I had heard hikers complaining of mosquitos whilst researching but prior to my own hike I thought they were just being dramatic. Sure, no-one likes them and yes they are a nuisance, but perfectly manageable in the general scheme of things. Now, in the latter half of the Sierras, I feel utterly foolish for underestimating the psychological torture that comes from a descending cloud of blood sucking mosquitoes, forcing us from any rest.
Day 71
Luckily there were no mozzies at 6am and we headed down the mountain. As we reached the basin of the valley it became frosty; the cold sink making itself known. Here we entered iced over meadows with streams snaking down the side of the valley joining the curvy river below.
Frost isn’t something we’re accustomed to seeing on trail
After 11.5 miles of easy walking we reached Tuolumne Meadows, a small post office, grocery store and cafe in the middle of Yosemite. We piled onto a wooden picnic bench and laid out our sleeping bags to dry in the sun. Sadly our resupply box hadn’t arrived yet meaning we had no food for the next stretch. We mulled the problem over breakfast.
Ultimately, and on a bit of a whim, we decided to try to hitch the hour and a half into Yosemite Village. We had heard it can take anywhere up to two hours to hitch, especially at midday. We took the gamble with nothing else to do. An hour later, Dan, Paige and I found ourselves heading down to our destination with Ryan, who had just finished his own 5 day backpacking trip.
Hitch hiking is essentially an exercise for coping with rejection
As we descended we could see Half Dome in the distance, as distinctive as its name indicates. Nearing the village we also spotted El Capitan, then the iconic Yosemite Falls. We walked via the waterfall into the village, adding extra miles to our ‘afternoon off’. It felt strange to walk amongst tourist and day hikers. In desperation for water we simply filtered from a steam, finding it too much effort to locate a water fountain. This earned us a few quizzical looks from passing tourists.
The famous Half Dome
In the park a family asked us what we were up to eyeing the pack and bear canister. When we explained we had walked almost 950 miles the young girl gasped and stared at us wide eyed. There are two young girls on trail, both travelling with their Dads. One is 9 and the other 11. When I first came across the father-daughter duo it shook my bias of expecting to see fathers with sons. I salute both parties and consider fathers and daughters alike to be excellent role models to future young girls.
Yosemite Falls
We found a backpacker campsite to stay at. As the Tuolumne Meadows campgrounds are closed at the moment, our PCT permit is valid for one night at this campground. Under normal circumstances we would have needed an additional permit. The campsite is beautiful with a large stream running through it and gigantic granite slabs boxing us in. The magic of being somewhere so iconic not fully sinking in.
A week later and our PCT permit wouldn’t be valid here
This is the starting point for many John Muir Trail hikers. Watching them stumble about with their overpacked bags brought home how much we’ve developed since starting the PCT. I could relate to the apprehension and uncertainty etched across their faces and their physical discomfort from not being used to the weight of their packs. Two months on and I had taken for granted how natural trail life now seemed.
Yosemite Village is essentially Disneyland for outdoor lovers. They have different campgrounds and areas all connected by free shuttle services. We headed on out to explore town, making our way over to Curry Village. Here we showered before seeking out food options. We ate pizza followed by ice cream outside on wooden benches. It was very strange to be surrounded by families. Hearing babies cry and children whine felt unnatural. It was really jarring and not a very pleasant experience after the quiet of trail.
As it got dark we spoke with some Yosemite staff on how to get back to the trailhead. We knew there was an 8am bus stopping by Curry Village but we didn’t know you had to book tickets at the Lodge which stood on the opposite side of town. Frantically we jumped on a shuttle to book seats. We then had a 1.2 mile walk back to the village to try to catch the last shuttle for the night to North Pine Campground where we were staying. While we did manage to catch the last bus, we got horrendously lost in the dark.
Yosemite Village turns off all lights so the night skies can be admired. So we had to navigate in the dark with only our phones for light. Neither Dan nor I had reception and FarOut (the map we use for PCT navigation) is no help here. This left us making it up as we went but finally we managed to find the bus. We rocked into camp at 11pm feeling well and truly exhausted and keen for a good night sleep.
