Bronwyn will remember the stupid grin I had while riding a scooter around Santorini, a sun drenched Greek island. Well the grin is back but this time it’s for the mountains, the snow, the trees and the bears.

Today we crossed the highest point on the PCT. Forrester Pass at 13,300ft. It was quite a slog just to get to the start of the climb, crossing good sized streams and my first proper snow walking experience. The path up the mountain is switchbacked like crazy and looks like a lot of effort moving all that rock just for a few hikers. The pass is known amongst PCTers for the dangerous snow chute right at the top but this year we’ve got it easy. The snow only covers one side of the trail so Tiki, Lucky Joe, Second Hand (formerly known as Mike) and I got to the top just exhausted and not petrified. We posed for photos, admired the incredible scenery and got cold so we set off down the north side. Lucky Joe was the first to try glissading, the art of sliding down the snow to save the effort of walking. We all had a go, some even two and down we went. Four merry explorers in the most awesome place I have ever seen. We did get one dodgy snow crossing, we all went very slowly over it. It was at least 45 degrees and a run out that would surely break legs or worse.

The walking got easier and the small snow melt streams became a big river as we got back below tree line. We even got to see a bear pretty close, like within 20m. Just standing there watching us watching him. Eventually he saunted off and we all felt a little better for enjoying nature at its finest.

The second climb of the day was a mean one and I was nearly beat. We’re east of Bullfrog Lake on our way out via Kearsarge Pass and the mountains and lakes are…and here I struggle to find a superlative great enough to explain this place. Magnificent, awe-inspiring, magestic, spectacular. All of the above I believe. I’ve taken a bzillion photos and hopefully Dad will have the time to upload a few of them in a week or so and link to them here.

[Well I managed to squeeze a few into this page. Walks With Son]

Tiki, Lucky Joe and I just cooked dinner, talked a little bit and retired to our tents. This has been one of the physically toughest and most rewarding days of the trail. Whoooohooo!

Distance today: 23.2 miles. Total distance: 790.7 miles

*update*

It’s 2:18am and we just had another bear encounter. I woke to hear rustle, then branches snapping, then knawing! Tiki and I got out with headlamps and rocks and I could just make out the shape of a bear trying to get into Tiki’s Ursack. We scared it off pretty easily and hung the bag a little higher.

More photos of this day’s journey can be found at Crabtree Meadows to Independence

Whooweee, what a day. I’ve hiked to the highest point in the contiguous United States, Mt. Whitney at 14,496ft. Mt. McKinley (known as Denali by the locals) in Alaska is 21,000ft but that’s a whole different sort of adventure.

The morning started early with a song for Tiki’s birthday then we set off up the mountain. I was refilling my water bottle from a nice clean stream at Guitar Lake an hour or so before the sun got to the western wall where we were switchbacking our way up the 4,000ft from our camp.

Lucky Joe, Tiki, Roswell and I rolled on as Wounded Face fell further behind. With all our gear back at camp the climb was easier than some but it was long. Even after reaching the trail that comes up from Whitney Portal on the eastern side we had over an hour to go. The elevation gain left me breathing hard at every stop and I could hear my heart pounding over my foot steps on the rocks.

From the top the view was of course amazing, and I took dozens of photos today. The Sierras stretched out beneath me like wrinkles on a sheet and to the east it dropped off dramatically to the desert. I did try to look over the edge when I first got up there but the particular large rock slab I stood on was wobbly. As I stepped forward it rocked underneath me and I felt like a dizzy spell was coming over me and I was about to faint. It was just the rock moving but it unnerved me so much I didn’t try it again.

We started down just after noon and found Wounded Face still plugging on up with maybe a mile to go. He wasn’t delirious but he was a little odd. I charged down pretty fast, convinced there were 33 miles to do before we branch off the PCT tomorrow and it wasn’t until the others rolled in maybe an hour later that they corrected my maths and I found out I could just say here the night.

