I posted this report on BPer.com, as well. Here, I will try to add a bit of something about my WBBB.
So, I was supposed to spend 20 days hiking the JMT, but it didn’t work out that way. While I used to be a raging bull, now it is sadly reported that the R must be dropped.
Saturday morning, Aug 6th, we drove to Bishop from the Wawona hotel in Yosemite, to meet HG395, who had kindly offered to shuttle us from Whitney Portal parking back to Tuolumne Meadows. We met, and drove to the lot with no difficulty. The return trip was fun, as we visited and got to know each other better. Commercial shuttles cost upwards of $250, so we got her a nice Thank you card and included a generous tip. I think I offended her, but I hope she finds a way to spend the cash that will bring a smile to her face.
We spent Saturday night in the BP’ers campground, which is something I hope to never need to do again. Nothing truly bad, just not a good experience. 7 am Sunday morning, we were headed out on the trail. It became a habit to rise at 6, pack up and be walking by 7. First breakfast was around 8, and second breakfast around 9:30. Each stop was looked forward to, as we dropped our packs and ate a quick bite. 15 minutes of bliss. On Sunday morning, we passed a couple of young hikers just out of camp. We would come to know them well, as we leap frogged them for the next several days. About 30 or so, they were a nice looking couple, who I will call Jim and Linda for the sake of their own anonymity.
Sunday was a 10 mile day, up Lyell Canyon to a bench below Donahue Pass. We stopped below the biggest bench, as we were too tired to hike up there. I was sleeping in my Warbonnet Blackbird Hammock, while Zack slept on the ground with a bug net set up. Each night, I would defer to his choice of camp spots, as it was easier for me to pick 2 trees after he chose a small flat spot for himself.
We saw lots of hikers pass by, on their way further up the hill, including Jim and Linda. We waved at each party, and were glad to be settling in for the day.
The next morning, Monday, we started our way up to Donahue Pass by going past a group of YCC folks building the rock steps on our way by them. Since we were so early, they had just begun their own day and were not truly working in the path. As we gained the higher bench, we found it to be colder than where we slept, and not all were up yet. The stream crossing was high, but not too bad, as it was early in the morning. We were watched as we crossed, by a fellow whom we called Site 20, as he had slept in the next site in the BPers camp in the Meadows. Never did learn his name. We did see him several more times over the next couple of days, before he left us in his dust. 20 commented that his own crossing the afternoon before was much deeper, and most people had opted not to cross where we did.
Further up the trail, we finally topped out at Donahue Pass, where the views were good, but not spectacular. Downhill we hiked, on our way to Thousand Island Lake and Island Pass. We made a wrong turn at 1000 Island Lake, and discovered our mistake about 15 minutes down the wrong trail. Backtracking is not our most favorite thing to do, but at least it wasn’t too far. We intended to sleep at Ruby Lake, but found no suitable sites, so on to Garnet Lake we hiked. It made it later arriving in camp than we liked, and I was too tired to care much about where we set down for the night. This may have been the beginning of the realization that all was not well. Most days were spent going up and down elevation, never being on level trail, and while staying around 10K elevation, we were gaining and losing close to 3000 feet each day. I have had troubles hiking uphill for some time now, and am just starting to wonder if it is a medical problem, or just an age related one. Spin class is not getting me in hiking shape. One hour on the bike does not equate with 8 hours hauling a 40 pound pack. If I am going to do this, I must begin to train better.
After we had set up on Garnet lake, eaten dinner and settled in for the day, a man in a T shirt came into our camp asking if we knew the way to the River Trail. We told him where it was, and asked if he needed a map. He explained that he was up there on a day hike with his wife and 2 sons when one of the boys took sick and they were not going to be able to return to their camping gear at Shadow Lake. He hurried off, trying to find his own solution to the problem. Later, the fellow returned to our camp, saying he had called 911 and they would be coming for them the next morning, but that they would need to spend the night where they were. A few other campers had taken them into their tents and provide more gear for them, but he still needed a jacket or something for warmth. Zack and I discussed our options and found that we had nothing in the way of food or spare clothing to offer. It caused me some distress, not being able to help this family, but they did not seem to be truly in trouble.
