Day 70: Mile 794.2 - 810.5

And today I Hiked from Rae Lakes, over Pinchot Pass, to past Lake Marjorie, and befell a series of Encounters (though they were not Contentious, and hence required no Rolls for initiative). Expressly:

1 And I woke Late, for Last Night I had worked on this selfsame Blog starting from Compline, under my sleeping bag as is my wont--both to keep the Warmth and to muffle the Sound to better appease my Neighbors--and it was Cozy and I would Write then Snooze then Wake, and Write then Snooze then Wake, and So On until Midnight, when I slept in Full. And hence I woke Late, although such Disrupted sleep is seemingly yet Fine, for my Garmin Body Battery nonetheless registered 100 upon Waking.

2 And I hiked and came upon Max and Marina and Seth--their Friend with the Coolest wide-brimmed Hat--and behold but it was Marina's Birth-Day, and she had received handwritten Well Wishes, which they were reading. And I did Chat, and they did ask how far I Intended this Day, and I replied I'm going to walk, and see how far I get. Out of which they got a Kick: put that on a teed Shirt, they exclaimed.   

3 And I had spoken with Jane and Jean in the morning, and they had mentioned that this Upcoming Section had a place of many rocks, and here did the young Spurned male deer Dwell, condemned to wander this desolate Ungreen. And, lo, as I came to this Section, in a still Wooded glade, I saw a young male Deer, his antlers yet Stout and Fuzzed, and he calmed walked Towards me, even as my hand was buried in a bag of Mango slices, before turning and walking into the Wood. For behind him came yet another Hiker, and though sandwiched between us Two, yet he remained Unfazed, and went about his Way, likely worried about more Amorous concerns.

4 And as I came to Dollar Lake, I found I had forgotten that Stars can fall from the Heavens and reside instead in Seas and Lakes and Ponds, but in so doing, that they Twinkle all the stronger: their Waxing near blinding, their Waning a full Disappearance, for rarely do they reappear in the same Place, but they Dive below only to Surface elsewhere.

5 And I came to a Marmot, munching at the Hay in some horse Evidence, in the middle of the trail. And it cared not a Whit for my Presence, but noshed Unconcerned as I approached Close, yea within a few Yards, even as his Partner scampered away into a Bush. And then I went around, clambering over some rocks Off-Trail, for this was his House, and I but a Visitor.

6 And I came to Litter, the top of a Justins' Peanut Butter packet, dropped on the trail. But I cannot Admonish, for even as I Retrieved it and made to place it within a Plastic baggie I use for Trash, I checked and, lo, but a wrapper of My Own was missing. And I backtracked and found it but a few Yards Up-Trail, presumably having Fallen when I opened my hip pouch for the baggie. So must I conclude that the Discarding of the Justin's was similarly Accidental, lest I myself be Judged.

7  And I came to a butterfly, its Wings of Enflamed orange, freckled with Sunbright yellow complete with Companioned dark Sunspots, and it was again Unconcerned with my presence. And it was gently opening and closing its Wings, as if in Exercise, a Yoga of salutation to the warmth of the Sun. And it did so right next to a large horse Evidence--again!--so that the sight was Beautiful, but the redolence decidedly less So!

8 And I crossed a Stream, a little thing which was easily rock Hopped, but this one was notable for who should I see coming the other way, but Martin, who had given us a Ride into Bishop! And we chatted some, even as the mosquitos Swarmed and Swirled about us. And I thanked him again for giving us the Ride, and he said No Problem, because when he had come down from Whitney once, someone had Helped him, and he was now paying it Backward or Forward or Whatever: he was helping others because he knew such thing come Around. And he remarked, where are the other two, and I said likely Ahead, and he surmised, ah, you must be the Slow One, and then--thinking of Speed--commented that the PCT does not give much chance for looking Left or Right, does it? And I agreed. Would you ever do a thru-hike, I asked. And he thought a bit. Not the AT, and not the PCT, he said, too much a party vibe, but maybe the PNT, the Pacific Northwest Trail (which I believe goes through Montana to Washington?). And this made sense to me, for Martin is a person who seeks the Wilderness--the true Wilderness where you are Out There, and you have to Figure It Out, and there is no Guthooks or Internet or Crowd-Sourcing to Help You Out. Just you and your Wits against the Elements. And, honestly, though such is beyond my Keen, the more Power to him for such an Inclination!

