Day 8- Silver Pass and Bear Ridge

 Tuesday, June 24

"Tired puppies drag their tails. Tired hikers drag their hiking poles."

Beginning: Fish Creek (Mile 78.7)
Ending: Bear Ridge (Mile 93)
Daily recorded distance: 16.7 miles
Total recorded distance: 105.6 miles
Daily recorded elevation gain: 4,081 feet
Total recorded elevation gain: 25,105 feet

Today was mostly uneventful, but it was hard. Looking back, it was the hardest day of the whole hike. In the first four miles, we climbed two thousand feet to the top of Silver Pass (10,754 feet). The climb was strenuous, but no harder than our earlier climb to the top of Donohue. The last fifty yards to the top was covered in snow, but we managed to cross without slipping or postholing. On the long descent to Edison Lake, we hiked with two southbound hikers for a short way. One was just out to see how far he could get in two days of hiking, and the other was hiking at a slow pace. He had started several days before us, and now he was trying to get to Vermilion Valley Resort before his knee gave out on him. After hiking eleven miles, we were hiking along a nice creek close to Edison Lake that had several nice camp sites along it. From there, we could have taken a ferry across the lake to VVR where we would have had hot showers and real food. We never planned on stopping there, so we decided to keep going even though it was getting late. We had been going downhill since the top of the pass, and our legs felt good so we thought we could make it another five miles to the next good creek marked on the map. Unfortunately, we did not realize that another climb, as big as the pass we had climbed in the morning, lay between us and that creek. We started climbing to the top of Bear Ridge. Then we kept climbing, and then we kept climbing some more. That climb, coming unexpectedly at the end of the day, felt harder to me than anything else on the trail. And there wasn't even any view at the top. The entire Bear Ridge is covered in thick pine forest that doesn't leave any way to see the view surrounding the ridge. They should cut down all the trees. Except for the junipers. Some gnarly big junipers were growing along the northern slope. They looked like sequoias that didn't quite grow up. As we neared the top, the climb began to level out, but we weren't finding any place to camp. We needed water, and the top of the ridge was bone dry. Footsore and weary, we continued on hoping we would find a place to camp on the way down. The descent from the ridge was steep, but there were small places for tents scattered along the trail. They already had tents so we kept going. Finally, we found a small flat area right beside the trail with only one tent on it. Bryce (northbound PCT, from Texas) invited us to set up camp with him so we set up in a small campsite between the trail and a steep drop off.  We had access to a small trickle of water. Soon a group of northbound PCTers added their tents to the collection, and we spent the night in an impromptu PCT village.

The nice creek we could have camped by.

Day 7- Lake Virginia and the First Golden Trout

 Monday, June 23

Beginning: Upper Crater Meadow (Mile 64.5)
Ending: Fish Creek (Mile 78.7)
Daily recorded distance: 13.8 miles
Total recorded distance: 88.9 miles
Daily recorded elevation gain: 2,556 feet
Total recorded elevation gain: 21,024 feet

Today was "just another day of hiking," at least for the first part of the day. Bryson spent most of the day ahead of Casey and me, collecting stories from the line of northbound PCTers. Casey seemed to have decided that a slower, steadier pace would be better for his ankle, so we ambled along behind at a comfortable pace. Around the middle of the day, we all stopped for lunch beside a small creek. There I cooked some potatoes while Bryson caught us up on the stories he had been hearing from other hikers. 

"Porter" had earned his trail name by reuniting unfortunate hikers with their lost gear. Every time he found a piece of gear, he would take it town on his next resupply. Surprisingly almost all the gear he found was eventually returned to the original owner. Another elderly hiker was carrying the police badge of his friend who had been killed in the line of duty. They had always dreamed of hiking the trail together, but the hiker was now carrying the badge to Canada in honor of his friend. When he had to leave the trail due to an injury, he asked Porter to carry the badge the rest of the way to Canada.