So I am, but I’m worried. Wounded Face is up there without enough stuff for the night. We passed a frozen lake this morning and he only has a thin jacket and shorts. If he’s not in his tent by 3am I’m waking up Joe and going to look for him. He may stop at Guitar Lake where tomorrow’s hopefuls will be setting out from. Fingers crossed I’ll find him safe and warm in his tent when I go check.

*update*
Wounded Face walked in around 8pm, much sooner than we expected. He’s tired but happy and talking, he may never know we genuinely feared for his life. Now I can sleep well, 6am doesn’t seem that early if you’re in bed by 8.

More photos of this day’s journey can be found at Summiting Mt Whitney

I’m camped just north of Crabtree Meadows near the stream that drains from the western slopes of Mt. Whitney. It’s warmer than previous nights but still cold. Quite a few people here tonight and more up at Guitar Lake ready for an early ascent tomorrow. But how was my day?

Dad and I parted ways at Trail Pass. I’m sure he was relieved to be heading downhill from there just as I was glad to be getting closer to Mt. Whitney, but I’ll miss my temporary trail partner. We hike well together.

I knew I had to step up the mileage today so I powered on as best I could while getting above 11,000ft for the first time. I was glad to have enough water to bypass Corpsemen Creek which flowed into Poison Meadow. Chicken Spring Lake was really something. A deep blue lake surrounded on three sides by steep grey granite topped by tiny snow banks. After that there was a long descent to Rock Creek. On the way down I saw many more examples of the brilliantly coloured tree trunks I’ve been seeing for a few days. The bark is a rich brown colour, but the beauty is where the inner wood is exposed. There the sun bakes the sap-laden wood into all shades of golden yellow. Set against bright blue skies and the green needles of the living trees it makes for one amazing backdrop to my walk. I fear today I didn’t appreciate it as much as I should as I trundled on down to Rock Creek, momentarily saw Lucky Joe then lost him again on the mean switchbacks taking us up 1500ft waaaay too steeply. I was suffering on that one for sure.

Out of breath and hungry I crossed the pass and made the last few miles to Crabtree Meadows well before sunset. With a few other PCTers (and one JMTer who gave us info about the trail north of here) in residence, we (Lucky Joe, Tiki and I) decided to stay and make an early start. I’ve packed my day bag, prepped the water and sorted out snacks. Now I deserve a good sleep and tomorrow I’ll bag another peak.

More photos of this day’s journey can be found at Kennedy Meadows to Crabtree Meadows

The sun didn’t exactly reach us in the morning but it was still a great place at the top of the world when we set off again at 6:35 am. Less than half an hour later we were at the junction with the Trail Pass route, my cue to exit. Mike had camped at Mulkey Pass, just before Trail Pass, and caught up with us in time to take a ‘team photograph’ before we went our separate ways. I left the PCT and headed down the steep switchbacks to Horseshoe Meadow, with its campground and the promise of road access.

The PCT trail is a world of ugly blisters and smelly feet, aching backs and frozen fingers, filthy clothes and smiling faces. It is also, in the Sierras at least, a world of astonishing natural beauty. The days were pleasantly cool and the views breathtaking. A most unexpected and delightful feature was that there were absolutely no mosquitos. Dire warnings that the insect attack could reduce a man and beast to madness proved completely unfounded.

It broke me up a bit to see Craig stride away up the next slope, but I was relieved to be the one heading downhill. I get great satisfaction from seeing each of my children exceed my capabilities in their chosen fields. Craig has chosen to challenge and beat me in my own fields (no, I never was a marathon runner). Tomorrow he will climb Mount Whitney. I did that last August, in an increasingly desperate attempt to claim the higher ground in the competition that he will surely win. It took me 19 exhausting hours. He’ll probably run up it.