The next morning, we hiked up and out of Garnet without hearing from the troubled family, but met 2 sheriff’s deputies a couple of hours down the trail who said they had been on contact with the family by phone and they were OK. Seems the one son had been hiked to near exhaustion before his family decided they had better head back down to their camp, and he could not go any further. Everyone made it through the night fine, and perhaps were better off for the lesson learned. At least, that is how the deputies put it.
This day was Tuesday, and we were headed to Red’s Meadow for the night. Hot showers were to be had in the campground, and a café existed there for a cheeseburger. 14 miles lay before us, and the afternoon promised a long downhill section. We had a difficult time on the long, dry, dusty, downhill section, but were glad it was not uphill. By the time I got to camp, I had sore and tired feet from the downhill impact. We walked by the Devil’s Postpile Nat’l Monument, which reminded me of a small version of Devil’s Tower in Wy. Vertical basalt columns all stacked neatly in rows. We walked out to a road, turned left and walked into the camp. A sign greeted us, telling us the showers were inoperable for the Summer of 2011, for repairs. Nice. We stumbled into the last campsite, and leaned against the bear box. A nice couple next door, in a car camp, walked over and handed us 2 cold beers. It was a welcome offering, even if it was a light beer. As we drank them, we visited some, and they walked off to go fishing. Shortly afterwards, Jim and Linda came walking up the road, and we waved them into our site. They had gone to the store to retrieve their resupply box, and were happy to share our tent site. Linda inquired about my hammock, and after dinner she laid down in it. It was fun explaining the set up to others, and it gave me a weeks worth of restful sleep.
We did eat at the café, Zack having a double cheeseburger while I ate the special of the day, a pastrami and cheese grilled to perfection. A tall strawberry milkshake accompanied my Mammouth double nut brown beer. I know, it does not sound like it goes well, but it tasted just fine. I needed the calories. We talked more with Jim and Linda. They too had eaten at the café, and we had shared their table. They were “dating”, lived in Philly, and she had never done this sort of trip before. A couple of short weekend trips was the sole extent of her backpacking experience, while Jim had done extensive bp’ing. She was the one who had asked if she could come along, and he had taken all the right precautions. While Zack and I had joked we might not be friends by the end of the trip, they joked they might not still be dating. It was smiles all around. I told them of our many adventures together, and they asked about our own personal lives. Wives were discussed, as were our hiking trips with them. I told them about April’s passing in the Canyon 4 yrs ago, which made Linda’s eyes well up, and her lip quiver. I had warned them I was not telling the tale to make them feel sorry for me, but to give them a bit more of my own history, while it contained a warning for them.
Linda was getting text messages from her family, who was worried about if she had packed enough underwear. Seemed no one thought 2 bras were enough. She laughed about their concern and shared with us that she was just fine with rinsing one out to hang on her pack to dry, while wearing the other. She seemed to have learned well the arts of BP’ing while Female.
When we left camp the next morning, J and L were just getting up. It was just before 7, so we quietly said goodbye, and walked off. As we walked up the hillside through a large burned out area, a man passed us, apparently speaking quite loudly to himself. I then noticed the bud in his ear, and surmised he was on the phone. We stopped for breakfast, and I called Marcy to let her know it was morning of day 4 and we were fine. Zack questioned my wisdom in this choice, as she might expect more messages throughout the trip, but I found it brightened my own day. Must have done the same for M. This was another 10 mile day, up to Deer creek crossing and on to Duck Lake outlet. We made good time and came upon a large creek crossing which I mistakenly assumed was Deer Creek. It made me feel good we were doing so well, until we later crossed a creek, which was posted as Deer Creek. Another hour later, we saw yet another signed crossing as Deer Creek, which was the crossing we were looking for, and it disheartened me to see it at noon, rather than at 10 AM. 5 miles uphill were between us, and Duck Lake. Have I mentioned how I dislike uphills after lunch? I struggle mightily during those sorts of hot afternoons.
I am not a religious person, nor do I believe in any sort of after life. Messages from the beyond do not intrigue me. During our last break on the side of the trail before Duck Lake, I was sitting on one side of the path, while Chal was on the other. I heard a person coming up the trail and looked that direction. What I saw caused me to chuckle. A woman, in her 40s perhaps, was determinedly, purposefully, walking up that hill, with her fists planted firmly on her hips. I laughed out loud, and told Zack that April was walking towards us. She had some of April’s appearance, but not much. He turned to see for himself, and chuckled aloud. When the woman got within hearing distance, I called out to her, “I recognize that hands on the hips posture.” She laughed and explained that she had no hiking sticks and she either put her hands on her hips, or in the thumb loops to keep them from swelling. She asked where we were headed for the night and said she too was headed for Duck Lake. We asked her to save us a nice, small spot, and she said she would have dinner ready for us.
