Spirit Walker - John Muir Trail

The John Muir Trail
July 1990
Tully Hole to Woods Creek

Day 7 - Mono Creek - 12 miles, 89 total.

We're having a gully washer of a storm: thunderbolts heaving right overhead, a little hail and lots of cold rain. I had just set up camp when it really started. Before there were only a few rumbles and sprinkles, so I thought it would just pass over. No such luck. I got my tarp set up, but not as well as I finally did yesterday, so though I'm protected, some of my gear is getting wet. It's cold too. Of course, the bath I took in the river might have something to do with that. It was a bit chilly, but I'm so tired of being dirty I ignored black skies and grumbles and jumped right in. On a sunny day it would have been a perfect sandy bathtub. I may have lost my guidebook, which means big trouble if true. I don’t like hiking without a guidebook. I know where I last saw it, so I can backtrack when the rain stops.

The rain yesterday finally stopped about 6:30 and I had quite a lovely evening. No bears, few mosquitoes, lovely quiet apart from a brief rain squall at 8:30, and nice views. I had a lovely morning walk down Fish Creek and up the other side of the valley. I had an easy climb to the pass through valleys and alpine lakes. I saw a lot of people camped up high who must have passed me while it was raining and I was hidden under my tarp. The pass area was all shining white granite with red heather providing a welcome contrast. The other side of the pass seemed greener and lusher. I followed Silver Creek to Mono Creek, seeing lots of different wildflowers and trees. Down here there are even aspens with their pretty quivering leaves. The rocks are black and white and generally reminded me of upper Bear Canyon in Tucson. No cactus of course, but the rocks, trail, flowers and shallow water were similar. There are penstemon, paintbrush, lupine, purple wild mint, shooting stars, columbine, desert marigolds, sunflowers, phlox, purple daisies, occasional orange lilies and white mariposa, a beautiful blue-purple two-lipped tubular flower and others I don't know at all. I had lunch sitting on the rocks by the stream, enjoying the last of the sunshine. It was lovely.

I seem to have pulled a tendon in the back of my right leg though. I can walk on it, but it hurts enough that I don't quite trust my control of it. If it doesn't improve, I may have to do a layover day. I'd rather wait until after Florence Lake though, if I can.

I think I may get company tonight since I'm near the main camping area by the creek. One guy traveling alone I invited to join me under the tarp (Hussy!) but he wanted to get his own camp set up before the area was soaked. I may be scaring people off either by my look or my smell. Phew! Some of the men I've seen traveling alone look rather strange, like they've been out here too long. I may have that look myself. Or perhaps people assume that, being alone, I want privacy. Not necessarily.

Later: I ate too much. That's what comes of sitting too long. I didn't lose my guidebook after all, it had just slipped out partway. I got a real scare though. I depend on that book, perhaps too much. It helps pace me: two miles to the ford, then I can rest, two more to the junction, another rest. If I walked without it, I would probably end up doing 16 mile days looking for the perfect campsite. Sometimes you can camp at the high alpine lakes, sometimes you can't. Without a guide, how to know whether to start up the pass? Of course, they leave out a lot of possible campsites, probably because it is better to stay off the fragile alpine grasses, but they also give a lot of information on where the good sites are. Today I'm actually camped before the main area. A passerby said there were 15-20 people there. A lot have passed me as I've sat here, walking in the rain. Must be the weekend. They must really be resenting all this rain. I at least know that at some point the sun will return. I still have 13 days for it to get better. The fire danger is down at least, though the fords will be more difficult. There was one listed in the guidebook as potentially perilous which I worried about for days, but when I arrived the water was still low enough that I could easily boulder hop, ignoring the drop on the side. In high water it really could be scary.

Day 8 – Saturday - Rosemarie Meadows - 12 miles, 101 total.

Another day, another thunderstorm. I had thought of going another mile to Marie Lakes, but I don't want to be above tree line in a gully washer like yesterday's. This one is mostly sputters, a little rain, a little hail, a little sunshine, then more thunder. It could pass over fairly quickly. It's a good thing I'm doing such short days. I like being able to at least set up my tarp before the deluge begins. I was talking to a hiker going north, sitting in the middle of the meadow looking up at the pretty peaks, when I realized how black the sky had gotten suddenly, I dashed off to hang my tarp. My tent can wait, since it's already quite wet enough.