I reached Horseshoe Meadow at 8 am and found the road nearly an hour later, joining it just below the sign saying “You are entering Active Bear Country”. I waited an hour for the first downhill car, which was actually one of the eight uphill cars I had waved to in that time returning. Thanks to Stephanie of Mammoth, a retired school teacher from Bishop, and Steve the angler I was back at Kennedy Meadows four and a half hours after I reached the road. I stopped in at the store and said hello to Mr Smiles, a thru-hiker, and Justin and Thomas doing a section hike from Tehechapi to somewhere in the Sierras. Another eight hours on the road and I was back in San Francisco.

More photos of this day’s journey can be found at Kennedy Meadows to Crabtree Meadows

Ice on my sleeping bag. That’s how cold it was last night, this is a new thing for me and it spells the end of cowboy camping for now. Dad (Walks with Son) and I (SunWalker) got up and moving later than I would normally but it was still a while before I could step into sunlight and defrost my hands. Recline wasn’t far away and they chatted while I got water from the other side of a small meadow. Our progress up the first, and significant, climb seemed slow to me but a reputable book has told me that those doing 25 miles per day before may drop down to 18 here in the high sierras so Dad has really hit the ground running. I think the slowness was caused by our tendency to talk. Talking while walking up hill with a heavy pack is hard, so we’d stop and chat and time would pass. And so would the people. Recline, Lucky Joe, Tiki, Path Finder, Deacon, Thirsty Boots and Mike are not far ahead and there seems to be quite a crew gathering for Mt. Whitney on Sunday.

I was pleasantly surprised to be so close to Trail Pass tonight. I didn’t think we’d make it this far before sunset and it was me who suggested stopping a couple of miles short of our target because this is the last place that we can camp and see sunrise, and I need that sun to get moving tomorrow.

More photos of this day’s journey can be found at Kennedy Meadows to Crabtree Meadows

After a cold night we packed up as quickly as we could with cold fingers and set out to find some direct sunlight to warm Craig up. About half and hour along we crossed the edge of Gomez Meadow on a boardwalk. These meadows are really delightful with their bright green long grass and huge grey granite boulders. If we had moved a little faster the day before we could have slept in a really beautiful location.

A short distance on we came across Recline, appropriately lying on a boulder taking a leisurely breakfast. He was camped beside what the guidebook called an all-season water source, but the water was green and lumpy with an ugly oil sheen. Craig walked up stream a way and found flowing water that was quite acceptable.

From that point on it was ever upwards. I struggled with the thin air at 10,000 ft plus and with a general lack of fitness. We kept heading for a horizon that always seemed just ahead, but then transferred to a more distant point just as we were about to reach the top. Craig was worried that we would be forced to camp well short of our intended destination of Trail Pass because of my slow pace. We climbed 1,500 feet and emerged at last onto a small mountain saddle that looked through a gap down the steep eastern side of the range to Owens Lake and the desert beyond. We had lunch there and aired our sleeping bags in the sun. Pathfinder came past, asking about water in a distracted tone that suggested he hadn’t had nearly enough for a while. There was good water a little off the trail a mile and a half further on, indicated by a note left under a small pile of rocks by Yogi.

From there there was another 1,000 ft descent. Craig went ahead with the intention of getting water at the bottom of the hill and starting dinner while I plodded down. Pathfinder seemed to pick up when he had some water and we discussed New Zealand politics, the economy, taxation and other important matters across the level section and start of the descent. This helped take my mind off my sore feet. When I stopped to get my drink bottle out he kept moving and very soon left me behind. I was only 25 minutes behind Craig when I reached the side path to the Diaz water source. He let me lie on my back with my feet up a tree (highly recommended by others) while he boiled water for dinner. Couscous with herbs and tuna for me. Then it was up again to see how much of the 1,000 ft climb we could cover before dark. We were overtaken by Thirsty Boots and Deacon, two hikers rather closer to my age than Craig’s. We got to a high ridge at about 8 pm and decided it was likely to be the nicest place we would find before dark. It is actually very hard to find level places to camp along the trail. In New Zealand bush the terrain is so broken up by the thick vegetation that you can generally find a level or hollow spot to lie in wherever you are but these american mountains are rock hard and slope steeply above and below the trail so there is often nowhere to lie comfortably. Hikers even have to camp on the trail ledge itself.

