Week 5 Mileage: 194.2
PCT Mile: 1154.5
“Mad Rivers and Stupid Technology”
The mosquitoes are starting to come out, not bad yet, but they will be. I caught back up with “Handshake,” the Irishman I had accidentally flipped off earlier. We talked for a bit, and I got a quick education on Guinness. By 6:30, he was stopping, and I was moving on. By 7, I came to my first good river crossing. This was the section on the backside of Yosemite where there would be a lot of them. I made it across, and the next two. I had to put my phone and other things in a Ziplock and then my bear can for safety. Climbing out of that low area was tough, and the snowpack returned. I pitched my tent at an odd spot halfway up the climb under a tree. It was a little slanted, but it did the trick. The next day was going to be tough.
This section has it all: big climbs, snowpack, and dozens of river crossings. Last year I was just ahead of peak melt, but this year, I seemed to be right in the middle of it. My timing for these rivers was terrible. I reached Kendall Creek after a snow-packed, steep downhill at 5:30 pm. Where the trail crossed was raging. I had to go for it. Four steps in, and I was swept down. Luckily, I was able to grab some branches leaning offshore and pull myself back up. That was close. About 200 yards upriver, I noticed that the river had split and then rejoined about 50 yards before my crossing. I walked up and saw a log dam. Carefully, I balance-beamed across, pushed through the first part to an island, and then across the second. My adrenaline was going pretty good at this point, so I just hiked on, plowing up a 3-mile climb, crossing two more sketchy rivers. By 6:30, I reached another huge lazy river, and after 15 minutes of trying to find a safe and shallow spot to cross, I just said, “screw it.” I put my pack on top of my head and walked across, up to my chest. From here, another good climb before more snowpack and down to what I thought was my last big crossing. It was 8:45 pm, all my electronics were in my bear can, and I didn’t want to stop and pull out my headlamp and phone to see where I was. I decided to walk over to a log right on the edge of the shore and pick my crossing point. Right as I got to it, I took one more step and fell right in, up to my neck. Just like the kids in the movie “Stand By Me,” except I didn’t have any leeches stuck to my body. I decided to call it for the night.
The next morning, after putting back on all my cold, wet clothes (it was in the 40s), I could now see where I went wrong. The path was 50 feet to the right. I wasn’t even at the river I thought I was. I was actually at a lake inlet 0.2 miles before the river. Anyway, I had 29.8 miles to Sonora Pass and Kennedy Meadows North, and come hell or high water (which there would be), I’d get there. Luckily, after getting across the river, which was cold but lower than last year, up to my belly button, the trail was quite cruiser for the first 10 miles. Some snow but mostly wet meadows. I hiked with a kid named “Kind Heart” for a bit, and once we caught up to his trail family, I continued on. Twelve miles to go with a snowpack ascent leading down to the pass. I had called and arranged a shuttle ride. About 10 minutes later, a ’95 Ford pickup flathead with two young kids showed up: Aiden and Cote. We piled in, and by the time we made it down the steep mountain road, the brakes on the old Ford were smoking pretty good. As soon as I arrived, Deserae, who worked there, remembered me from last year and took my order. The biggest cut of prime rib I’d ever seen. It was the whole cow without the hooves. I ate the whole damn thing. A couple of extra shower tokens and a quick ice cream sandwich, and I was back in my old familiar room. I met a couple of PCT hikers, Tarzan and Mr. Sunshine. They were surprised at my pace. I slept great that night, excited for the trail in the morning and being over a day ahead of last year.
The next morning, I shipped shoes north. I had sent a big resupply box there via UPS. I broke everything down and sent separate pairs of shoes to two places up the trail and the rest to the CDT. Grabbed more food for the next 132 miles and headed back up to the pass with Grandpa Ron, the designated shuttle driver. I checked my guide to see mileage, and my map app wouldn’t load. Strange. I knew there was service a few miles out of the pass, so I would reinstall it then. I did four miles out and continued down into the valley. It was all snowpack, and there were footprints, but very faint. I lost the trail. Checked my map app. It wouldn’t load. It wouldn’t even show the map. It would start loading and then close. I wandered around for two hours trying to find some semblance of trail. Nothing. And if you think the trail is marked well, it’s not. Usually, one of the first things that gets done when establishing a trail is to…MARK THE FUCKIN ROUTE! (that’s my Sam Kinison impression). By this time, it was approaching 3 o’clock, and I was totally lost. A storm came in. Wind, rain, and hail. I had no choice but to hike back up to the top of the mountain to get service and reinstall the app again. By the time I reached service, trudging through snowpack, soaking wet and cold, I was spent. I pitched my tent, got the app working, and by 6:30, the storm had passed. By 7, my tent was dry. I thought about packing up and eking out six or so miles, but I was done. 3.9 miles for the day. The trail won. I quit for the day. Fell asleep by 8.
I woke up and started just before 6. Following my working app, now I found the trail only 50 yards to the left of where I had been looking for it the day before. After a couple more miles, wouldn’t you believe it, the snow ended, and the trail cleared. This resulted in a pissed-off mood for me, thinking if I had just packed up last night and went for it, I could have snagged another 8-10 miles. I thought about this all day. By 3, I had to stop and tell myself, “you made the decision last night to stop and quit, there’s nothing you can do about that now, forget it and move on!” So, I did. Only getting 33 for the day.
The next morning, I was better, moving by 5 am and pushing big miles. The best way over the years for me to get out of a funk is to have big mile days, and it always makes me feel better. The snowpack through this section towards South Lake Tahoe had less snow than last year, and I didn’t miss a trail junction and go three miles in the wrong direction like I had the year before, so that helped too. I did fall through a snow bridge over a small creek, bent my trekking poles, and cut my ankle, but just like in years past, arriving at Echo Lake near SLT, my morale shifted to feeling hopeful and good. I was about to enter the Desolation Wilderness, and with 62 miles to go, closing in on Donner Pass and out of the big snow-covered mountains. This is the hardest section of the entire hike for me, and to keep my MPD average over 30 is a huge morale boost. I set off out of Echo Lake at 5:30 am. Low on food, with a light pack, I needed a big day. I pushed hard, limited my breaks, and was able to finish at 11 pm with 41.9 miles, putting me 20.3 miles to Donner Ski Ranch. All I had left was four packs of oatmeal and one pack of Ramen.
I was on-trail at 4:30 am. No sense in dicking around; I was basically out of food. Six miles in, I passed a group of tents, no doubt the hikers whose footprints I had been following the last couple of days. I guess it was my turn to navigate. I climbed hard up to Squaw Valley Ski area and was very careful on the downhill, making sure I didn’t make a wrong turn and go too far down and off trail (I did that last year). The snow cleared up high on the ridgeline, and I was able to call Grandma and see how she was doing. My cousin was there keeping her company, and since entering the nursing home, Grandma’s mobility and speech have deteriorated. She doesn’t respond as much and often doesn’t answer the phone when I call. It’s hard for me because she has been my biggest fan since I started this crazy shit 10 years ago. At any rate, it was nice to tell her everything that had been going on, and although I’m down to 157 lbs., I’m right on schedule, in fact, one day ahead of last year and moving well. Soon to be out of the snow.
A young Dutch kid called Breeze caught up to me, and we hiked to Donner together. We made it there by 2 pm, just under the end of my week 5 mark. I was starving but happy.
Push through, no matter how hard the challenge, but quitting, that’s forever.
-Cam Hanes
