Over the course of the next two weeks the miles we do will be dependent on the distance between passes. The idea was to sleep at the approach of a pass in order to summit and descend in the morning while the snow’s hard and forgiving. This week we crossed 5 passes including Forester, Kearsarge (twice!), Glen, Pinchot, and Mather.
Day 57
4:30am and we’re away, heading up the approach to Forester Pass, the highest point on the PCT. We are a group of 6 today, Lara and Max, another English couple have joined our regular foursome. We moved across snow fields, the full moon and the gentle glow of twilight behind us. As we continue up, the landscape became greyer, starker, washed of colour – just rocks and snow.
Sometimes it’s worth looking back the way you came
Forester Pass is an unlikely narrow break in the rock face, the summit of which is not visible from below. We began the steeper section of the climb, scrambling rocks and treading carefully on the snowy patches.
Foresters Pass is that small gap between the rock faces. Good luck finding the path up
We didn’t require any mountaineering equipment on the way up, not even when we got to the steep snow pass at the top as the boot pack was well established.
Summit celebrations
On reaching the summit we took a collective sigh of relief, pleased the climb was relatively easy. We naively thought the ascent would be the hardest part of the pass. In reality, it was the decent that challenged us. To begin with things seemed okay. We glissaded down the mountain, whereby we used our ice axes to control our speed as we rapidly slid down on our bums. While others looked controlled I felt anything but, unable to get enough traction to control my speed. I was terrified, hurtling downwards with a sharp object in hand. Luckily, the slope levelled out at the bottom and I came to sit-still.
It’s certainly quicker than navigating the snow pack via foot!
The experience had knocked my confidence and myself and others opted to navigate the snow field using our micro-spikes instead of attempting an even steeper glissade with rocks in the path. This option appeared safer but with no path to follow and steep snow traverses it felt scarier than my risk tolerance allowed for.
When we weren’t fearing for our lives we were finally able to enjoy the views
Fatigued and frightened we finally found our way to the trail and was thankful that the snow was now only in small patches and on less of an incline. We broke for a snack once the snow ceased. Here, to add to my woes I lost one of our water bladders to a raging waterfall. It was simply there one minute and gone the next.
We weren’t doing very well with our water system. Firstly, I had lent my filter to a fellow hiker whose own had frozen at night. Secondly, I had taken Dan’s filter up Whitney and forgot to hide it somewhere warm, meaning it too had frozen. This means we were down to one water bladder and were relying on our friend’s filters. This was far from ideal.
The initial plan was to spend another night on trail, but once again the appeal of town food and a bed won out. This meant ascending not just Forester Pass but also coming off trail and scaling Kearsarge Pass. The problem was there was a time limit on getting a lift from the trailhead into town. Onion Valley Road only goes to the trail so hitching is limited to day hikers and trail angels who tend to stop lifts at 6pm. As Sweet Rolls had already booked a room he left us while we broke for lunch at Bullfrog Lake.
During lunch we questioned whether we could make it in time. We were running seriously low on food, Dan and I skipping lunch to save our final meal for dinner if all did not go to plan. On leaving the lake, morale had plummeted, the disappointment on missing out on town and the adrenaline come-down from this morning playing on our minds.
We continued on, navigating across more raging rivers and embracing the outcome of wet feet. We were back in forest and soon found ourselves climbing once again. I was struggling after yesterday’s effort of climbing over 1,850m (6,000 ft) and having spent my remaining energy on Forester’s. I broke down about 300m from the top of the pass unable to move and sat sobbing. This is the first time I’ve cried on trail. I was simply exhausted. A combination of physical fatigue, being under-fuelled and emotional depletion. Perhaps being due on my period exacerbated the situation. I sat there hyperventilating looking at Kearsarge Lakes, perhaps one of the most picturesque sights I have seen on trail thinking how stupid my tears were.
Is that not the most scenic view to have a mental breakdown in front of?
Dan and Paige got in the trenches with me, and soon the three of us were laughing again, all agreeing to battle on and gamble on the hope of a ride to town. The fact that we could see a group behind us spurred us on, hoping to beat them to the trail head to snatch a lift. With enlightened moods we summited the pass and instantly began a rapid descent down the mountain.
