Day 5: Algers Lakes -> 1,000 Island Lake
/9 Miles / Ascent +1,777 feet / Descent -2,537 feet
Our Algers Lakes campsite.
Day 5: Black Flies and Blisters
No rush today - only 9 miles on the docket, so we all "slept in" a bit until @ 7am.
In July, Sierra sunrises hit ~5:45am so by 7am the sun was way up. It did wake me earlier but since I didn't sleep well again I had burrowed in for some more Z's.
I find it hard to sleep-in when backpacking. Most backpackers go to bed soon after sunset and get up with the sunrise since there's not much to do and everyone's usually pretty tired. Plus I am usually excited to start the day. And there's that bright sun thing that I find hard to sleep through.
There are mornings, though, where you either didn't sleep well and/or are destroyed from the prior day's hike. At this point in the trek, I had woken every morning feeling beat up from the day before and cranky from poor sleep. I am used to being sore from periods of continual exercise, but for me, the not-sleeping part is the killer. Actually the incidence of sore muscles decrease with continued rigorous exercise as your body becomes more efficient at it. When doing through-hikes the period of getting stronger and fitter during the first few days is referred to as getting your "trail legs". As sleep is essential to effective muscle recovery, poor sleep is severely detrimental.
I try to keep fit (running, cycling and the occasional boot camp) but I didn't train specifically for this hike. That would have involved wearing a 35+lb pack and walking 13-18 miles a day up 3 Empire State Buildings and down two. That really wasn't going to happen living in NYC. Even if I tried to be creative, I would have been shipped down to Guantanamo the moment security at the Empire State Building caught me in their fire stairs wearing a bulging backpack and sporting scraggly scruff. Plus there's the whole NYC sea level thing and hypoxic altitude tents are quite expensive.
So I had to be honest with myself: I was not in 'shape' for a 17 day backpacking trip at 9,000'+ of elevation. None of us really were and it was starting to show.
My tent - Big Agnes Copper Spur UL (ultra light) 1-Person. I loved it. Until the overhead pole snapped pitching it before an impending rainstorm (more on that later).
Multiple nights of crap sleep can also put you in a bad mood.
Which is exactly where I was: In a bad mood and a battered body - a true High Sierra hangover. With these views and this setting I asked myself how I could be in such a crummy mood? I had spent months lusting over just such views and campsites on JMT blogs, and now here I was, complaining. What I couldn't reconcile was that while the setting was perfect, it didn't guarantee that I'd feel the same.
I also couldn't afford to be in any kind of mood. I had to get all six of us to 1,000 Island Lake in one piece. Based on the collective groaning this morning, I realized it was going to be harder than the relatively short 9 miles would suggest.
Lindsay and Tyler help Jason with his underwear shoot.
Today was Wednesday, July 15. The last time I had a shower was the day I left NYC on Friday, July 10 - five days before. Since then I flew 3,000 miles, rode in a rental car, a public bus and hiked 50 miles. Oh - and as part of my "light-weight" plan I brought only two pairs of underwear and one t-shirt (all merino sportwool from Icebreaker ).
Simple math: I needed a rinse.
Speaking of underwear: I NEEDed to take a rinse. I was definitely hesitant due to the water temp......BUT I HAD TO CLEAN MY skivvies.
We were close to the tree line and there wasn't a lot of cover so I headed to this copse of trees to "refresh" myself. It turns out that the interior was denuded and there was a cozy campsite that had its own fire ring, space for two tents and perfectly sheltered from storms. While perched on the interior edge of this magical hollow on the soft pine needle-strewn ground, I was treated to a rare sight. Twenty yards away there was a jackrabbit standing on its hind legs. I had never seen one in person and I was stuck by the size of the thing. Even though it was sitting out in the open alongside nothing for reference I could just tell it was huge.