We saw her campsite, and she waved, but did not invite us down to her site. We found our own site above the creek, and settled in for the night. I did not sleep well that night, as I was struggling with this hike. I was not having fun, and it was most difficult. Still, it had been planned for over a year, and we were out there. What was not to be fun?
The next morning was just like the others. Up at 6, off by 7. Uphill and back down to Purple Lake. Uphill from there, and back down to Virginia Lake. Part way down to Virginia, I called out to
Zack, asking him to stop. He found a place for a nice break, and I told him I was not certain about going on. He asked what the problem was. I told him I was not having fun, that we were now ¼ of the way through the trip, and I did not like the prospect of continuing on the remaining 15 days. He confessed his own displeasures with the trip so far, and we hauled out the maps to determine our best choices of exits. Further down the trail put us on the wrong side of the mt from our car. Back to Red’s, or at least to Duck, offered an exit closer to our car, but still a bit of logistics to find a way to it as it was several miles away even by road. Hitch hiking with a pack might be our best option. We decided to return to our previous night’s location, and head over Duck Pass to Mammouth Lakes for our exit path.
On our return hike, we met Jim and Linda headed beyond us, and they were surprised to meet us. We were once again taking a rest, and they thought they had caught up with us. I told them they would not be seeing us again, as we were returning to civilization like whipped dogs with our tails between our legs. Both of them were genuinely concerned and asked if they could help. We told them we were OK, but just had bitten off more than we could handle. We gave them our email addresses and asked them to send us some pictures from the trail, and to let us know if they were still dating by the end of the trip. Laughter is always a good way to dispel concern. We hugged our goodbyes, shook hands and separated. Later, a horse packer caught up with us and asked if I was Vince, and did I need his help. Our young friends had told him of their concern and enlisted his aid. We told him we were going out the next day, right past his stable, but we would be just fine. Thanking him for his concern, we let him continue on his own way.
Once we reached camp, we set up and headed to the creek bridge to watch the water flow. We talked about our many adventures together, and how we liked the way we could plan a trip together, and then adjust on the fly if needed, all the time meshing quite nicely our 2 very divergent personalities. We sat by that creek from around 2 until about 5. That was when our trail angel reappeared. The woman we came to know as Diane came walking back towards the bridge from a day hike. Her tent and gear were still set up from the day before, in plain view. I asked her where she had gone, and mentioned we had met the day previous when she had her hands on her hips. She smiled when I mentioned that, and remembered us then. She told us of her day’s adventure, and asked why we were still around. I told her of our decision to head out over Duck Pass and out to Mammoth Lakes the following day, a small town with bus service to the rest of the East side. She said she was spending the same night in Mammoth Lakes herself and would be heading south on Saturday morning, and she might be able to give us a lift. I gave her my cell number, and she promised to call sometime Friday afternoon. Off she went to her own camp, and Zach and I went to ours. We ate dinner, amazed at our good fortune, and marveling at how thing had fallen into place, possibly.
The next morning, we headed uphill to Duck Lake. Sitting high above it on our way to the pass. We talked of our trail angel. I told him of my feeling that April had looked down on my foolishness from above, and intervened somehow. He confessed to having that same passing thought. Her thinking, “Damn, I better pull that crazy man’s *** out of the fire, again!” We laughed, as neither of us truly believe in such things, but it is odd that we both considered it for a moment. We continued on to the Pass, making it by 9 AM. Down the other side, we began to meet all sorts of day hikers. Some carried fishing poles, while others were just asking about the views from the Pass.
Once we hit the parking lot, it was packed. Too many cars and too many people for our eyes. As we walked down the pavement, a car stopped and the young woman who was driving asked, “Are you headed to your car?” “Yes”, I replied. “Can we follow you and use your parking spot” “Sure, but our car is in Whitney Portal, some 100 miles from here.” All 4 people in her car laughed, and they went on their way. Zack commented that I had played that well, delivering my dry line with all of the timing of a good comedian. I had not intended to be funny, and had wondered why she had asked about our car, as hers was obviously full and she could not possibly be offering us a ride into town. Sometimes being dense is actually humorous.
