PCT Day 73
July 12, 2021
Mile: 774.7 to 788.5 (plus 7.5 mile side trail from town) (21.3 miles)
Start: Tyndall Creek tent site hiding from the thunderstorm
Finish: The Courthouse Motel in Independence, California via Kearsarge Pass Trail
Today was a town day!!! That meant we were very motivated for once to wake up bright and early at 5am leaving camp by 5:45am. We were the first to leave from our campsite while everyone else was still asleep or just waking up, still groggy after the long night of thunderstorms. When we were hiking we were able to see the sunrise twice this morning, because the huge mountains ended up blocking it out after it rose the second time so we got to see the sun come up again. Water was super plentiful after the storms yesterday, which was so nice to not have to worry about if we’re gonna die or not from dehydration. It was pretty cool to not die from dehydration. You know, it’s the little things in life that are important…
The sky was clear and all traces of storm clouds, or actually any clouds really, were long gone. We hauled butt across the rocky alpine fields making good time as the sun warmed the far mountain flanks and transformed the dark gray into pale shades of peaches and golden light. Forester Pass was a crazy looking “V” shaped notch that you could see from miles away and we couldn’t figure out how the heck the trail was going to take us over the 13,153 foot pass. At the bottom of the final climb to Forester Pass, we saw our new PCT friend Devin’s tent set up and him still sleeping in the shadows of the mountain curled up in his sleeping bag.
Shannon and I set up the steep rocky switchbacks to the final approach to the pass, our legs definitely more happy than they were yesterday. We were well rested after yesterday’s unplanned low mileage after the thunderstorms got too dangerous to hike through. Our legs were definitely less twingy and our quads felt a lot less painful. The climb up Forester Pass was still challenging but I felt stronger and followed Shannon up the series of rocky switchbacks to the top.
We passed by some hardy looking dark maroon tufts of mountain heather, lavender bundles of Sky Pilot flower and golden mini suns of the desert Brittlebush. Nestled in a rocky alcove, there was a gravesite marker next to the pathway dedicated to a 19-year-old who had died in 1930 during the building of the Forester Pass trail. His hammer and shovel were laid out next to his grave and 90 years later they were still intact, if a bit weathered. It was amazing and kind of haunting to see the 90-year-old tools at the memorial plaque. Shannon and I quickly gave our respects and thanked him for the trail so we wouldn’t get haunted by his ghost and hopefully have safe passage over the mountain pass that claimed the trail builder’s life almost a century ago.
We huffed and puffed our way to the top of Forester Pass, delicately skirting the steep gravelly drop-offs and ensuring we paid extra attention to every single step. A single moment of broken concentration up here could easily result in slipping and falling to certain death. We didn’t want our hiking poles to mark out our gravesites on this mountain pass so we carefully and deliberately picked our way up the 13,000 foot break in the mountain range. At the top, we paused for a moment to survey our surroundings with a slight sense of vertigo. Forester Pass was the tallest point on the whole Pacific Crest Trail (since Mount Whitney is technically off trail), and is named in honor of the Forest Service personnel or “foresters” who had built trails all over the area. These foresters must have either been part mountain goat or had some serious cajones to be so high up in the mountains dynamiting rocks and stacking boulders to create this trail.
Luckily the snowpack was light this year and had melted off months ago so we didn’t have any snow patches to worry about descending the trail and the way was smooth going. We said goodbye to Forester Pass which marked the entrance to the Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks – our first National Parks on the trail. Woohoo! National Parks tend to have lots of grandeur and dramatic landscapes but for us it also meant more rules, more permits, more rangers and more idiots on the trail. We were excited for the natural beauty of the area but not so excited for the B.S. and bureaucracy that come with the U.S. National Parks because of their popularity.
Halfway down the northern switchbacks on Forester Pass, we hung out beachside next to a dazzlingly clear turquoise snowmelt lake. Despite the heat of the sun, large offwhite snow patches and blue ice still lingered from the previous winter in the shade of the cornices of the rocky peaks. We passed by one of the gals who had Triple Crowned with her partner (aka thru-hiked the Appalachian, Pacific Crest and Continental Divide Trails for a total of about 8,000 hiking miles) who had also attended our wedding a few days ago on Mount Whitney! She and I connected on both being from Massachusetts, which was fun and we laughed so much about New England and the craziness of growing up there. She told us that she and her partner had been attempting to hike the 200-mile-long Sierra High Route, which goes over all these high altitude peaks in the Sierras, but with all the thunderstorms recently, it was making it way too dangerous to make the crossing. Instead of potentially getting struck by lightning on the exposed trails, they were going to bail out at Kearsarge Pass instead which sounded smart. Plus, a lot of these lightning storms are a risk for starting wildfires in the backcountry but I guess we’d all have to be watching out for that no matter which trail we’re on.
We said goodbye to our new hiker friend when she commented that since we had our trail legs and were hiking so fast that she was having a little bit of trouble keeping up, even though I thought we had eased off the gas a bit to match her pace. She just nodded and said that she was gonna slow down since we had 800 miles of training under us and could hike faster than her (for now). We said goodbyes for now, laughing together and wishing her luck on her next adventures.