On our way down we could see frozen lakes, the ice a vivid electric blue. We bumped into fellow hikers we knew on their way back up to trail. One of which gave us a number of a trail angel who was planning to come to the trail head at 6pm to pick hikers up. Paige and I looked at one another and hugged quickly falling away in hysterical laughter which reverberated off the canyon walls. It’s such a silly thing, but this morning we had discussed what we would order from Denny’s Diner if we made it to town. The dream of Denny’s had been taken away at lunch, but now seemed tentatively possible again.
However, it appeared unlikely again once we reached the trail head with several people already waiting for a ride out of town. Just as we began adjusting to the reality of not making town a guy in a Jeep called us over and asked if we wanted a ride to Independence, the town at the bottom of the valley. We jumped at the opportunity.
Once in Independence we began the process of hitching and after 20 minutes of standing in the sun, Brenda stopped and took us 40 minutes up the road to Bishop. We had a great conversation with Brenda who refused petrol money asking only for us to send some photos in return for the lift. She even left us with a jar of her own honey which we consumed the following day with bread and butter.
The dream of Denny’s achieved.
By 9pm we had showered and were on our way to Denny’s. Please don’t get me wrong, Denny’s by no means boasts of the best food. But for some reason it became the driving force for us to get to Bishop. I suspect it was the hunger from our long, insufficient food carry, and the variety a diner offered that was the appeal. A plate of omelette, hash browns, two slices of toast, two pancakes and a side of fries later I finally felt full and satisfied.
As I crawled into bed I considered how many fears I had faced in the last two days. High altitude, heights, snow traverses with steep drops, glissading, and river crossings. No wonder I was physically and mentally shattered. The Sierra had brutally welcomed us, making us earn the beauty it has to offer. I am so pleased to have done Whitney and Forester, but there is a relief that I am this side of them.
Day 58
Todays objective was simple: to get all town chores done so we could fully relax tomorrow. Before I knew it we were at the laundromat and grabbing pastries from the coffee shop next door. I also called my parents for a chat. This is the second time I’ve called home since starting trail, knowing I risk pangs of homesickness whenever I speak to my family. The two of them are walking a section of the South West Coast Pathway, a beautiful long distance walk that skirts around my favourite parts of England. No prizes for guessing who influenced my love of walking!
With clean clothes, Dan and I proceeded to the post office, bakery and grocery stores for resupply. Despite being in a town we have never been to before we seemed to know and chat with more people than we would in our home town. Everywhere we went we would see a familiar face and engage in a quick fire conversation, all parties feeling the pressure to get back to pending chores. Bishop is a wonderful little town that felt almost unbearably hot. A feeling at odds with the views of the snow capped mountains surrounding us. The main highlight was the Schatt’s Bakery which offered hearty homemade baked goods.
Way too much food for two bear canisters
Back in the hotel room we dumped our resupply on the bed and began organising a week’s worth of food. Once decanted into ziplock bags we then had fun playing a 3D version of Tetris trying to fit the food into the bear cans. It became clear we had over supplied in a frenzy not to be caught out in the same hunger driven state as last week. We decided to bounce on the extra food to Mammoth, satisfied with the knowledge half our resupply for the next section would be done.
Come evening we met several hikers at the bowling alley. Just like the hiker games this was a great way to blow off some steam and decompress. The intensity of Foresters Pass had us all feeling a little anxious about the next section so a distraction and some fun was very much needed. Gigs kept us all in check, often shouted “no shop talk” whenever anyone mentioned trail.
Three lanes dominated by trail names
Dizzy had some news for us. He had decided to end his time on the PCT, stating he had gotten what he wanted from trail and was ready to go home. He had started on the same day as us, he was the first of our group to get a trail name, and is just a wonderful human. While sad we would feel his absence, I’m happy he has found what he was looking for so congratulated him on finishing his hike. It was a bittersweet evening in which we somehow all ended up at Denny’s for dinner yet again!
