Day 56: Mile 703.4 – 720.4

Starting the day, I felt much better having rested another night. At 7am, Rory, Clare and I piled in the van that would shuttle us to trail. I was in the hatchback with three others. Again, there were probably 19 hikers stuffed in the van.

The three of us set off down trail, walking a very similar-looking path to the one we took coming into Kennedy Meadows, with open meadows of sagebrush. That soon transitioned to a shady pinyon pine and juniper woodland. The river flowed directly beside us. As we stopped for a break, it was amazing to not have to think about the scarcity of water. I would definitely have to reprogram my brain to not be constantly worried about where the next water source was.

We enjoyed the first shady section of entering the South Sierra wilderness, but as the climbing of the day began, it soon became much more exposed. The views were pretty, and it definitely was not the desert anymore, but the heat was here to stay. We took breaks in the shade whenever we could, and dipped our hats in abundant creeks.

Our first real break of the day came after climbing up from a not-so-shady creek. It was luxurious to know that there would be many places to take breaks along trail, unlike in the desert, where we were sharply constrained by water and lack of shade. I ate a lunch of tortillas and cheese and relaxed for a bit. We enjoyed the forest surrounding, listening to Lydia play her mini guitar.

Once I arrive to the saddle of the climb, the views opened up to an expansive meadow of sagebrush. Trees dotted the hillsides, and views opened up directly to snow-capped mountains. I was really in the Sierras now, and being treated to views around every corner.

I hiked with Chris, who did the trail in 2025, and was coming back to finish sections he missed due to injury. We talking about Vegas, where he lived, and hiking injury free. The time passed quickly as we climbed up and over a tree-covered hillsides to reach the river.

The river was sandy. Swallows had made little mud nests in the hollows in the bridge, which spanned across the lazily flowing water. It was so beautiful and serene, and my heart soared knowing that I’d be in this scenery for the next few weeks.

I hung out with some folks that I’d been flip-flopping with for a while, and it was nice to spend time in a new group. I met Firefly, who also went to Reed, and coincidentally also lived in the same exact house in Southeast Portland as I did, only three years later. It was such a crazy coincidence, to meet someone in the middle of nowhere that lived in the room next door to mine!

I hiked on at 5pm, which was late in the day if I wanted to hit 20 miles and catch up with the bigger group. I thought about how nice this new group seemed, and how much I didn’t want to do the 2,000 foot climb ahead of me. Clare and Rory were behind, having fallen asleep at the first break spot. As I gradually climbed the meadows of sagebrush into a ponderosa forest, I considered camping with this group.

I arrived with Firefly at 7pm to the tent site at Cow Creek, and as the others started rolling in, I decided to stay. The sites were sloped, but the company was good, and we laughed as we ate and packed up our bear cans for the night.

Overall, it was an awesome day, a great start to the section. Hiking 17 miles felt so much more achievable and easier, even with the heat. I was a little bummed about getting behind my original group, but also excited by the prospects of meeting new people.

Day 57: Mile 720.4-737.5

The day started with the sound of the creek and birdsong. It felt wonderful to be surrounded by trees. So far, I was loving the Sierras. I had a hot coffee, packed up, and started the ascent up Olancha Pass, the first big climb of the day.

The climb was in the shade, cool, and not too bad in the morning. There were lots of tall ponderosa trees and a creek running parallel. I stopped to chat with Angie and Morgan, who were from the group I camped with the previous night. Angie was really struggling with blisters and foot pain on trail, and I felt so much sympathy for her, given that I was experiencing the same thing last week.

We continued the climb, and the views started opening up to a forested, rocky, and grassy outcrop. There were mosquitoes everywhere, biting me through my shirt and testing my patience.

The big, steep climb of the day rewarded us on the other side with views of snowcapped mountains. I was listening to “Crossing Paths,” which was a collection of stories about the PCT. It made me really appreciate that I had walked this whole stretch, and had finally made my way to the Sierras. I was feeling so happy to be there! I chilled with Morgan on some rocks to rest, with a slight headache from the altitude.

I ran into a PCTA Crest Runner named Eileen on the ridgeline descent. She had been the one to check my permit at the start of the adventure in April. She was on her way back from doing trail work with a volunteer crew. I asked her for advice about getting a job with the PCTA, and wished her luck with getting a full time position. I’m not the type of person who wants to hike forever and do long trails until I can’t anymore— when I get back in September, I really want to find a fulfilling job in conservation, go back to school, and most of all, work on trails. The conversation with Eileen helped me remember my goals. It put me in a good mood to think about what the future could hold.

After descending, I saw Clare, and hiked with her for a bit. We crossed a stunning meadow, and I talked with her about my concerns with tackling the tough sections of the Sierras alone. The Sierras, unlike the desert or NorCal, definitely have lots of potential dangers— river crossings, falling off passes, storms, etc. I knew I could handle them, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t by myself in that.

I had lunch at Death Canyon Creek, which didn’t seem very death-like to me, but I liked the metal-sounding name. I hung out with Lydia, and then soon began another ascent in the hot, exposed sun. Clare and I met up and hiked together as we pushed ourselves up the climb.