Day 72
Despite our late night we slept well, packing up and setting out within half an hour. The campsite was now rammed with hikers. We heard the tent next to us begin packing up an hour before we did, yet we were packed and heading out before them. We’ve come a long way since Campo when it use to take us an hour and a half to pack away.
We walked over to Curry Village where we purchased a surprisingly affordable hot breakfast and enjoyed it before jumping on the bus with coffees and pastries to go. The bus felt like luxury, air conditioned with comfy seats and spectacular views. We drove close to El Capitan, a near vertical rock face which climbers attempt normally over a three day period. It’s also the centre stage for the documentary Free Solo where a climber scaled the rock face in a day without ropes. Seeing the site up close makes me question everything I know about the laws of gravity and human capabilities.
It felt so special to sit on a bus and zone out. For an hour and a half we could pretend we were tourist visiting for the morning. We sat back, enjoyed our croissants and admired the views. Back at Tuolumne Meadows we were relieved to find our resupply packages had arrived. Again we sat on picnic benches sorting through our bounties before polishing off an ice cream sandwich and a soda.
Sorry, not the best photo, this guy was fast!
By midday we were back on trail and within the first mile saw a bear running across the meadow from a distance. Not as close as our Wrightwood encounter but still very exciting. The trail was a vivid shade of green today. The basin vegetation of the meadows had an iridescent glow. Our soundtrack for today’s walk was raging waterfalls and birdsong.
Unusual rock structures formed by glaciation millions of years ago. Reminds me of a ski slope…
Our legs felt heavy and tired, the undulating path testing us. We were relieved to make it to camp only to find ourselves swarmed by mosquitoes. I looked across at Dan who was wearing his bug head net while trying to spoon food into his mouth under the netting. His shoulders were rolled forward and everything about his body language suggested discomfort. I put my thumb up at him and he snorted before claiming he was thoroughly miserable.
To add to our discomfort, there was a lot of rock walking which caused pain on the arch of my foot
It was true, mosquitoes had really taken a toll on morale. Further anguish was caused when we finally got into bed, noting that everything was already coated in a layer of dew. With nowhere else to camp, and too tired to trek on we huddled in our bags knowing tomorrow would bring a wet start.
Day 73
That morning was miserable. As predicted I woke to water dripping on my head. The sleeping bags were sodden on the outside, but luckily the water hadn’t seeped through. There was a puddle in the tent and all our belongings, whether in the tent or outside, were soaked through. We dried what we could in the sun, delaying our departure by an hour. As the sun came up so too did the mosquitoes.
We frantically packed up the damp gear but no amount of speed could prevent the feeling of being eaten alive. My legs were spotted with blood from when I had swatted full-belied mozzies. It didn’t put us in the best headspace for the rest of the day. Over an hour behind, grumpy and itchy, we set off out.
The path jumped and dived in elevation. The ground rocky and uneven. It was hard work, made even harder by the fact we couldn’t stop for a break due to the blood-hungry mosquitoes. In a desperate attempt to eat my protein bar while sitting I threw my tarp over my pack and me. This was successful, but sadly meant I was unable to enjoy the views I had walked for.
We celebrated the break from the mozzies with a dip
Eventually we had a turn of good fortune whereby we approached Smedberg Lake which had a moderate breeze rippling across it. We took a chance sitting on the rock jutting out and found that the mosquitos were unable to land on us due to the wind. Relieved we decided to make the most of it, enjoying our cooked dinner for lunch, airing out the tent which was still damp from this morning and plunged into the crystal water for a refreshing swim. We spent almost two hours here, reluctant to leave our sanctuary.
Throughout the day we were surrounded by granite crags just like this
When we did leave the trail was much the same as this morning, skirting up and down the mountain side. The path had been obliterated in one section due to blow downs and flooding. Trying to navigate it while being attacked by mosquitoes felt infuriating. If we stood still for just a moment they came in strong. I’ve never wished so much for gale force winds before!