Day 59
One trip to the post office to send on our bounce box and all town chores were done. This meant I got to spend a large portion of the day sat in a coffee shop editing and writing. While committing to a weekly blog could be described as a chore it is one I thoroughly enjoy. Reflecting on the days spent on trail via written form helps me process my thoughts.
The rest of the day is spent resting, finalising last minute trail prep, like downloading recommended audiobooks, and looking up accommodation at our next town stop. Food also takes a big priority with regular stops at the bakery, McDonalds and Taco Bell.
We have about three different fast food chains on the go in this room
Today the No Kings Protest took place, some people in town taking a stand. Our trail friends from America felt conflicted, describing feelings of guilt about being on trail instead of marching in the streets. With all the news pouring in, I felt anxious to get away from town and back on trail. Suddenly the dangers of the Sierra seemed less daunting when compared with the reality of what is happening in cities across USA.
Day 60
There was no real sense of urgency or plan of how we would get back to trail. We knew once we got to the trail head we would only be walking 8 miles to the approach of Glen pass.
We proceeded to stand on the road side and hitch splitting into two groups. Dan and I got picked up by a couple, Bob and Susie, who knew the Sierra section of the PCT well, having walked large sections of it. Once back in Independence we took a ride with a trail angel up to the trail head.
No breakdown this time around
We began our climb back to trail bumping into several people we knew on their way down to town. The walking was fairly easy and we had no problems managing Kearsarge Pass and then continuing on for a mile to camp. It was a beautiful location sheltered by white rocks with views of the valley below. Mule and Happy Feet also joined us at camp and would continue to hike with us the next day. Inside our tent we watched as the sunset dominated the colours of the valley before drifting off to sleep.
Got a solid 8 hours of sleep here
Day 61
The climb up Glen Pass was short yet steep. Large sections of the path and its forgiving switchbacks were lost to snow. This meant we had to scramble directly up loose scree. Once at the summit we took a moment to reflect on the beauty of the snow speckled valley before gearing up to descend.
Paige and Dan nearing the top
With ice axes in tow and micro spikes donned, we cut into the side of the valley before following the boot tread down. The final part of the decent also seemed to lack a clear path and involved a lot of way-finding through fields of rock. At last we came to feeling relieved and reassured that we could survive the next few passes as Glen was nowhere near as scary as Forester.
I would even go as far to say that the descent was fun
We came to Rae lakes, a picturesque aqua blue lake with a snow capped mountain serving as a backdrop. We spent a few hours here, enjoying the beauty and the downtime. Sweet Rolls began fishing, catching a total of 7 fish with his rod. Meanwhile Paige and I took a swim in the lake, the crystal clear water leaving us breathless with its cold bite.
Meanwhile I had a go and caught nothing, I feel like this is a hobby I’ll steer clear of
The final three miles of the day involved another climb that followed a raging waterfall. Rapidly flowing streams, encouraged in their verlocity by snow melt, obstructed our path. We crossed about three times, accepting the cold water that reached the top of my thighs. River crossings no longer scared me, but when the water roars and swirls white it always gives me pause and I find myself ensuring I’m crossing at the safest point.
Day 62
It was bitterly cold when we woke that morning. Dan and I packed up and headed out ahead of the others for fear our fingers would freeze. We began the long climb to Pinchot pass. What began as a gradual incline through sub-alpine terrain turned drastically steep and bare upon reaching the final switchbacks. We zig-zagged our way up the trail having to physically climb with our hands the last couple of metres.
We celebrated with a snack break overlooking the 360° view of mountains. Luckily the climb down wasn’t terrible. We initially cut through the snow, traversing the side of the mountain before following boot pack downwards until we found trail again. We were all on a high at the bottom; perhaps the passes were becoming easier, or we were becoming stronger.
The trail then opened up into grassy fields speckled with white rocks, pine trees and patch’s of snow. Rivers were a consistent feature requiring a combination of log walking, rock hopping or simply getting our feet wet to cross them. The South Fork Kings River was perhaps the most treacherous crossing. White rapids thundered with the added volume from snowmelt. Both visually and audibly intimidating. Unclipping my backpack I began the journey keeping my body upstream, poles ahead and sidestepping. The icy water reached the middle of my thighs, but despite its depth and speed it felt manageable.
