Day 60: Mile 767.5 – 771.5 (plus ~17 non-trail miles)

My alarm sounded at 3:30am, and I jolted awake, excited by the day ahead of me. Mt. Whitney!! My bag packed, I drank coffee and ate breakfast, and then collapsed my tent to take my trekking poles with me. I felt a tiny bit nervous, but mostly exhilarated. I had wanted to climb Whitney since moving to LA in 2021, and today it was finally happening!

It was cold at the campsite, and even colder as I crossed Whitney Creek with the group at 5:15 to start our ascent. My feet were numb from the cold of the river water as we hiked gradually to the base of the mountain. I felt pretty good though, having slept well, and the morning light struck the mountains around us in an orange glow, and bathed everything else in a gentle light. We passed forests, lakes, and meadows as we crossed out of the tree line. It was beautiful. I loved every second of being in a high-alpine environment.

I hopped across another creek, and regrouped with everyone at Guitar Lake. There, Rohan made coffee in his tiny moka pot, and we passed around the coffee in my titanium cooking pot, each taking a few sips. The hot drink felt so good after breathing in the cold wind all morning, and the caffeine would definitely help get us up the mountain.

We started up the switchbacks, first passing streams running through the trail and occasional snowfields. The switchbacks were definitely relentless, but I felt pretty good just trudging up. I was worried before the Sierras that I would struggle with the climb, but it was going surprisingly well. The views of the surrounding mountains were incredible. We took a break at the junction with the trail coming from Whitney Portal, and encountered lots of day hikers coming up and down the mountain.

The next part felt more difficult, since it was pretty rocky and required careful foot placement, nothing technical, just a little annoying. And it was much more exposed, just a sheer drop from the ridge line. I focused my attention on putting my trekking poles and feet in the right place.

The miles went by easily until they didn’t. I definitely was ready to be done with climbing when the hut on top of the mountain finally came into view from a distance. Rounding a corner to the final stretch, hikers coming down encouraged us, and told us how close we were. And then, finally, I could see the summit.

I felt quite emotional when I reached the top. Whitney had been something I’d wanted to do while I lived in LA, especially working at REI, when helping outfit customers or talking to coworkers. I just didn’t think I’d be physically capable of it back then. Now, it kind of felt like a breeze, which was crazy! I had walked all the way from Campo to the tallest mountain in the continental US! My thoughts also turned to the future, to climbing more mountains, doing more technical adventures.

I took in the views from the summit, and put my name in logbook, proudly putting down that I was from Monroe, Oregon and a note that said, “I love Isabel!” since none of this would be possible without her. We took about a dozen photos, and lots with our ice axes, which it turns out we didn’t need. I made coffee at the top, which helped soothe my sore throat and lungs from the cold air from earlier in the day It was warm and calm at the top, and we all hung out for a while. It was such a perfect and proud moment.

The descent, of course, was long, but gorgeous, since I could focus on the views below. I listened to music and enjoyed every moment.

I got back to camp at about 4:30pm, feeling pretty starving and finally exhausted from the day. All I could think about was eating. After I ate a cheese wrap, it dawned on me that I would still need to hike more miles today, since I was off the PCT and needed to set myself up to be able to do Forester Pass tomorrow. I didn’t want to hike anymore! But Morgan and I got read together, and left at around 5:15. Luckily for us, the trail was pretty mellow, traversing small hills and a few very beautiful meadows.

We got to camp a little before 8pm, after crossing Wallace Creek. The campsite was swarming with mosquitos, which meant that I threw down my tent and took shelter inside immediately. I was glad to be back with my group, though, and happy I had pushed on with Morgan to make it here.

Today was one of my favorite days on trail so far. I felt so incredibly accomplished and proud, and impressed by the fact that I felt so good going up Whitney. It was just a perfect day, and one I’ll remember for a long time to come.

Day 61: Mile 771.5 – 785.1

The mosquitos were thankfully not awake when I was getting ready to leave camp at Wallace Creek. I still had a cough from the day prior, likely from breathing lots of cold air at altitude summing Whitney. Hiking out of our camp, which was near a meadow that had frosted over the night, our first river crossing of the day, Wright Creek, awaited us. That meant wet feet starting early in the morning!

Crossing successfully, I started slowly climbing, the miles flying by even though I had just did Whitney the previous day. I made it to Bighorn Plateau, which was a beautiful meadow with panoramic views of all the mountains of the South Sierras.

