"Big rain comin'
Big rain, comin' this way
Rain on the rock
Rain on the rock"
Gordon Lightfoot
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| Cathedral Peak. |
Day 3: Tuesday, July 21, 2015
8.1 miles
Sunrise High Sierra Camp to Tuolumne Meadows Backpacker's Camp
Today is much like our plan yesterday: hike through the morning and early afternoon in an effort to have camp set up before the rains come. Despite our plans and our hopes, after two days we couldn't outrun Tropical Storm Delores any longer.
Today the John Muir Trail takes us deeper into Yosemite National Park, but back into what you may call civilized areas. We'll hike through Long Meadow and then climb out of Sunrise Valley toward a rock formation called Columbia Finger. As we climb and skirt the Finger we'll pass by Echo Peak which we were delighted to find passes the echo test. Finally we'll hit our first pass of the JMT: 9705 foot Cathedral Pass will take us by the aptly named Cathedral Peak, and we'll fly by upper and lower Cathedral Lake. We'll then finish the day by dropping down to Tuolumne Meadows, a mountain outpost set up along Tioga Highway with a lodge, campground, store, grill and resupply office. As we hike down to Tioga Road, we'll encounter day hikers and other folks for the first time in three days. Nick and I sent a bucket ahead of us several months ago to the post office here to resupply. We'll eat, resupply, and hopefully address my bear canister issues. The Tuolumne Meadows campground has a backpackers area, we just have to leave $3 per person in the box. It's an honor system but we're happy to contribute.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I've got some hostess powder sugar donuts that are a little smashed but survived well enough against the moisture and smell in my bear can. Sunrise High Sierra Camp has bear lockers, so we stored our bear storage cans inside of bear storage lockers. Probably overkill, but you don't want a bear investigating your sleeping area, trust me. What's worse, Sunrise has less of a bear issue and more of a kanine issue, as a coyote had taken up residence in the weeks prior and was becoming increasingly bold. We were instructed by camp staff and Ranger Mike to chase him off if we ever saw him.
We eventually get on the trail probably two hours after we woke up. We hike silent, as a quiet meadow in the morning is prime time to catch some larger wildlife. But I point out that it's already 9AM or so and the early morning animals must've finished hours ago. Besides some new flowers and small mountain rodents we can't identify, we enjoy the gently ascending terrain through the cool morning of the meadow.
To the northeast we can see Columbia Finger pointing up above the trees ahead of us. To the east is a wall of tall granite peaks. Nick and I are feeling pretty good for now so we commence our run and rest hiking style and leave Uncle Jim behind temporarily. He's never too far behind us, we just hike differently and besides, there's value in getting a little solitude out here in the wilderness. But there's also value in the conversations you share, and Nick and I enjoy the views as much as each other's company as we glide up along the JMT in Dad's footsteps. It's been nearly a decade since him and I spent more than a weekend or so together and we both cherish the time on this third of twenty days on the trail. It's like we're kids again, sharing a bedroom for 12 years along with most of life's youthful milestones.
The sun isn't all gone today, we get a little break from the clouds when Nick and I happen upon Matt and Jim, the two who started the JMT the same morning as us. Between Matt's big red pack and Jim's giant human frame under his bright blue shirt you literally cannot miss them. We're all playing leap frog as we're climbing up toward Columbia Finger which will be the biggest elevation push of the day. Even Cathedral Pass won't take us any higher. The climb is tough but the morning is beautiful and we're alive and hiking in the Sierra Nevada. It doesn't get much better.
I discover my affinity for fruity, chewy candy has only grown as I trek into the wilderness. I happily switch between salted pistachios and skittles, finally I can eat something! But I have no desire to fill up, there's a burger and a soda at the end of the road today.
