occasionally. Though our feet are freezing, we laugh at how clean our trail running shoes now look. Near the pass are ski tracks from someone who clearly had a fun run down to Dicks Lake.

The other side is a long snowless traverse, with spectacular views of the rest of the lakes. We also encounter a fat, lazy marmot, who cares not the least that we are there.

We eventually tire of walking and begin looking for a campsite. We overshoot some of the better ones, and are now shore walking the spectacular island-dotted Aloha Lake. It is lined with snow and very exposed. We are warned by some young backpackers that it gets extremely windy near this lake. We walk until we eventually find a small clump of trees, which we hope will block the wind.

Looking down at Dicks Lake

Aloha Lake

Mile 1144 to 1122

Resort climb

I wake to the sound of high gusting winds, but my tent is fairly protected in the trees. After a standard Pop-Tart and coffee breakfast, I hike 3 miles and discover where BLT and DC camped. They are up in a nasty exposed area, where they hardly slept from the howling wind and whistling tents.

We hike up and down several times, ranging from 7,000 feet to 8,500 feet elevation. We pass through Squaw Valley ski resort and home of the Winter Olympics. Later we pass through Alpine Meadows ski resort. We have to navigate several significant snow traverses, but it is the wind that creates the biggest challenge. Although the views of Lake Tahoe are breathtaking, the wind gusts threaten to blow us down the mountain and into the crystal blue water.

After getting water at the stream, we set up camp among the trees. We are joined by another thru-hiker Barefeet or Bearfeet, I am not quite sure. He is also flipping the Sierras south from Chester. He has been joined for this section by his father, and they manage to squeeze two tents in the tiny remaining flat spot.

Lake Tahoe