Today was terrible. One of the worst I’ve ever had, but the morning went well enough. We got up, crossed Wallace Creek – a very chilly endeavor for 6 am – and climbed over the ridge beyond the creek. Less than 2 miles later we got to cross another thigh-deep stream, Wright Creek. After that we tromped through a snowfield and into the woods, down to Tyndall Creek, which the ranger at Mt. Whitney told us was impassable the night before. It was only knee deep and barely pushed me around as I waded through, not bad at all. From the stream we lost the trail a few times through a very soggy field that was mostly covered in snow. It didn’t matter though because we new that we were headed toward a tiny gap in the 13,000 ft tall granite wall ahead of us. The meadow turned into a boulder field that was almost completely covered in snow. We postholed, sometimes falling into snow past our hips, for what seemed like hours. That was just the start of the bad stuff. We reached the base of our climb to find that we needed to scramble up a nearly vertical pitch of snow and ice and rocks to reach a set of switchbacks that were blasted into the actually vertical granite wall, then cross a wicked looking avalanche chute twice before reaching the 6 foot wide gap at the top of the rocks – that was our pass. My nerves began to fail me pretty much as soon as we started climbing. It was tough, but it didn’t get too bad until my legs began to get tired and I lost confidence in my stability. We reached a point where we had to scramble up loose chunks of granite, all between the size of a fist and a human head, to get to the first exposed switchback. I was already crying a little, but by the time we hit those rocks, Matt and I were fighting, I was bawling, and I was too tired and scared to move in any direction. We sat on the rocks and argued for a while. Matt thought he could bully me the rest of the way up, I thought I could cry myself back down, to what end I don’t know, but at least it would put me back on flat ground. As we sat there it was decided that we should go back down and make a plan. I wanted to go around to the next town and wait for Matt there. Matt said he wouldn’t hike without me (not what we had agreed on at the start of the trip). He changed all the rules and said that if I was going to skip a section and he wasn’t going to hike alone, that we were just going to have to go home because he wasn’t going to put any more suffering into something that wasn’t complete. It made me feel guilty on top of the shame I was already feeling for being too scared to go over. The afternoon carried on like this for hours. It was the worst. I don’t think I’ve ever been so miserable about something that I had done, something that I could control. We cried, fought, sat in silence, and repeated the whole ordeal over and over. There was a speck out on the snowfield moving our way. We knew it was the guy who had crossed the creek just after us this morning. We were going to have to talk to him. I got my shit together and put my sunglasses on to hide my puffy eyes. When he reached us we exchanged the normal pleasantries and I hoped he would move on, I didn’t feel like being around anyone – I didn’t even want to be around myself. He sat down. It forced me to be pleasant for a bit longer. It forced Matt and I to treat each other civilly as though everything was hunky dory. The guy got up to look for campsites off a short ways down the hill. I declared that I hated him. Of course, I was hating everything at the time, so that wasn’t a very fair statement. I just hated that he was happy, hated that he was enjoying himself. He returned from his short investigation of the area to inform us that there was some decent camping just off to the left of where we were sitting. He said that he was going to go set up camp down there and that we were welcome to join him. We told him that we neededto discuss our plan a bit further before making any decisions. He left and we went back to arguing, but after the break our desire to fight seemed to subdued and our energy was too low to maintain the heated discussion we had been having. We decided to go camp with the guy who was so happy. His name was Randel. We ate dinner with him and talked for a long time. I felt guilty for not liking him earlier. Talking with him made me feel so much better. I actually think it was the best interaction I had had with a stranger on the entire trip. After awhile I came out and told him all about our current predicament. It felt good to have a third party in on the situation. It made both Matt and I describe what we wanted out of this juncture more reasonably. Randel was a good sounding board for a few minutes, I’d like to thank him for that. After dinner a crazy storm was coming to a head behind the ridge next to us. We sat around with Randel until it finally got too cold and a bit of rain fell. He offered to go up the pass with us in the morning if I wanted to try again. We said we’d see him then. Back in the tent I just started crying again. I can’t control it, I feel like crap. My head is throbbing and my eyes are puffing shut and gritty feeling. This is a pretty brief account of the day, I just don’t want to think about it anymore.

