Day 6: Thousand Island Lake -> Red's Meadow
/16 Miles / Ascent +2,448 feet / Descent -4,682 feet
7AM, THOUSAND ISLAND LAKE, STEPPING OUT OF MY TENT - NO WIND, NICE REFLECTION.
After all that about having a view from my tent I am happy to report that it worked out - for 2 minutes.
This is the last time I go through the rigmarole of mis-pitching my tent so I can have a view. Last night the wind ripped straight over Banner Peak (my view) into my face. So I essentially set up my tent broadside, door facing into a gale. Jason, our resident sailor, would have been proud if we were on a boat. But we weren't and I had to shut the fly to keep the tent from blowing away. And so in the end there was no view.
We woke to calm and I did get that view - a view that lasted as long as it took for me to snap the picture. I just didn't have any time to sit around in my tent to enjoy it - we had another long day ahead. Pfffft.
Campsite, 7am, Thousand Island Lake.
The night before it was clear that there were some unhappy campers and a fair amount of the responsibility for that fell on me.
I started planning this as a solo through hike. The first logistical parameter was the amount of time I could take off (relatively short, so more miles/day) - not the amount of time I would have liked (more days, less miles/day and more easygoing). So it was an aggressive schedule to begin with and even then I had some doubts about whether I could complete it. Then I started throwing around invites to see if people would be remotely interested. I mostly got funny looks but also some serious "Yeah, maybe"s few of which I thought would really pan out.
The problem is that none of us had that much experience. The one thing I had on all of them is that I had hiked a couple hundred miles in my Salomons under a full load and I knew they didn't give me blisters. Tyler, Lindsay and Gus essentially had new shoes, even though they all tried to break them in a bit. They basically rolled the dice and came up short. They are not alone - there are entire message threads on the Yahoo JMT group dedicated to this common issue. Lindsay shared her blisters with us - and they weren't pretty. Gus and Tyler kept theirs holstered but assured us they were ugly.
The original plan was for us all to get to Red's Meadow so that Gus and I could pick up our resupply that was supposed to last us until Muir Trail Ranch. After a night at Red's Meadow we would hike to lovely Purple Lake for one last night together as a six-person group. The next day Jason, Katherine, Lindsay and Tyler were supposed to exit to Mammoth via Duck Pass, and Gus and I were to continue on toward Mt. Whitney. It was clear now that this plan wasn't going to hold.
From Thousand Island Lake, it was 16 miles, mostly downhill, to Red's Meadow ranch where there were showers, a restaurant and a front door shuttle bus straight to Mammouth. I presented a couple of options: two "easy" days of 8 miles each, or one hard 16 mile push. I left the choice up to them and they unanimously opted to make the full 16 mile push.
Lindsay summed it up for them, "I'd rather suffer badly for one day than for two."
It is hard to go wrong camping at Thousand Island Lake under Banner Peak.
Tyler, pom-pom hat, he-man thumbs-up pose. He had just come down from the latrine. Good work, Tyler.
Tyler gives the "thumbs-up". This is short lived. At this point we had gotten used to hearing Tyler suddenly announce that he misplaced something during a short break and while packing up in the morning.
"I have LOST my solar panel." (Us: "It's clipped on your pack.")
"Everyone, I have LOST my jacket." (Us: "It's tucked under your lid")
"Ok, I think I LOST my hat" (Us: we say nothing. We shake our heads. He is wearing it.)
This morning was no different. There he was proclaiming another phantom disappearance. Tent-mate Lindsay shakes her head incredulously, "Check your pockets, Tyler."
"Never mind, everyone, I have it." Nobody stops to even look up - the chipmunks roll their eyes.
Low morning sun and long shadows.
The ridge on the upper left acted as the area latrine. Tyler made it up there a few times.
While Tyler was losing and finding and losing things, Jason and Katherine were still finishing their laundry. We had a long day ahead of us but you couldn't tell from the look of it. Mr and Mrs Wang still had their line up and Jason was still rinsing clothes in a bear can. They each brought 4 changes of clothes (tops and bottoms) for six days and were doing laundry??!! Unbelievable. Glampers.
