Mile 971 to 948

Dish Cloth wants to be within striking distance of Tuolumne Meadows, so we set our sights on Glen Aulin. It is a high Sierra camp 5 miles from Tuolumne Meadows, but 23 Sierra miles from us. Sierra miles seem to be significantly more difficult than normal miles. The passes are steep, the terrain rocky and wet, the elevations high, and the mosquitoes active. Several of the lakes are boiling with trout. I would love to stop and wet a line, but the mosquitoes are screaming something that sounds to me like “Come back in August!” Even the deer by the lake are twitchy from the clouds of ear biters. I almost offer them some of my Deet, but frankly I need it.

I run into a northbounder who warns me of a ranger ahead checking for permits and bear canisters. He just got a $125 ticket for improper food storage. He is not happy, but frankly got off easy. I have heard of much larger fines and hikers being escorted out of the park.

Carefree Marmot

After a couple of passes, BLT and I lose Dish Cloth. He is back there to be sure, but we have not seen him. For the last few miles into Glen Aulin, BLT loses me.  I am tiring, plus I stop to video a mother grouse and her adorable three chicks. Later I video a marmot, who seems to be blocking the trail, demanding what I have no idea.

When I arrive at camp BLT is grinning from ear to ear. The guy setting up the high Sierra camp, which will open in a week, has given BLT some fresh caught and cleaned trout plus a loaf of bread made by his girlfriend. Yes the biblical fish and loaves clearly comes to mind. BLT and I setup our tents then swim very briefly in the freezing river. Eventually Dish Cloth shows up. He is now determined not to recommend more than 20 miles a day in the Sierras.

BLT and DC Cook Fish

While cooking the fish in a fire made in the sand, the ranger shows up. She wants to see bear canisters, permits and points out that fires should be in existing rings. The fish and bread are shared by several thru-hikers, including some northbounders. I am not sure we could have feed the masses, but we did pretty good. We fall asleep on the beach by the river, to the roaring sound of the massive cascade.

Glen Aulin Camp

Mile 996 to 971

No Stopping

I had been warned that the 15 miles below Dorothy Lake are the worst for mosquitoes. One northbounder said he just ducked his head and ran the entire way. Another said it was bad, but not as bad as other places. It is like the passes. Each time l ask which pass is the worst, l get a different answer. I think wherever you happen to be during the worst of the storm is the worst pass. Similarly, I don’t think mosquito misery is determined by location, but environment. If the ground is wet, the air warm, and the wind calm, then that is the worst mosquito location. The next 15 miles, and even more it turns out, meet that mosquito perfect storm, well, perfectly.

Leaving Dorothy Lake I see a Pine Marten scurrying around a log. No time to stop my scurrying, because the mosquitoes are just warming up. This is moving day. Keep moving or you risk being sucked dry and looking like the empty casing left behind after a dragon fly nymph crawls up a water plant and transforms into its flying form.

Constantly moving helps put on the miles, but makes bathroom stops quite difficult. It seems strange to pray for the near hurricane winds I experienced in Patagonia, but its about the only thing that will knock these suckers off their game.

Wet Trails

The constant moving makes staying together difficult. No one wants to slow for others, let alone stop and wait. Today there are lots of tricky water crossings, but determining the best action requires stopping to think, something we no longer are willing to do. No time to even take off shoes and socks, I plow through water up to and over my knees.

After 25 miles, I catch up to BLT and DC. We quickly setup tents and dive in for protection. Klutz and Mountain Goat must have setup a camp somewhere behind us. How far, we have no idea.

Mile 1017 to 996

I wake to the sound of no rain, a very welcome non-sound. After another cowboy breakfast we start the painful process of hitching back to the trailhead. There is no Terri or Daniel to take us. We are back to depending on the kindness of strangers. Apparently today, no one at the lodge is that kind of stranger, so we hike a mile to the highway to try our luck there.

Sonora Pass

After what seems like an hour, a tiny sedan stops and four thru-hikers with packs climb in, like clowns getting into that tiny car at the circus. Only today not all the clowns fit, so Dish Cloth and I are left behind. Eventually a pickup truck stops and offers us a lift, if we are willing to ride in the bed. It is full of ice chests, propane tanks, fishing gear and who knows what else. Everything is soaking wet, but we smile and say thanks as we climb in. The ride from below 7,000 feet to 9,600 is freezing cold. At Sonora Pass we are anxious to get going, if only to thaw our blood.

PTC? Seriously?

Most of the trail is covered in snow, but it is not as bad as we expected. All the rain from the day before may have helped melt the thinner spots. Dish Cloth, Klutz and I use GPS and stick close to the original trail route. BLT, Mountain Goat, and Loran decide to push straight up to a lower pass. We make good time up to and along the ridge, but there is no sign of the others. Their makeshift adventure leads them to cliffs and dead ends. They eventually double back and follow our prints in the snow.