Matt left early this morning so he could get up Mt. Whitney before the snow got too soft. On his way out Matt dropped one of his trekking poles in the stream and ran back by the tent, swearing and stripping off his clothes as he ran down stream to retrieve it from the center of a log jam a way down the creek. I opted out of the Mt. Whitney adventure and stayed in bed because there was no way my legs had 27 miles and 10,000 feet of ascent and descent (cumulative across the whole day). Instead I was going to hike up to the meadow where the Whitney side trail splits from the PCT and wait for Matt to come back down so that we could push on the last few miles to Wallace Creek where we had to camp if we hoped to get past the snow on Forester Pass before it got soft. I slept for another couple hours after Matt left, but the tent felt big and empty and my stomache was growling because it was past my normal breakfast time, so I got up and got moving, despite the fact that I still had quite a bit of time I needed to waste. The creek crossing went better for me than it did for Matt. The bottom was sandy so I took my shoes and socks off and waded through the icy cold water. From the creek the trail climbed about 1000 feet over 2 miles to another pass. The land was rocky, the trail sandy, the trees were pines. Descending from the ridge was much shorter and the trail ran through these big sandy basins that were skirted with pine trees, places that would be meadows if there was more water. Around noon I reached Crabtree Meadow near where the side trail leaves to climb Mt. Whitney. I sat by the wide, slowly flowing, sandy bottomed mountain stream for awhile, washing my dirty socks, eating a snack, and hanging out with a small doe who was munching on grass about a hundred feet away. Before I got up to go the doe walked right by me, less than 15 feet away – my presence didn’t seem to bother her. From the meadow I walked another mile up the creek, which the trail crossed 3 times, to the higher meadow where the trail went up to Whitney. I sat on a big rock and made myself some lunch. The marmots provided some good entertainment, scurrying about the meadow. These are the biggest marmots I’ve ever seen, all somewhere between the size of an obese housecat and a beaver. They only seem to have two speeds, a grazing step here and there or a flat out scamper. The couple that we had met a few days ago, M and Rising Sun, passed through the meadow at around 2:30 pm. They had just finished their trip up Whitney and informed me that Matt was just about an hour behind them, they had seen him going up on their way down. Sure enough, they were right. Matt pulled into the meadow a little before 4:00 looking like he was going to pass out because he hadn’t felt like taking a break to eat all day. I had very little sympathy for him because it was hisown fault, but I cooked up an early dinner for him anyway and took good care of him because I love him (and somebody has gotta look out for him). While we were eating our friends Bacon and Meander walked up, a great suprise to all of us because we thought they’d be way ahead and they thought we’d probably still be a few days back. It turned out that they had taken about a week off in hopes that Meander’s knee troubles would right themselves. As nice as it was to catch up a bit, we had to be moving on because we were still 4 miles away from the spot we needed to camp so we can make it to Forester Pass early tomorrow before the snow gets all mushy. We walked on. Matt was exhausted from his super big, food-deprived day, but we made it to the creek just fine. We found a flat spot, set up the tent, and crawled in right away. Matt is already asleep beside me.

Hotel stays are the best. I know I’m supposed to be out here enjoying the hiking, and I do, but it also reminds me how kushy life at home is. Having taken care of pretty much everything last night it was easy to get going, after a little sleeping in of course. We hit up McDonalds on the way out of town. We thought the hitch was going to be tough, if not nearly impossible seeing as we were looking to go 20 miles up a road that doesn’t connect into any other roads and ends at a campground at the top of a mountain. It was easier than we thought it would be. Only two cars passed us, one was a huge motorhome, before we got a ride from a guy who was headed up to the Whitney Portal to have his go at the hundred switchbacks leading up to the highest point in the lower 48. He drove us a few miles up to our road before dropping us off and wishing us luck on our trip. Our next ride was from a little tiny old lady, a q-tip, that wanted to help us out but she was only going a couple miles. In the end we were lucky she didn’t want to take us farther because I can’t imagine the danger we’d be in, careening around the fallen rocks on the tight switchbacks of the mountain road. Our series of rides finished with a rather tight ride from Dan and Dave, a couple of hikers who had just completed a section of the trail and were heading up to the meadow for some things they had left in the bear boxes there. They were great to talk to and really went out of their way for us, even gave us a bottle of bug repellent because I had forgotten to get some at the store. After just a little more procrastinating, we hit the trail around noon. The hike back up the pass and onto the trail was easy, it definitely didn’t feel like we had climbed 600 feet. Once we were back on the PCT, the trail continued to climb gradually through boulder fields and the sparse pines that indicated our close proximity to tree line. At many points the trail was under a few inches of water from the melting snow above. It was a bit sloppy, but at least water wasn’t hard to come by. The trail was occasionally covered in snow for short distances, the rest of the time it was sandy. We met a couple of college-aged boys who were out backpacking for three days who informed us that it was all down for a good ways. They were funny. I really enjoy talking with people that aren’t having the thru-hiker experience, they just have a different perspective and really appreciate the time they have in the woods – not to mention that every coversation isn’t about what gear you’re carrying or that last difficult set of switchbacks, or speculation about the snow depths and stream crossings ahead. Our next few miles were mostly downhill, as promised. Trail walked us above a small lake that was nestled amongst the trees at the foot of a huge talus field. The view out to our west was of expansive meadows far below us. The shadows grew long as sun grew low. All of the mountaintops surrounding us glowed a soft yellowish rosey color. We arrived at Rock Creek just before 8 pm. Now I’m sitting atop the large steel bear box watching dinner boil while Matt sets up the tent. The day feels pretty successful.