This is a very pretty place: a meadow with several streams running through it surrounded by jagged peaks. There are trees around the edges to camp in fortunately, and lots of trails leading off to other nearby lakes.

It was a strenuous morning. I started with four miles of switchbacks (60 in all) up through dense grass, flowers, aspen and pines. Up 1700' then down 900' on the other side of the ridge, again with lots of flowers. The rest of the day was following Bear Creek up toward the Seven Gables (a mountain) and Selden Pass. The creek is in full spate, so I got my feet totally soaked on a couple of stream crossings. I spoke with a group of six hikers taking a full month to do the trail. They were camped near me last night. I gave away some gorp to one of them. Then this afternoon I spoke to a rather strange guy skipping around on the P.C.T.. I had lunch by the stream in the sun, then had to hurry to set up camp before the storm hit.

Later: Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, I was flooded out. The whole campsite was two inches deep and all my gear was soaked. The ground reached saturation point and just wouldn't absorb any more. Since the whole area was full of streams, I had a hard time finding a spot that wasn't washed out. Then I ended up sleeping in a damp bag in a damp tent. When the rains stopped, the bugs swarmed, so I crawled into my tent to read until sundown. I'm tired of feeling so restricted, stuck under tarp or tent all afternoon and evening. I want the sun back!

Day 9 – Sunday

En route: Crossing over Selden Pass was easy. Marie Lake is just gorgeous. It's a series of lakes actually, serenely reflecting the mountains all around. The other side wasn't as pretty, though there are lakes. The Sally Keyes Lakes are pretty and there's an intriguing red mountain in the distance. The descent hasn't been bad, which is nice as my leg hurts a lot. Stream crossings are difficult with a bad leg since I'm not sure it will hold weight. I saw an antlered buck in one of the grassy meadows. Another storm is building. It is very quiet as a result. I've spoken to a few people in passing and have seen quite a few, but the feeling is of being all alone out here. This is a rather nice forest to be alone in. Tonight I'll get to Florence Lake Trail and the Muir Trail Ranch with its hot pools. Even if it's raining, I'm going in. I'm having mixed feelings today: it's the halfway point, but the hard half is yet to come. This is also the last bail out point (not true actually), as my leg keeps reminding me. I'm dreading getting 15 more pounds of food. Just when I get used to the pack, I make it unbearable again. Of course, it will get eaten away fairly quickly. In 5 days I should be comfortable again. I do want to reach Whitney, but between my strained tendon, the rain and lack of company, all is not joy. Right now though, sitting in the sun nibbling gorp and drying out my gear, listening to the birds and a rushing stream behind me, life isn't so bad either.

Later: at the Muir Ranch riverside campsite. No rain so far! I do feel good! I had a pleasant descent to the cut-off trail, then a rather steep eroded trail took me down to the Ranch, where I was planning to pick up the box of food I had mailed to myself. It's small, just a few cabins, run by a very old woman named Adeline Smith. I had a scare though, because we couldn't find my food. It was at the bottom in the very very far corner of a shed. They keep a list of incoming boxes (actually 5 gallon pickle barrels, by their request) and I wasn't even on the list. I must have been one of the earlier arrivals, before they got organized (?!) I was worried, thinking I'd have to walk six miles to the general store and maybe even hitch farther than that to town. Ms. Smith said I could probably find enough to get by from food other hikers had left behind, but 10 days worth? No coffee or tang or snickers? Persistence won out, as I kept searching and searching through the piles in the shed. I couldn't even tell that there was more stuff stuck in back until I slipped back between barrels. I felt utter relief when I found my bucket.