Along the ridge we get a good laugh at the PCT sign which mistakenly says “PTC”. After the ridge, we drop into Kennedy Canyon. There are several significant water crossings, some we can rock hop, but others we just wade. The mosquitoes are out in force. We practically run to keep from being eaten alive. We push on up and over Dorothy Pass to Dorothy Lake. We are now officially in Yosemite National Park. We share our camp with deer and marmots, both of whom seem very interested in licking our urine. I guess they crave the salt, which is why deer lick fishing pole and trekking pole handles. It is truly wild in the wild.

Down from Sonora Ridge

Dorothy Lake

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

Mile 1153 to 1144

Tinker Knob

Because Sherrie and Chuck took such great care of us yesterday, our chores are complete. We can actually enjoy a leisurely morning. I sleep in until 6am, then make my first of several runs at the breakfast buffet. It is open from 6 to 10, so I have to pace myself. Between feeding frenzies, I sort and pack my gear and food. We check snow depth reports, weather forecasts and recent Facebook posts. Based on current conditions we clear ourselves for lift off. Once the buffet closes for good, we saddle up and walk to town.

We have eaten so much we cannot even think about lunch, but the distinct sound of milkshakes can be heard calling our names. We find the poor things at Burger Me, and warm them in our bellies. At the burger joint we meet a guy from Reno who offers to take us to the trailhead, if we are still there when he finishes eating. We are and he does.

Sugar Bowl

We arrive at the trailhead 5 minutes after BLT and DC. We hike from the Sugar Bowl ski resort parking lot at about 7,000 feet, up and over Tinker Knob, which is about 8,700 feet. There are quite a few day hikers enjoying a Sunday stroll under the chair lifts. They eventually thin out, and we have the trail to ourselves. There are a few snow traverses on the north side, but nothing we can’t handle.

We descend and find a campsite by a stream. It feels good to be back on the trail.

Snowy Ridge

Mile 1161 to 1153

I wake in the loft of the Peter Grub Hut, pack up and struggle to get down the ladder with my pack on. My shoes have dried nicely by the fire, but my socks are now so stiff I cannot put them on. I pull out another pair. I chomp down a couple of donuts and walk out the door.

Donner Lake

We hike 7 miles over a couple of small passes. The north sides have stretches of wet snow, but nothing bad. Breakfast is more on my mind than snow. Soon we can see Donner Lake, and are about as hungry as the Donner Party. The trail drops us into the parking lot of Sugar Bowl ski resort. Ironically, our trail on the Sierras is covered in snow, but the ski slopes here look as dry as the desert.

It takes about 20 minutes to get a hitch. There are tons of cyclists who offer rides on their handle bars, but very few cars. Eventually we get a ride from a young couple. The young man went to Foothill High School in Pleasanton, where my three sons graduated. It is such a small world. They drop us in the old part of town at the Wagon Train Cafe. I destroy the pancakes, sausage and eggs. I drink more coffee than I probably paid for, but it was good and we were in no hurry.

The waitress falls under the trail magic spell. She calls her friend at Hampton Inn, gets us a great rate and takes off work to drive us to the hotel. The entire way she apologizes for not having her larger vehicle. We are gracious enough to forgive her. The hotel is great, but a little further from downtown then we would have selected.

Sherrie, Chuck, and Rick

While trying to figure out how to get our shopping errands done, I get a text from Sherrie Gilliam saying she and Chuck are in Truckee and do we need anything. They strap on their angel wings and fly us all around town. At the sporting goods store I get gaiters and extra socks for the coming Sierras. At the hardware store I get fuel for my stove.  At the grocery store I get three days worth of food. We finish up at a Mexican restaurant, where I tackle a plate of carnitas. Our angels return us to the hotel and fly away. It was so great to see them. I am again thankful for my SPOT beacon and Chuck’s fascination with the moving dot, for it brought them both to us.

Miles  1188 to 1161

Snow Caps

We wake and examine the black bear prints. They are impressive. He made a beeline from the trail towards Klutz and Mountain Goat’s tent, then frustrated by the obstruction, grunted, veered between our tents and galloped to make it over the huge fallen tree.

Our goal today is to camp within striking distance of Truckee, so we can make it for breakfast. As we hike we encounter another bear on the trail. This one is much smaller and scampers away without so much as a grunt.

We meet more northbound thru-hikers, some who jumped the Sierras, but also some who made it through. Of those that made it, some beat the storms, but those that were in them say it was the most miserable weeks of their lives. They described whiteout blizzards, postholing waist deep and being slowed to a crawl. One described postholing to his shoulders. Another was so cold he spent the entire time thinking about food. Not that any of them work for the Sierra marketing department, but they made what is usually the highlight of the PCT seem like a nightmare.

