John Muir Trail

John Muir Trail No. Seven - Big Pete Meadow to Evolution Lake

July 11th, 2021

Big Pete Meadow to Muir Pass to Evolution Lake

This day completely broke me down and rebuilt me. I started early and I was tired. I was starting to feel the effects of not having much of an appetite for two weeks. I felt weak. I had to walk six miles of straight uphill to get to Muir Pass, and I was dreading it. I wanted to hike 12 miles to a specific lake, but it became clear very quickly that my goal was in jeopardy. I was moving too slow, I was too tired, and I was too hungry. I was reaching a higher altitude again, and breathing was becoming more challenging. I took a break to have a snack and calm myself down, but every minute I sat was a minute wasted. I started to get nervous that I wouldn’t even make it to the pass, let alone to the lake I wanted to camp near. I was feeling defeated and then it started to rain. That’s the thing about the Sierra, it breaks you down and then rains on you. The rain ended after a few minuntes, and I was slowly making my way to Muir. I wanted fresh food, and I wanted a nap. I finally made it above tree line. I text Rob “I think I’m going to just make camp in a mile or so and sit in my tent and cry.” When he objected, I responded, “I still have 3 miles to the top of the pass, I have only gone 3 miles today, and my campsite after the pass is at 7.5 miles. Do do you think the odds are in my favor today?” I felt like a fraud. Once again, I felt like a child wearing a big girl costume. I looked around. How could I be so unhappy in such a beautiful place? I stopped and took in the view of Helen Lake. It was pristine. Helen Lake was named after one of John Muir’s daughters. I thought about who named it, and why, and what its real name was. I thought about this land, before it was renamed by white men. I thought about Muir Pass, and why it was named after John Muir. He didn’t discover it. He didn’t discover any of this, yet it all bears his name.

This trail was used as a trading route long before John Muir found himself there. The trail’s real name is the Nüümü Poyo, or People’s Road. When John Muir stumbled into the Sierra, he worked with the government to remove the indigenous people from this area, claiming that they couldn’t possibly know how to protect this land as well, despite them having done it for centuries. I thought about how the California government waged “a war of extinction” against indigenous peoples in this area. I thought about not being able to come home. John Muir didn’t deserve to have his name splashed all over this trail. Even the Sierra Club, founded by John Muir himself, has begun to reckon with its racist beginnings. I hope they officially change the name, but I decided to call things by their names on a map for the purpose of this blog.

I pushed on, and started to repeat to myself, “I can do it. I can do it.” Over and over. I can do it. It became a mantra. I developed another mantra later, but we’ll get to that. I repeated my mantra and got closer. I decided that if I could make it to the top of Muir by 3:00, then I wasn’t a total failure. Arbitrary, but it’s what I decided. I cried all the way up the pass. I had a little over a mile left and I passed two older men. They asked me, “What are you doing out here little lady? You should be home!” That was just the push I needed. “Little lady,” as if we weren’t out here doing the exact same thing. As if I should be at home and they were allowed to be out here without comment. I thought about John Muir. I made it to the top at 2:53, just in time for a lighting storm.

Have you ever sat in the Muir Hut with 15 strangers while lightning strikes the mountain next to you? Let me tell you about it. The Muir Hut is a structure that was built by the Sierra Club in 1930 and sits at the top of Muir Pass at 11,995 feet of elevation. Because this section of trail is so exposed, it was built as a shelter for hikers who were caught in storms – hikers like us. It’s a round stone structure, and the inside is empty, except for seating around the perimeter and a closed off fireplace. There was a window and a door, and we all sat inside, waiting out the storm. We talked amongst ourselves and were fast friends. One of the hikers was friends with the guy who won the Barkley Marathons twice, two were a couple from Hawaii, one was a girl and her father who’d always wanted to do the trail together. One of the hikers went to a snow patch nearby and scooped up handfuls of snow. We got some and made snow cones with Mio. We went through our bear canisters and traded snacks. I gave my spare fuel to a hiker named Condiment. He thought it was a huge sacrifice on my part and thanked me repeatedly, but the truth was I didn’t need it. I’d barely been eating. Eventually, the Ohio guys made it to the hut. They had done the last section of the pass in the storm and the shelter was a much needed respite. The SOBO hikers warned us about the mosquitos at Wanda Lake. It seemed like folklore honestly. After the storm, the Ohio guys and I left together.