Craig choose the wide ridge top because it was nearly level, and because there was a good chance of getting early morning sun to warm his fingers when we packed up in the morning

Craig carried my tent all day today, in addition to his own. For those who may think that this was taking unfair advantage I will point out that I have carried Craig many miles through parts of Asia when he weighed quite a bit more than my lightweight tent. I can even produce evidence that I sometimes carried him in the exact same pack I used today on the PCT.

More photos of this day’s journey can be found at Kennedy Meadows to Crabtree Meadows

By crikey it was cold last night. It was quite a while before we reached sunlight this morning and my fingers were going numb until then. Becks Meadow was a welcome site. After all the desert and grit I was so glad to finally see miles and miles of lush green grass. We skirted the edge of it and made it to the famous swallow nest bridge over South Fork Kern River where Old Corpus was filling his bottles.

It was a long gentle climb into Cow Canyon and the shade. It was somewhere in here that we lost the path. We trudged up a dusty slope where people had clearly been but it was too steep to be the official PCT. Eventually we hit the path and had to watch for foot steps to workout the direction of travel. We stopped for lunch and not long after that I saw something uphead jump onto a tree trunk. We froze and watched intently until the bear, about the size of a big arm chair, jumped back down and bounded off to the left.

The first thing I did was whip out my camera, give my apple to Dad and carry my poles so we wouldn’t scare it if it was near. This is probably the worst thing you could do short of smearing yourself in honey and sitting near a water source. So we quickly switched to talking and stomping our poles and we never saw the bear again.

After crossing the day’s peak of about 10,600ft we came down towards Gomez Meadow but the light was fading fast and we had to camp about a mile short. Everything with a smell (apart from my stinky socks) went into the bear-proof canisters and they were placed in a tangle of logs that would crack and rustle to alert us if our food was under attack. Another cold night but I cowboy camped to save the tent hassle. I think that’ll be the last time I do that for a while.

More photos of this day’s journey can be found at Kennedy Meadows to Crabtree Meadows

Walks With Son continues…

We made a fairly early start up the winding path from our camp in the pine forest. Past Clover Meadow and over a modest ridge the view opened up on the beautiful expanse of Becks Meadow. A wide area of brilliant green surrounded by forested peaks. A few miles away across the meadow the Kern River winds lazily through between yellow sandy banks. Some black cows stand quietly around the bend in the river. In the far distance the bare grey shapes of Cirque Peak and others leading to Mount Whitney. I will leave the trail before I get to those, but there is maybe 4,000 ft of uphill and slightly less downhill to be covered before then.

We stopped for a snack break and Old Corpus caught up. He had left the store before us the previous evening but we must have overtaken him when our ride in the truck bypassed an unnecessary few miles of off-PCT trail. This pattern of being overtaken by the same people more than once occured frequently through my trip. The pattern of getting rides in trucks did not.

We saw Old Corpus again some time later when we crossed the bridge at the far end of the meadow where the Kern River flows out. The underside of the bridge has many brown mud nests and a flock of swallows flitted back and forward adding grass linings to their nests. From the bridge the trail crossed a dry desert-like scrub section and then began the main climb for the day, through pine forests and to the junction with the Olancha Peak trail.

The approach to the Olancha Peak trail junction(s) was a bit steep for me and at one point we encountered an unposted T-intersection which was a bit perplexing as both directions went horizontally away from our upward path. We concluded that we had veered off the true path and had now found it again, but the correct direction was not obvious. Craig and I tried opposite directions but he soon detected Recline’s bootprints going against his direction of travel so he turned and joined me.