While I was enjoying the jackrabbit Jason and Tyler were heading down to the snow-fed tarn to take a dip. I knew I had to catch them before they finished otherwise I wouldn't have the gumption to go in alone. The lake had to be close to freezing and without Jason and Tyler around to motivate me I knew I would suddenly not feel that filthy. I had to filter some water anyway so I stripped to my underwear and ran down he hill to catch them. When I got to the lake edge, they were all chuckling. Jason recalls the scene, "Chris looked like one of those 'strong men' from the 1920s, no upper body but just huge legs, wearing this "Where's Waldo" striped underwear, hurtling down the hill at us. He gave us a good laugh - it was quite a sight!" *Humph*
By the time I got there Jason and Tyler were already drying on the bank. The air temp was mid-60s and there was no wind so while the conditions were great, I wasn't ready for a cold dip. I find it harder to go in alone, and worse with Tyler, Lindsay and Jason laughing at me writhe and spasm as I forced myself to submerge/swim/cleanse in the calm but freezing water.
Tyler, on the other hand, never hesitated to jump into a frigid body of water whenever he had the chance. I was impressed with his ability not just to brave the chill, but to seem to enjoy it?! True Grit, indeed.
I meant to swim to the rock, but the thought of everyone giggling as I struggled to climb its sheer sides didn't appeal. So I just spasmed around like a hypothermic frog.
Tyler models his "camp casual" look. I hear he wears the pom-pom hat for "night-night" at home too.
Tent: $350. Hiking Poles: $100. View: ....awww, I'm not going to say it.
I was sorry to leave this spot. It turned out to be one of my favorite campsites (of many) due to the feeling of absolute solitude and quiet we experienced there. This was mostly owed to the fact that we were on a side trail and not the JMT proper. It wasn't until later when we hiked past the lake that we noticed two separate campsites of a tent each, fairly well camouflaged by some trees. With the late wake-up and the swimming we didn't hit the trail until 10am. Not terrible, but now I had to keep us moving as I wanted us to get to 1,000 Island Lake in time to enjoy the supposedly striking setting there.
Gus and Lindsay crossing Algers Lakes outlet.
The first order of the day was to head past Algers Lakes, over Gem Pass and then down, down, down to Gem Lake. Today we had more down than up, generally a good thing.
Yet, if you have blisters going down can be much, much worse than going up. Climbing under load takes more effort but you go slower. Descending under load is essentially a controlled fall. The positive: you go faster and make up time for the slow climbs. The negative: any feet or knee issues become exacerbated. Your feet hit the ground harder and are constantly banging around inside your boots so anyone with blisters is going to feel them burn.
Jason updated me that Gus, Lindsay and Tyler were suffering from the mature stages of blistering. I was grateful for Jason's check-in as I was distracted by some routing logistics and getting us back over to the JMT proper. I made a note to try to pepper the day's hike with more short breaks if possible.
Tyler, Gus, Lindsay and I a little ways out from camp, headed south to Gem Pass.
Nice view of last night's campsite back on that tan-ish bald spot off my left temple. Don't confuse it with the bald spot above my temple.
Approaching Gem Pass I noticed a hiker sitting on the side of the trail, facing away from it, with his head shaking in his hands, mumbling. I realized I was about to encounter someone with extreme disorientation/ataxia due to severe altitude sickness. He seemed to be a male, in his 40s and didn't even notice us as we approached. He just kept his head down, bobbing and mumbling. It wasn't until I passed him that I saw his hand cupping his cell phone. Everyone else noticed and whipped theirs out, turning on their antennas. This initiated a 20 minute unplanned break while everyone "caught up" with the outside world. I honestly was relieved but annoyed at the same time. Relief: It was the first time I could send a real message since day 2 telling family I was okay. Not being able to the previous couple of days was giving me some anxiety. Annoyed: It kind of ruined the setting for me and I had started to let go of the anxiety that came with turning on my cell's radio various times throughout the day to (unsuccessfully) check for a signal. Plus, we had a schedule to keep.
