The Trail That Wasn't

Hi everyone, writing to you from South Lake Tahoe, CA at the Key's Cafe. Its been awhile since I've had the chance to update and alot has gone on since then, so I'll try to be brief. I've been hiking with the same crew for the past several weeks now to help make it through the relentless snowpack, which is a very different experience from my normal style. There is a constant need for compromise that has started to wear on everyone, and now that the snow has started to break there is some talk about splitting up. Unfortunately the group has been a necessity, as the need to break trail, navigate through trackless woods, and push on in spite of relentless fatigue requires more than the usual amount of effort.

The trail from Lone Pine has been amazing despite the difficulty. We came back over Kearsarge Pass and rejoined the trail before continued on through the High Sierra, tackling the notorious passes such as Glen, Mather, Pinchot, and Muir, each presenting a unique route-finding challenge in addition to the usual strenuous climbs. The views from the top were astounding and rewarding, each in their own memorable way, often presenting long views down sun-soaked, snow covered valleys with clouds flying overhead. The suddenness of the spectacle never ceases to surprise, as huge panoramas explode seemingly over every rise, and one never knows what to take pictures of. Eventually you give up, realizing that no photo could really capture the experience, and each "wow" moment trumps the next.

Next we headed in to Mammoth, a typical California ski town that afforded us a chance to resupply for the next leg. Unfortunately, due to our early arrival the bus service to civilization wasn't running and we had to leg it an extra 9 miles to make our way back to the trail, adding yet another small obstacle to our northward progress. The path resumed with more frozen lakes, snowfields, and forests, the elevation slowly getting lower and lower. In just a few days we reached Tuolemne Meadows and the road into Yosemite Valley, stomping grounds of John Muir and Ansel Adams. Sadly, we were weak willed and decided to hitch hike into the park instead of taking the 21 mile side trail, a route that promised even more difficult passes and snow. Never-the-less the views were astounding, with awe inspiring granite domes and thundering waterfalls that any American would recognize. The park was overwhelming in more ways than one however; the shear amount of car-driving tourists invading what, to a hiker, is holy ground was somewhat depressing, even more so given the fact that we ourselves were driven in. We did some quick resupply and booked it back to the trail, anxious to continue our trek to Canada.

The first few day in between here and there were more of the same, which sounds much more mundane than I suppose it really is. When "the same" is gorgeous views of snow covered mountains and waterfalls, one can't complain too much, even though it remained challenging. There have been some tedious days and several disappointments, but recently the landscape has taken a new turn as we hit the volcanically sculpted northern Sierra. Though the peaks may be smaller, they are craggier and covered in ridges and caves, the rocks now a range of reds and yellows and very rough. Bright lichens and small flowers have started appearing, replacing the pine forests and giving the appearance of blasted desolation in areas. These places are blessedly snow-free, and we try to make the best time possible when we reach them while still enjoying the magnificent scenery. Hopefully this type of landscape will be the norm for awhile.

Despite the changing land, some things are a constant. Water has been an all pervasive element out here, in all its forms. The endless snow fields, covered in cursed sun-cups, the exhausting repetition of climbing snow drifts through the forests, and the countless creeks, streams, and meadow marshes that must be forded leave ones feet in constant wetness, and only the steam rising out of boots around a fire at night gives any respite. The snow conditions, as well as the predictable cycle of temperature, lends a rhythm to every day. Morning are typically freezing, with many days of icy boots resulting in a hurried breakfast eaten while still in a sleeping bag. We usually start hiking around 6-6:30, getting the circulation going before the sun is fully up in jackets and gloves. The snow is crusted with ice, making level ground and climbing easier, but downhills treacherous. Once the light hits the lower slopes, we shed our warmer gear and the snow loosens up, requiring more effort to make forward progress, but allowing us to boot-ski down from the hills. The conditions constantly change however, and what was soft, slippery walking one minute is icy and bumpy the next. Six foot high drifts can appear around the corner where before there was dry trail, throwing one off guard every moment and disheartening any weary thru-hiker.

The fords have been our other major concern that dictate our mileage so far. Each "creek" represents a barrier that must be surmounted; some can be crossed via fallen logs, but most have to be waded across, fighting against the current and the cold. Several have been totally uncrossable and we've had to detour far upstream, passing tributaries to find places where the flow lessens What is a creek here in CA can be a river elsewhere. Fortunately we've managed our way around every obstacle so far, though the unexpected ones are often the worst; the trek up to Dorothy Lake Pass, which I'm sure is an enjoyable 9 mile hike on easy grade beside a water source in late summer, was a hellish uphill slog over sun-cups and 6 foots drifts through trackless forests that took an entire morning. The crossing of Stubblefield Creek, which is not mentioned in any guidebook, required a delicate balancing act on a small log over a rushing torrent, and what was to be a "broad, shallow ford" turned out to be a 50 foot wide, 6 foot deep moat that totally stymied our advance. In short, we are all phenomenally tired, and our arrival in Tahoe couldn't have come at a better time. We enjoyed the snow for awhile, but we are all tired of it by now, and pray for an end to the difficulties so we can get back to our normal styles of hiking. We look forward to the day when the trail that so often has left us, buried beneath the snow, will come back to us and let us hike unhindered.

By the way, one of the other hikers has a blog with video posts as well at shayblackley.blogspot.com which is updated fairly frequently. It has a few videos of our exploits in the southern Sierra and should soon have some interesting ones of us going across the more treacherous fords. Unfortunately I'm still having trouble uploading photos from my phone, which is getting pretty full again, so hopefully I'll be able to fix that eventually. Until next time.