By the time we set up camp we were done, both mentally and physically. We donned our rain gear to keep the tiny beasts at bay and munched on sandwiches. The attacks continued, resulting in several bugs being eaten having either flown into our mouths or landed in our food. Taking off my mosquito head net as we got into the tent, Dan observed that my left eye was swollen due to a series on bites on the lower and upper lid. In fact, my whole face was covered, looking as though I was a teenager with a bad spot problem.
Dan smiling through the misery
Day 74
The mosquitos had unlocked a new source of loathing. I had awoken to stinging-itching pain under my left knee where I had a patchwork of bites. Not only had they ruined breaks and meals for me they had now impaired my sleep. I frantically scratched at them, knowing I shouldn’t, unable to take an antihistamine considering it would make me drowsy come morning. The next night I would, and I would put on some tiger balm to overwhelm my body with the cold cooling sensation of the ointment.
On the plus side there was no condensation this morning and we packed away camp quickly in the dark. Ten paces in and we started our 5 mile climb. We skirted our way up the rock face which was bare with the exception of small hardy flowers. It kept promising to summit, but inevitably it would plateau revealing another staircase of rock behind it.
Mid-climb we ran into this cutie
Once up and over I descended into forest with wide rivers running through the basin. The smell of damp and the hum of mosquitoes overpowering. A little further up I collected water and let gravity filter it while I hid under my silver tarp to eat snacks away from the mozzies. Here, I waited for Dan.
Forty five minutes passed and he still hadn’t shown. Hot under the tarp and keen to get a move on I went looking for him. No sign. Normally he wouldn’t be more than 15 minutes behind me. I began asking those coming in from the river but no one had seen him. Maybe he walked by without realising I was there. The silver tarp camouflaging with the granite rock like Frodo and Sam by the Black Gate in The Two Towers. I could now run forward and try to catch him, or walk slow hoping he would catch me, but which direction was he? Normally I wouldn’t be too bothered, but he had lunch and the snacks in his bear canister, I only had dinners with no stove!
I decided to push forward with the plan to catch Paige who camped 3 miles ahead of us yesterday. She had Dan’s Garmin number and would be able to message him. In case he was behind me I left marks in the path writing my initials with an arrow. Dorothy Lake was 8 miles ahead and I suspected Paige would be breaking for lunch there.
I charged ahead, grateful for the slight incline on a dirt path, my ideal terrain to power through. Despite my panic to find Dan, I thoroughly enjoyed the walk racing through woodlands with green grassed floors, then out into boggy meadows. On my way up I asked strangers about Dan, giving a quick description and asking if they had seen him. Most people said no, but about 5 miles in a woman reported she had, and that he had overtaken her quite some time ago. The race was on.
Another mosquito accompanied meal
About a mile from the lake I ran into Paige who said Dan had just past 15 minutes ago. Relief flooded me. While logic told me Dan was perfectly safe it’s hard not to also consider the worst case scenario (such as, me not getting lunch). Paige messaged Dan via Garmin and I took my foot off the gas climbing the last stretch up to the lake at a steady pace.
We were all smiles and laughter on reuniting, both commenting on how our poor communication had put us in good stead’s to reach camp early with only 8 miles of the day remaining.
Spoilt for lake swims
After a swim and some lunch we plodded up the final climb of the day before following the trail downwards. Suddenly I noted a display of stones out of the corner of my eye. It was the 1000 mile marker. It had just sort of snuck up on us. Since starting the Sierra I had forgotten the mile markers at every 100 miles. Summiting passes had taken the focus. While this is a monumental marker, and I am insanely proud, it does feel insubstantial considering how many miles are left. In fact, there are 720 miles left of California alone.
The Proclaimers know nothing!
We continued on and soon the landscape changed, the rocks and surrounding mountains became darker with reddish tones. We were now entering volcanic landscapes meaning there would be less white granite.