Gem Pass was a relatively easy affair and we had views straight down to the Mammoth Lake ski resort (and obviously its cell towers). It was a funny feeling to look "down" at a ski resort. It reminded me how high we still were: ~ 10,600'. Once over that, it was downhill to Gem Lake.
We got held up crossing Crest Creek by this horse train from a local backcountry ranch.
You can't pass close to horses on the trail for fear of spooking them. On hilly trails packers and horse Rangers will ask you to stand on the downhill side of a trail to let them pass. I guess the reasoning is that if the horses get spooked they'll run uphill and this should cause less damage overall. So horses have the right of way, which is usually fine, except I had a habit of running into them whenever they stopped for water. Then you have to wait while they drink, and drink, and drink. And then they all start peeing everywhere in the water. And then you get to walk through it. Like the basement parties at Delta-Tau-Delta in college.
We had to wait about 10 minutes for these horses to finish. Just standing around we started to feel the wrath of the mosquitoes and their evil brethren, the black flies. I noticed wild rosemary growing along the trail and recalled reading that it had bug repellant qualities. I didn't want to take my pack out and start rummaging through it for my tiny vial of repellant so I grabbed a handful trailside, crumpled it to release the essential oils and rubbed it all over. Jason got in on the act. There was no downside. Even if it didn't work, at least we would smell better. Especially me since I didn't bring 3 changes of clothing like Jason and Tyler. Their bags might have been heavy but at least they looked and smelled good.
Oh, and the rosemary? It 'kinda seemed' to work. That's all I can tell you. Not a very scientific assessment.
Gem Lake. We had to walk 200 yards on the dry lakebed to collect water and soak our feet.
We decided to have our lunch at Gem Lake at the bottom of the long descent. Two elderly lady hikers directed us to a path down to the lake, which had a hot, partially exposed lake bed. It was cooler in the shade so we started our lunch but were immediately set upon by vicious black flies. They were merciless. I tried moving into the hot sun of the lake bed but it wasn't much better. While mosquitoes can be a common cause of complaint when hiking earlier in the season, I didn't read much about black flies. They seemed to have read about us and they certainly had a better lunch than we did (see Tyler's below).
I suffered badly through that lunch. We filtered water and Lindsay, Tyler and Gus soaked their blistered feet. We were all happy to leave Gem Lake behind.
Stillborn mice? Wolverine vomit? Don't be silly - it's Tyler's lunch.
The problem was: the black flies wouldn't leave us. Whenever we stopped to adjust a pack, etc, they would pounce. And the mosquitoes would have a shot too. If it wasn't one, it was the other. It was the first day I was happy to have my small stick of repellent. We all covered ourselves with whatever we had, mixing and sharing DEET and non-DEET repellent onto our skin, hoping that these repellent cocktails would work. Of course they seemed to attack the girls more. Or the girls just liked talking about mosquito bites: the bites they had, the swelling of the bites, the bite they were about to get, the bite they got last summer....I couldn't take the mosquitoes, the black flies and now the bite chatter. I was going crazy so I decided that we weren't stopping until we got to camp.
I was starting to worry about the mosquito situation for our camp at 1,000 Island lake that evening....I hear Alaska is mosquito hell, but everything's relative.
Let's forget about the last picture and look at this pretty Lake. Ahh, that's better.
Culicidae (aka: the American Mosquito), or as Jason called him "Motherf**ker".
Passing lovely ponds were usually happy occasions, except when they were teeming with mosquitoes. Katherine reacts to the tell-tale buzzing....
BANNER PEAK COMES INTO VIEW AS WE HEAD DUE WEST. Mosquitoes attack from the east.
Left turn for us.
At the Agnew Meadows junction I knew we were close and that all of our serious climbing was behind us. Now it was just a couple of miles due west to 1,000 Island Lake. Looking back, this was such a lovely part of the trail, but at the time few of us could appreciate it between the collective discomfort of the black flies, mosquitoes and blisters. I was suffering the least on those fronts, but the groups' collective pain was palpable and I felt responsible for their suffering. I also felt responsible to get us to camp. Some were indicating that they'd be happy to pitch anywhere before getting to the lake, but I had a strong feeling that they would feel far better morale-wise once they saw what 1,000 Island Lake had to offer.