Sure enough, I slept great. I barely even rolled over. We got moving early again, about 6 am. The morning was uneventful and passed in a bit of a fog. We were focused on getting to Lone Pine, CA to get Matt some new shoes. The trail rolled up and down, first climbing 2000 ft up a ridge. The pine forest smelled sweet in the early morning sunshine. About halfway through the morning we ran into a guy who was hiking a loop from Kennedy Meadows to “burn some fat”. He sounded like he was having a really nice 5 day solo trip. We arrived at the top of Trail Pass, the trail we were taking into Lone Pine, a little after 11 am. It was an easy 2.5 mile hike down to the Horseshoe Meadow campground where we were hoping to get a ride from someone who was just out for a day hike. At the campground we talked to a man who seemed to know everything about the whole trail ahead even though he hadn’t been there in years. After our little chat we sat down on a stump on the side of the road and waited for a ride. The first car to stop and talk to us was a bright red Mustang with three British dudes in it that were wondering if we knew a road that would take them through the high Sierra; we had to explain to them that the dotted line over Mt. Whitney was a foot path, not a jeep road. They were funny and nice, but there car was full up, so no ride there. The next car to come by was our ride – a black SUV driven by a guy named Russell who was just up in the high country for a run. Russell was great. He told us all about the area, drove very carefully down the mountain road, and brought us right to the best outfitter in town. At the outfitter Matt picked out his new shoes. He only had two options and he had to get the shoes a half size too big, but in the end he was pretty happy with his purchase. The guys at the shop asked us to set the box with Matt’s old shoes in it on the top of the trash can out front so they could watch people open it, I guess you have to stay entertained somehow. From the outfitter we went to a pizza place that some other thru-hikers said was really good. It wasn’t. It was overpriced with small portions and to top it all off there were three employees who stood behind the counter and stared at us for our whole meal (I know we are a bit of a spectacle, but these kids had to be on drugs). By the time we were done eating it was almost 4 pm and we still had to make a run to the grocery store. We figured there was little hope of getting a ride back to the trail tonight so we got a room at the hotel across the street. The hotel was very old and had small rooms with one queen size bed and shared bathrooms in the hallway. Everything was super clean and quiet, which is more than I can say for any other hotel I’ve ever stayed in with shared bathrooms. I went to the grocery store to get some snacks for the trail and some food for this evening. Now I’m hunkered down in bed with a bag of corn chips watching people purchase their first homes on the television that seems so out of place in this little old room.