We found a trolley stop at the entrance to the campgrounds, and rode it around the lakes region. It was an urban setting, with tent cities, and people everywhere. Finally, we arrived in the center of a plaza in Mammoth Lakes and we asked the trolley driver how to find the motels. Her supervisor was in the next car and told us to cross the street and take the next trolley to the Motel 6. That trolley took us all over the subdivisions before returning to the plaza, only this time on the other one way street, only a 100 yds from where we had gotten on 30 minutes before. We should have walked across the plaza to save some time. The trolley continued on to the Motel 6 stop, a bare 5 minutes from the plaza this time. We got the last room in the inn, and the desk clerk gave us extra soap and shampoo. We must have looked badly, even though we washed up in several creeks along the way.
After a nice long shower, we walked across the street to a restaurant for a late lunch. We had sandwiches, which could have been shared, they were so large. It offered pizza and beer, so we decided that was what we wanted for dinner later. As we walked out of the place, I quietly asked our server where the best pizza could be found within walking distance from the motel. She told me that all of the crust was made fresh daily in that restaurant, and that they were right up there with the best pizza in town, even though there were lots of pizza places. I took her word for it and we made plans to return for dinner. We walked around the area of town we could access easily, and began to plan out what we would do if our trail angel, Diane, could not help. We called HG395, who had given us our original shuttle, for help with a bus schedule since she lived in the area. She gave all of the info we needed for that, and we thought about renting a car for a day to go get our car. Bus service was nonexistent on Saturday, so that seemed our best option. 2:30 PM, and Diane called, confirming her ride. She said she wanted an early start, and would 7ish be too early. I was thinking we would go at her convenience. Noon, 4 PM, 3 AM, her call. A free ride is nothing to quibble over. I told her 7 was fine, and that we were at the Motel 6. She knew where that was, and would be in the parking lot at 7. She told me she would call in the morning, to tell us when she was leaving her place for the night.
Now, we could go one with other plans. Zack called his wife to make his plane reservations, and to make us hotel reservations in Stockton for Saturday night. We relaxed away the rest of the afternoon, before heading back to Perry’s, on Main street. This time, we had salads, pizza, and beer. All of the food was good, and we laughed our way through dinner. We headed back to the room after another short walk, where I found some gelato in a nice bakery. It was in my head to go back the bakery in the morning for some of the great looking pastry.
Next morning, we were ready by 6:15 and walked down for our pastry. Diane called right at 7 and was grabbing a coffee on her way. She picked us up in the parking lot and off we went. We had about 2 hours in the car with her, and I did my best to fill the time. We told stories of ZnZ, our wives, how we had met, etc… I asked her about her own life, as she was wearing no rings. Diane is a nurse in San Diego, and has a daughter. Her friends do not like it when she invites total strangers to share a campsite, and she was certain they would be chastising her for giving 2 old men a ride to their car, far into the boonies and up a winding road. Danger Will Robinson!
We found the car in good shape, and drove back into Lone Pine where we bought Diane some gasoline to top off her own car while we purchased our own ½ tank to top off ours. She had someone take her picture with us, and we hugged and parted ways. On the way out of town, I picked up a young man who had a pack and was hitching his way north. I had Karma to pay back. He was 19 and had just completed his 2nd JMT. Never again! He said. Too much up and down! I heartily agreed with him. He was impressed 2 old guys could do 5 days on that trail, and we laughed at his youth. A couple of hours later, we dropped him off where our paths diverged, and we drove off to find the hotel for that night.
Everything considered, we had a good time. We are still friends, and are planning on returning for more high country hiking. We will be better prepared next time, and do it in sections. Perhaps 5-6 nights is my new limit. Stay in town a couple of nights, and go out another 5-6. At least, that is the plan for now. My WBBB allows me to sleep better than my bed at home. Motels may need to start providing hooks to hang from.
I found it quite easy to find a good spot for my WBBB, at least on the portion I hiked. Some reports from the more Southern end may list more difficulty at the higher ground, maybe even above treeline. I did carry a couple of small rock wedges for that purpose, but had no need for them as I bailed out early.
I will add some pics a bit later.
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