We also encountered a bear. Most of the high trail is fairly open with various sorts of pines and big rocks, but in an area with a bit more bushy greenery than most Craig spotted a bear on the next curve of the hill above us. He said it jumped up on the far side of a large tree and then dropped down again and ran into the bushes in approximately the direction that we were headed. Quick as a flash Craig handed me the apple he was eating (the ‘bait’), whipped out his camera and tip-toed forward along the path into the bushes. It took a few minutes for us both to remember that this is not actually the recommended tactic. The path was fairly steep and there was a switchback approximately where the bear had headed but we saw no further sign. There was big pile of boulders that the trail turned away from and I suspect we might have found our furry friend in there had we been foolish enough to press the point. Unfortunately we didn’t get the photo, but I can say that it was about as big as the PT Cruiser I drove up from San Francisco, but black rather than silver and with bloodshot eyes and fangs like a sabre-toothed tiger. On the other hand I didn’t get a very good look at it so I might be slightly mistaken.

A bit further up the hill we were overtaken by Lucky Joe and Tiki. They were not particularly grateful that we had cleared their path of bears.

From the top of the hill we descended 1,000 feet towards Gomez Meadow but it got dark and although we were near it became difficult to be sure of the trail so we camped on an almost level area of granite gravel. I put up my tent but Craig maintained his cowboy camp style, and was rewarded with ice on his toes and an inch of ice in his water bottle.

More photos of this day’s journey can be found at Kennedy Meadows to Crabtree Meadows

The storm passed last night and left clear blue skies, but it was still cold all day. I walked up to the campground to be sure I have covered all the PCT and walked back in time for a ride to Irelan’s for another big breakfast there. I wish I’d had the chance to try Grumpy Bear so I could recommend one over the other but the chance never came.

Dad turned up in the afternoon and we talked, packed and ate until the store closed. A package I sent forward from Agua Dulce still hadn’t arrived despite it being 2+ weeks since I left and it supposedly being sent Priority Mail. Not cool.

Tom, the excellent local who set up an internet cafe, gave us a ride to the campground around 5 and we set off into the Sierras. It was a cold night for sure and it was quite dark as we cooked by the trail. Old Corpus has since told me it was 39F degrees (5C) but I still cowboy camped.

More photos of this day’s journey can be found at Kennedy Meadows to Crabtree Meadows

Location – somewhere north of Crag Creek.

I don’t remember when Father’s Day is for everyone else, but for me it was June 6th. What a treat for a Dad to be invited into the life on one of his sons for a few days.

I arrived at Kennedy Meadows in my funny little american car at midday after an eight-hour drive from San Francisco. The last part up a precipitous mountain road to reach the dry and partially burnt-off expanse of Kennedy Meadows. The old wooden general store has a large shady porch where Craig sat with his strangely named friends.

I met (I think) Dozen, Lucky Joe, Tiki, Speedstick, Old Corpus (for those without a Latin education, that simply means “old body”. Old Corpus is very much alive), Thirsty Boots and several others. Even some of the locals greeted me with “you must be Craig’s Dad”. The population on the store porch is split between locals and hikers. Both tend to have the same sun-and-dirt complexions, but the locals generally have better beards and bigger waistlines. I’m speaking about the male section here. The hikers are probably cleaner here than average for the trail, due to the outdoor shower. A sign in the store offers “Shower $1. Watch $2″.

I brought supplies including oranges, grapes and calorie-loaded chocolate bundt cake. Some hikers gathered hopefully and we said yes, this all had to be eaten before we hit the trail so help yourself. After a lot of repacking Craig and I hoisted our packs into Tom’s truck (ute) for a 3-mile ride to the trailhead. Craig had already covered those miles while waiting for me. We hiked about four miles before dark, gently uphill from the desert scrub of the meadows into low pine forest. Craig took it easy for my first day. We cowboy camped under the pine trees and stars, listening to the yelping of coyotes on the ridge ahead.

This is an interrum report from Walks With Son. SunWalker will send the official report when he gets to a phone at Independence in a day or two. I am waiting to read what he wrote about my slow pace. When I left him on Saturday he was speeding towards Mount Whitney.

In tomorrow’s thrilling episode our intrepid heroes stalk a bear

More photos of this day’s journey can be found at Kennedy Meadows to Crabtree Meadows