The trail between Agnew Meadows Junction and 1,000 Island Lake.
This old fellow was 70-something and traveling alone. We were middle aged and clung to each other like snow monkeys.
One final crest and we had finally joined back up with the JMT on the eastern edge of 1,000 Island Lake. It was around 5pm and we were not the only people looking to make camp at the lake. I could see a number of hiker groups with maps out trying to decide what to do. While the lake was quite sizable, it was also one of the most popular lakes to camp at and I was worried about getting shut out of a site that could accommodate all of our tents.
I figured that I had to jump a half mile ahead of the other hiker groups to claim a spot before they did. With the condition out group was in I had to do that alone. I had pushed on ahead with Katherine and Jason who were feeling mostly fine, but Gus, Lindsay and Tyler were way behind us, totally out of view. Since we couldn't text/call each other Jason, Katherine and I had to come up with a plan to communicate where I would be. We came up with the "string of human beacons" method (we just made it up). Shouting wasn't going to work as the distance was too great and the wind was blowing hard across the lake.
We had Katherine wait in place for the others and pointed to an outcropping of rock that Jason would position himself at. I would hike there with Jason and continue around the unseen side alone the southern rim of the lake until I found a suitable site. So Katherine would bring everyone to Jason, and Jason would bring everyone along to find me. I decided that the southern lip of the lake would catch the most direct light of the setting sun for our campsite.
The expanse over which we deployed the "Human Beacon" system. I disappeared around the outcropping of rock (sloping from the left down to the middle of the frame) to range for a campsite.
Jason and I blew through a throng of clueless looking hikers orienting themselves with their maps upside down. They looked at us, well, like the New Yorkers we are. Jason got situated in a spot visible to Katherine and I took off passing a couple of hikers that had started to edge around the southern rim, right by the lake outlet. The outlet was off limits to camping but I still saw a couple of groups ignoring that or attempting to "stealth camp" at a couple a lovely spots. I didn't want to risk being booted by a ranger so I kept on.
I hugged the lakeshore on a faint trail disappearing at a rock wall that pushed me 70 feet uphill into the forest. I stayed at that elevation until I found access back down to the water. I was looking for a largish flat area for four tents with easy water access and great views of the lake and Banner Peak - an admittedly tall order. After 30 frantic minutes I was starting to worry that it wasn't going to materialize. I knew I'd find one if I walked far enough, but I didn't want to push the group any further than I had to. My brain was fried, body spent and morale low when I stumbled into our spot - it took me a while to gauge if we could fit there. It might have been closer to the water than regulation allowed but I'd be damned to look any further.
I spread my stuff around to make it look like a bunch of us were there already as I noticed some hikers coming up the trail towards me. When they saw me they veered off on a different vector. I started to relax and feel confident that I had chosen the right spot and settled in to wait for the others. It seemed like forever and was getting worried but eventually Gus materialized, climbing around the rock outcropping a 1/4 mile away. We were all relieved to make it into camp - what a setting it was: on a peninsula jutting into the lake with a windbreak of stubby pines that allowed striking views of Banner Peak and the many islets.
Tyler happy on the hill above our campsite, 1,000 Island Lake
I didn't need to be worried about the mosquitoes - a fierce westerly tore across the lake blowing them away. My only concern was items blowing away. A line of stubby pines and a natural depression (seen below) shielded most of the tents from the wind. There wasn't quite enough space for all of us in the gully so I took one for the team and pitched higher up. It was a lot blustier but I had a great view of Banner Peak.
