PCT Day 70
July 9, 2021
Mile: 750.8 to 766.3 (plus 1.1 mile up the Mount Whitney trail)
Start: Chicken Spring Lake
Finish: Crabtree Meadows on the Mount Whitney approach trail
We slept on the beach of Chicken Spring Lake until about 7:30am, enjoying the cool mountain air, listening to the sound of the waves lapping and loving the mild temperatures of the High Sierra Mountains. I was able to wade in the water a little on the cool morning and we enjoyed a slow, luxurious beachside breakfast. The morning sky was spectacular with some nice cloud cover coming in and out to keep the temperatures comfortable. The views were stellar with beautiful, multicolored pines growing next to the stark white rocks. Lush flower filled meadows stretched out below us, interrupting the sandy gravel swaths of trail with splashes of vibrant greens, yellows and purples.
As we hiked on, we passed through many of the grassy wildflower filled fields with sandy spots that we deemed “sand traps” and creeks were “water obstacles.” We tried to assign a par to each of these extreme backcountry golf courses filled with sand traps, water obstacles, and nefarious marmots who would definitely steal your golf ball if you played there. Shannon and I finally crossed into our first national park of the trail: Sequoia National Park. The huge sequoia trees that we passed definitely made us stop and stare in awe at the massive ancient plants. Some were so big that several people with their arms stretched out and holding hands couldn’t circle the circumference of the trees.
And as we were listening to our audiobooks and admiring the namesake trees, we heard this awful scream like a banshee mixed with a dinosaur roar. We both stopped short in our tracks, adrenaline flowing and trying to figure out what the hell we had just heard. Our bodies went on high alert for a mountain lion or rabid bobcat because that’s kind of what it sounded like, but super weird. We knew there weren’t any dinosaurs but it kind of sounded like something out of Jurassic Park. There was fresh horse or mule dung everywhere on the trail and we quickly found out that the horrific sound was just a bunch of mules braying noisily into the woods instead of a pack of T-rexes.
The mules were part of a trail maintenance crew and we saw a couple of them getting saddled up to go ride and carry trail maintenance supplies. Some of the mules didn’t seem to want to go riding so they were braying loudly and that scared the crap out of us unknowing hikers. We were just glad that they weren’t rabid mountain lions or anything like that.
As we hiked, we met a nice hiker who had done the PCT two times and suggested that when we went up to the Mount Whitney trail that we should camp at Guitar Lake instead of Crabtree Meadows as we had planned. Unfortunately, rules had changed for PCT permits in the past couple years, so PCT hikers are technically not allowed to camp at the Guitar Lake which is supposed to have stellar views of the water over the mountains on the backside of Mount Whitney. It’s also only a 13 mile round trip day hike to the Whitney summit instead of 15 miles from Crabtree Meadows where our permits allowed us to stay. So many rules out here!
Shannon and I passed water source after water source with cold clear flowing thirst quenching goodness and lots of flowers and greenery to make the ambience all pretty while you were getting your H2O fix. It felt like a freaking miracle every time we saw a creek or river and we got so excited to be in such a plentiful water filled land after the long dry desert sections. We were probably still carrying too much water with us because of habit but oh well. We’ll get our water situation dialed in one of these days after we get over our desert PTSD or whatever.
We stopped at a beautiful campsite next to a mountainside meadow, setting our tent up in the trees next to a river with swift, cold flowing water. Shannon and I dined on a delicious Alpine Aire brand dehydrated meal that tasted just like a Chipotle chicken burrito bowl and then passed out for a couple hours as an afternoon thunderstorm rolled in and it downpoured. A few hours later, we woke up to blue skies, a curious deer and several hikers who had surprisingly already set up camp for the night and it was only 4pm. There was still like five hours of daylight left! That’s when we knew we must be on the John Muir Trail or near day hiker land because everyone was setting up tents so early for no good reason. Who’s out here to actually enjoy themselves hiking? These guys were only putting in 8 hours a day of hiking? Pshhh what slackers!
