Day 71: Mile 810.5 - 823.3

So I headed out today from one of the high lakes, dropped down into the river valley, and came to the campsite by the river that I had been aiming for yesterday but hadn't reached. It was empty by then--everyone had already packed up and left--so I crossed the river and started off towards the next pass (because at this point the Sierras become this Pass, then that Pass, then the other Pass, and so on). And as I went, I passed by a blue Zpacks tent, and I could kind of see a person inside and, being polite, said good morning as I passed. 

Now in past sections, if you saw a tent on the trail, it was occupied by a PCT hiker. But here, we're now squarely in the section where the PCT and JMT coincide. So often, tents and hikers will be JMTers rather than PCTers--and there are a *lot* of JMTers. So that's what I thought this tent was.

But instead, Charlie, is that you?, comes from the form inside the tent. And now a head pokes out and, hey, that's Uno!

And so it was that today I hiked with Dylan and Uno. I think the last time I hiked with someone was with Runts, back before Tehachapi, so it's been a while since I hiked with a group. And the dynamics of the group always take some getting used to. There are the standard issues: when the group separates (does it hike together all the time?, only some of the time?, does the whole group hike together or only some members?), when it reconvenes (usually at least at the end of the day, but does it also at major landmarks along the way?, are these implicitly understood, or explicitly set?). And then there are the more subtle dynamics. When to advocate, when to assert, how to make decisions. Dylan and Uno are much more relaxed than me--they take more and longer breaks than I would, and in this new climate where I'm pushing for more miles (not out of urgency, but out of eagerness to see more) that left me feeling like my motor was running but I wasn't going anywhere. So I want to advocate for going, but--at least for someone like me who likes to live in consensus--it's not as simple as saying, let's go. I have to convince other people to go, too, and that takes time to understand where and how that fits in. Overall, I do lose a lot of my daily patterns traveling in a group: I don't keep as detailed a pad, I forget to deploy the solar panel to charge my inReach, I linger more after dinner and don't get to writing these as quickly, these sorts of small habits. But typically people form groups going through the Sierras just for safety's sake--when there's snow on the ground (there isn't) crossing these passes can be treacherous, as can be river crossings when the rivers are gushing (they aren't--there's no snow). So traveling in a group is natural in this section. And habits can be adjusted, dynamics can be learned. Plus with Dylan and Uno I talk a lot on trail, the conversation flows easy and natural, and they let me stop and gawk at stuff and snap photos--and don't seem to mind (well, not yet).

As for the trail, today we did hike up and over Mather Pass, which was probably the most mild of the passes so far (for those keeping count, "so far" is Forester, Kearsarge, Kearsarge the other way, Glen, and now Mather). The approach to Mather is similar to all the other passes: you walk up a river valley, then come to a large half-bowl of mountains--you're coming in the open side--walk up to what seems a wall where you can barely see a way up, then follow the trail as it starts switchbacking up the steep slope, until it eventually crosses the  ridge all the way up there. Pretty standard fare by now. (In fact, so standard that Whitney follows the same playbook!)

But that's not what I want to talk about. What I want to talk about is the part *after* Mather Pass, and *after* the Palisade Lakes (which are on the north side of Mather Pass). We had stopped at a lake and contemplated camping there by the shore, but the campsite was pretty exposed and there were concerns about it being windy. And I, of course, advocated for continuing on--there was still good daylight. And so we did, and we ended up descending the Golden Staircase, during the Golden Hour.

And it was Magical.

The Palisade Lakes--beautiful in their own right--lie on an upper plateau. This plateau ends, and the runoff from the lakes drops down quickly--over 1,000 feet in just a couple miles as the crows flies--into a river valley far below. And the trail follows, descending the cliff face in a long series of switchbacks, marked by hundreds of rough hewn stone stairs. And all the while it looks out, down, over the river valley.

And it's utterly Magical.