We turned a corner to find amazing views of mountains, just perfectly arranged before us. Clare and I took lots of photos, and then the group I camped with last night arrived on the scene. They played the song, “You Make Loving Fun,” by Fleetwood Mac, which was their “Sierra Song,” and it was joyful to dance and sing in the presence of such a grand view with them.

We still had more to ascend, though, but we were making our way into a dense forest. It cooled the air and made the climb more forgiving. I met up with everyone at a stunning view of the Owen’s Valley, which also gave me a bit of cell service. Of course, like I do whenever I have an unexpected opportunity to use my phone, I had to call my mom. Even if it’s only a five minute conversation, I always like to tell her I’m doing okay.

At the viewpoint, I had an honest conversation with Rory about my goals for the Sierra, and how I didn’t want to do the risky parts of the Sierra alone. He had a differing perspective, so I decided it would be best to stick with this new group instead. I was disappointed to leave them, but also proud of myself for my communication skills and dedication to risk management.

I hung out with this new crew at the campsite later, and filtered water in a gorgeous meadow. The mosquitos ate me alive, but it was another good night. I’m disappointed to be camping away from Clare, and I’m hoping there’s still a chance to do Whitney together. It’s really easy to just go along with the plans of a group out here, and forget what your priorities are. I’m really proud of myself for setting boundaries and walking away when necessary, even if it was hard.

Tomorrow I’ll be hiking to Chicken Spring Lake, the first alpine lake on the PCT. There will be so many beautiful views, and lots of fun to be had with new friends.

Day 58: Mile 737.5- 756.3

I started the day with more bird song and cool breezes, just another beautiful morning in the Sierras. I drank coffee and set off at around 7am. Even though I was a little bit sore from yesterday’s 4000 foot climb, luckily for me, the trail was gentle downhill and weaved through beautiful trees and boulders.

I was reflecting a lot about how I was both excited to potentially start hiking with a new group, but also sad to leave Rory and Claire behind for a bit. I put on my audiobook about the PCT, listening to stories about river crossings and climbing Forester Pass, two things that would do this week. Hearing about the authors’ love for the trail made me feel aligned to the reasons why I’m here.

I met up with Chris at Diaz Creek, located in a Wormhole Canyon, which I thought was an awesome name. While the water filtered, we chatted. We talked about how the idea of “hike your own hike” is kind of frustrating to us. The idea behind the statement comes from the fact that it’s really easy to get sucked into other people’s plans and ideas about what the trail should look like. But still, it’s also silly to think you could only rely on yourself out here. Now that I’ve hiked a fair amount of the trail, I’ve witnessed how much support from trail angels, fellow hikers, and people from back home it has taken to get me this far. Even for the most independent hiker, I don’t think it’s possible to make it to Canada without other people’s help. Chris and I both agreed that life is the exact same way.

After meeting up with Fanboy, Morgan, and Angie, the rest of the day would be a slow but consistent climb up to 11,000 feet. Though the climbing is obviously harder, now that we’re in the Sierras, we were treated to high alpine views at quick intervals and in every direction.

We were starting to see lots of day hikers and backpackers. This was a famously popular area, after all. It was funny to compare it to the previous section of trail, where I hadn’t seen any day hikers at all between Agua Dulce and Kennedy Meadows. It was definitely a sign that things were about to get even more beautiful.

I met up with the group at Poison Meadow Spring, enjoying views of maybe Cirque Peak or Langley. We listened to music and took a nice break, drinking cold water from snowmelt. I’ve been feeling super hungry in the mornings, but I’m trying to be cautious to not eat all of my food. There are many more days out here, and I was constrained by the volume of my bear can on how much food I was able to bring.

Just before Cottonwood Pass, there was a meadow that was one of my favorite views of the day.

I ran into one of the PCTA’s Crest Runners, Olive, as I made my way towards Chicken Spring Lake. She stamped my permit, gave me tips about Forester Pass, and I, of course, talked her about her position and how working for the PCTA would be my dream job. If I just keep talking about it, maybe the right opportunity will arise when I get off trail in September.

I climbed to Chicken Spring Lake slowly, since the altitude was definitely in play at this point. I turned a corner and saw a sheer wall (called a cirque, I later learned) with snow, and was thrilled to see such a beautiful alpine lake. It was a little paradise and just an absolutely epic view.

It turns out that the group I was hiking with in the desert was also taking a break there, and I listened to their plans for climbing Mt. Whitney. I definitely was conflicted about whether I wanted to join them or not. I really liked this group that I was hiking with now. I wanted to stick it out with them, especially since their plan would be a bit slower and easier going. It was good to see everybody, though. I jumped in the lake with Nate, and it was so ridiculously cold, but so nice after hiking all day.

I took a long break at the lake, drying my clothes, hanging out with the group enjoying the sunshine, listening to music. I really tried to appreciate just how beautiful the landscape was. It was unreal that just a week or two ago, I was hot and dehydrated. Any random water source was felt like a godsend. Despite the relaxation, I definitely had lots of conflicting thoughts swirling around in my head. The biggest challenge on the PCT still remains to be the social elements, and I definitely was finding myself just stressing out about group dynamics and my place in them.