Next to a river we found a perfect pitch and set up. We were surprised and greatful to find we were able to enjoy dinner without the bombardment of mosquitoes. Only a few rogue soldiers attempted to take our blood.
Day 75
Another restless night of itching, this time the ankles, oh well. We departed our quiet little campsite and began the long climb to Sonora Pass.
This was a unique section of trail because unlike previous climbs you could see where the trail was taking you
After a couple of miles the elevation ramped up and the greenery ceased. Everything about this path was dramatic and vastly different to what we were used to hiking. The trail followed the ridge line, meaning we weren’t yo-yoing up and down the trail. The path was compact stone, colours of green, orange and purple, and mustard-yellow lichen dotted the volcanic rocks. The ridge in front and above us felt fragile, its points whittled down over time to sharp lines. Randomly, I had put on my movie scores playlist that morning. Hans Zimmer and Steven Price were the perfect audible adornment to such a unique environment.
The trail snaking its way along the ridge
The hike was not without it challenges though. Small snow patches on the ascent caused us to question our decision to send our ice axes and spikes on. The first snow traverse was the worst, icy with a shallow boot pack on an incline tilting downwards towards the steep drop. Considering how steep the path was we were very appreciative for the lack of snow, struggling to conceptualise how difficult this would be in a high snow year.
The snow adding to the dramatic feel of Emigrant Wilderness
After a quick descent we arrived at Highway 108 where we stood roadside for 20 minutes, thumbs out until Mighty, a hiker, pulled over and gave us a ride to Bridgeport. Mighty lives in Florida and is involved with trail logistics and maintenance of the Florida Trail. It was fascinating listening to him talk and he practically sold us on another thru-hike while our current one is incomplete!
Bridgeport is a very small rural American town with a short high street with a number of quaint shops and eateries. After picking up our resupply we wondered over to Burger Barn as recommended by the postmaster. We sat out front under shelter organising our resupply while awaiting some top-notch grub.
Burger Barn was the best way to celebrate making it to town
During this time a number of tourists and locals approached asking about the trail with genuine interest and excitement. One of which, Jeremy, was visiting town for a week and had been following the PCT for a while. He kindly gave us his number and said he would be keen to drive us back to trail. Not long after, another local, Colin, offered his number too, saying he would be more than happy to drive us wherever we needed to go. It’s a good hours round trip to trail and back, and the kindness of these folks does not go unnoticed.
I think when on trail it’s easy to lose touch with what a monumental challenge the PCT is. We are surrounded by other hikers doing the same, so we don’t feel particularly special. Then we get into a small town where not many hikers frequent and we realise how extraordinary our journey is. I get the impression that people want to be part of it, part of our story, and we want them to be. The support we’ve received has drastically shaped our trip and made the hike so much easier! Coming into Bridgeport and seeing ourselves through strangers eyes has given us a new lease of life on trail.
Colin kindly took us to our campsite, about two miles out of town. The campground overlooks Bridgeport Reservoir, a blue lake with snow capped mountains in the background.
Looking across Bridgeport Reservoir from our campsite
Day 76
Once awake we walked to town. We dropped Paige off at the bus station. She was Reno-bound and was joined by several hikers, some were injured or ill, others exhausted and in need of a break.
Dan and I continued on alone to Bridgeport Inn for breakfast reflecting on the last week of hiking and the toll it had taken. We both agreed we had mentally reached our lowest. A combination of the psychological torture from the mosquitoes and the unforgiving terrain. Neither of us felt stronger, it felt just as hard as week 1 in the desert, and we wondered if we would ever find our trail legs. Hearing how many people had felt the same way was reassuring, and the fact that we were still on trail, and happy to be here, a sign that perhaps we had underestimated our tenacity.
At breakfast we met hiker Matt from England, who joined us for a cathartic moan about the brutality of trail. He was heading back out to trail after his zero but left us with the recommendation of visiting the Travertine Hot Springs while in town. Which is exactly what we did.