You look out over a grand valley, far below, stretching away to distant mountains. It sits tidily tucked between granite mountains, the sweeps of their formal robes--from their sharp peaks on top, to the gentle curves of their trains--clearly discernable. And along those slopes, you can see the beginnings of the tree line, the trees gradually thickening until they form the forest of the valley floor, through which flows Palisade Creek. (Which is flowing beside you as you drop down: you can hear its roar as it cascades down the mountain in innumerable drops and falls.) And the light, oh the light! The far mountains in their distant blue, the slopes in their grays, the forest below in its dark green. But all of it, suffused with sunset light, touched by a glow of gold that leans near orange at times, the light shafts streaming from between peaks. Even the rocks you were descending, even these are rendered golden in the light. Towards the top, when we first diverted off trail to a rocky cliff to better see the scene spread before us, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. And Dylan took one look and breathed "Rivendell", and he was right: the scene could have been straight out of the film; they didn't need to CGI that vale, it's here, in the high Sierras! On the way down I stopped to take so many pictures, some of which may even have come out, but none of which capture the experience of walking down that staircase, gazing out over that valley, huge but also intimately hidden--just like Rivendell--in the waning light of the day.

Oh, and the flowers! Here the wildflowers that Emily mentioned finally made an appearance, and in force! I first noticed the trumpets, some magneta and in columns, others purple and pointing to the four corners of the earth, all heralding some upcoming auspicion. Then the shooting stars in bright yellow comets and red tails; white almost-buckwheat flowers, with small petals and delicate feelers, tipped in the tiniest round ornament; their cousins, the same but in magenta; purple lupin, still topped in unopened green, and sometimes their bottom petals still displaying that deep royal blue; bright yellow flowers that reminded me of daisies but likely aren't daisies, bright and chipper and often with a fellow or two or three, chatting as they basked in the sunshine; even the ubiquitous Indian paintbrush, but now its bright red neck-scarves collared by a spray of four yellow fronds, a new fashio which I'd never seen before. The wildflowers seemed to favor these higher elevations, or maybe just these tougher conditions where bush and tree couldn't find as stable a foothold, leaving the soil open to their more delicate sensitivities. They bloomed wherever they could, their colors bright and vibrant and paving our way down to Rivendell. By about two-thirds of the way down it was getting dark, so we pitched camp here, not quite to the bottom, on a small terrace where the sound of Palisade Creek falling down the mountain is just over there.

And that was the hike, a day spent hiking with old friends, crossing a pass--an achievement!--and descending the Golden Staircase at the Golden Hour, an astonishingly beautiful capstone!

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Some notes:

-- Campsite > South Fork Kings River > Mather Pass > Palisade Lakes > Campsite

-- Uno's trail name is now technically Raccuno--so if you happen upon a trail register, look for the latter--but I'm going to keep using Uno because I'm lazy like that.

-- A comment on the Palisade Lakes: the sides of the valley are solid granite. But they have this form: they look like someone decanted liquid granite from the cliff tops and it's slowly flowing down the hillside. The granite is so smooth and rounded it's looks like it's moving, rushing!, but on granite time and at granite speed, its inexorable journey to be concluded maybe a million years hence.

-- Dylan had been wanting to go for a swim and, at the last of the Palisade Lakes, he did, hopping over stones to the other side, finding a large boulder, then jumping from the boulder into the deep blue water. Twice!: after the first time he climbed back out, got onto the boulder, and did it again. No changing, by the way, he just jumped in in his hiking getup: most all of our hiking getups are quick drying, so it works well. Uno and I watched him--she took video, I tried to grab some shots--and mostly we just shook our heads. I mean, we're not going in--the water's likely freezing!--but him, yeah, he likes jumping in alpine lakes!

-- Oh, and we didn't finish the Golden Staircase, but camped about two-thirds of the way down. And I think this was a good decision. First, it was getting late. Second, looking down at that valley, for all its beauty, it was likely filled with mosquitos. So being up here--and there are even some mosquitos up here, where the water is flowing down falls!--I think actually was a fortuituous thing. And, of course, the views--even the views back up the Golden Staircase--were pretty amazing.

-- To get water at this campsite, you go towards the sound of rushing, on the other side of the balanced boulder, and down. Here there are rock terraces, and the water flies down them, and you can stand right next to it, making sure not to slip on the wet stone, and gather it as it rushes to the falls just over there. It's pretty incredible!

-- Incidentally, we didn't know this was the Golden Staircase--found that out the next day from a JMTer going the other way. So for us, this was just a magical thing that happened, completely unanticipated, which, I think, renders it all the more magical!