Last night I camped near a group of six young people. Some had tents and some simply spread their bags on the ground. They were playing some kind of game. I think it might have been a card game. I heard one of them say “green”. What kind of game would that be?
The night came quickly. I was smug in my quilt wearing clean underwear (my others were drying on the line) and wearing my puffy jacket for extra toastiness.
My mind kept returning to the people I love. My daughter is visiting my wife from Pittsburgh. My son is at the house for the day, too. My wife is in heaven having her children around her. Are they missing me? Do they wonder about me as I do about them?
I thought about Bob. Did he make it back to the trail? Is he healthy and enjoying himself? I thought about Jenny, the retired adventurer in camp with me just poking around the mountains, looking forward to friends joining her. I thought about Fugitive, a Russian in a strange country, knowing little English, by herself. What a brave woman. And I thought again about the six kids in camp, giggling and laughing and laying down to sleep on the bank above a dancing creek.
Why do I, lying here in my little tent, love them all?
The plan
Everything depends on a boat. The Vermillion Valley Resort is located near the trail on the opposite end of a long lake. You could hike from the PCT to the resort, or you could take the ferry that the resort sends across the lake to pick up hikers. The ferry shows up twice a day at 9:45 and 4:45pm. The landing is 22 miles from me. I cannot reach the landing today in time to catch the ferry, so the goal today is to get close enough so I can catch it tomorrow. There is an 11,000 ft pass on the way. I think I will hike part of the way up that, camp there and have an easy eight miles tomorrow.
The early hike
My spirits are high but my stomach is still weird. I have to stop twice in an hour to take care of business. It may be something I am eating – this spicy sausage maybe. It’s been unwrapped four days now. Normally this is not a problem with uncured meat, but maybe now it is. The trees along the trail are sympathetic – they are all bent over, too.
I am high on the east ridge above Cascade Valley which is running south. The high ridge on the right (west) side of the valley has the pass I will go over tomorrow (Silver Pass). But today the trail will take me all the way down the east side ducking into a couple side canyons to visit some lakes before eventually popping out on the far end of the valley and heading up toward the pass. (Someone had a lot of fun putting this route together.)
The morning is cool and crisp. I make good time despite all the bathroom breaks. I feel strong as long as I am not climbing slopes above a certain pitch. Then my breathing slows me down. The altitude is between nine and ten thousand feet.
Ahead is the first side canyon. I am going to duck in there and visit Purple Lake.
The lake looks quiet, but upon closer inspection there are dozens of occupied campsites all around the lake. It is the Sunday of Labor Day weekend. A lot of people hiked up here yesterday. Many of them are fishing. The trout in these high altitude lakes are always hungry and strike quickly at most lures. Bait fishing is prohibited.
Instead of exiting this side canyon back to Cascade Valley the PCT runs up the far side of the canyon to Virginia Lake. This lake is about twice as large as Purple Lake and there are many weekend visitors up here, too.
New friends
This looks like a good place for lunch. I invite myself to sit down next to two people who are enjoying some shade and their lunch. They are Kipper and her son Whistler. They are from Seattle and are hiking the JMT to Mount Whitney. They started at Tuolumne Meadows on August 30, so they have been on the trail six days. Whistler tells me he has taught himself to whistle while breathing in so he can whistle “non-stop”. This is worth exploring. They are going to VVR, too. They are camping beyond me tonight. I may pass them in the morning.
Down to the valley
The trail again does not return to the valley but pops over the Virginia Lake canyon wall. Looking right, I can see the end of the valley below. Way down below us is Tully Hole which collects water from all the peaks at the head of the valley and funnels it into Fish Creek which runs back towards Reds Meadow.
The trail makes a series of sharp switchbacks down to the valley floor. I am happily hiking along when I get slapped upside the head with the most offensive smell. It’s like a cross between dirty socks and ammonia. It’s this innocent looking bush. I snap a picture and run the other way. If you know what it is, let me know. I want to pick a bouquet for all my Gator friends.
Rest
I never get tired of these “specimen” trees by the trail. I have loved trees my whole life. Spending so much of my youth in the Michigan woods has endeared them to me. But these Western conifers are a sight to behold. Rugged and tenacious, they withstand heat, snow, wind and drought. Here is another one that captured my heart.
The trail crosses the creek at the valley floor. The water here runs in contrast with the arid canyon walls. California is a strange and wonderful state. It’s natural beauty is beyond words. I am blessed to be able to experience it.
- September 4
- Starting marker: 901.1
- Ending marker: 887.4
- Miles hiked today: 14
- Total PCT miles: 463
- Two days ago a wild-eyed fisherman asked me if I new where he could find the “golden trout”. It sounded like something you discover in a Wonka Bar. Is it a real thing or a legend?
Hope you’re feeling better and you decide not to do the spicy sausages anymore. Not sure what the bush is but yes run fast. You don’t need carry that smell with you. Great pictures! Hike on!
I left a pair of socks on a rock where you are going to catch the ferry to VVR. They were not even broke in.
Enjoy the trail .
Jim
Yes, the golden trout is a real thing! If you take the Piute Pass trail exit from the JMT you will find them in Piute Creek and also in Golden Trout Lake closer to the pass. We were fortunate to see one in the creek near our campsite.