I really begin to enjoy this terrain, as it becomes strikingly clear that we are finally headed into the high places of the world. The JMT is degraded as overcrowded and overused but it all depends on what you're looking for. The mountains don't withhold some of their majesty simply because there's other folks around. I keep my head on a swivel and do my best to watch where I'm stepping while trying to enjoy the views and the terrain. According to Ranger Mike, trips, slips and falls are responsible for approximately 50% of injuries that cause hikers to drop out of a thru-hike, 99% of which occur at day's end.
Nick and I reconvene with Uncle Jim as we drop down toward Cathedral Pass. Cathedral Peak grows in size and beauty to the east, a strange pinnacled mountain whose angular beauty inspired John Muir to free climb it without ropes or support. We admire it from a distance as we break to check our maps to see how much farther we need to climb today before the flat track into Tuolumne. I spot Echo Peak on the map as I cross reference our GPS, it's directly to the east of us. Nick raises his head and lets out a big 'ECHO!' Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Then, as if my brother was literally standing on top of the mountain, his voice comes back only a little fainter than it was coming out 'EeCcHhOo...' We giggle with delight and take turns at the sonic phenomenon before moving on.
By now the sun has left and she will not return today until she rides west to sleep behind the horizon. We move up hill for a short time as we hit the Pass, but it's so flat and uneventful and tree covered that we sort of miss it. Besides, the best views of Cathedral Peak are on the approach, not on the Pass itself.
Through the trees to the west as we continue to hike northeast, we spot upper Cathedral Lake. This was where we originally planned to hike to and camp yesterday. I'm so glad we stayed at Sunrise where I could rest and eat a real meal. I'm already crashing out today, entirely mindful of how a night in the wilderness with dehydrated food would've treated me last night as opposed to the hot meal I had at Sunrise inside with warm people and friendly advice. In fact, I begin to suggest to Nick and Uncle Jim that we jump on the Yosemite shuttle bus when we get down to Tioga Road and skip the last 1.8 miles to the Tuolumne Meadows store and campground.
Nick quickly dismissed the idea and chips at my desire to skip even a small portion of the JMT. I'm frustrated and anxious as I feel my body breaking down, and I bark at him as a result. But he's right, we're here to hike the entire JMT, and besides, Dad took us through Tuolumne when we were young, it's one of the only places a normal child can access on this corridor. We get the 'hungries' as Uncle Jim calls them, and stop to snack before the final push of the day to the road.
Uncle Jim and I talk cooking and recipes as we quickly hike down a set of switchbacks and in a brief moment we find ourselves in a parking lot next to a ranger station, the two lane mountain highway ribbonning below us. We've been hiking by people who smell like soap and shampoo and sunscreen. They gawk at our packs and the look of us in general, we shake our heads at their lack of preparedness as they hike up into the storm brewing overhead in running shoes and tank tops carrying almost nothing.
The JMT takes us down and basically onto the highway for about 30 yards before we cross it and head into Tuolumne Meadows. We miss the cutoff and go back and forth a couple of times before we figure it out. And right on time, for the first time on this trip while were still hiking, I feel as much as I hear a light 'pit-pat-pitter-pit' on the wide brim of my big goofy floppy hat: tropical storm Dolores has finally caught up with us and she's pissed we tried to ditch her.
And just as ungraceful as our morning camp routine is, boy, you should've seen Nick and I try to figure out how to put on our rain gear for the first time with urgency as it was already freaking raining. Frantic and gangly is an understatement. All dark nylon, long limbs, straps and LOTS of cursing. I finish first and calmly observe Nick wrap up his pack with his rain cover. 'Shit!' The buckle that holds the whole thing on snaps off in his hand when he barely even pulled on the strap to tighten it. Gear failure is frustrating as all hell and it would be a specter that would unfortunately haunt Nick throughout this trip more so than me. But he's smart and naturally improvises quickly, managing to tie and tighten the cover to protect his pack and everything inside. Soon were both suited up and dry, and hiking through the meadow.