Another man, whose trail name is unknown, was collecting rare and unusual rocks. Every time he went into town, he would empty his bear canister of the extra weight and ship the rocks back home. Bryson gave him a little yellow duck to add to his collection.

We just happened to be eating lunch right beside the trail junction to Duck Pass. Someone got a kick out of leaving another little yellow duck on the trail sign. Later in the afternoon, it started getting colder, and we were worried that it might start raining. We put on our rain jackets to ensure that it wouldn't rain, but we did encounter a few snow flurries.

At Purple Lake, the outlet had too many fish to pass by. I caught a couple of rainbows before moving on. The steep climb after Purple Lake led to another of my favorite sections of trail: Virginia Lake to Fish Creek. Virginia Lake is high (10,300 ft.) and set in a small basin surrounded by craggy, snow-covered peaks. I really wanted to stay longer to take it all in, but it was starting to get late. After Virginia Lake, there was a steep, chaparral-covered descent to Fish Creek. Every now and then, a pika would dart under a rock or a PCTer would trudge up the trail. This was one time I was glad to be going down and not up.

At the bottom, the trail ducked under the forest right beside Fish Creek. There was a perfect campsite there, but Casey and Bryson were nowhere around, so I had to pass it up to find them. This part of trail was a dream (have I said that before?), smooth, level, beside the perfect creek. I really wanted to stop and fish, but I didn't know how far I would have to go to catch the others before dark.

After another mile, I caught up with them. We found a nice, secluded camp a short ways off the trail. Bryson and Casey, like responisble hikers, set up camp and did their laundry. I, like a fishing addict, dropped my gear at the campsite and headed for the creek. The creek was not as peaceful as it had been further upstream, but it still had perfect pools to fish separated by small waterfalls. I caught a couple small trout, one of which was a golden-rainbow hybrid. That was unsurprising. I have found rainbow trout with a diluted golden strain in several different creeks throughout the mountains. These fish look like a rainbow, but they have more spots than most rainbow trout. Where the true golden has a brilliant yellow belly, the hybrid will have a pale yellow belly. I cleaned the fish, and left them in the creek so I could return to cook them for supper.

Continuing up the creek, I fished several different pools, clambering over boulders and up waterfalls as I went. Somewhere up there, I caught a pure golden trout that was around twelve inches long. I let it go, and caught a few more small brookies for the frying pan.

Virginia Lake

Golden Trout

 Golden Trout are the only trout that are actually native to the Golden State. The headwaters of the Kern River in the southeastern Sierra Nevada are the only native habitat of this special fish. They are not big, but they are beautiful. Their back is dark brown like most other trout, but it is almost completely free of spots. They have a mottled pink strip running the length of the lateral line, and their belly is usually a brilliant golden yellow. In the Sierras, they rarely get any bigger than eight inches. Along with several other species of trout, they have been introduced in lakes and creeks all throughout the Sierras, but they today they only survive in a few places because they can rarely coexist with others trout species. Brook trout are voracious feeders and will outcompete the golden. Brown trout are cannibals and will eat goldens into extinction. Because the golden trout is a subspecies of the rainbow trout, they will hybridize and eventually lose their distinctive gold color. They can only live at high elevations, in waters that other trout can't access.

Day 6- Resupply and Burgers

Sunday, June 22

"Sometimes angels don't have wings." Sometimes they have packs and trekking poles.

Beginning: Rosalie Lake (Mile 51)
Ending: Upper Crater Meadow (Mile 64.5)
Daily recorded distance: 14.1 miles
Total recorded distance: 75.1 miles
Daily recorded elevation gain: 2,385 feet
Total recorded elevation gain: 18,468 feet

