This week we start the next section of the PCT: the High Sierra. This section is known for being the most beautiful yet brutal section with hikers having to contend with high altitude, snow and river crossings. In this environment we are dwarfed both physically and metaphorically by the landscape and the challenges on trail.
Day 50
Finally a full nights sleep. Maybe the Hiker Games had the desired effect. When I went to grab my towel, hanging on a tree, I found myself wrestling a reluctant lizard off it. Guess we haven’t come that far from the desert after all!
Learning from our mistake the morning before, we opted for French toast and declined the waitresses offer to take our plate away in anticipation people would have leftover pancakes. Sure enough, we ended up taking chunks of the enormous pancakes from several sources and soon felt full and happy.
A lot of people were heading out today so there were many goodbyes. We felt a little antsy in the length of our stay so we cracked on with chores, mainly focusing on resupply. Sadly there’s not many options at Kennedy Meadows and items tend to be quite pricey.
Triple Crown Outfitters
By late afternoon we ordered food and caught up with Mule and Happy Feet who arrived that morning. Like us, they were simultaneously feeling underwhelmed at completing the desert and overwhelmed at the idea of starting the Sierra.
Day 51
I stupidly attempted to eat another whole pancake, ultimately failing miserably. During breakfast a local called out saying that she needed two hikers. She required help moving her things from the bed of her trunk into her summer cabin and couldn’t get up the stairs with her dodgy knees. I volunteered and soon found myself in said truck with fellow hiker Sage.
Unorthodox approach to pancake consumption: I managed to eat a plate-sized chunk though!
We arrived at her two story cabin with a wooden balcony looking out into the valley. From here, you couldn’t see anything but forest and boulders, not another cabin in sight. We moved about furniture on her outdoor terrace, swept up the pine needles and swapped over mattresses before unloading the truck. After about half an hour we found ourselves back in the truck heading to Grumpy’s again.
On return, Dan and I set about packing up camp and trying to work out how we would carry our bear canisters and ice axes. It was like trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle while overtly hot and flustered in the relentless sun. Finally we made it work and continued on to the terrace where we waited for the shuttle to pick us up and transport us to the General Store.
The bear canister is the blue cylinder on top of Dan’s pack. The green ice axe has been wrapped in a purple bandana to prevent it snagging clothes
Despite our triple zero, neither Dan nor I felt rested. In fact, we felt emotionally zapped of energy. Grumpy’s is not a restful place. Initially I had the mentality of ‘you get what you pay for’, and considering camping, showers, and laundry cost nothing, I shouldn’t have expected much. However, it’s worth noting that there is no store, other than Triple Crown Outfitters, a small and pricey resupply shop that’s been fitted into a storage container. So if you want any non-trail food, you have to eat at Grumpy’s. The menu is limited, food over priced and mediocre at best. We spent a shocking amount of money here on food we did not enjoy.
Anyhow, we got a shuttle from Grumpy’s to the General Store. We cramped 12 into the car, me squished on Dans lap, my head tilted so as not to hit the roof. Once there I saw we made a mistake staying at Grumpy’s to begin with. The General Store should have been where we camped. It was quieter with no blaring music, a larger campsite with more opportunities for a flat pitch. They also had a wider range of supplies and sold ice creams out the freezer.
Just after we set up tent, Paige and Sweet Rolls arrived with his sister, her friend, and the adorable Momo. They brought Panda Express with them. I was so greatful after consuming 3 days worth of dreadful pizza. We huddled around a table and caught up while tucking into food. Finally we were all back together again!
Day 52
Once awake we packed down the tents and puzzled at how to pack our bags with the clunky bear canister. Typical to need something so weighty and bulky for the section with the least oxygen and steepest climbs. In addition, the altitude had caused plastic packets of food to fully inflate meaning they were even harder to pack.
We ate our breakfast and enjoyed complimentary coffee before departing a mile down the road to reach the trail. Soon we were back in formation, churning through loose sand. It was a fairly flat start to the day but soon the path started climbing. As we left behind the sand we found ourselves in a pine forest. Next to us ran a river, ferocious in its path down, very much unlike the babbling brooks we had experienced in the last section.
A combination of sand and pine
The path continued to morph in its transition from desert to Sierra. The pivotal moment of this though was leaving the pine woods and entering a green meadow leading the way to snow capped mountains. The sight shocked me. The meadow was a shade of green I normally associate with English spring. Vibrant and healthy, unlike the bleached greeny-yellow grass that dominates the desert. Laying eyes of this view made me feel overwhelmingly proud. For me it was the first time I could fully comprehend how far on this trail we had come and that we really were making progress on our way to Canada.
“By the time we get to Canada we’ll be ready to hike the PCT” – Dan
We stopped by another river mid afternoon for a break and some snacks. The bridge across the water acted as a home for a flock of swifts which danced in and out of their nests made in the underside of the structure. We continued on upwards and soon entered forests again. On a bed of pine needles we made camp next to the stream.