I could see Wanda Lake getting closer, and I stopped to put on my mosquito net. I am so glad I did. As I got close to Wanda, I saw one on my net. Then I saw two on my net. Then three. Then more, and then I couldn’t see. The mosquitos were covering me and I didn’t want to swat at my head net in case I moved it off of my face enough for one to get inside. It would have been all over then. I kept my head down and sped past the lake. There were actually people camping there. Just as quickly as the mosquitos arrived, they were gone. I took off my net and kept walking towards the lake. I’d seen photos of this lake and I was looking forward to camping there. I got closer and I could see it in the distance.  

If the first half of my day was spent in misery, the second half was spent in bliss. Once I’d made it to the shelter, my attitude turned around. Talking with the other hikers, I felt like I belonged there. I felt strong and powerful after making it to the top of the pass. I felt like I’d proved myself and I deserved to be up there. Making it to the lake was the cherry on top. This view. I don’t have the words for this absolutely stunning view. I didn’t even look where I was stepping as I walked. I couldn’t believe I was there. I found my campsite at around 8:00, just as the sun started to set. The nearest tent was way in the distance. I sat outside of my tent near the lake and watched the sunset. I was totally alone and at peace. I deserved to be here.

John Muir Trail No. Five - Lake Marjorie to Palisade Lakes

July 9th, 2021

Lake Marjorie to Mather Pass to Palisade Lakes

There’s something about being the first one awake and out of camp. It’s light outside, but it’s still cold until the sun comes up over the mountains and touches you. It’s quiet and the animals are out. Early mornings alone quickly became one of my very favorite vibes. I woke up before everyone else, packed my things, and hit the trail. I saw my first person about two miles in. The man passed me heading in the opposite direction and said, “You’ve GOT to be a PCTer!” I deeply hope he made that assumption because I had the confidence of someone who had 800 miles under their belt, and not because I smelled like one. I continued through the woods. I found a feather.

I made it into a clearing and crossed paths with the PCTer I met on Pinchot Pass. He was struggling with knee pain. I was thankful I wasn’t me.

I could finally see Mather Pass in the distance when it started to storm. I hid under a tree and took a snack break. I could see the storm in the distance and watched it float towards Mather. It’s funny how our intuition guides us when we don’t have access to technology. I subconsciously watched the storm moving, and watched how fast it moved, and I decided to stay in my tree for a bit so it would pass me. I didn’t need a weather app. It stopped raining, and I kept going.

As I got closer to Mather, I saw another storm rolling in. I could see the dark clouds and the rain falling from it. I ran into a group of kids with the PCTer. He had pushed his SOS button and was planning to leave because of his knee pain. I didn’t want to break his heart, but I wanted to tell him he would probably have to hike out anyway. It started to rain again and I was cold and wet,  and I passed a group headed in the opposite direction. The group leader asked if I was hiking alone. I said yes. “Legend!” He responded with a thumbs up. I didn’t feel like a legend. I felt like a child wearing a big girl costume. I was ready to be in my tent, dry, warm, and happy.

I decided to stay at the base of Mather and wait out the storm. I was not alone. I met a group of guys there from Ohio, and I ran into them many times over the next week. We waited for the rain to slow, and when it did, we made a run for it. The last steep uphill to get to the top of Mather seemed to go by pretty quickly, and we were on the other side before long. I could see Palisade Lakes in the distance. I decided to camp there when I saw the couples that I camped with at Lake Marjorie. I got in my tent immediately and was happy and dry. I started to give people names in my head. The couples were “the couples.” The guys I met at the base of Mather became “the Ohio guys,” and the group of kids who were sitting with the PCTer became “the college kids.” When I talked to myself in my head, which became frequent, that’s how I referred to them.

