"Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe."
- Abraham Lincoln
We spend a lot of time in preparation. Getting ready for work. Getting ready to go out. Changing clothes to work out. Preparing dinner. The list goes on. Today, Sally and I hiked so that tomorrow we would be prepared to go over Forester Pass, the highest pass on the PCT.
We woke to frost on the meadow and our gear and a little ice in our water bottles. The cold air settles in the valleys and Wallace Creek was no exception. We packed up, alternately stuffing our gear away and warming our hands, not willing to wait the additional hour for the sun to crest the valley walls and trees and warm us.
The trail led us up out of the valley floor and climbed to a plateau with a stupendous 360° view of the surrounding mountains, including Mt. Whitney. We had been here 5 years before, but the repeat visit was as captivating as the first.
From the plateau we began the descent into Tyndall Creek drainage, where I thought we would encounter our first major stream crossing, if we were to have any dicey ones in this low snow year. We were putting off lunch until we crossed it, figuring the time spent drying off after wading could serve both purposes, eating and drying.
The creek was the biggest to date, but I was able to rock hop it, employing my trekking poles to vault a 5' gap of rushing water that did not have stepping stones. Sally slipped into her wading shoes and crossed at the ford, the water moving fast but less than knee deep.
On the far bank we washed some clothes and body parts, knowing they would dry quickly in the hot afternoon sun. A few other hikers arrived on the far bank. I waded across in my Crocks to hand them Sally's wading shoes so they could cross without getting their hiking shoes wet.
From Tyndall Creek it is a 2500' climb over the next 5 miles to the top of Forester Pass at 13,200'. Our plan was to hike to the lakes a mile short of the pass at 12,200 feet and camp, then get up early and get over the pass before the heat of the day.
We could see the south facing cliff that the trail climbs and it was mostly snow free. The unknown was the north side, more than likely thick with snow. In the early morning this snow would be icy and hard. In late afternoon it would soften causing us to sink to our crotch, called "post holing". The trick was to time it right. Get on the snow when it is starting to soften on the surface but still firm underneath to support our weight.
We worked our way up through the treeless glacial valley approaching the head wall. Both Sally and I were feeling good. Since we were still fairly early, 4;00pm, we decided to continue on over the pass. We passed a 20 something girl camped next to the trail just as the trail permanently disappeared under the snow. We began to cross the snow to gain a rock rib to follow to the base of the wall when we both started post holing. Sally went in to her crotch. When we got her extracted we decided our change in plan was foolish. Late afternoon had the snow super soft. As we returned back to the snow field's edge we let the girl, "Glimmer" know she would have company for the night. Her response was "Welcome Home!"
As we got off the snow we noticed Sally had abraded her shin and blood was running down her leg. Also, she was still wearing her sandals, so her socks were soaked and her feet icy cold. She sat on a rock and put her bare feet against my belly to warm them. This put her shin up close and personal, so while her feet warmed I applied a dressing to her wound.
Glimmer offered us the flat spot adjacent to her tent, but we moved 100' away to give her and us a little more privacy, although a barren rock strewn slope doesn't offer much.
- Abraham Lincoln
We spend a lot of time in preparation. Getting ready for work. Getting ready to go out. Changing clothes to work out. Preparing dinner. The list goes on. Today, Sally and I hiked so that tomorrow we would be prepared to go over Forester Pass, the highest pass on the PCT.
We woke to frost on the meadow and our gear and a little ice in our water bottles. The cold air settles in the valleys and Wallace Creek was no exception. We packed up, alternately stuffing our gear away and warming our hands, not willing to wait the additional hour for the sun to crest the valley walls and trees and warm us.
The trail led us up out of the valley floor and climbed to a plateau with a stupendous 360° view of the surrounding mountains, including Mt. Whitney. We had been here 5 years before, but the repeat visit was as captivating as the first.
From the plateau we began the descent into Tyndall Creek drainage, where I thought we would encounter our first major stream crossing, if we were to have any dicey ones in this low snow year. We were putting off lunch until we crossed it, figuring the time spent drying off after wading could serve both purposes, eating and drying.
The creek was the biggest to date, but I was able to rock hop it, employing my trekking poles to vault a 5' gap of rushing water that did not have stepping stones. Sally slipped into her wading shoes and crossed at the ford, the water moving fast but less than knee deep.
On the far bank we washed some clothes and body parts, knowing they would dry quickly in the hot afternoon sun. A few other hikers arrived on the far bank. I waded across in my Crocks to hand them Sally's wading shoes so they could cross without getting their hiking shoes wet.
From Tyndall Creek it is a 2500' climb over the next 5 miles to the top of Forester Pass at 13,200'. Our plan was to hike to the lakes a mile short of the pass at 12,200 feet and camp, then get up early and get over the pass before the heat of the day.
We could see the south facing cliff that the trail climbs and it was mostly snow free. The unknown was the north side, more than likely thick with snow. In the early morning this snow would be icy and hard. In late afternoon it would soften causing us to sink to our crotch, called "post holing". The trick was to time it right. Get on the snow when it is starting to soften on the surface but still firm underneath to support our weight.
We worked our way up through the treeless glacial valley approaching the head wall. Both Sally and I were feeling good. Since we were still fairly early, 4;00pm, we decided to continue on over the pass. We passed a 20 something girl camped next to the trail just as the trail permanently disappeared under the snow. We began to cross the snow to gain a rock rib to follow to the base of the wall when we both started post holing. Sally went in to her crotch. When we got her extracted we decided our change in plan was foolish. Late afternoon had the snow super soft. As we returned back to the snow field's edge we let the girl, "Glimmer" know she would have company for the night. Her response was "Welcome Home!"
As we got off the snow we noticed Sally had abraded her shin and blood was running down her leg. Also, she was still wearing her sandals, so her socks were soaked and her feet icy cold. She sat on a rock and put her bare feet against my belly to warm them. This put her shin up close and personal, so while her feet warmed I applied a dressing to her wound.
Glimmer offered us the flat spot adjacent to her tent, but we moved 100' away to give her and us a little more privacy, although a barren rock strewn slope doesn't offer much.
Once the tent was up we erected the tarp on the uphill side of the tent to block the nightly downslope wind. As we visited with Glimmer she revealed that she was a little short on food. We were amply stocked, so we invited her to share our dinner of rice, cheddar, broccoli, spinach and chicken with butterscotch pudding and banana nut muffins.
We enjoyed our dinner with Glimmer, seated on blue foam hunkered down behind the tent to block the wind. She hails from Portland with a degree from Puget Sound University in Tacoma. She worked in marketing in Portland until she quit to come hike the PCT.
Our dinner engagement went well. Even when the sun set behind the western ridges we had fun, but after about 45 minutes the cold of 12,000' worked through our layers and we all scampered for our tents and sleeping bags.
We were expecting a cool night at this altitude, and we were not disappointed, although our wind block kept the tent cozy.
We looked forward to the next day because an early rise time was not necessary. Too early and the snow would be too hard. To late, too soft. In the morning we would have to be j… u…s…t right. We had put ourselves in good position. Tomorrow we would see how well we could take advantage of our work today.
No comments:
Post a Comment