Swimming and Sunbathing in the High Sierra: Yosemite to Tahoe

Whereas the previous week of hiking (before my detour to Yosemite Valley) was defined by high snowy passes, river crossings were the dominate feature between Tuolumne Meadows and Sonora Pass.  Dirtmongerer had bequeathed the coil of rope that our previous group had never used before we parted ways, so I hit the trail with an extra safety item that I was more than eager to deploy (and leave).  The first day out brought spectacular scenery as we crossed over the flooded Tuolumne River past waterfalls and (shock!) dry trail as well as our first major crossing.  One of the more feared crossings on the PCT-L/guidebooks was Return Creek (dubbed by some as "No-Return Creek").  Although it wasn't deep, the water was fairly turbulent and packed quite a punch.  A little hesitant after my encounter with the Kings River, I slowly worked my way from shore and could tell that I was on very loose footing from being knocked over.  With a little help from Thumper, I made it across Return Creek and a few other raging tributaries before we continued on.  After crossing the creek, we hit more snow and my shin splint came back with a vengeance.  To be honest, I probably would've turned back at that point to see a doctor if it wasn't for the fact that I was locked in by the creeks.  So I limped on until we reached the snow-packed Matterhorn Canyon.  Since the trail was completely obscured, we had to descend down the steep canyon wall without the aid of switchbacks.  At one point I lost sight of the group since they were descending faster than I could manage, but I didn't yell out for them to wait like I should've (it always embarrasses me if I end up the weak link that needs to be waited on).  By the time I decided that I really should stick with them, they had already hooked to the right (whereas I kept going straight down) such that the terrain blocked our yells/whistles.  Realizing that they would probably wait for me at the river crossing below, and that the side of a shear canyon is NOT a desirable place to be, I pulled out my map and compass to chart my own path back to the trail. 

I must've taken the scenic way down since by the time I finally caught up with the group, they were on the other side of the river pitching camp and really worried about me.  Feeling a bit down and more than a little wet, I limped around to gather stones for a fire ring.  A little more searching brought some firewood, and I tried to repay the delay by getting a good fire going for everyone.  After watching Wired hang some of her clothes over the fire with a trekking pole as if she were roasting marshmallows, I copied the idea and managed to dry out my shirt and a pair of socks before hitting the hay.

The trip got progressively better from there on out.  My shin splint never went away, but it got progressively better as we hit easier terrain and I took better care of it.  Between icing in creeks and a strong regimen of Vitamin I (Ibuprofen), I was able to decline the offers of Vicodin from a few of the other hikers.  After crossing chest-deep Piutte Creek and going over Benson Pass, we unexpectedly encountered one of the sketchiest snow traverse that I have done on the trip.  Rather than be a short section of snow above a steep drop-off near a pass, this traverse was 1-2 miles long and ran directly above the raging Kerrick Creek!  The snow was soft enough that a self-arrest with trekking poles would've been doable - but the prospect of plunging into the water below definitely kept our heart rates up!  Thankfully we all made it with the aid of our microspikes and a cautious pace.

The third day out was a record for distance covered in a full day of hiking.  The whopping distance covered by all of us by the time we pitched camp was an astonishing 11.8 miles!  It was a record for the lowest mileage, by the way.  In our defense, we had to take a bit of time to enjoy the wonderful swimming and sunbathing opportunities that the Sierras have to offer.  The first crossing was Kerrick Creek, the raging river that was most-feared by the PCT-L chatter.  However, this crossing was not too bad since there was a fallen tree 200 yards downstream of the trail that we could walk across.  For added safety (and to get the weight out of my pack), we used my rope to set up a hand-line which was left for hikers behind us.  The only person to fall into the river was Wired.  Wired gets her name from the multitude of electronics that she carries and for her emotional attachment to said electronics (ESPECIALLY if she has phone/3G reception).  She happened to have her camera out when she fell in, and I have never seen an individual get themselves (with the camera being the first priority) back out of the water so quickly!  After Kerrick, we reached the gentle but deep Stubblefield Canyon Creek.  We scouted up and down for a shallow crossing to no avail.  Eventually we concluded that the shorter of us would be swimming.  So we stripped down to our underwear and shoes (in hindsight, I should've taken my shoes off before doing an outright swim), secured/waterproofed our packs as best as possible, and swam across.  Swimming with a fully-loaded pack, in freezing water (snow-melt), with shoes on was not as easy as I had anticipated.  Although ending up 10-20 feet downstream of where I had aimed, I pulled myself onto shore and quickly moved to the sunlight where I could warm up.  The others followed, Thumper paddling across on his Thermarest Neo-air (blow-up air matress) and Balls crossing not once but six times (with his pack, with his daughter Sunshine's pack, and finally with Sunshine).  We took our first 90 minute break of the day to thaw out in the sun.