Snow Fields

The north facing portions of this section are covered with fields of melting snow. If not walking in slushy snow, we are wading through creeks which are supposed to be trails, but the water did not get the memo. Our shoes, socks and pant legs are soaked, muddy and cold. We decide to push on to Peter Grubb Hut, which is one of the few shelters on the entire trail. And it has a fireplace.

At the shelter we met a thru-hiker who tried to push south past Echo Lake, but turned back. This is not good news. We dry our stinky shoes in front of the fire. In Truckee we will have to reconsider our options.

Peter Grubb Hut

Mile 1195 To 1188

Methodist Church

I try to sleep in, but of course cannot. The Red Moose restaurant does not open for breakfast until 7, which is like backpacker’s 10. I walk to the general store, which will not open until 11, to access their WiFi. Verizon is the only cell service and you have to stand in certain places, and perhaps make certain faces, to get it to work. The people are very hiker friendly, but their lifestyle is Mayberry RFD, and their technology may be from the same era. The guy we meet eating at the restaurant is the same guy who raises the town flag, runs the post office from 10 to 2 and repairs the public toilets. I know because I see him do all three.

The general store sells an odd variety of items, some backpacker friendly, some not. For example they have Snickers bars, but no Pop-Tarts. They have a massive quantity of Pasta Sides, but only one flavor. If you resupply for a week from here, you will have chicken flavored noodles every night. They do however have a grill, and make a one-pound burger rightly called the Gut Buster. They also make mean milkshakes of all flavors, so all is not lost.

We decide to nero here rather than zero. There are only cold showers, one working machine at the laundry and no way to get a decent variety of resupply food. Klutz and Mountain Goat want to explore Truckee, so we resupply for two days and hitch out of town. A very nice guy drives us the mile and a half to the trail. While driving the windy mountain road, mid-sentence he suddenly stops talking and stares. I fear he has narcolepsy and is about to die in his sleep. It would have been more fun if we were in the town fire truck, plus the first responders would already be here.

Mis-matching Dirty Girls

The hike out of town climbs quickly. We shoot for the top of the pass, which is just a little over 7 miles. On the way I meet MoBetter who is wearing mismatched Dirty Girl gaitors. I take a picture for Brian and check that off the scavenger hunt list. The funny part is she had been looking for me. She was told by someone way back in Big Bear that Rick had this on a scavenger list and that she needed to find me.

Dinner is quick and light. After Gut Busters we are not very hungry. I have crackers, peanut butter and a Baby Ruth.

While we are relaxing in our tents, a massive brown colored black bear crashes through our camp. Being on a high pass, we are on a bear highway. He seems not at all interested in us, our food, or our personal smell. After he goes, Klutz begins to imagine every sound as a bear. She calls me over to listen to growling, which I assure her is a bird, either an owl or a grouse. She seems relieved, but frankly I was disappointed. Repeated bear growling for no apparent reason is something I have not heard in the wilderness. I fear that as soon as I fall asleep and start snoring, she will call out for me to come listen.

Mile 1221 to 1195

View

We wake 26 miles from the road to Sierra City. Our goal is to hike about 20 miles, then nero into town the next morning. Plans, however, do not always work out.

I am still amazed that Terri found me, following a tiny dot on her cell phone. It’s got me thinking about dots. Anyone who has been to a professional baseball game in the last 10 years has probably seen some form of dot racing. Three colored dots, one red, one white and one blue, race around a track on the scoreboard, with fans randomly rooting for their favorite. What causes a dot to speed up or slow down is completely unknown to us. The whole thing is ridiculous, but we watch anyway, and in the end two-thirds of us are disappointed for no logical reason.

Hiking, I sometimes feel like one of those dots. On my GPS maps I appear as a red dot. On the elevation profiles I appear as a blue dot. On the SPOT map I appear as a black dot. And just like dot racing, watching gives little to no indication of why I speed up, slow down or stop completely.

If you happen to see my racing dot suddenly appear to crash into a guard rail, it may be I am simply tired or lazy. It may, however, be one of many other reasons. Downed trees are blocking the trail. A large rattle snake refuses to give way. Bodily functions are being tended to. Water is being filtered at a spring. A deer is demanding to be photographed. Other hikers are being grilled for news. The correct trail at a trail split is being determined. Snacks are being snacked. A snow field is being navigated. A spectacular view requires attention. A water report is being read. A turned ankle is being yelled at. You get the idea.

Today, my dot stops to fix a rip in my pant leg. I drop my pack, unzip my pant leg, take out my sewing kit, thread a needle and stitch away. So the next time you wonder what that darn Rick is doing, remember that he may actually be darning.

Lake Views

Today my dot is slowed by probably the most spectacular views of the entire trip. Given the combination of high bluffs, rock outcrops, the Sierra Buttes, the lookout tower, 360 panoramas and crystal clear lakes, it’s a wonder my dot moves at all.