John Muir Trail No. Two - Rock Creek to Lone Pine

Read the First Entry Here

July 2nd, 2021

Rock Creek to Somewhere in Sequoia

I woke up feeling much better. I had energy, I felt rested, and best of all, I actually WANTED to eat something. I left my tent to go track down my bear canister, had a snack, and waited for Hannah to get up. I’d hoped she would be feeling better too, but I knew we’d be going back the second she woke up. She rolled out of her tent white as a ghost. We went to the ranger station. After he took her vitals and got some information, we went back to the camp site to wait for his instructions. He returned around lunchtime, and after consulting with the park medic, they suggested we go back down.

I saw this coming but I still panicked. I knew we weren’t going to separate, especially with her in this condition, but I zoned out from their conversation and went over all the options in my mind:

Do I go on? This has been my dream, and we’d decided that if one of us had to leave, the other would go on? No, we only brought one InReach. Do I give her the InReach and I go on? No, what if I need it? Was this going to be it? Am I done?

Then, “Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” I said. “Let’s go back down, we’ll go to Lone Pine and stay there for a few days, and then I will go back over Kearsarge on the 7th like I’d planned.” The ranger co-signed the plan, and we packed up. I knew I was going to miss summiting Mt. Whitney, but if I knew one thing – Whitney would be there next year. We started the hike back at around 2:oo. We didn’t get far. I was feeling better, true, but I still wasn’t feeling great. We made camp in a random clearing only a few miles from Rock Creek. The sunset was beautiful.

 July 3rd - 5th, 2021

Somewhere in Sequoia to Lone Pine

This day. Wow, this day. It was my birthday. I had originally planned to be summitting Mt. Whitney on this day, but I chose to see this as an opportunity to come back and summit with Rob. A gift from the universe.

 We woke up and Hannah was still getting worse. She couldn’t even keep down water at this point, and she hadn’t eaten solid food since we’d left Rock Creek. Considering the pace we’d had the day before, I was expecting us to make it another five or so miles. “Maybe to Chicken,” I said. Maybe to Chicken, if we tried really hard.

 We set out early, and slowly, we made our way back out of the mountains. We talked about food we missed. We talked about our favorite characters on New Girl. We did anything to keep our minds off of our bodies. At some point that morning, I saw Hannah pick something up. She turned around quickly and screamed, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” She handed me a feather, and said it would help me make it to the end. I took the feather and decided, yes, it would help me make it to the end. I put it in my hip belt pocket and it stayed there.

 We eventually made it to Chicken Spring Lake. We were so happy to see it. I refilled our waters, and we sat there, deciding if we should camp or keep going. There weren’t any campsites from here until the trailhead. If we kept going, we would have to finish. It wasn’t a long distance, but our bodies were revolting. We decided to keep going. We still had a few hours of daylight, but we could hike down with our headlamps if we had to. We took a break on a rock shortly after. Hannah carried her water bottle of Pedialyte and tried to keep it down. I checked the map during the break and was shocked. I went to Hannah and said, “We just went a whole mile in ten minutes.” “Say less,” she said, and stood up and kept walking. This was our fastest pace yet and we made it down well before sunset.

 We made it back to the trailhead knowing we had two options. We could stay at the campground for the night and try to find a ride back to town tomorrow, or we could hitch a ride now. When I tell you, THE moment. THE. MOMENT. We left that trailhead just as a truck was pulling out of the closest parking spot. Hannah ran to them, “are you going to Lone Pine?” They were, and we hopped in the back.

 We found a bench to sit on outside of a gift shop in Lone Pine and I looked for hotels within walking distance. “Walking distance” felt like such a joke considering. I had little hope when I checked Expedia and Tripadvisor, there was nothing available. I looked across the street and saw a hotel that wasn’t listed on those sites and we decided to take a chance. They had the perfect room available. Things were working out for me on my birthday apparently. I decided to check in with the hotel handling my resupply to see if I could come and go a day early, I was feeling lucky. Apparently I was lucky, they said yes. I walked to the restaurant next door and got us dinner, and then I walked to the grocery store to grab whatever medicine I could for Hannah. She was able to eat a little and we both passed out. It’s amazing the difference a night at lower altitude made for her. The next morning she woke up almost good as new. Almost. We walked around Lone Pine and went shopping, ate huge meals because our bodies allowed it, did laundry, and rested. We had no agenda, it was nice.