We constantly have wet feet!
After some lunch we continued upwards to complete our second pass of the day. The gradual climb took us to a rock field which sat in a basin framed by mountains. I’ve found that from the bottom of a pass I can never work out where the summit will be. The path is so minute in the rock and blends in when looking from the floor. Most of the time it will curve around corners giving way to unforeseen obstacles, and today, Mather Pass was no exception.
Halfway up the steep switchbacks, the trail became lost to snow. It appeared that those before us had cut the snowy switch backs off climbing directly up the loose rocks to reach the path above. We followed suit with little problems for the first two switchbacks, the next one however appeared far more sketchy. It was steeper, longer and with more loose stone opposed to solid boulder.
One of the easier climbs that preceded the death scramble
I shortened my trekking poles and began on up almost instantly losing footing but managing to grab hold of larger stone to support myself. I kept on going knowing how dangerous this was, trying not to to assess what injuries would plague me should I fall. I put my hand on a large rock pulling my body up the steep side before using it as a foot hold, reaching up for the next rock. As I did so the rock below dislodged and began sliding downwards taking loose stone with it. Dan and Paige hopped out of the way while I frantically tried to find purchase for my feet.
Once up, I could barely take a sigh of relief knowing the other two would have to also navigate their way up. Paige did so quite quickly navigating a path next to the one I chose. Dan however got stuck, unable to go the way we had gone due to the stone slides Paige and I had caused. He began in another direction but instantly slid back down his muscles shaking from the fatigue of holding himself in a place that would not support him.
Another group came and navigated a new route. Becks, an Aussie leading her group helped talk Dan through the climb. He had about 20 meters to ascend and began zig zagging his way up with painfully slow progress, each move taken with the utmost care. His whole body shook and fear consumed my being, spiking unbearably every time he slipped. Once he was safely on the path I finally took a full breath, but it wasn’t until we reached the summit did he stop so I could put my arms around him.
Pure relief
Going down was also unbearably slow. Fatigued by the effort of climbing, an adrenaline come-down and psychological fear meant Dan required a lot of time to manoeuvre over rock and snow. The path was practically nonexistent all the way to the subalpine floor. We broke for camp early at the first campsite available. It was an ideal spot with a stream running next to it, a lake below and spectacular views of the mountains. As we ate dinner I sewed up my trousers which had split when collecting water. I also patched together my puffy which I caught on the ice axe this morning. I can’t wait to send this weapon on!
Day 63
I woke before the alarm and admired the view of mountains framed by pine trees from where I slept. What a privilege to wake up to this. As I made breakfast and coffee marmots boldly drew close, their noses aloft sussing out if we had anything of interest.
The trail was simply breathtaking. We walked through white boulder fields that framed sapphire blue lakes with forest in the foreground. The walking was split into two halves: the down and the up. The down involved descending stone stairs which snaked down the mountain side. Waterfalls guided us down roaring so loudly I had to pause my audiobook. Vibrant soft green meadows awaited us at the bottom, a crystal blue river cutting its way through the green basin.
The greenery continues to lift my spirits, especially after the faded colours of the desert section
After lunch we began the up section of the day. It was a fairly gradual climb until suddenly it wasn’t. Similar to the morning, we followed a river which became a waterfall as we climbed. At the top of the waterfall the ground levelled out becoming a meadow with camping between small pine trees. The river behind opened up into a large crystal clear pool, the grass verge of which was lined with purple flowers. To complete this picturesque scenes the grey snow capped mountains stood tall below a clear blue sky. On a whim we scrapped our plans for the rest of the day to camp here.
Our pool for the evening
We spent a couple of hours swimming and soaking in the sun on the river bank. As we ate dinner, we watched the colour drain from the mountains as the sun set. It had been a perfect trail day.
While our hiking distance is dramatically less than normal, the effort these passes take feels insurmountable. What surprised me is how cognitively exhausted I had become from them, always having to consider foot placement, way finding or navigating melting snow or rock slides. We only have three high passes left, and then we’ll be half way through the Sierra.