Day 53
To start the day we began a gruelling climb upwards. We made it only 3 miles before we had to stop and recuperate. I wasn’t sure if was the altitude, the weight of our packs or a combination of the two that was sapping our energy. We were certainly no longer maintaining our usual 3mph pace.
“How many meals must I eat to not groan when I put my bag on”
Viewpoint for Owen’s Lake, the height of our climb that day
The weight of the pack restricts a full deep breath only adding to the breathlessness associated with the altitude. Luckily, breathlessness was the only symptom we were experiencing. While I had been anticipating altitude to be my main anxiety in the sierra, I have come to find two new contenders. The first: mosquitos. I was under the impression that mosquitos did not survive above 2500m (8000ft). I must be wrong because at 3000m (9800ft) I had been brutally attacked. My legs were covered in an artwork of bites, and I wear trousers!
The second contending anxiety is hunger. The limited food at Grumpy’s meant we only had two meals a day, not wanting to spend money. The food wasn’t particularly nutritious either: pancake and pizza. My body screamed for sustenance, first presenting as nausea before becoming that pain I always envisioned as a child of my tummy eating itself. We had just about enough food to see us through a seven day stretch but we would be hungry. Additionally, the altitude and the cold upped our need for calories.
Finally, well and truly out of the desert
As soon as we finished dinner we brushed our teeth and got into the tent to both hide from the mosquitos and to get far away from our bear canisters full of rationed food.
Day 54
Despite sleeping at 3,070m (10,100 ft) we woke up without altitude symptoms. This made me extremely happy, an emotion not shared by Dan who hadn’t had the best night sleep and was beginning to resent my 5am alarm.
Following the path through forest has been such a treat
The trail continued to give way to beauty. Here we are dwarfed by our environment. The trees, boulders and mountains tower above us, leaving me feeling insignificant. As we walked a large creature cut through the trail ahead of Sweet Rolls. Its thick fur was a combination of white and grey: a large coyote. He continued his silent run, stopping in a clearing. Here we observed him sit, looking back at us once, before choosing to ignore us. I guess he too considered us insignificant.
The creature that gave me my trail name
In contrast to yesterday, the walking felt relatively easy. We climbed white rock fields, powered through forests and enjoyed sudden open meadows with the mountains looming behind the green grass. Before we knew it we had covered 12.5 miles to reach Chicken Spring Lake. Mirror clean water reflected the stone peaks behind, long grass framing the edges of the lake and there were amples of trees to hide out in the shade.
Sweet Rolls trying his luck at fishing. There were no fish.
Sweet Rolls braved a full body wash, diving into the cold water while we dipped our feet in. As we were resting in the shade, a marmot appeared from the centre of a dead log. We watched for far too long, fascinated by the noises she would retreat from and the ones she would ignore.
Majestic yellow bellied marmot
While camp was only another 4.5 miles from the lake it was by far the hardest part of the day. Firstly, it opened with a steep climb, reaching 3,500m (11,500 feet). Secondly, the rationing of food and the ongoing calorie deficit was really beginning to take its toll. Once at camp, and while trying to set up the tent, temporary darkness clouded my vision and faintness took over.
We ate a large meal, polishing off about 800 calories each and still feeling empty. The feeling in my body is very similar to when I used to deprive myself of calories to look a certain way during a turbulent period of my life. While the physical feeling is similar, the cognition is not. The thought that I used to deliberately restrict calories seems incomprehensible to the person I am now. I am grateful for the positive relationship I have with food today, but the feeling of hunger has brought back a host of uncomfortable memories from that time in my life.
I wasn’t the only one with food on my mind. As we lay in our tents during a strangely gentle hale storm we discussed what food we will order when we got to Bishop, our next town stop.
Day 55
We had a short day of only 12.4 miles, so no one set an alarm. It felt like luxury to wake naturally to the sound of birds and I opened my eyes to pine forest. None of us slept particularly well, it was cold and hunger pains demanded attention. During breakfast Dan confessed he had been dreaming of a giant bowl of chilli con carne and woke up salivating.
Even my cravings have stepped up a notch. While I used to pine for foods accessible in the US, like pizza, fries, milkshakes and pancakes, I now long for specific foods from places in the UK. Pad thai from London South Bank food market, a latte from a proper coffee shop alongside a Gail’s almond croissant, Dan’s brothers halloumi fajitas, Nutella whipped ice cream from this one tiny place in Newcastle. Anything my brother cooks, any cake or bread my mum bakes. A Knoops hot chocolate, followed by brunch at our favourite place back home. The list goes on!
I’ve realised I’ve spent much of the week talking about food yet haven’t given any real insight into what food on trail looks like. Therefore, considering it’s been a rather standard day on trail I thought I would throw light on our trail diet.
Breakfast: electrolyte, coffee and oats
In the mornings I have 2 packs of oats which I cold soak the night before, mixing them with chia seeds. Once done with the oats, I use the same container to make a coffee. Adding cold water, instant coffee and powdered French vanilla creamer. I shake the tub as if I’m making a cocktail to produce a cold foamy latte of sorts. Finally, an electrolyte mix to help prevent dehydration.