The climb out of Chicken Spring Lake was a killer, straight up out of the lake to 11,400 feet. It was beautiful, though, affording grand views of the High Sierras. I really enjoyed hiking by myself, soaking up the views, the gaping valley below, the pure blue sky above.

I filtered water at a tiny creek underneath a ginormous headwall of granite. A southbound hiker named Popeye and I crossed paths, and I spent a few moments chatting with him. Though it’s important to try to make it to the daily destinations, I think l it’s also really crucial to have conversations on trail and meet as many new people as I can.

I entered Kings Canyon Sequoia National Park, the first National Park of the trail. Already, I can tell that everything that awaits me here is going to be on a grander and more inspiring scale than I have encountered before.

Camp was in a very sweet meadow just off trail, with valley views in one direction and the scree slopes of a mountain on the other. It was a really beautiful night, the trees and boulders glowing with the sunset. I had a nice time hanging out with this group, being silly and making plans for the next day.

Tomorrow is going to be a very relaxing day to Crabtree Meadow, which is only 12 miles away, where we’ll relax before preparing to summit Whitney. I’m feeling excited for Mt. Whitney! Even though I know I’ll be slow, I feel pretty confident in my ability to make it.

It was time to sleep at 11,000 feet! I had bad sunburns from the strong rays at high altitude, and dozens of mosquito bites. But, in equal measure, I also had lots of excitement and anticipation for the coming days.

Day 59: Mile 756.3 – 767.5

I didn’t set an alarm this morning, and woke up sun already risen at 6:30 am. My usual wake up time was 4:45am, so it felt incredible to sleep in, since we’re only hiking 12 miles today. I took my time making coffee, organizing my stuff, and getting on the trail. The morning was peaceful and beautiful.

Because people had all left at different times today, I knew I’d likely spend most of the day alone. I was hoping to savor that. The trail was gentle through rocky meadows and tall trees, and I enjoyed both the moments of silence and the bird song.

I reflected on how the PCT was really helping me learn how to trust myself. I was refining what I wanted out of this experience, and also relying on my own skills and experience to navigate the issues that arose out here. It was really lovely morning, spending time on my own. I was so overjoyed to be in the Sierras.

I met lots of people hiking the John Muir Trail, as well as weekend backpackers, and they all wished me well on this journey that has truly only just begun.

At a certain point, the trail meandered downhill, and with each step, I could hear the sound of rushing water all the way from the top. It would be my first river crossing of the Sierras, Rock Creek. I tried not to let the anxious thoughts take over. The sound of the water from so high above definitely didn’t quell my fears of getting swept away.

Even though it was fast moving over the rocks, the river was pretty shallow. Sandra and Mercedes were on the other side, and instructed me to just ford the river, since the logs crossing the creek were unstable. My feet were wet, but it was easy.

After crossing, I hung out with Mercedes by the creek for about an hour, just catching up. Her phone had fallen into the creek as she was crossing over on the log, and she spent 40 minutes in the ice cold water trying to find it. The phone was recovered, but she was trending towards hypothermic after the ordeal, so she was sitting in the sun trying to warm up. I was really glad that she was okay!!

Next on the agenda for the day was crossing a pass on Gyot Mountain, which was surprisingly super steep. Sticky and I slowly made our way up, and I was surprised by how I didn’t feel too bad on the climb. I was grateful that the altitude wasn’t having too much of an effect on me. We hung out by another creek for a while, filtering water and chatting. These days of hiking less than 20 miles are so luxurious with the amount of breaks at beautiful places that you can take. I thought of all of the short backpacking trips I wanted to go on in the future, and how I could really take my time when there wasn’t the goal of reaching Canada on the line.

We had one more pass to cross for the day, and it was even steeper than the first, but I just took my time and made my way up. The views of the High Sierras were magnificent.

With white puffy clouds passing overhead, and views of the snowy mountains poking through the forest, I hiked on. I was starting to get a bit lonely after spending a lot of time walking by myself for the day. After a few miles, I encountered Sandra sitting on a log, taking a break. She had been having a hard time with the altitude. I decided to hike with her for the rest of the day, even if it was in silence since we could be too breathless to talk. It’s just nice to be in each other’s company sometimes, and to take in the spectacular views with someone else.

Descending to Crabtree Meadows, we caught our first view of Mt. Whitney. It’s a mountain that looks like no other. I was in awe, and couldn’t believe I’d be climbing it tomorrow morning.

Crabtree Meadows was gorgeous, with Whitney Creek flowing beside it. It would be my peaceful basecamp for tomorrow’s journey. I met up with my group, and we had an early dinner. The energy was electric, and there were dozens of hikers stationed here for their big ascent.

It would be a cold night, and I got in my sleeping bag pretty early. I was nervous for the climb, but mostly excited. Whitney had been a huge dream of mine for some time, and I knew that after hiking so much for the past few weeks, I would be capable of it. Today had been an amazing day of taking it slow, and enjoying being alone and in other people’s company. I hoped that the relaxing pace, which still left me tired at the end of the day, would lead to my success in the morning on my way to summit Mt. Whitney.