Just going for a walk

Today I just feel exhausted. And I didn't even do that many miles: just 17 and change. I mentioned this to Outlast at dinner, his thought was that it was the cumulative effect of long days since Kennedy Meadows North. 10 miles the first day (but we didn't get back onto the trail until the early afternoon), then 20 miles the next two, then 18 or so today. That adds up, takes its toll. And I can see that argument, and worry about its implications (we're about to hit South Lake Tahoe, but after that, will need to ratchet up the miles to at least 20+ miles every day to make it). But I remember on the trail, yesterday night, waiting at the junction of the PCT and the road to the Lost Lakes campground, listening to another group talk about being tired. They had done more than 20 miles, had about 3.5 to go. And one of them commented that, hey, while we're not in the Sierras per se, we're still at elevation--8000-9000 feet--miles don't come easy up here. So maybe that&#

I was all set up to be disappointed today. I had started setting goals for the day, nothing big, just little points-to-hit. The first: make 10 miles before noon. The common adage is "10 before 10", meaning 10 miles before 10am, but "10 before 12" is what I got going now--I'll work up to "10 before 10". Plus I made 10 before 12 yesterday, so this would maintain that streak. The second: make it to Forestdale Creek, about 24 miles away. We made 21 miles yesterday, so this would *build* on that, extending our daily mileage. Yeah, didn't make either of those. I know that "arbitrary goal is arbitrary", and they only matter as much as I make them matter, but I still feel bad when I miss. Disappointed. And in the afternoon, hiking along, realizing that I wouldn't make either, I started to get those disheartening thoughts. The calculations started swirling in my head, the idea that I'm moving too slow, need to move faster, need to start ea

Today was a big day. First: we did big miles--21+ miles!--at that at 8000 to 9000 feet elevation. Imagine if the trail had been at 6000 feet: we could probably have hit 25+ miles. This is huge because, well, miles! But even more importantly, it gives hope that once we truly get out of the Sierras, we'll be able to get in the big miles needed to get to Canada by October 1st. (And yes, in case you're wondering, by this point, the calcuations have started in earnest and the numbers--admittedly--don't look good.) Second: well, let me give some context. The trail today was a lot of going through woods, up and down hills, until reaching a meadow of sorts where the trees broke and instead of tall trunks, colorful wildflowers prevailed. Usually with a little creek flowing through, often disjointed into multiple streams. And that was the day until the big climb towards the end, up to the saddle above Noble Lake. It was on the climb up the saddle that I first noticed the smell of smo

Was a bit of work getting out of Kennedy Meadows North this morning. There is a shuttle--driven by Ron of North Fork and Ron's Cafe fame!--between this spot and the trailhead. It runs at 10am, 2pm, and 6pm (or roundabouts there) and the seats 8-9. If there are more, then Ron does more rounds, although each round takes about an hour. But there was a little snafu in the morning: there's supposed to be a line for the shuttle, you're supposed to put your backpack down to hold your place, but when our round came up (around 11am), a bunch of folks got on ahead of us. So the use-your-bag-to-hold-your-spot-in-line didn't work. For the now 12pm round, then, we got to the line about 20 minutes early and sat next to our bags in line. That worked better, it seemed. The morning in general felt both rushed and very slow. Rushed because we got breakfast at 8am, but the house was full and there was only one waitress, so it took over an hour to get food. Then eat it and try to make the

If you felt wistful leaving the granite peaks and conifer forests and hidden meadows of the Sierras, well, this morning proved that non-Sierra places have something to show as well. We woke early and headed out early because we wanted to catch the 10:30am shuttle from Sonora Pass to Kennedy Meadows North and it was a 7-mile hike to the Pass. But as we continued along the Land of Barren Slopes, the views started opening up. And far below, I could see where the gray stone and gravel of the mountain ended and the green began coming in, first around little lakes, then following the outlets of those lakes down the mountains, into the green below. (There was some question as to why the trail opted to stay up here, around the barren mountain peaks, rather than going down there where there was water and cover and other good things, but that's neither here nor there.) And, in contrast to the Sierras, you could see so much farther: you could start to feel the shape of the land. It reminded m