 Hannah’s husband, Connor, was on his way to come pick her up at this point. We made plans for them to drive me to Independence in a few days. This was my first scheduled resupply, and where we had initially planned for Hannah to leave the trail and come home. The first section of the journey didn’t go as planned, but I was happy to be back on my schedule. Connor arrived in Lone Pine just in time for Hannah to take his car and drive me to Independence. I checked into my room and my resupply bucket was already there waiting. A joke. I grabbed a few things from the bucket and left the rest for them to donate. The truth was, my bear canister was still full. I took a shower and went to bed. I had a shuttle back to the trail scheduled bright and early. I knew I would be solo from this point, and I had a nervous excited feeling. I thought of all the things that could possibly go wrong. I didn’t at all think of the things that would end up going right.

Read the Next Entry Here

John Muir Trail No. One - Horseshoe Meadow to Rock Creek

June 27th - 29th, 2021

Getting there:

I met my friend Hannah at the airport, both of us crying because we’d just said goodbye to our husbands. The plan had initially been for us to hike the whole trail together. When Hannah got the opportunity to take one more class to finish her degree, we jumped at the chance for her to cut the trip short to do that. The new plan was for her to start with me. We would start at Cottonwood Pass, and she would fly home when we stopped for our first resupply in Independence. From there, I would finish solo. When people asked if that made me nervous, I always responded that it didn’t. That’s the truth, it didn’t. I had prepared for this trip in every possible way. I made backup plans for my backup plans. I learned this trail and the exit points. I’d been unofficially planning this trip for years. I was ready.

We flew out of Birmingham on a Sunday night, and after a delay in Denver, we made it to Reno. It was after midnight and we were both exhausted. I’d reserved a room at a hotel across the street from the airport, so we walked there. We immediately passed out.

The next morning, we went to REI to grab stove fuel and a few other things, grabbed lunch to go, and walked back to the airport. A shuttle picked us up there and took us to Lone Pine, where we would start. I listened to Mayday Parade on the shuttle and talked to strangers, some of whom had similar plans. I never felt nervous about the trail, but with each passing minute, I felt nervous about being away from my family. I knew I would miss my husband Rob and our pets so deeply, but I had no clue yet how much. I sat in the hot, rickety bus and looked out the window. It started to rain. It’s so wild, in the desert, how sometimes you can see it rain, but you never see it reach the ground.

 We stepped off the shuttle, and there was a feather. I’m not religious at all, but I do feel a type of spirituality. I don’t like calling it “God,” so I call it other things, mostly “the universe.” I’d told the universe before I left home, send me some feathers so I know I’m going to be okay. My first feather on my first step off of the shuttle.

 We stayed in a hotel in Lone Pine, and from there, we tried to organize our packs. I stuffed eight days of food into my bear canister. Looking back, I laugh. I barely touched that food. I decided in the moment, as I do with a lot of things, to send a few items back home. A midlayer, a teeny tripod (that I wish I’d kept), a collapsible water bottle, and a few other things went to the local post office with me the next morning and were mailed home. On the way back to our room from the post office, I went to the side of the hotel to look at the mountains again. On the ground was a huge, black feather. A raven, a common bird in Yosemite, where my journey would end. I thanked the universe.

 We had breakfast, and around noon our ride came to bring us to the trailhead. When we got to the trailhead, we almost immediately noticed signs of altitude. Nothing too bad, but it was there. We walked to the campground and picked our spot. I put my $6 in the envelope and then into the reservation box. We set up camp and took a nap almost immediately.