I saw Rory and Clare there, and we hiked out together alongside Sticky. It was really fun to get the two British guys, Sticky and Rory, together, and we talked about the personalities of people from different European cultures. I’ve met so many people from around the world on trail, and I’m learning so much about a place I’ve never been, Europe for one, just through osmosis from being around other hikers.

Our biggest crossing for that day would be Tyndall Creek, which came up to my knees as I forded across. In order to safely cross these rivers, I have to unstrap my pack, extend my trekking poles, and keep my trail runners on, since there can be pretty sharp rocks. Everyone took a break to dry off after getting across, but after that, it was time to make our way to the approach to Forester Pass.

Clare and I began walking through the terrain devoid of trees, just populated by rocks and alpine greenery. We chitchatted and caught up, but also had a hard time talking, because of the breathlessness of hiking at altitude. There were tiny creeks on trail, and huge ice-covered alpine lakes all around us. It was shockingly beautiful.

When we made it to the approach, the morale of the group seemed pretty low. Everyone was tired, nervous, affected by the elevation, and probably a bit hungry, since people were starting to run out of food. I passed out some of my tortillas and extra bars to help keep spirits high. I was feeling pretty good, excited for the adventure of crossing Forester Pass. I had done snow travel before though, so I was more familiar, and could really understand why my group was trepidatious. I resolved to act as a leader and try to help out when I could.

With Sticky at the front and me in the back, we started up the steep switchbacks of the pass. The exposure was insane— down below was a long drop down the rocky cliff, and there wasn’t much to stop you on the side of trail. The views of the snow, mountains, and lakes were astounding, though. We took a break to catch our breath under a small overhang, but then kept ascending. The snow on the other side of the pass was likely melting, only becoming more slippery as we waited.

The crux of Forester was a section of trail that passed a small snow chute on a very exposed gully. Since it was a low snow year, there wasn’t much to cross, but it definitely looked scary, even if it was only a few steps. It was one of those moments of just shutting off your brain and focusing intently on each step.

We all crossed with ease, but perhaps not enjoyment. And after that, the top awaited us! Forester Pass is the high point of the PCT at 13,153 feet! We celebrated, but soon set our eyes on the descent, which would be more challenging.

Clare was a bit nervous about snow travel so I stuck with her. The two of us put on our microspikes and slowly traversed the large snowfield covering the north side of the pass. The boot track was solid, with very little postholing or sliding, which I was grateful for. The sun, though, was bouncing off the snow, and I could feel the heat of the rays burning my skin. It wasn’t really possible to stop, so I continued, hopping over boulders when they interrupted the snow. Rory had glissaded down and was waiting for us, and together we descended down a steep ridge. Looking back on where we had started, it looked a lot sketchier than it felt. It was so fun to travel on snow, to have to think about which route to take, and be surrounded by awe-inspiring mountains. I knew it would easily be some of my best moments on trail.

Ironically, the views seemed to get better as we descended into the valley. There, we hiked across pristine snow-fed streams, green grass meadows, and perfect Christmas pine trees. The mountains looked mightier from below, and when surrounded by everything else, painted a perfect picture of the Sierras.

I was getting tired, though, and Clare wasn’t feeling very good, likely due to the altitude and exhaustion. Rory and I decided that we should all stop early and try to camp as soon as possible. We hiked for a mile and found a sweet spot by a river, surrounded by trees, and with peeks into the mountains above. We ate dinner and had an early night into our tents, encouraged by the mosquitos that were starting to swarm.

Today was the summer solstice! Time felt like it was passing both so quickly and slowly at the same time. I was almost about to hit two months on the PCT. I spent the end of the longest day of the year watching the orange and pink sunset glance against the mountains above. I watched as the light went from stark to diffuse as the sun dipped below the mountains on the other side of the canyon. I couldn’t believe it was summer, and that I was here, witnessesing this. I felt so incredibly grateful.

The Sierras have been so wonderful so far. The change in environment, hiking with a new group, feeling close to Rory and Clare still, and the boost in confidence from the difficult things I was achieving has changed everything about the PCT for me! I’m having an incredible time, and learning so much about myself and my capabilities. I’m so glad that I pushed through the challenging times of the desert.

Tomorrow we’ll hike off the PCT to Kearsarge Pass, where we’ll hopefully get a hitch to Bishop at the trailhead. I’m running out of food and definitely starting to get excited for a meal in town. I do love being so deep in the backcountry, and am definitely excited to get back out here.