You can see the water bubbling from the source in the bottom left corner of this photo
Two miles south, we made it to the springs. These mineral rich hot springs were worth the effort, their water a fraction away from being too hot to tolerate. We were lucky to have the pools to ourselves and enjoyed soaking our aching muscles. From the pools we admired the view and pale blue dragonflies graced us with their presence.
A pool to ourselves
We then proceeded to walk another 2.5 miles back to the campsite. This means we had somehow managed to hike 8 miles on our zero making it a nero yet with no trail miles gained.
“Walking on a town day feels like working on a weekend”
Day 77
We packed up and said goodbye to our campsite by the lake. Along the road we walked thumb out trying to grab a ride for the two miles to town. We panicked when a Sheriffs car pulled over but then was surprised when he told us to jump in. The backseat was uncomfortable, the caged seat noisy with the vibrations of the car and no door handle for us to exit. Our sheriff kindly opened the doors for us, and had pulled right into the High Sierra Bakery.
With two croissants and a coffee each we sat outside utilising the last of our internet. We were joined by various people in town, here to enjoy the 4th July celebrations that weekend. Once again everyone was keen to hear our PCT tales. We brought two more coffees and refilled our own just as Jeremy and Madison pulled up to give us a ride back to trail.
Conversation was easy and the two knew the area and trail pretty well so we could seamlessly delve into all matters PCT. It was so kind of them to take an hour out of their holiday to drive us back to trail. Jeremy starts the John Muir Trail next month which we have no doubt he will thoroughly enjoy!
My photos never seem to do the wild flowers any justice. Please believe me when I say they are beautiful and in abundance
Once back we began a steep climb surrounded by wild flowers but soon became red rock, contrasting with patches of snow. At one point we had to physically climb with our hands down a vertical drop about 3 meters high. I was suddenly grateful for all those times I’ve been bouldering and opted to climb down rather than jumping.
Is rock climbing included in our travel insurance?
At the top of the climb I found myself grinning. Our break in town had done wonders for our morale and I was looking forward to the walk ahead. I joked to Dan “I wonder how long this high will last” knowing all too well the spectrum of emotions one swings through on a hike such as this. We followed the path down a challenging rocky section which was partially washed away. Once at the bottom we stopped for lunch before continuing on upwards.
Dark charcoal clouds threatened us as we started our climb upwards. Up until 3pm the neighbouring mountains seemed to be keeping them at bay. But now they moved over us, the crack of thunder causing us to halt in our steps.
We ventured off trail, making camp on a bed of pine cones on a highly slanted clearing within the trees. It was difficult to know what to do in this situation. Guidance advises to keep below the tree line, but to avoid being close to trees in case they fall after being struck by lightning. We certainly were below the tree line, but we were in a forest with nowhere else to go!
Bags thrown inside the tent it began haling. The tent shook with the pelting, some hale stones splattering on impact. Lighting flashed and thunder continued to reverberate around the mountains sounding nearer than it was. It felt like we were covered with shadows, the dark clouds above tricking time to feel like dusk. Inside our slanted tent we put on warm clothes and played a couple of rounds of cards while eating our mid-afternoon snacks.
Three hours later the thunder ceased, then eventually so too did the rain. It was evening by this time and we were 11 miles south of where we had anticipated camping. The tent was sodden, so we opened the fly to optimise drying while we made dinner. An hour later we were back on trail aiming to get another three miles in before nightfall.
Racing the fading light
The wisps of cloud that remained in the sky lit up a candy floss pink, vibrant against the dark silhouette of the trees. The air was ripe with the smell of damp earth and rich pine, yet had a cold bite to it. Just as the last of the pink light faded we made camp, pitching the tent in the dark.
Once again it’s been a week of ups and downs, both literally and metaphorically. I suspect no other sort of week exists on the PCT. The dismanteling of our trail family, onslaught of mosquitoes and relentless terrain had plummeted our morale. However, knowing we were not alone in feeling so drained, the kindness of strangers and side quests to Yosemite Village and Bridgeport has eased this low.