 During the planning for this trip, I chose this route and this campground specifically. It was at 10k feet of elevation. I’d hoped to spend one day and night here to adjust my body to altitude. I already knew how altitude affected me. My first night at a higher altitude, I couldn’t sleep because simply laying down made it hard to breathe. I already knew this about myself, and I prepared for it. I laid in my tent, trying to breathe slowly and deeply, and eventually fell asleep. We woke up from our naps and made dinner. I honestly wasn’t that hungry. A symptom of altitude that I did not know about. I learned quickly though. I ate my ramen and made hot tea, and got back into my tent to sleep until morning. I slept surprisingly soundly considering the excitement of starting the hike in the morning. I had no clue in that moment the journey I would have over the next few weeks.

 

June 30th, 2021

Horseshoe Meadow to Chicken Spring Lake

I woke up feeling rested and ready to go. I still had no appetite, but I tried to eat breakfast anyway. I filled up my water bladder at the campground, knowing we wouldn’t see water again until we made it to the campsite. We walked to the trailhead. I’d been waiting for this moment for years. I’d expected to feel differently as I walked my first few steps. I don’t know what I felt. Happiness for sure, but also the deep deep sense of longing for Rob to be with me.

 Immediately we started the ascent, and we saw a cow pasture to the left. I was already happy, now I was happier. We’d entered the woods, and the incline was slow until it wasn’t. We were, quite suddenly, hit with steep switchbacks. I tell anyone who will listen that “switchbacks are the bane of my existence.” They are. I was still unable to breathe deeply because of the altitude, so this climb up was pretty tough for me. As I was feeling my most despondent, a storm came. It rained on us almost the whole way up. We got drenched and were miserable. We made it to the top of the switchbacks, knowing that we were very close to our first campsite at Chicken Spring Lake. I walked slower, taking it in. The trees smelled so good.

 We made it to Chicken Spring Lake and set up camp. We hung our stuff in branches to dry. We cooked dinner, but altitude was hitting us hard and we could barely eat. I gagged through my dinner, but I got it down. I filled up my water at the lake, and decided to take the first photo of myself on the trail. This would end up being the only photo of me on the trail. Should have kept that tripod. I propped my phone on a rock, and set the timer. I went back to camp and felt miserable. Altitude is no joke. I laid in my tent and tried to breathe.

 July 1st, 2021

Chicken Spring Lake to Rock Creek

The altitude was hitting hard on this day. I didn’t sleep well, and I couldn’t eat breakfast. Everything was dry. My whole body felt dry. We packed up and started the hike. It was going to be a primarily downhill day, so I was looking forward to that gradual decline over the next nine miles. I still couldn’t breathe though, so every step felt harder than usual. It took longer than it should have, and we took a lot of breaks. We were both feeling the effects of the altitude in different ways, and we both trudged through the forest, unhappy, but together in our misery.

 We crossed the border into Sequoia National Park early. We still weren’t hungry but decided we needed to try to eat something. We sat on a rock in the shade and had some snacks. A peanut butter packet, a Clif mini, and a pack of olives. Items I normally enjoy, but had to try hard to get down. I’d felt nauseous all day and the snacks didn’t help. I tried to enjoy the views to take my mind off of my body. The mountains and trees became my guides. I stopped to look at the granite and white marble. I found the most beautiful rocks. I smelled the trees, foxtail pine. Foxtail pine is akin to a monument in the Sierra. A high altitude landmark. It thrives there, and I was trying to thrive there, too.

 I tried to focus on my breathing, and then I would laugh and ask myself, “what breathing?” I will never take oxygen for granted again. We both moved slowly, but finally made it to Rock Creek, where we’d camp for the night. There was a ranger station there. I knew enough about altitude sickness to take it seriously. I knew it could be deadly under the right (or wrong) circumstances, and I familiarized myself with symptoms and treatments before the trip. We were both having symptoms of altitude sickness. We were both nauseous and had headaches, and we were both extremely tired. From this point, I knew it could either get better or worse, and we decided to gamble and see which would be us.

 That night, we’d decided on a plan. In the morning, If we still felt bad, we would check in with a ranger.

 The thought of dinner made me gag, so I went straight to bed after filtering my water. There was a group of PCTers camping nearby, and they were so loud all night. I was unhappy. I missed my family. I never thought about coming home though. I let the sound of the PCT party sing me to sleep.

Read the Next Entry Here