We get cell service and check the weather: outlook not so good. The rain is going to get worse and worse throughout the early afternoon and in the evening. We exchange the idea of checking the Lodge to see if we can score a tent cabin or something to get out of the rain. Nick is having some difficulty keeping rain out of his tent, for some reason one side lacked a small band he used on the other to lift it up and protect his interior floor from flooding. But more than anything we just didn't want to be in the rain anymore after three days running from and through it.
The memories flood back to us in a surreal way in this place. We all remember when Dad took us up here to picnic in the meadow. He and Nick, scrawny and little as he was, started to climb up the side of Lembert Dome, my mother filming them from below as they baked in the sun on the side of the rock. Dad called it well before the top, but that was Nick when we were young, always gotta climb the biggest rock. But today the day is grey, the sun is rising behind the clouds, it's raining, and Dad will never return to this place. At least that's how I felt as I walked by the dome in the dim and cloudy grey of the storm in the afternoon gloom.
We hit another road, this is the end of the JMT for us today. We hang a sharp right and around the corner and down the hill we find ourselves at the campground entrance and the store is just down the road. First order of business: resupply bucket retrieval and a burger for me at least. Nick isn't hungry, the rain is a hit to our morale yet again.
I get in line for a cheeseburger and Nick gets in line for our bucket. Of course the National Parks use Pepsi products and there's not a Coca Cola in sight. I settle for Dr. Pepper and honestly, a very meager excuse for a burger and limp under cooked potatoes dubbed "fries." But it's good enough and I scarf the burger.
The resupply bucket comes with a bonus: a love letter from Phoebe. Her words of encouragement pierce my hard shell I've been walking around in for three days. I didn't realize how much I needed it until I got the letter. Step two, use the facilities with plumbing and take the shuttle to the lodge to try to score a tent cabin.
I grab the resupply bucket. This fact will become relevant in a moment. We make for the bus to the Lodge when it arrives, once per hour, to check for vacancies. We politely ask the driver for directions and I quickly discover what will become a motif throughout the Sierra Nevada and the National Parks in general. Repeat after me: Angry Old Dudes. Today's first subject is the driver of the Tuolumne Meadows Shuttle. He doesn't really answer any of our questions about where to get off today or tomorrow when we reconnect with the JMT and continue our journey. He instead behaves as if we've interrupted something very important, and we give up. We manage to find the Lodge ourselves, which is booked solid probably due to the rain. Too late but no surprise.
Now we have to wait 15 minutes or so before taking the shuttle back to the campground and store. I look at Nick and announce its HIS turn to carry our resupply bucket since I carried it there. This detail will also come into play in a moment. We're picked up by a different shuttle, also driven by an Angry Old Dude, but luckily we don't have any questions this time around.
About 5 minutes down the road Nick descends into a panic: he left his trekking poles at the Lodge! Because I made him carry the bucket he forgot to grab them! Then I panic: I left my trekking poles at the store when I grabbed the bucket, before we even went to the freaking Lodge! Much much worse and way more egregious: I also used the restroom at the store and left my iPhone sitting in the stall on the toilet paper dispenser. It's our only way to connect to my satellite messenger and communicate with folks at home while we're on the trail. DISASTER. Cue utter terror and panic.
Outdoors People are good people, the best kind in fact, and I announced same when I found my poles resting on a tree right where I left them over an hour ago. Bonus: a friendly gentleman making a deuce handed me my iPhone. Luckily it's in a lifeproof case and I can wash the memory off of it.
Nick on the other hand must wait 40 minutes for the next shuttle back to the Lodge. He meets another Angry Old Dude working the register at the store. Nick had the gall to kindly ask him to call the Lodge so they could grab his poles and hold them until he arrived. The Angry Old Dude threw up his hands and exclaimed 'I don't even know what you're talkin' about, look at all these people!' Having three people in your line renders you incapable of extending decency and common courtesy to a person in need when you're an Angry Old Dude. No thanks to him, Nick retrieved his poles no harm no foul an hour or so later on at the Lodge and made his way back to me and Uncle Jim.