9 And after taking lunch under the Suspension Bridge that crossed Woods Creek, and rose and alighted said Bridge, and there--as it torqued with each Footstep--did I remember that I Fear Heights, and kept my hands on the Cabled railings as much as possible, sliding them along, and did not take any Photos, for fear of dropping the Camera into the rushing water Below.

10 And then did the trail follow Woods Creek Upstream, and lo but this was a Tough section, as I was Slow, for the trail here was often abrupt Steps rather than preferred Incline. The Former being hard to Hike, for my Knees are not yet that Strong, and the Effort of the Steps seems always to disrupt the Rhythm of my Ambulation.

11 And during the Aforementioned ascent, I passed an older Gentleman, also Backpacking, and as I did I remarked, "It keeps going up, doesn't it". And he Considered this, before replying, "I'm getting irritated". And we both laughed.

12 And also during the Aforementioned ascent, at a switchback corner I looked to the side and saw a Bear--my First! And lo but he looked to Lumber only just less Poorly than I, walking over the rocks of the slope. He was Far, not a threat, and a shaggy Brown, and Walking away even as I Stared. And for a moment he turned his head Back to Stare back, and I immediately Straightened, and Puffed my chest and Squared my shoulders so as to appear Big, but he didn't Care and just as Suddenly continued walking away, Disinterested.

13 And I continued on the trail as it turned away from Woods Creek, and ascended past the Treeline. And here I would have thought the landscape but Rock and Soil, but instead I found High meadows, fed by Hidden lakes. And I took a Meal by a stream, trickling down from a connecting River, and all about me were craggy Peaks, gray and ochre (from Iron, speculated KT) and chiseled Stone, pure Stone, and their slopes similarly gray and ochre and Stone, the Discards of their Carvings, and I sat at their Base, their very Ankles, and yet I sat on grass Green, sprung from Soil rich enough that I spread my Rain-jacket to keep my posterior Dry.

14 And I ascended Pinchot Pass and, lo, but it was Tough. And perhaps it was the drain of Two passes from Yesterday--Kearsarge and Glen--or perhaps it was just Pinchot Itself, or perhaps I am not as Strong as I Hope, but I was Gassed and this ascent seemed more Difficult than any of its forebears. The views all the way up, though, were spectacular, glancing back at the hidden Lakes and Meadows, and seeing afar south the Tops of the mountains, those peaks Solitary in Person, but Joined at Distance into a breathtaking Range. For I know how Large and Distinct they each truly are, yet to see them from Here, colluded together into a singular Form, and realize how High I must be, and how Far, and to think I walked below those Peaks just a day or two Ago--it was, again, breathtaking. 

15 And I came down from Pinchot Pass, and the trail passes by many High lakes, before dropping down a canyon to wander beside a River. And I had intended to reach the River, but after passing the Fourth lake I was Tired, and at the Fifth, two miles nigh of the River, I stopped to make Camp. And I looked out from my Site, to the valley to the north where the River ran, and my Tolkien collection back home, lo but now did I know where the cover Illustrations come from, for I gazed upon those selfsame Shapes--the sharpness of peaks, the gentle curve of valleys, the distinct bowl of a pass (Mather?, which we will cross tomorrow?)--and even those selfsame Colors--the delicate blue-near-green of far mountains, the strong gray-and-ochre of sunset-lit peaks, the mottled green-and-black of wooded slopes. A beautiful view to end a hard-fought day.

And that was the hike!