For my morning snack I have a packet of trail mix, a salted version, again washed down with lots of water. Throughout the hike today I also had 2 hard candy Jolly Ranchers and a small handful of sour patch kids.
One of the last packs from our Costco adventure back in LA
For lunch (sadly not photographed due to sheer hunger and desperation to eat) I consumed a soft white bread roll with a sachet of peanut butter and a sachet of jam. To finish off, 2 pieces of dried mango. It’s a pretty poor excuse for lunch, especially on a hiking day, but that’s all the rations could afford.
Finally, at camp we have dinner. Here we splurge, enjoying a serving of noodles between the two of us. This is followed by a combination of Annie’s White cheddar Mac and Cheese mixed with a Cheetos Mac and Cheese mixture. We then add a baby bale for extra flavour and cheesiness. For dessert, two biscuits (or cookies for you Americans).
Mac and cheese is a bugger to clean up, but boy does it taste better than the instant meals
This is quite a good representation of what we had to eat on this 7 day stretch but is not sufficient. Lessons have certainly been learnt from going hungry on this stretch. Even on trail we began discussing how we would improve our meals for the next stretch. Maybe in the upcoming weeks I’ll repeat the food diary to give a comparison of a good versus bad food plan.
That evening we camped at Crabtree Meadows, the campsite for those about to summit Mount Whitney, tomorrow’s mission.
Day 56
The sunrise from Mount Witney was beautiful; standing at 4,421m (14,505 ft) it is, both figuratively and literally, taking my breath away. For me this has always been an iconic site of the PCT (despite not being part of the PCT!), but has equally filled me with anxiety. To summit for sunrise, we had to start our climb at 00:45. We forded rivers, climbed boulders, navigated through snow fields and then traversed steep snow covered trail, all guided by the light of the full moon to make it for 5am.
Sunrise pending
While snow is low this year, it was the first time I had to use an ice axe and micro spikes on trail. The moment we came to crossing the snow traverses I was a bundle of nerves, obsessed with the steepness of the icy slope. One carefully placed foot after another we slowly made our way through the snow patches. I mentally blocked my line of cognition of what would be if I were to fall. Reminding myself to breathe I continued on, the scraping of the axe, my pole and spikes on the ice equally reassuring and uncomfortable.
Snow passes on the way back down
As we came over the last boulder climb I could see a stone hut lit up by the twilight. I spin to see 360° views of mountains becoming more distinct from their previous black outline. As I climb the last 100m I teared up, the sense of achievement and beauty of the place overwhelming me.
The moon and Whitney hut
Sweet Rolls and I settled on a rock, facing east our legs dangling over the edge into nothingness and draped in our sleeping bags for warmth. Here we sat, at the highest point in the Sierra Nevada mountain range, watching the orange sun rise flood the surrounding landscape with light.
Not looking my best after an hours sleep but horrendously proud
We descended the way we came. I was dreading the snow traverses and their sheer drops to find they were more manageable in the day light. By 9:30am we were back in camp, shattered but full of pride. I ate my breakfast and climbed into the tent where I fitfully slept for an hour. On waking we packed down the tents and made lunch accompanied by coffee.
Back the way we came
We were still in the middle of a bubble at the moment which is working in our favour. The day before when we got to camp we saw several trail families we’ve been hanging out with, so had the chance to catch up with them before they headed out. Today was much the same, we were joined at lunch by several hikers who had just come in. It was particularly nice to see Bender (previously Raw Bean), who we had spent time with around Wrightwood to Agua Dulce. They helped lift our tired spirits before we reluctantly headed out to walk again.
We had already walked almost 18 miles with our round trip to Whitney. With 8 more to go to camp, we encouraged fatigued muscles into action as we began another climb back to the official PCT trail. The going was slow, but manageable. It was a pretty uneventful walk with the exception of some brutal river crossings.
A more manageable river crossing
Snow was melting rapidly in the Sierra making for some dangerous river crossings. Up until now, we’d gotten away with balancing over rocks and logs to avoid getting our feet wet. But this wasn’t going to fly now. We had three crossings between Crabtree and Tyndall Creek where we would camp. Each increased with their intensity, the first barely having any white water, the last a raging torrent. River crossings are intimidating and dangerous, especially in the afternoons. Before starting the PCT I thoroughly researched river crossing safety which I would highly recommend for anyone else attempting the Sierras.
During the final crossing, the water reached between my knees and thighs and was icy cold. The force of the water intense and yet another form of resistance training for my fatigued legs. Luckily, camp was waiting on the other side, and here we quickly pitched and changed into our warm sleep wear hoping our sodden shoes and trousers would dry out ahead of tomorrow’s early start. At the crack of dawn we would be facing our first mountain pass.
The Sierra has delivered everything it promised: challenging, fear-inducing and spectacular. Next week we would finally resolve our hunger with a proper resupply in Bishop and face the first of our high altitude passes.