Thus begins a very wet afternoon and evening. We hike into the campground to the backpackers area in the back, a big sort of hill sticking up. Luckily it's not too crowded yet, and we find a space for all three of our tents. But we can see the path the rain water has been taking and we're forced to engage in trench warfare and dig around our tents to prevent any flooding. This is a big no no and a severe violation of Leave No Trave principles but we had no choice.
From a lightweight Z Paks shelter nearby emerges a Dutch man in his mid 40's named Frank. He's on a walk-about in Yosemite with his wife and children visiting from the Netherlands. He's incredibly friendly as we make fast friends, despite the fact that it apppears we woke him up during his nap and were thr first to crowd the neighborhood. He even donates a bungee to Nick to help with the water
prevention issue Nick is having with one side of his tent. I announce to Frank that he's given us our first taste of 'Trail Magic' and Nick and I both beam in thanks.
Uncle Jim, Nick and I run down to the store to grab something to eat for dinner and some beers before it closes. We encounter four battered and disgusting PCT (that's the Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada, folks) thru hikers on their 5th or 6th six pack of beer and join them. I also upend my bear can into the dumpster so it can sit open overnight and air out. I buy a big bag of spinach, a bottle of ranch, some cherry tomatoes and an avocado. Uncle Jim buys tortilla chips and salsa.
We sit outside and chat with the PCT hikers about what they've seen and the areas Nick and I will hit while the two trails run together for over a hundred miles. They have some good info but they faced extraordinary weather on some of the passes (see: blizzard conditions at 11,000 feet in mid-July), something we were hoping to avoid. Particularly helpful was hearing how nobody is ever hungry the first 3 days on the trail, and that my appetite would reappear most assuredly within the next day or so.
Suddenly the sun returns. Or was she brought back to us to boost our spirits? She bursts in a glory of pinks and reds and oranges and purples as soon as she peaks beneath the cloud cover and sinks toward the horizon across the meadow from where we sit. We're stunned by the beauty, all of us moved to dumb silence. I'm reminded that I didn't feel Dad when I arrived here in the gloom. It appears he was dissatisfied with my perception of this place and had something in store for us. We take pictures and decide it's time to get to camp and eat.
As we walk down the road back toward camp and gaze up at Lembert Dome Nick and Dad scaled so many years ago, the sun painted it in golden light, whisps of misty clouds shimmering and dancing around its head like a crown. Dad or God or someone was anointing this place for us. It was amazing and breathtaking, and for a moment at least, I was at peace and wasn't afraid of what the next three weeks may hold. We meet a wonderful woman taking pictures whose name I unfortunately cannot recall. We share Dad's story with her like we do with everybody and she shares her story with us. It's a theme here, everyone has a reason to seek these places out and capture these exact moments, each valid and unique and moving.
Back at camp were joined by a BIG group of young teens. Troubled youth brought out to the high country to maybe turn their lives around. It's a really cool thing, and one of the troop leaders happens to be law enforcement. He and Nick talk a little shop. Frank hangs around too, I can tell the guy is happy to hang with some American dudes and get a little break from his wifey and kids. We share our beers and settle into dinner.
Spinach salad, ranch mixed with salsa, tortilla chips, tomatoes and avocado. Pardon my language but FUCK YES it was good. Uncle Jim pointed out I could keep the rest of the spinach and eat it tomorrow for lunch with some tuna. To be continued! I share the avocado with John, our other neighbor headed into Lyell Canyon for his annual fly fishing trip with his best friend. How awesome is that for a tradition?
It's been wet and rainy this entire time except for the brief periods where the sun poked under the clouds before she rode off to rest behind the meadow. No camp fires, no songs. We can only stand sitting around in the cold and wet for a little while longer and I'm otherwise exhausted. It's off to bed with the hope that our water works trenches are well designed, that the sun will win the day tomorrow, and that my body and mind will be up to the challenges ahead. After a few phone calls home to check in, I drift away to a restful sleep.