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Some notes:

-- Rae Lakes > Arrowhead Lake > Dollar Lake > South Fork Woods Creek > Woods Creek Suspension Bridge > Sawmill Pass Trail Junction > Pinchot Pass > Lake Marjorie > Campsite

-- Today I met Caveman, who I actually had met before, back at the Eastside Guesthouse in Bishop. But today we leapfrogged a lot, and I got to talk to him a bit at the hops, whether at the suspension bridge, or following Woods Creek upstream, the final ascent up Pinchot Pass (which we did together), or this final campsite (he's camped on the other side of this tree from me). He had been reading a Thoreau collection in Bishop--had just finished it, in fact--and had picked up a Herman Hesse as his next, but wasn't liking it. He knew Hesse to be a good writer, but this the subject of this one--relationships within a Catholic boarding school--he just wasn't feeling it. Caveman was also having a tough day, same as me, and felt tired. We didn't talk much--Caveman tends to consider before he speaks, which just makes for slower conversation--and our meetings were too incidental to get much going. But perhaps I'll hear more from him on the trail ahead.

-- Actually, when we got to the campsite, Caveman asked me, so when are you planning on finishing the JMT? And I replied, well, my current plan is to do 15 miles a day until Sonora Pass, and then ramp up to 20 miles a day after that. Wait, he said, you're a PCTer? Yeah, I replied. Oh, he said, I thought you were a JMTer! Hmm, well, I guess I still don't look rugged enough--or perhaps ragged enough--to qualify as a thru-hiker!

-- A final Caveman story. As he was setting up his tent, I went to gather water from the lake and, on my way back, noticed another campsite on the other side of the tree from mine. This was a bit strange: here's a singular tree on a slight slope, and there's a campsite at its base that can be seen from the trail, and I had setup there. And never bothered to check the *other* side of the tree. But now I saw it, and pointed it out to Caveman, who was setting up on a makeshift spot, and he looked at it and said, yeah, that's *much* better, and--to his credit--collapsed his tent and moved. I think in my case, that far along I would have stayed where I was at, but this other-side-spot really was much nicer. Hmm, in future I will have to do the Michael Be thing--when we camped just down from Mount Pacifico, I remember he came into camp and wandered around for 5 minutes. I'm like a dog, he said, I have to walk around for a bit before I set up my tent. And he did, even though right when he entered he had picked out a spot, still, he wandered around that entire little plateau and looked at all the other spots too. Not a bad strategy, all told.

-- This morning I was also a bit late as I was effecting repairs. In particular, I use rubber feet on the bottoms of my trekking poles: I feel they give better traction than the standard narrow tips. But they wear down and a pole tip had punched through. So I removed that punctured tip--the trick is to twist rather than pull directly--and replaced it with a brand new one. The other repair was more significant. My right pants pocket, where I put my camera, had developed a hole on the inside. It was pretty big too, wonder I haven't noticed it until now. For that, I used two pieces of tenacious tape: one on the inside of the pocket, the other on the outside, to form a sort of tenacious tape wall. I'm not sure how long it will hold--these pant pockets are perforated ostensibly to help breathability and comfort, but as a consequence I think they're also weak and get holes easily--but I need to swap out these pants anyway. They have holes in the bottoms, holes both large and developing in the pockets, the conversion zipper is falling off, and they're a size too large. So a temporary fix, but I need to swap the pants out anyway. Of course, I'll swap them for the same pants (well, a different size at least), since they're convertible cargo pants and I've developed a whole *system* for what goes in each pocket and I just reach for stuff unconsciously. Eh, glutton for punishment, I guess!

-- Oh, and I should mention that the bear canister strategy worked: while I had to use the bear box at Rae Lakes to contain the excess, by this evening I had eaten down enough that everything fit into the bear canister. So: pack 6-days of food into the bear canister (which is the max I can anyway), carry an extra day in my pocket, and if I camp the first day at a bear box, I'll be fine. Just a single data point to be sure, but a good one.