    Today was mostly an easy day followed by our first resupply. After a short warm-up climb to Gladys Lake, we hiked downhill for almost seven miles to reach Devil's Postpile National Monument and Red's Meadow Resort. The trail through this section was short on views, but the weather was perfect for covering miles. Much of the trail is covered in loose, sharp shale or large, awkward granite steps, but this section was smooth, hard-packed dirt. There was one notable creek to cross. Being unable to find a dry crossing, I marched through the shallow water in my hiking shoes. Before long, we reached the bottom of the canyon where the trail crosses the San Joaquin River. At the entrance to the National Monument, the trail to the Postpile split off the official JMT. Here I met Dad, who had hiked a mile or two up from Red's Meadow. He continued up the trail to find Weed Man, who was characteristically lagging several miles behind. I left the JMT to walk by the Devil's Postpile so I guess I really can't say that I've hiked every step of the John Muir Trail. Someday I will have to go back and catch three miles between Red's Meadow and the San Joaquin River. The Postpile is a formation of 60-foot high basalt columns that looks like... well... a pile of fenceposts, I guess.

    When Bryson, Casey, and I arrived at Red's Meadow, Mom was waiting there with our resupply. There is usually a genuine blacktop road to the resort, but it is closed for construction for the entire 2025 season. They had hiked the four miles by trail from the town of Mammoth with all the food we would need for the next five days. The shelves were still being stocked in the hiker store, and the restaurant was only open for a couple hours a day, but we were able to order several hamburgers before they closed. I think hiker hunger is the main reason these burgers are good, but they worked magic after nothing but trail food for almost a week. (I have no complaints about my trail food, but it's just not quite the same as a burger. Or pizza.) Soon most of us were refreshed, and ready to hit the trail again.

    Starting the trail, I had a nagging worry in the back of my mind: "Will I really want to keep going after Red's Meadow?" Hiking is fun, but it can hurt. Trail food is good, but real food is better. Sleeping pads work, but a bed is much nicer. You can wash off in a lake, but it sure is cold. With blacktop, comfort, and civilization only a choice away, would I have what it takes to go back out into the woods? These things weren't even a temptation. We were soon back on the trail again.

    All but Weed Man. His foot was hurting him too bad to keep going. From Red's Meadow, the trail goes through another burn scar from the 1992 Rainbow Fire. This meant that we were hiking through the same sharp thorned shrub we encountered on our first day. (Maybe it's manzanita?) There were trees growing, but not enough to keep us sheltered from the late afternoon sun. To the north, a beautiful bank of thunderheads built imposingly, but they stayed far away from us. We were thankful. Our camp that night was one of those where we finally set up our tents in the only spot available because we were tired of hiking for the day. It was barely off the trail on sloping ground. (Pro tip: If you can't find perfectly flat ground, make sure you sleep with your head uphill.)

Day 5- Thousand Island Lake to Rosalie Lake

Saturday, June 21

"And it came to pass."

Beginning: Thousand Island Lake (Mile 43)
Ending: Rosalie Lake (Mile 51)
Daily recorded distance: 8.3 miles
Total recorded distance: 61 miles
Daily recorded elevation gain: 1,870 feet
Total recorded elevation gain: 16,083 feet

    In the morning the wind was still blowing full force. Impatient to find a more pleasant climate, I was packed and on the trail long before the others. Because the PCT's route leaves the JMT for several miles, we saw very few northbound hikers today. There were a few unfortunate groups on short trips who had chosen the wrong weekend for their adventure.

     One mile north of Thousand Island Lake is Ruby Lake. It is a very small lake hiding behind a large mountain. Several excellent campsites lie just off the trail in the thick pine forest surrounding the lake. If you ever feel the need to camp at Thousand Island Lake in a windstorm, hike a mile further to the much more sheltered Ruby Lake. You will be much happier.

    Somewhere beyond Ruby Lake is Garnet Lake. It is almost as large as Thousand Island Lake, and the wind was blowing even stronger, threatening to blow us off the narrow log bridge that crossed the outlet. I'm sure this area was beautiful, but it was cold and windy.

    Besides getting out of the wind I had two goals for the day: fishing in Shadow Creek and a bath in Shadow Lake. Thankfully the wind stopped in the early afternoon shortly before reaching Shadow Creek. I found a nice pool to fish and caught several small brook trout. Bryson soon caught up to me, and we continued to Shadow Lake together.