We woke up to the sound of Fozi shaking out his groundcloth around 6:00 am. We went back to sleep. It was about 7:30 before we woke up for real and 8:00 before we started walking, one of our slowest starts. We were a bit short on water starting out and by mile 2 we were kicking around the idea of walking an extra 3 miles (roundtrip) to a spring off the trail. We got to the road that the spring was on, only to find that the spring was not only 1.8 miles away but also 700 feet below the trail. It didn’t take us long to make up our minds – we were going to risk it and make an almost dry run to the water cache that may or may not be full 10 miles further down the trail. We split up for the first time all trip so that we could each cope with the dry section in our own way. Matt planned on hauling ass the whole way there while I was planning on taking breaks in whatever shade I could find to cool myself down so I didn’t feel so thirsty. I popped my headphones in my ears and took off a couple minutes behind Matt. It was the first time I had really listened to music on the trail and man it was good, so good, in fact, that I didn’t notice any of the scenery for the first 3 or 4 miles. I think it was just the same old desert, sand, hills, and sagebrush. It wasn’t until the remains of a school bus, a flipped over car, and a huge piece of mining equipment surfaced just off trail that I started paying attention again. The trail climbed about 800 feet up a hill covered in deep sand, so I climbed too. The sand was hard on my shins and ankles. Halfway up the hill there were two clumps of Joshua trees that were casting big shadows so I dropped my pack to cool off for a few minutes. After reaching the top of the hill the trail followed a ridge around to the base of a tall, rocky peak with a radio tower on top. The radio tower was on my maps and only 2 miles away from the water cache where I was meeting Matt so it was a welcome sight, even if it was still about a mile and a half away. The ridgeline was covered in huge piles of granite boulders but all of the treadway was deep sand that had been fasioned into a kind of constant 5 ft up, 5 ft down roller coaster by dirtbikes and 4-wheelers (neither of which are supposed to be on the trail). I finally reached the water cache at around 1:45 to find it full. Matt had been there for almost 40 minutes already. I joined Matt under the shade of a pine tree and we made Spam and cheese sandwiches for lunch. The food was alright, but the cool lemonade we made was the best part. After lunch we decided to sit for awhile. Awhile turned into 3 hours. We ended up just making dinner there before heading out to put a few more miles behind us. The trail out of the cache was a 4 mile climb to the top of a ridge. The climbing was easy enough with only about a 6% grade on the trail. By the time we got to the top the sun was beginning to set. The view was one of the best I’ve seen so far on this trip. The setting sun illuminated the toothy rocks along the top of the ridge and the white sand on the hilsides glowed orange. Even the greenery seemed more vibrant in the evening sun. We chose to set up camp here because we didn’t know how many more flat spots there would be nearby. We have the tent nestled back in some bushes where the wind can’t get us. Here’s to a good night of sleep after an easy day.

Got up super early this morning, around 5 am with hopes of putting in a big day. The other hikers left around 6 am. Dave Horton came over to our campsite while we were packing up to offer us a ride to Lone Pine so we could remedy Matt’s shoe problem (he had a car and was headed that way). It was a nice offer and Matt really wanted to take him up on it, but we were concerned that the 60 mile hitch back to Kennedy Meadows would be too hard. We headed out around 7 am. The first 5 miles of hiking were a very easy, gradual climb through a series of meadows. After that we walked through a low pass that led to another large meadow. So far the Sierras were easy. The gently rolling, lush green terrain was juxtaposed against toothy piles of granite. Just before lunch time we reached a wide creek with a bridge over it. We needed water, so we took a break to treat some water, wash our legs, do some sock laundry, and have a snack. The water was super cold because it came mostly from snowmelt, but it felt good on my tired feet, ankles, and knees. We moved on, across the bridge and through the meadow until the trail met another stream which it followed up a long hill. Near the top of the hill we stopped for a very quick lunch break because the mosquitos were pretty bad. The climb veered away from the creek and zig-zagged up toward the top of what we could now make out to be a mountain that stood a little over 12,000 feet. We passed three SCA trail crews on our way up the hill – it’s amazing how terrible deodorant smells when you aren’t used to such fake scents, not to say that I don’t smell terrible in a different way. The trail levelled off at about 10,500 feet and skirted around the mountain before descending into the meadow below. At this point we were almost 22 miles into our day and we were both starting to bonk hard because we didn’t eat nearly enough for lunch. We pushed on past some truly exquisite scenery, but I was in such a fog at the time that I can only describe it as stacks of granite spires leaning against each other rising hundreds of feet out of a flat, green meadow. The trail then became a straight line through a sandy pine forest all the way to where we set up camp near Death Canyon Creek. Matt went to get water and I began to cook, but the skeeters were so bad that I’m now in the tent and Matt is making dinner, which he also doesn’t seem to be happy about. In 15 minutes my stomach will be full of spam and au gratin potatoes, 20 minutes after that I will be asleep. The one redeeming quality of walking a really long day is that I’m always tired enough that I know I’ll get a good night’s sleep.