During some of the steeper climbs, at high altitude, carrying 45 pounds on my back, that particular thought flickered through my mind more than once, last week.
Just flickered, though.
Because I know, really, even without enough oxygen to spell my name correctly, exactly why.
This year, our little band of backpackers numbered four-plus-six. The plan was to cross over the Sierras from east to west. What to do about transportation home once on the other side, you might ask? So clever. Clay and John hatched a plan that called for two groups: an east-to-west team ("us") and a west-to-east team ("them"). Each would park a car at their trailhead and hike to the other team's trailhead. I had a special circumstance, however.
Coming from the north, instead of south (San Diego), with the other nine, I had to make a creative alternate plan. I solved it by having Tom drive me to Colfax, 25 minutes away from home, to catch a Greyhound bus to Reno. Then, I found an Eastern Sierra Transit Authority bus that runs several times a week from Reno to Bishop, altogether about 8 hours of travel. The guys ("us"), then, picked me up in Bishop. In fact, they saw me on the moving bus and followed it to the station. Smooth.[After we came out of the mountains on Sunday, the guys dropped me off at the Amtrak station in Fresno on their way south. With more than an hour to wait, I called my sister, Terry, who came over--she lives just a few minutes from there--and we had a nice little visit before I headed off to Sacto, where Tom picked me up. Cool bonus.]
"Us", this year, consisted of Clay, John, me and Doug Johnston, who joined up for the first time. "Them" was Jesse, John's son, and five of his good buddies.
We stayed in a motel Tuesday night in Bishop after some tasty Chinese carbon-loading. We started our journey next morning at the North Lake trailhead, a bit above 9000'.
I won't lie. Hauling myself and 45 extra pounds up the trail at altitude is difficult and I'm a big huffer and puffer. I'm never in quite the super shape I'd like to be for this, and I'm always carrying more pack-weight than I'd intended. I shaved off three pounds, this year, but had hoped to get it under 40. Ah, well. Next time.
Our 5-day plan was to hike over Piute Pass (11,423') to Florence Lake (about 7300'), some 23 miles west, where we planned to catch a ferry to get us to the other side of the lake where the boys had left the other car for us.
In between:
We camped on the edge of two gorgeous alpine lakes--Piute L. (10, 960') and Upper Golden Trout L. (roughly 10,960' also) and one fabulous river--South Fork San Joaquin. John is a passionate fisherman, all catch-and-release, unless we need dinner. Clay enjoys it, as well, but not quite to John's intensity (I call it "crazy!"). I think the tally for the week was John's 60-something to Clay's 10 or so.
We had four hiking days and one layover (for more hiking, of course). The longest stretch, by far, was the 7 1/2 hour, eleven-plus miles we did on the fourth day through the Piute and San Joaquin River canyons. More down than up, overall, but there was lots of up. Piute Pass, is an amazing, treeless viewpoint for the Glacier Divide--the highlight on day two. But we also went through damp, wildflower and aspen-heavy creek areas, giant green meadows, thick pine forest and steep rocky river canyons. Breathtaking, all of it.
Clay, the Chief Organizer, Map Czar and Food King, fed us well, including a tasty trout dinner on night three (to which he and John contributed the main course). On the first night, the guys cooked up steaks they had bought in Bishop and that they had frozen in the motel-room fridge overnight, thawing them during the hike up. John caught me a fish from the lake to have as an alternative. We eat a lot of instant oatmeal, granola bars, cheese sticks and tortillas, among other things. I can pretty much live on mozz. cheese sticks and tortillas indefinitely.
We met up with the younger set ("them") for one night (Friday) at Upper Golden Trout Lake. It had rained on us at Piute Lake, our first campsite. It snowed on them at the same site a few nights later, we heard. In the high country, there was nearly-constant strong, cold winds, as a part of that same weather system. We were happy to get down into the trees on Saturday, where our hats stayed on better.
We talk and laugh and hike and eat. We love the intensity of the stars, the majestic views, the rainbow flowers, the magnificent trees, the cold blue water. And we enjoy the sense of accomplishment at the end. We usually get a game or two of Frisbee golf in after dinner on one or two evenings. I always say I'm going to practice for next year, but, well, my score betrays my failure to follow through...A special hike, this year, was up to Goethe Cirque/Glacier/Lakes at nearly 12000' on our layover day. No trail. We just pick our way along by reading topo maps, rock-hopping over huge boulder fields, meadows and creek-crossings. A rare shared adventure.
That's why.
Photos: Clay and John hiking down ahead of me from Piute Pass toward Piute River Canyon, John's prize catches, my cute tent, Clay in the "kitchen", "us" at the end of the trail before boarding our ferry boat to the other side of Florence Lake.