    There is one small problem with bathing on this backpacking trip: all of the water in the Sierras is cold. Lakes are less cold than creeks, and lower elevation lakes are less cold than higher elevations, but they are all cold. Shadow Lake, sitting at 8,800 feet, was one of the lowest lakes we would pass. Even in the hottest part of the afternoon, the bath was still cold. It was refreshing, though. After catching a few more rainbow trout, some thunderclouds cresting the nearest ridge suggested that we continue on to our camp at Rosalie Lake.

    The clouds blew over without dropping any water, and we had a really nice time at camp along with a couple other groups hiking northbound.  One retired couple was hiking the JMT in two parts because they couldn't get permits to the trip end to end. They had started two days ago at Duck Pass (Mile 72). When they reach Yosemite Valley, they plan to find transportation to their starting point. From there, they will continue on to Mt. Whitney. Several rainbow trout added to our supper, and two guys from our party went for a swim. Judging from their yells, I would say the water was frigid.

The bridge at Garnet Lake

Rosalie Lake

Day 4- Donohue Pass and Wind

 Friday, June 20

Pace yourself; don't push yourself.

Beginning: Lyell Canyon (Mile 30)
Ending: Thousand Island Lake (Mile 43)
Daily recorded distance: 14.6 miles
Total recorded distance: 52.7 miles
Daily recorded elevation gain: 3,885 feet
Total recorded elevation gain: 14,213 feet

    Today started in a dream and ended in a nightmare. By this time, we have each settled into our own routines. Weed Man leaves camp first because he hikes the slowest. I've been leaving shortly thereafter, and the speedster Bryson and Casey leave sometime later. The dream of Lyell Canyon continued for several more miles before the trail pitched sharply towards Donohue Pass. Donahue is the first of the "big" passes of the JMT and the highest point we will reach until Muir Pass at mile 128. From our camp, we had to climb over 2,000 feet to reach the 11,073 foot summit of the pass. Behind us were excellent views of the meadows and rivers in Lyell Canyon, and ahead were views of some of Yosemite's highest peaks. The first peak south of the pass is 13,114 foot Mount Lyell, the tallest peak in Yosemite National Park. The route to the top is reported to be an easy class 3 scramble from the JMT, but we decided to leave that attempt for a later trip. We crossed several lingering snow fields which made up the very source of the Tuolumne River. As we continued to climb, the wind grew steadily colder and stronger. Near the top, I found shelter from the wind and settled down to wait for the rest of the group. I was especially curious about Weed Man because I should have easily passed him long before. When Bryson and Casey arrived, they told me that he had gone off trail to bathe in a stream. We decided to press on through the wind without waiting for him. Topping the pass without any trouble, we left the familiar trails of Yosemite behind us. On the way down the southeast slope, we occasionally lost the trail in a snow field and had to pick our way through the boulder fields until we found the trail again. This is where the dream ended and the nightmare began. As we pounded our knees down the rough, shaley trail, the wind grew even colder and stronger. 

    We finally reached Rush Creek at the base of Donohue Pass, only to find that our goal, Thousand Island Lake, lay on the other side of Island Pass. This climb was only 550 feet, but after our earlier climb and bone-jarring descent, the climb was torturous. At this point, the wind began reaching the strength of "knock you off the trail if you're not careful." We kept walking and the wind kept blowing. Reportedly, Thousand Island Lake is a popular spot to camp on short two or three day backpacking trips, but today the lake was nearly deserted. The wind was whipping the surface of the lake into a frothy mess, and breakers were throwing spray onto the trail itself. After a brief search, we found a campsite nearby Emerald Lake that offered a little shelter from the wind. We quickly set up our tents and cooked a hot meal. Crossing the outlet of the lake, we had seen several large trout, but no one was willing to brave the wind for fishing.

   Bryson and I went back up trail to find Weed Man. On the way back to camp, we happened to see a sleeping bag sheltered from the wind behind a stand of pine trees fifty feet or so off the trail. Upon closer inspection, Bryson found the sleeping bag to be occupied by a young woman in military issue uniform protected by a black German shepherd. She said she did not need any help and we should continue on our way. We did so, and never heard from the woman again.