Truth be told, having a view out my tent door turned out to be less of a draw than I had imagined it to be. The logistics of setting up my tent for maximum view exposure didn't always mesh with practicality. First off, by the time I was getting into bed it was close to dark, and we generally set up our kitchen in a spot with a view. So by the time we hit the hay I usually had a generous helping of sunset views. My tent was designed to be set up with the streamlined foot angled into the wind. This allowed the tent to hold up in high winds and just as important allowed for maximum venting to reduce condensation. I literally threw all this to the wind and pitched perpendicular to the wind with my door opening facing into it - might as well have set a jib on the hill. Damn if I wasn't going to get that tent-door view.
Looking down the hill at our peninsula campsite on 1,000 Island Lake. The small gully provided shelter from the blowing wind.
In camp, relaxing on our little beach after a rinse under Banner Peak on 1,000 Island Lake.
Mr. Banner Peak, 2015.
I debated about whether to include this photo. I was worried my ugly shoes would offend. (and it was very, very cold)
Looking east on 1,000 Island Lake.
Click on the photo for a full panorama.
THE SMALL DEPRESSION HERE WAS PERFECTLY SHELTERED FROM THE WIND - A GREAT SPOT TO SET UP CAMP AND COOK UP DINNER. Unless you are Jason who is sent down to the lake to filter water (you can see him back there).
Mrs. Wang and mr. Wang discuss their laundry while Mr. Wang filters. Always filtering.
The windbreak allowed Jason and Katherine to set up their laundry line and go at it like beavers. She then exiled him down to the water to filter 15 liters of water. Maybe not that much, but he was down on the waterfront forever. Filtering. Filtering. Some of us felt bad for him so we started to visit him.
Jason treated each body of water he encountered as if it were the last one before crossing the Sahara. Tyler throws him a sympathy hug. Cute jackets, boys.
Campsite: Dusk ~ 8:30pm, Thousand Island Lake. My tent is at the bottom left.
Sunset: Jason complains about laundry and water filtering. My calves are grotesquely large.
Mr. Wang shirks laundry duty. He and Tyler discuss how the sunset matches their Jackets.
Jason and Tyler bought those jackets while shopping together. True story. I bought mine by myself. Better story.
Wide angel from hill above camp, looking west to Banner Peak, 1,000 Island Lake.
Gus and Lindsay grabbing sunset shots.
Gus didn't like his expression when we reviewed this pic back at the lake, but I think it's a great shot. So there.
Me and Banner Peak.
Mr. Wang eye-roll as Mrs. Wang calls him back to the bearcan-cum-washing machine. I tried to sneak in a Tshirt but Mrs. Wang price-gouged me.
Another mind-blowing campsite in the shadow of iconic Banner peak. Mr. Wang Wash'n'Fold laundry line high gear.
With chores and dinner done we took pictures and enjoyed the downtime that I hadn't allowed for in the aggressive schedule I had prescribed the preceding four days. We had two more days planned on the trail. I was wondering how the group might want to handle the next bit when Jason approached me. He let me know that it seemed Lindsay and Tyler were both pretty banged up, and that Gus wasn't far off. We had a group check-in and I laid out the options that we had going forward. They felt that their feet were "cooked" and were ready for the next bailout, which was at Red's Meadow. I told them we could do it in two easy days or one longer tough day. The general consensus held that suffering was suffering and one day was better than two. Fortunately the route didn't have a lot of climbing. Unfortunately it had 4,500' of descending. For those with "cooked" blisters that was a just a recipe for a suffering stew.
So the plan was to hike 16 miles the next day to Red's where Lindsay and Tyler were definitely going to part from the group. Jason and Katherine would continue on with Gus and I for another night and then exit at Duck Pass. Then it would just be Gus and I for the remaining 160 miles to Whitney. Except right now, the wild card was Gus. He was being pretty stoic around me, but Jason seemed to think he was as bad off as Tyler and Lindsay. I started to mentally prepare myself for the possibility of a solo trek and how that would change the journey for me.
After a trying day for us all, I felt great that I we could find a campsite that lived up to my expectations for iconic 1,000 Island Lake. I feel like we really nailed it.
Except some of us were going to feel like the nail.