Then I moved on to the river with its campsites and hot springs. But where are the hot springs? The sign at the trail said only, "Across the river" but the river is high and fast, though not cold, fortunately for me. There is a rope across, but well above my head, so I ignored it and tried to wade across. I was swept off my feet and down the stream, got my balance, was swept away again, and finally found myself on the far shore, wet but safe, a little way downstream. Now what? So I wandered (barefoot) a bit and found a lone camper who took me on a tour to his favorite pool, a clear one-person sized bathtub, and the big pool, muddy but large enough for several people. There's a cool pool beyond, but I just enjoyed the hot one. Bubbles rose from the bottom and the sands themselves were hot, so I perched on an underwater log and talked for two hours to the camper. He is an interesting man who writes very imaginative stories about Japan, and earns living money by shoveling snow in Mammoth in the winter. In summer, he hikes and writes and works with Search and Rescue as a tracker. We had the pool to ourselves apart from a host of birds in the willows nearby. It was very relaxing. Sometimes the water got too hot, so I'd sit on the edge, then jump back in. Nicer than the old concrete bathhouse at Red's Meadow even with the mud. He helped me get back across the river, one hand on the rope, the other in his, so I didn't have to swim for it. He wanted me to camp with him, but I really didn't want to cross that river twice with a pack on, so I said no. There are a lot of people camped around here, some doing laundry in the river, some across the river at the hot springs. Now I get to start eating up all my heavy supplies. Yum.

Day 10 - Monday - Colby Meadow - 11mi, 121 total.

It's 2:00 and the tarp is hung again. There's something big brewing among the peaks: black sky and frequent thunder. Here we go again. Unfortunately, my site by the meadow could get flooded if the rains are bad. Otherwise it is a nice place, though too near the trail. I could get company again. Last night was the first time I had someone to talk to in the evening. There was a Czech on a two-year adventure odyssey before returning to Czechoslovakia, and someone who hiked the A.T. in 1988, a month behind me. He finished Oct. 11 in snow on Katahdin. It was fun to talk about the A.T. with someone who was there when I was and knew a few of the same people. We talked late around a fire, then I slept poorly because I had my food in my tent with me. I'm always afraid a bear is going to come in after it, so I start at every sound.

Today ended up feeling like a marathon when it really wasn't. The grade was gentle, though it was uphill all the way and I'm still only halfway to the pass. It's 20 miles from the San Joaquin River to Muir Pass. We followed the South Fork of the San Joaquin, a wild river, for several miles into Kings Canyon National Park. Then we climbed past an enormous waterfall to Evolution Creek. There was a knee-deep ford there. Then up past three grassy meadows. I'm at the third meadow, Colby, with views of the peaks when they're not covered with cloud. I had considered going on to Evolution Lake, three more miles, but that would be foolish with a full pack, a sore leg and a big storm coming. Take away one problem, and off I'd go, but all three together make for one weary woman. I was stopping every half hour as it was. We never did get rain yesterday, except a few drops at 10:00 p.m., so today might make up for it. It may not sound like it, but I really am glad to be out here. I may dislike being cold and wet, and wonder at the wisdom in forcing an injured leg for 100 more miles, but I love looking at the rocks and the water, following streams, watching waterfalls tumble down precipitous canyon walls, seeing birds and flowers, deer and chipmunks, fording creeks and enjoying the sunshine while I have it.

Day 11 – Tuesday - Little Pete Meadow - 14 miles, 135 total.

Today was a very strenuous day over Muir Pass in intermittent rain and hail flurries. Sometimes it rained while the sun was shining, but from 1:00 on, when I reached the pass, it has been wet. It kept me moving a little farther than I'd planned because a soaked campsite is not very appealing. How much longer? If I weren't so stubborn, I'd probably quit, I'm so tired of the rain. It was altogether a wet day, since I must have crossed 20 streams, including one that came over my knees that almost knocked me over, and I passed 8 or more waterfalls. Some were gorgeous. One dropped into an incredible turquoise lake across the valley under a big red and black mountain. It was raining, so my camera was packed away but it was an awesome sight. The climb up the pass was long but not difficult except for one stream ford where I lost the trail and had to figure out how to cross above a waterfall. Scary! It was cold and windy at the pass so I didn't stay long. There is an emergency shelter there, a big stone beehive, but it was wet and smelled moldy. That high the terrain is very bare and desolate. It was two miles before I saw my first tree again. The rocks were pretty to look at and the water, but it is very different being that high. Ugly and spectacular at the same time. We have five more passes, each higher than the last. My first passes were 11,000', then up I went to 12,000, now on to 13,000, and finally 14,400’ at Whitney. I'm going up in the world. Only one more week. I'm alone again tonight. I saw my Czech and A.T. friends, but they want to finish in five days, so they're really pushing. I am thinking of doing a half day tomorrow to rest my weary feet. Some strenuous climbs are coming and I don't feel up to them. My left ankle is swollen now and my right knee still hurts. What am I doing?