Up ahead we ate a quick lunch at a mosquito-infested campsite where we loaded up on bug spray and filtered water. People in the Guthook navigation app were complaining about how terrible the bugs were here but a little Deet dabbed on the neck, arms and legs like a chemical cocktail of hiker perfume and you were golden. I don’t always understand the hikers out here from L.A. or these desert places with no bugs – they’re always complaining about mosquitoes or a little bit of condensation on their tents in the morning. Sheesh people! Y’all should come camping in the backwoods of Kentucky in summer and feel what humidity and bugs are really all about. They don’t even have chiggers that leave you with itchy red welts for weeks or crippling Lyme disease carrying ticks out here! I don’t know what all the fuss is about for a few mosquitoes on a couple miles of trail. Sounded like a bunch of bougie hikers to me…
While our river water slowly filtered through the gravity filter, l went to visit “the local poopin’ fields” to take care of some business while Shannon kept an eye on our gear since there was supposedly a notorious black bear in the area who’d grab your food if you weren’t looking. While I was out in the fields, I noticed that people had built some legitimately sturdy stone mausoleums to bury their waste under which were incredibly intricate and tall. People must’ve had time to kill as these rocky relics were well over knee height and were everywhere! It looked like a poo graveyard amongst the trees with dozens of stacked “gravestones” of varying heights built in memoriam to the remains of meals of hiking trips past. Just dig a hole 6 inches deep and bury your waste – there’s no need to erect burial mounds for your bowel movements out here people! The rolling fields of turd tombs gave me a good chuckle until I had to avoid rolling my ankle or bashing my knees into them on the way back to my backpack.
Supposedly Vidette Meadows where we stopped for lunch was a very “beary” campsite but we didn’t see any bear activity while we were there unfortunately. There were just so many people out hiking between the influx of John Muir Trail hikers, weekenders, National Park visitors and PCT stragglers that it seemed like the wildlife was in hiding. We shuffled up a steep climb from the valley bottom to 12,100-foot-tall Kearsarge Pass which definitely felt a lot like “Leg Day Part II: Revenge of the Sierra Stairmaster.” At least we had some views for a while so our leg workout had a bit of distraction from the 25 lb packs on our backs and sweat rolling down our faces. We thought that we might be able to beat the threatening dark storm clouds collecting like clockwork in the early afternoon, but as thunder rumbled and lightning crackled overhead we were forced to stop in the woods next to a tiny lake to take cover. We decided that it probably would be safer to wait out the storms here in our tent amongst the rocks and forest instead of continuing hiking over the extremely exposed 12,100 foot Kearsarge Pass.
We only had to hang out today for 1-1.5 hours till all the storms passed overhead and clear blue skies opened up again. Once the clouds had cleared, we packed up our tent and started our climb to the top of the mountain pass. The entire ascent we followed fresh mule hoof prints and their freshly made “road apples” that covered the trail in fragrant mushy plops. So delightful. Also why the heck do people have to bury their waste in the backcountry in these parks whereas the mules can just leave giant turd piles in the middle of the trail? Talk about double standards.
As we neared the top of the dip in the mountain range, we could see a group of 4 mules climbing over it like it was no big deal. Well, if they could hike up the pass, I certainly could do it and hustled up after the mules, motivated by competition and the brief desire to give their owner a poop shovel as a passive aggressive suggestion to bury their mules’ waste (or at least fling it off trail). Kearsarge Pass turned out to be a gorgeous side trail down to the Onion Valley trailhead, where we were going to try to hitchhike into the tiny town of Independence to pick up a resupply package and celebrate getting married. It was a little bit hard to swallow the 15 extra miles roundtrip to resupply here but the beauty of the alpine lakes, rocky spires and waterfalls made the hike enjoyable. Plus we were nearly at the end of our food stores so we’d have to start begging for food from other hikers like the local bears do if we didn’t get off trail soon.
After our second huge mountain pass traverse today, we headed down what felt like a crazy long trail as our legs were exhausted from all of the elevation gain and loss. We enjoyed stunning views of spindly waterfalls pouring over into gorgeous ponds, wildflower filled switchbacks, shining lakes and boulder fields. We prayed to the trail gods to help us to get a hitchhike out to town as it was getting late in the day and we had heard that it was hard to get a hitch with it getting close to nightfall. Shannon and I were both exhausted from climbing the two huge passes in the same day but put on our figurative focus hats and trotted carefully down the mountain to the busy backcountry parking lot.
As we got dumped out of the woods abruptly, we ended up chatting to a funny couple from Minnesota, and they sweetly gave us a ride to town. They were truly “Minnesota nice” and gave us a couple of beers to celebrate our new marriage in the tiny town of Independence which was so small that there was no stop sign. Thank you trail angels and we hope your road trip adventure went well!!
13 miles later we got dropped off at the Courthouse Motel in town where super kind owner Geetha rushed out and asked us all if we wanted some cold water even offering some to the couple driving the car who weren’t staying. We said goodbye to the Minnesota couple and wished them luck on their road trip up to Washington as they left. Geetha had sit downl and took care of us in true “Trail Mom”
fashion giving us cold water, fresh bananas, apples and cookies. Just wow!! She sure knows how to take care of PCT hikers and gave us a nice room to stay in. To top it all off, Geetha went above and beyond finding a bottle of red wine that she gave to us since she doesn’t drink. Thank you Geetha!
We celebrated at a nearby French restaurant, which, in true French fashion took forever to eat the meal. Afterwards we hit up the gas station across the street for ice cream and iced tea before bed. We watched movies, drank wine while kind Geetha started our laundry for us for a few extra bucks. Buzzing with good food and wine, we went to sleep freshly showered and with clean clothes. Life was good.
