July 10th 2021,
Palisades Lake to Big Pete Meadow
One of the worst parts of this entire experience was waking up each morning and putting on the same crusty long sleeved Columbia shirt that I’d worn every day. It became truly painful to do this each morning. Each day, I wore the same uniform: long sleeve Columbia shirt, black REI leggings, sun hat, Buff around my neck, long Injinji socks pulled up over my leggings, Dirty Girl gaiters, Altra Lone Peak shoes. Occasionally I would add sun gloves, and sometimes I wore a beanie instead of the sun hat. Every day, the same outfit. Every morning, the sheer horror.
I woke up before everyone else and left just after sunrise. Everything was quiet, the deer were out, I embraced being alone during these precious morning hours. I was excited that there were no passes today, and I welcomed a mostly downhill day. As I descended the Golden Staircase, I thanked the universe that I wasn’t going SOBO. I stopped for a lunch break in a clearing, and the couples appeared to join me. I hiked with them for a while, but they were planning to stop at Starr camp and I wasn’t. We were moving at different paces. I didn’t see them again after that.
I stopped at a creek to filter more water, and I slid down the bank into the water. I cut my hand. It was fine. Shortly after, I ran into another park ranger who was checking permits. My first and only permit check, and I felt so official. The ranger asked me if I had a bear canister and I knocked on the bottom of my pack. She heard it, and I was on my way. I leapfrogged “the college kids” a few times. They were sweet and always in great moods. I liked them.
I walked through a beautiful, grassy meadow with a stream. I heard the duck before I saw it, and then I watched it float above the water. A deer ate grass behind it, and I noticed two others watching the deer as well. They walked past me and gave me a look that said to me “just appreciating the moment.” I found a campsite shortly after and set up my tent. I walked to the other side of the trail to make dinner, and sat on a boulder to eat. My appetite still wasn’t back to normal, and I absolutely did not want to finish this dinner. I wanted to bury it somewhere, but I followed Leave No Trace and powered through it. Two women walked up, pointed to my tent, and yelled to me from the trail, “Is this you?” I said yes and they asked to join me at my campsite. We ate dinner together. They were heading the opposite direction and were averaging 20 miles per day. I was not. They warned me about something I would encounter the following day, saying that the mosquitos at Wanda Lake were unlike any they had ever seen. Saying that the mosquitos covered them, covered their packs, their legs, everything. Covered them until their whole body was black. I hate mosquitos.
I went to bed already dreading the next day. I knew Muir Pass would be tough. Not because of the elevation, but because of how exposed it is and how long the trek up is. I knew this day would wreck me, and it did, but it also turned out to be one of my favorites.