The descent of Donohue. There were a few more snow patches when we did it.

Thousand Island Lake on a nice day.

Day 3- Fishing and a Town Day

Thursday, June 19

"JMTers are just wannabe PCTers."

Beginning: Cathedral Lake (Mile 18)
Ending: Lyell Canyon (Mile 30)
Daily recorded distance: 13.3 miles
Total recorded distance: 38.1 miles
Daily recorded elevation gain: 876 feet
Total recorded elevation gain: 10,328 feet

    In the words of one hiker we met on the trail today's hike "restored our faith in our ability to walk." The legs were tired from the brutal climbs of the last two days, but today's trails were smooth with very little climbing. For the first four miles, there were not many big views, but we had a nice easy downhill through the forest until the trail broke out on Tuolumne Meadow. Highway 120, the only road that goes east and west through Yosemite, goes right through Tuolumne Meadows so there were lots of tourists visiting. Despite the blacktop and tourists, Tuolumne Meadow was a highlight because the Tuolumne River is one of the prime fly fishing destinations of the Sierras. Two men walking beside the highway were fascinated by the browns and brookies I was pulling out of the river. They also could not believer I would hike thirty miles only to fish right beside the highway. The weather was perfect; the fishing was a lot of fun; but finally it was time to move on.

    At the Tuolumne store and grill, we got our first taste of through hiker culture. Laden with caesar chicken wraps, drinks, and ice cream, Bryson and Casey looked like kids in a candy store. They were chatting it up with a group of PCTers seated around the front of the store. Up to this point we could possibly have felt kind of big about hiking over two hundred miles in a couple of weeks. To the day hikers from Yosemite Valley and backpackers doing short loops within Yosemite, hiking all the way to Mt. Whitney looked like a huge undertaking. Not so for these hikers. These trail-hardened PCTers had already hiked over nine hundred miles, seven hundred of which had been through dry, shadeless desert. They had plenty of harrowing tales to tell about crossing icy, snow-covered passes far to the south which we would also have to pass someday.

    At the Tuolumne wilderness center, some of us picked up our first resupply. Bryson, Shane, and I had decided to cache some food in the bear boxes so we could reduce the amount of weight we would have to carry out of the Valley. Casey, who had started with a full six day's worth of food, would have to wait a few more days before restocking his own portable pantry.

Lyell Canyon

    Lyell Canyon is a dream. I can't believer I had never heard of Lyell Canyon before this trip. It really is one of the most beautiful places you can find, and it's not even that hard to get to. The trail into the canyon starts at the Tuolumne Meadows Wilderness Center, which is right beside Highway 120. From there, a nearly flat four miles will get you far enough into the canyon to appreciate its splendor. Most of the hikers we saw were northbound PCTers intent on reaching the Tuolumne Grill before they ran out of hamburgers which I'm afraid were a terrible distraction from the beauty of the canyon. Besides through hikers, we saw three other groups. One was a family of five who had hiked in to fish for the day. Another was an old man with a tattered backpack and a walking stick. (He might have been the ghost of John Muir himself.) And the other was a solo fisherman camped four or five miles up the canyon. Really, I can't describe the meadows, forest, rivers, and peaks to you. If you only visit two places in Yosemite, drive through Yosemite Valley and then hike in Lyell Canyon.

    That evening, we found a nice campsite beside a small creek that feeds into the Tuolumne. Bryson, Casey, and I fished the creek and the main river, catching several brook trout and a few browns. One elusive giant of a trout evaded every fly and spinner that Bryson or I could throw at him. Someday, I will figure out how to catch him. It was here that we began experimenting with the best way to cook a trout while on the trail. I found that six to eight inch trout fried on a small backpacking stove with a little butter and Tony's seasoning make the perfect supper.

Tuolumne Meadows

Lyell Canyon