Where Purple Mountain's Majesty

Well, there should be an entry (some 60 miles worth) between my last entry and this. However, the only matter of particular note is the story I am about to tell.

Around mile 670 I was beginning one of the first serious climbs of the trail. Switch backing about on the mountainside, the trail dropped into a shady creek hollow some 3or 4 times. I was coming up the trail when I saw a figure shimmy across the trail in the shadows. Presuming it to be a fellow hiker, I made a greeting and came along the bend and found myself some 10 ft from a young bear. We both froze.
As soon as reason began again, I backed up. It was a small bear but not quite a cub, perhaps almost 2 years old or so. I began to sing loudly and badly and after a moment a curious little face peeked around the corner at me. The furry, shambling creature cocked its head and then ducked back. I kept singing and waited for few moments (hoping Rif- Raf and Frog would catch up). After a few minutes I pressed forward again but my new little friend was plopped right in the path. My voice quavered and I snapped a photo before backing off again. Two more times we took turns advancing on one another, neither being wholly sure what to make of the situation. Finally I clacked my sticks loudly and it scuttled down the hillside and in the thick brush.
Some 30 miles later, I came into Kennedy Meadows, at the edge of Sequoia National Park. We picked up our bear boxes, mailed resupply and snow gear before trooping off into the high Sierras. Over the course of a day, everything was different. We climbed above 9000 feet and the coniferous forests for which I had pined, were all around us. We were camped above 10,000 ft by the second night and Fuzzy Monkey built a beautiful fire around which Frog, Rif-Raf, Mr. Mountain Goat and I gathered. 21 mile days were now as exhausting as 26 mile days had been, as the air is notably thinner. For most of those first 2 or 3 days, any time I hiked reasonably quickly, I began to feel as if a heavy band were being tightened around my chest.

We moved over sandy floors and between redwood sculptures. Trees stood tall on thick trunks. Many were branchless and barkless and their cores glistened red and brown in the sun. Others seemed to have suffered incredible trauma, vertical rifts ran deep from the ground up, exposing hundreds of layers of shades of red. Still others bore massive tumors and countless other nuances. All so similar, each so unique.
The mountains began to sprout up all around us. Yesterday, Frog and Rif-Raf moved a bit while I summited Mt. Whitney with another group of hikers. We set out by 6:30 AM and were in the high, snow filled basins within two hours. Peaks and spires jutted up all around us. Walls of rock thousands of feet high, fluted like a pipe organ. We began to climb a steep talus ledge but quickly encountered even steeper banks of snow. Sometimes we scrambled straight up the rocks, other times we used our ice axes and braved the snow banks. As the air thinned we slowed. Five and a half hours later we stood atop the highest point in the lower 48 States. The sky all around us was clear, except a few fluffy cumulus near the horizon. The San Andreas fault ran parallel to the mountain, across a valley space. It promises to make these mountain beach front, given a couple million years. To the north, the snow clad Sierras ran. It was astounding and daunting.

By 2 PM we began to make our way back down. The snow made it challenging but we all arrived at our campsite in Crabtree Meadow that evening. A group of thru-hiker boys had camped just across the river from us and they stood in the soggy meadow casting fishing lines into the crystal clear river waters. The pink of the alpine glow graced the peaks which cupped around us and it was a truly wonderful evening.

Today I packed up and climbed several ridges, snow shoed across a snowy valley and dropped to yet another torrent by lunch. I crossed safely and stopped for lunch and spread my sock and some of my gear out to dry. As I ate, I began to calculate mileages and found that I am now some 6 days ahead of schedule. I have 4 days to make 25 miles. At this next town my friend Anne will be coming out to hike with me. I scheduled a few options for our week together and decided to call it a day.

It is 4:30 PM and the sun is still warm and I’m thinking about an early supper and bedtime. Tomorrow I tackle Forester Pass. At 13,180 ft, it is the highest point on the PCT. It is also reputed to be one of the most dangerous passes. Early mid-morning snow is still firm enough to not post hole but is also not too icy, so I’ll tackle it then. Right now all I can think about is tackling a box of Annie’s Mac and Cheese.