This 175 mile section of Pacific Crest Trail coincides with the John Muir Trail so we knew we would be sharing the trail with a ton of day hikers or section hikers. Shannon and I trekked along some gorgeous wildflower fields crisscrossed by meandering creeks with Mount Whitney as a backdrop. As we paused to admire the meadows, an enormous mule deer buck with majestic velvety antlers came striding towards us through the tall grassy plains. It looked almost like he was going to come over to where we were standing and say hi. Halfway across the field, the buck found a nice spot next to the creek, folded his legs, settling into the soft grasses as he bedded down for the night. He must also be a John Muir Trail hiker because it was still several hours before sunset and he was already setting up camp lol!
We took a side trail off the PCT towards Mount Whitney towards Crabtree Meadows which is like the staging area for hikers before summiting the 15,000 foot peak. Shannon and I stopped briefly to chat with the guys camping at the buck meadow and apparently the same deer had stopped by last night to sleep. It was like the buck was the unofficial king of the meadow or something like that and we were all just living in his world. Near the campers was a big rock overlooking the meadow where an enormous marmot lounged in the last rays of the sunlight, surveying his kingdom as his fat rolls flowed over the edges of the stony overlook. We laughed at the chubby marmot who gave us hiking peasants a disdainful look as his fat cheeks shook when he turned to gaze upon us.
As the day wound to an end, we continued hiking up a gorgeous creek that had carved a valley out of the soft earth. Dense tall grasses and wildflowers dotted the hills while golden trout flitted about in the riffles and pools of the river next to us. Soon we arrived at Crabtree Meadows where probably 30 or 40 hiker tents were set up in the grass and scattered throughout the forest. We found a tent spot far away from the crowds, nestled into the pine trees which seemed perfect. What we didn’t realize was that when you looked outside our tent, you could get a perfect view straight across the meadow to the open air toilet, which was very much occupied when I accidentally let my eyes survey our surroundings. I quickly looked away but Shannon was staring right at the person currently taking care of business on the toilet with no walls. The person stuck their butt out, turning away from us and I told Shannon to stop looking at them because it was super weird. I guess he didn’t realize what he was looking at and was trying to figure it out so he kept staring. Gross!
We made dinner on a grassy meadow facing away from the open air toilet and in the fading light, we chowed down on a hearty dinner. Most hikers who summit Mount Whitney, the tallest mountain in the lower 48 states and the highest point we’d hike to on the PCT, wake up at midnight and hike the 4 or 5 hours up to the summit to see the sunrise. We weren’t sure if we really wanted to do this because most of the hikers also go to bed at like 5 or 6pm and by now it was already close to 9pm so we’d only get a couple hours of sleep to do a whole 8 to 10 hour hike. Didn’t seem too fun.
Over dinner, we decided that the summit would probably be super crowded if we went up at midnight because everyone seems to go up for sunrise. With the 40ish hiker tents set up, we decided that we didn’t want to deal with passing dozens of hikers and a super crowded trail. So we were just going to wake up whenever after getting a good night’s sleep and hike up the mountain. I was pretty nervous because we were about to get married the next day on top of Mount Whitney and do a little celebration.
I was so jittery at dinner that I had to throw out half of my meal because I had too many butterflies and couldn’t eat it. Shannon chowed down on some canned oysters, which I tried a little nibble of and they were super nasty. They were like rubbery, fishy tasting blobs of giant chewy boogers. The canned oysters were absolutely disgusting and I honestly don’t know how Shannon is still alive after eating them. I think I’m probably a little bit stuck up after growing up next to the ocean with fresh seafood but I just couldn’t eat the canned oysters. Shannon had no problem chowing down on the rubber booger oysters and enjoyed them as a hiking delicacy. Barf!! We went to bed early, tossing our bear canisters far away from our tent and settling down into the cool night breeze.