Last night I shared my campsite with 16 Korean nationals out doing the JMT. I didn't quite understand why, except that they are trying to qualify for membership in some international group. They seemed nice, but spoke very little English. They were quite a sight in their brand new bright red and purple gear and yellow tents. They plodded wearily in around 7:00. It was company anyway, even though we couldn’t talk.

Right now I'm tucked in a notch between two trees. The branches form an umbrella keeping me fairly dry. I haven't had time to set up camp. As soon as I arrived the rains got heavier. The thunder is right overhead. I'm high up on the hillside though, so I don't have to worry about being flooded out. I do learn. Still, I'm cold and tired and dirty and wet. Is this fun?

The trails were bad: running streams with no waterbars, rocky, and sometimes confusing as to direction. I saw a trail crew in the morning; if I had seen them later, I would have had a few words to say. As it was I just said thank you. Getting lost at the stream crossing cost me time and energy. I finally crossed at what seemed to be almost a horse ford because it was paved with flat stones all the way across. The water was deep though, and it obviously was not the regular crossing since the trail began further down. In meadowlands the lack of waterbars means that people step off the trail to keep from walking through the water on the trail, and form new trails, senselessly eroding the fragile terrain. Waterbars would divert the floods, and make the walking better. Still, most of the trail has been good. This area may be like Saddleback in Maine, there is simply too much water, too many streams, to prevent the trail from turning into another.

Day 12 – Wednesday - Deer Meadow - 8 miles, 144 total.

I did it. I actually took my long awaited short day. Not that it is going to be that different, the clouds are already massed and it's only 12:00. My gear is spread to catch the last of the sun. I had hoped to get everything dry, but that seems unlikely as I'm already feeling a few drips. Still it will rest my swollen ankle and my weary spirit. I have a big climb coming up, and really didn't want to do it feeling the way I do: sore, tired and just doggedly persistent, not walking with the spirit in any way. That's not entirely true. I see the beauty of the rocks and water and plants and animals, but still I count the hours till I can stop. A day is five rests, one an hour every two miles. That's not the way this trip should be. There is so much beauty, but it is hard to keep hold of it when I hear the thunder roll. I have to hurry to set up camp before the rains begin, so I don't really enjoy the journey. Today I knew I was going to take a short day, so I really hurried. The country was pretty, all in valleys with gorgeous mountains above and a stream nearby. Now I'll wash my hair and clothes, read and drink coffee mocha and hope the storm passes quickly and lightly so I can set my gear out again to dry.

Day 13 – Thursday - S. Fork of the Kings River - 11 mi, 155 total

This was altogether a better day than I've been having, starting with sunshine all day. Admittedly, yesterday's rain didn't amount to much after all. So, I've had almost two days of decent weather. It was an interesting part of the trail too, through gorgeous country. Mather Pass was in some ways an easy pass, and at the same time a real bitchkitty. Of seven uphill miles, four were nearly flat, following the river and going around some lakes. The other three miles were killers: up and up and up. I'm still not at my best at high altitude, so I was stopping every other switchback as I assaulted the wall. That's what it looks like from either side: just a steep talus slope that goes straight up. The north side was rocky; the south had easy switchbacks down. The other side is an enormous flat treeless basin. For at least two miles there were just beautiful mountains, lakes and streams. Some of the mountains were red and black; others blue or white. On both sides of the pass the mountains are 13-14000' and spectacular. Outside of Banner and Ritter, this has been the most beautiful area so far: the Palisades and Mather and Pinchot Pass areas. Treeline is at 11,000', so though I'm camped tonight at 10,000' I'm in a lodgepole pine forest. We hopped dozens of tributaries to the South Fork of the Kings River. Though we're high, there's a lot of life: marmots and ground squirrels etc. I saw a cute little sparrow-like bird that was almost copper in color. The other day I saw a family of wild grouse. I hear mama gobble gobble as she crossed the camp area followed by eight fat chicks. She was just a drab dark brown, like a big chicken. I had a nice dip here in the river. I found a waist-deep pool with a very slippery bottom and had a lovely bath. I'm not near the water since I decided I'd rather sit in the sun than in the shadows farther down the hill. I didn't talk to anyone today or yesterday, just said hello in passing. There is one family I've played leap frog with for the past three days; maybe tomorrow we'll get a chance to talk.