I forget the name of the next major crossing that we hit, but it nearly required swimming.  It was stomach to chest deep on me for most of the way and had a surprising amount of force to it.  I kept calm and hopped on my toes a bit so as to maintain my progress towards the far bank.  Despite being pushed downstream a bit, the crossing was cold but not difficult.  Wired, being the shortest of us, was the only one who had to make an outright swim.  Once everyone was across, we took another 90 minute break on a sunny rock to dry ourselves and our gear.  Immediately hitting snow after the crossing didn't do much to boost our motivation, and we decided to make camp at the first suitable clearing.  This was fortunate since we needed the extra time to erect a stone memorial for Skippy.  Skippy was a jar of peanut butter, a dear friend to all thru-hikers, that had been carried in the side-pocket of Snowblind's pack.  Unfortunately, Skippy had a bad habit of falling from the pack - and this ultimately proved his downfall at Stubblefield Canyon.  We tried to yell to "him" with cries of "Skippy! Nooo!" as he bobbed helplessly downstream - but it was useless.  There was nothing we could do to save him.  The last we saw of him was a blank stare in response to 11-year-old Sunshine's shrieks of "SKIPPPYYY!!!" before he bobbed around a bend in the river, never to be seen again.  The stone memorial next to the trail read:

"R.I.P SKIPPY, PCT 2011, YOSEMITE CREEK"

The remainder of the hike to Sonora Pass was fairly uneventful.  In addition to naming ourselves "Team Skippy" in honor of our fallen comrade, we also bestowed a trail name on Erik the Black's PCT Atlas.  This is the pricey guidebook/"map" set that a number of us hikers chose to purchase before the trip instead of printing the 400+ topo-maps that Halfmile has provided for free online.  Although the PCT Atlas is very convenient as a guidebook when all you need is mileage between water/campsites/landmarks and a rough map to determine which trail to take at a junction, it is very misleading to market the maps it contains as topographical.  As a result of its indistinguishable and inconsistent contour lines (as well as a handful of outright errors), the PCT Atlas was renamed "The Book of Lies".  

Our group also passed the 1,000 mile mark for our journey!  Being that whatever marker is normally on the trail was buried in snow, we wrote out "1,000" with our bodies for a few pictures.  It was disheartening to look to the east and see bone-dry mountains as we continued north towards snow-plastered peaks, but were motivated by how close we were to Sonora Pass.  Our final morning before Kennedy Meadows Pack Station (not to be confused with the Kennedy Meadows at the south end of the Sierras) was a fairly straight hike up a snowfield, followed by a dry ridge, and concluded with a LONG glissade down to Highway 108.

 Kennedy Meadows was simply a near-0 for us where we grabbed some burgers, restocked our trail food, and headed back to the pass as quick as possible.  We had originally planed on camping at the pass, but had to camp down by the road since traffic was too light to pick up a hitch.  I don't think the drivers around there were familiar with PCT hikers.  One older man in a truck pulled up and was about to give Wired a hitch, but then she of all people scarred him off (I guess I would've been weirded out too if someone came up to me for a ride and then asked if I had room for four more hikers while saying "We're all normal people, I swear!").  We were content to spend the night at a lower (i.e., warmer) elevation and catch a ride the next morning.

The section from Sonora Pass to Tahoe was noteworthy for two reasons.  First, we finally started to transition to thinner and patchier snow.  Where there was solid snow pack, we could tell that it was only three to five feet deep.  Elsewhere, the snow was patchy with a good number of breaks with clear trail.  This was an immense relief since we were able to pick up speed and reach Tahoe a day earlier than we had planned.  Secondly, I finally began to recognize things.  I had worked for GE in Minden, NV (Carson Valley, adjacent to Lake Tahoe) in 2008 and was thus familiar with a lot of the area.  I felt like I was approaching "home" as I could look out on the horizon and distinguish the Carson Valley where I had lived, the canyon near Carson Pass where I had road biked, and especially when we crossed Highway 4 at Ebbitts Pass (one of my all-time favorite cycling routes).

Once we made it to Echo Lake Resort and picked up our packages from the store (not the most hiker-friendly establishment I must mention, they asked us and the other hikers to move away from the storefront right after we had just purchased snacks and milkshakes), we rented a car in South Lake Tahoe.  Although South Lake Tahoe is a great town for resupplying, each of us had errands that would be better served in Reno.  I needed a pair of compression sleeves for my shin splints that could only be found at a specialty running shop.  Balls needed special batteries for his GPS.  Sunshine needed breadsticks at The Olive Garden.  Wired absolutely needed to see the final Harry Potter movie.  It's also worth noting that Reno has an REI, a temptation that few thru-hikers could resist. 

 

  

So we made the drive to Reno, accomplished most of our goals, and made it back ready to hit the trail.  Although my shin splint had been feeling a lot better, it was still having issues and I didn't want to have a repeat of what happened at Donahue Pass.  I figured that if I could take a few more days off to heal it, I would be much happier and faster once I hit the trail.  I also knew people in Minden that I wanted to visit and one of my friends offered a place to stay.  As a result, I have spent the past few days in Minden resting up, printing maps for the last snow-covered sections ahead, getting my phone's GPS to work with Halfmile's waypoints (and without cell service), and awaiting a shipment of REI gear (switching to a lighter pack and tent).  Hopefully I'll be on the trail again before the end of the week, and at least I finally caught up with a month's worth of blogging!