And because I feel I have been deliquent in describing the actual trail, today, a travelogue. And in the morning I woke and tried to catch up on the writing of this blog. And made some headway--but not enough, the backlog is still days long--so that when I did finally start on the trail, who should I see but AC/DC and Outlast passing by my campsite! They didn't see me--the campsite is back amongst the trees--but I followed behind them for a bit until they noticed, then a bit further on caught up with Uno too. I expected Dylan to catch up at some point--he always would, usually around midday--but I didn't see him today. Anyway, would hike on and off with AC/DC and Outlast and Uno throughout the day. But let's get to the travelogue! And we began in the Vale of Falls Creek, which is a narrow meadow but long, interspersed with woods, and home to many flies and mosquitos. And we reached the Lake of Dorothy, which promised beaches on the north shore, but those beaches were thin a

And I am Laying here today in my tent, in Naught but my Skivvies, because it was Hot and it is still Hot. And this time, instead of Mosquitos occupying the space between tent-and-fly, there are instead Flies--black ones, gleefully rubbing their Hands together (or are those their Feet?), and making booph-booph Sounds as they rattle against the Rain-Fly. How do they get in that interstitial space in the first place, and how come they can't ever seem to get out? Both of my rain fly flaps are Open, because right now I'm here Alone, and I'm waiting for the Others to Arrive. This is the place we elected in the morning, when I had Left: Falls Creek, about 17.6 miles away. I had left Early--or rather, Earlier--around 7:30am, just as everyone else started breaking Fast. But our camp had been Absolutely Beautiful--at the top of Seavey Pass by a mountain Lake, with scattered Conifers and the mountain peaks Right There, all reflected in the Still Water as the sun began to Colorize the

At the end of today, when I got to camp, Quiet was already here with her tent setup, contemplating dinner. How was your hike, she asked. Terrible, I replied. And when Dylan came up a bit later, joining Quiet and now Uno and myself at camp, and asked the same, I gave the same response: terrible. And though both times I said it in a chipper voice with a hint of a smile, still it was a true sentiment. Because I didn't have it today. I didn't have it in the morning when we went over Benson Pass, a pass that isn't that high, isn't that steep, isn't that long--shouldn't be that hard. But it kicked my butt six ways to Sunday, so by the time I was at the top I was utterly exhausted. I remember talking to Uno on the way up, saying how tired I was. I feel old, I said, and she agreed. Aren't we supposed to be stronger hikers now, I asked, because I don't feel it. Her thought was that we were just worn out from all this time in the Sierras; I remember Dylan a couple

This was a day in two Acts. In Act the First, we headed out from camp early--relatively early, around 7:50am (still before 8am!)--and hiked from Tuolumne Meadows Campground to Glen Aulin. This is a hike I'd done before, with Kyle Stewart et al, as just a day-hike. And this was a portion I was actually excited about, because I remembered how nice it was. From the initial flatter portion coming out of Soda Springs, where you walk in the woods until suddenly it breaks and you're walking across these massive rock flows as large as entire hillsides, that in one place drops directly into a meadow, split by a river, flanked by conifers, with the granite pinnacles and slopes in the distance reaching for the blue blue sky. It was picturesque when I hiked it with the Kyle Group, it was just as picturesque today! And then the trail rises up onto some rocks, affords a view of an expansive canyon, then turns the corner and begins a dance with the Tuolumne River. The Tuolumne flows down rapi

A zero day in Yosemite Valley was not the original plan: I have been to the Valley before, seen the sights, didn't need to see them again. Instead I had thought to spend the day here in the Tuolumne Meadow Campground, maybe snoozing, maybe trying (in vain) to catch up with this blog, just staying off my feet and trying to recover the ankle. But the inventory in the Tuolumne Meadows General Store was thin (likely from the July 4th folks coming through), so I opted to head out and at least resupply in Yosemite Valley. So we got the 8:31am YART bus, and I snoozed on the day up, partially because I was tired, but mostly because I was getting carsick. I woke up right before we entered Yosemite Valley proper, watched as we went through the tunnels, and then, before I knew it, we were driving through  the Valley. And I looked up and saw those granite cliff faces soaring above, and suddenly I was a giddy child all over again and it was incredible. The view of El Capitan, from the base, eve