My dot is also delayed by news from northbound hikers Crow and Ladybug. They jumped from Lone Pine to Echo Lake, the furthest south we have heard from. They came through snow and soaking trails. The north sides are clearly the worst, but seem doable. We still have not heard of hikers coming through from further south.

Sweeping Switchbacks

After 20 miles, our search for a campsite is now in vain. We are on a massive downhill of huge sweeping switchbacks, through treeless brush. The views again are dot stopping, but there is no where to camp. We hit the road at 26 miles and fail to acquire a hitch. A fire truck stops, but could not fit all three, so we just keep walking the mile and a half to Sierra City.  We camp at the United Methodist Church, which provides a grass area for tents, bathrooms, a picnic table and a power cord to charge electronics. Everything in town is closed by the time we arrive. We will check out Sierra City tomorrow.

Firetruck stops for hitch

Mile 1241 to 1221

Was I Dreaming?

I wake as if in the final scene of the final episode of the Bob Newhart Show, except that neither Terri nor Susan Pleshette is lying next to me. What the heck just happened? Was it really just a dream? All night there was a haunting screeching in the wilderness. I thought it was my heart crying for Terri’s return, but the other thru-hikers said a hoot owl kept them up all night. I still have not completely ruled out the former explanation. If not for the half-eaten bag of cherries, and the now full bag of ibuprofen, I would have no tangible evidence she was even here.

In addition to my coffee and Pop-Tarts, I ask Mountain Goat and Klutz to help me finish off the cherries, which are fabulous.

We climb and drop several times between 5,000 and 7,000 feet. Every northbounder I encounter gets the same grilling: Where are you coming from? What do you know about the Sierra passes? Are people getting through? The problem is that most are thru-hikers who skipped the Sierras, and are still heading north after jumping to Truckee. In other words, it was bad when they skipped, and they have no new information. We are worried we did not jump far enough, and that we will be postholing in the snow very soon. We are even trying to slow down, hoping every day of sun will help the melt. We hope to get news in Sierra City of a better quality than we got in Kennedy Meadows, which was completely wrong.

We camp near a creek, not far from Country Mouse and Shadow. Right or wrong, they are on the same schedule we are. BLT and Dish Cloth finally catch up and join the encampment. We build a fire, tell stories and wonder what lies ahead.

Mile 1260 To 1241

I wake to a stiff knee and pop some Ibuprofen. I am hoping the trail and the pain will not be a repeat of the last two days.  Although the tent is wet, I take time for a Starbucks Via coffee. I even treat myself to two Little Debbie’s. I am clearly giving myself every chance at success.

The trail starts with a couple of miles up. My knee feels surprisingly good. After some meandering ups and downs, the trail drops from 6,000 feet to 3,000 feet in seven miles. It was a huge down that broke me, then a monster up that did me in. Today, however, on this mountain rollercoaster I am holding my own. I would like to think that after two days, and about 50 miles of hell, my body has realized my determination and called off this painful nonsense. Arrogance and ignorance are dangerous friends. Instead, I am going to say it is trail magic and thank my lucky stars.

Clear flowing water

We stop to dry out our tents and bags by the river. I even soak my feet and rinse out my socks. It is better than any resort spa, just me and clear flowing water.

As we hike up a 2,000 foot climb, we encounter father and son fishermen, loading their truck. When they ask for and hear our story, they feel compelled to offer us apples, water and Cliff bars. They have instantly become trail angels by providing us trail magic. They also tell us of their own adventures by the river, involving multiple bear encounters. Based on the size of the scat we have been seeing on the trail, it is a very large male indeed.

After crossing several dirt roads, Klutz, Mountain Goat and I find a flat spot to pitch our tents. Country Mouse, Shadow, and Beaver later setup camp on the other side of the trail. I cook and eat dinner, again hiding from the mosquitoes.

Then real magic happens! Out of nowhere, someone is rattling something in a bottle and asking for Rick. I peer out my tent, and there standing before me, with a bottle of Advil, is my wife Terri. She has not seen me in over 50 days, and after having read the draft post about my knee, she drove 4 hours to provide some trail magic. Using my SPOT beacon, and some remote support from son Daniel and brother in-law Tom, Terri was able to track me down. She parked the car on a remote dirt road, and using her Android phone GPS and my check in coordinates, she hiked in to find me.

I hike with her back to the car and return with magic to share with everyone: orange juice, cherries, chocolate milk, Coke, and other random items. Everyone is totally amazed at the effort and ingenuity to track me down. But mostly they just smile and chomp on handfuls of cherries.

As quickly as she arrives, she disappears. She has a long ride home, and this little side trip was not really in her schedule. I would give up all the trail magic for one more hug. The whole thing is like a crazy dream. I will wake tomorrow unsure if she was really here.

Trail Angel Terri