Day 62: Mile 785.1 – 789.6 (plus Kearsarge Pass)

Getting ready this morning, I watched the sunrise hit the snow-covered peak outside my tent door. I woke up early but ended up still leaving camp later than expected, since Rory and I lingered while chatting over coffee. We talked about our different philosophies on trail, mine being more structured and his being a little more easy-going, and how both approaches are valid. I think it’s good for us to be aware of this so we don’t run into conflict. It was a really good conversation.

We only had to cross one river this morning, and then continued hiking downhill, following the winding path of the river through some of the tallest trees I had seen on trail so far. At a certain point, we encountered a section of forest where all the trees had been knocked down by some great force, an avalanche I presume. I thought about this valley in the winter— cold, unvisited, but so beautiful. It already felt incredibly remote, here in the summer.

We chatted about TV shows, Pride and Prejudice, and finishing trail one day. All of us were motivated to finish, but Clare and I talked about our desires to make the most of our time here, and focusing more on having a fulfilling time and not just sprinting to the finish line. I think finishing and getting the most out of trail are two compatible goals, and that it’s just important to be intentional about both.

Rory saw some horses from afar, at first thinking they were bears. We watched them speed up the switchbacks we too were supposed to travel. The climbing was steep and difficult.

The surrounding trail was lovely, fern and grass covered. I shut off my brain to get up the hill, except for the part that was hungry for town food, which spurred me up the mountain.

At last, we finally made it to the junction between the PCT and the Bullfrog Lake Trail, which would take us to the Onion Valley trailhead and back to society. Instead of pushing to the trailhead though, we stopped to take a break and swim in the alpine lake. Rory and I went in, and the water was cold and tasted like trout. It was still phenomenal. The three of us hung out, basking in the sun, and ate our last meals in our bear cans, now totally totally depleted of food. All three of us talked about how we missed our moms, and the cute pet names our moms had for us. A chipmunk broke into Clare’s trash bag and tried to escape with a quarter of a block of cheese in its mouth before Rory intercepted. We knew we were on our way back to the real world, and it felt like a special celebration of our travel in the Sierras so far to enjoy the early afternoon here.

But soon, we had to make our way over the pass. Luckily, the views of the mountains were stunning as the trail climbed sharply to connect with the Kearsarge Pass trail. As I huffed up the mountain, I was greeted by returning PCT hikers that I knew, as well as dozens of day hikers and backpackers. At the top, a group of day hikers saw my empty bear can and generously gave me fresh fruit and chocolate snacks that they had brought, which I shared with Rory and Clare.

The descent was beautiful too, just long. Alpine lakes, waterfalls, forests, and rocky sections punctuated the landscape, and I thought about what a nice slice of the Sierras this one trail was. By the end though, I was pretty exhausted, my knees hurting from the constant descent. At the trailhead, a trail angel named Scott had just dropped off another hiker, and offered to bring us to Bishop. We gratefully hopped in the car, and his Corolla took us down the winding road. It was unbelievable that we had walked to that high of elevation as his car took us down to the valley below.

In the car, the exhaustion hit me, and I could see that the stronger sunlight at high elevation had given me a bad sunburn. Getting dropped off in Bishop, we met up with the group I had been hiking with (Sticky, Lizard, Morgan, Chris, and Fanboy), and achieved our dream of eating pizza in town. It was incredible to eat real food, and it felt like my body needed the calories from the cheese and Dr. Pepper.

Once food had been consumed, the next item on the list was shelter, and unfortunately the hotels were booking up due to the hikers pouring in. I found a room at the Comfort Inn, thankfully. I showered, did laundry, and called Isabel and my mom. My friends were hanging out at the bar, but the bed was calling to me. I had an early night, thankful for the A/C and clean sheets.

This has been, without a doubt, one of the best sections of the PCT for me thus far. The high altitude adventures, the summits, hiking in this new group but also reuniting with Clare and Rory, the fact that my body and my feet are feeling really strong— the list could continue, but truly, the Sierras are something special. I feel so much more confident, happy, and fulfilled than I did even a week ago. And of course, endlessly grateful for the opportunity to be on the PCT.

I’ll be taking a double zero in Bishop and setting off on trail again soon to get to Vermillion Valley Resort, aka VVR. There’s no service out there, so posts will be delayed. Thanks for keeping up with me!!