Jason who doesn't hesitate to give me a hard time when I'm holding something up found himself in the hot seat. I put on my worst un-PC Chinese accent and harassed him non-stop while they got organized. I really enjoyed that. I think the others did too.
Jason was finally getting sorted when, in a guilty fluster, he yanked on his boot lace and snapped it in half. I just shook my head. Then Tyler started to ask where his sunglasses were. I considered pitching my tent because it felt like we were never getting out of there.
Gus gave Jason some paracord for a shoelace (Mr Wang's laundry line was apparently off-limits?), Tyler found his sunglasses perched on his head and we finally left.
Despite a frustrating departure I was sorry to leave Thousand Island Lake and I will definitely return. Just not with Jason and Tyler.
On our way out of Thousand Island Lake.
Ruby Lake, JMT. The color of the ocher shale lends the lake its name.
Coming in to Garnet Lake. As beautiful as Thousand Island Lake and way less crowded.
Crossing the footbridge with the one-sided handrail over the Garnet Lake outlet.
L to R: Ritter Peak and Banner Peak, Garnet Lake.
Crystal clear and fed by the snow cupped in the distant peaks. Tyler would have dived in if we had the time.
I would definitely camp here if I return. Garnet Lake was beautiful. Banner Peak makes an appearance here, to the right of Ritter Peak, of the eponymous Ritter Range.
Who's this perched on the lake in work-worn chambray, khakis and battered fedora?
We were convinced we had run across Ansel Adams' doppelganger. This old fellow was the real deal with his pipe and fly rod.
Crossing the footbridge over the Garnet Lake outlet I promptly took us in the wrong direction. Since the trail had been so self-explanatory so far this morning I hadn't really consulted one of my (three) maps. Hmph. Well, a couple hundred yards later the trail clearly shot down something steep and ugly into a forested valley. A red flag went off and we debated whether we should continue down or consult the map. I consulted the map. Map said: don't go down. Go back, then west along the lake shore then up (ugh) and over a climb.
This is us heading east at Garnet Lake. One of my few wrong turns. The ridge in the distance is the PCT and the Sierra High Trail.
This is us finally heading the right way, west, after the bridge at Garnet Lake.
Garnet Lake.
Skirting the south shore of Garnet Lake. Look at that water.
Tyler surveys the view south from the saddle.
The climb up from Garnet was ~ 500'. At the saddle we decided to take a "quick" break. These were never quick and we were all guilty. Jason had to inspect some bushes, Katherine had to repack her bag. A NPS sign at the crest held a little surprise - tucked into the back of it was an antiqued and fragrant pipe wrapped with a curious note. Since cell phones didn't work out here hikers had to get creative regarding communication in dispersed groups. Typically this would manifest as arrows drawn in the trail dirt or small notes tacked in obvious places. This was the most original form of "trail mail" that I experienced on the entire trek. I dislodged this totem-like talisman and unfurled the note which was short and to the point (see below).
To paraphrase: "Yeah - we're in a canyon after the valley...down aways. Anyway, just make sure you bring fish or don't bother showing up."
Tyler enjoys the break at the top of the climb south of Garnet Lake.
Site of the great Nutter Butter Taste-Off
Jason was sure taking a long time so we all dug into our snacks. Gus used my meal plan for his pre-trip planning so we both brought Nutter Butters. Except his were round and mine were peanut shaped, but both made by Nabisco. He claimed his were the superior option taste-wise. I couldn't possibly believe there was any significant difference between the two besides the shape. So commenced the "Great High Sierra Nutter Butter Taste-Off". I tried his, he tried mine. Okay - his was sweeter, and had a smoother consistency. Mine was more savory and the cookie was heartier and held up better to abuse in the pack. In the end we both proclaimed superiority over the other and the showdown ended in a tie.
Lindsay sat by amused, sucking on some foil pouch.
"What is that?" I asked.
"Apple sauce. I love these," she answered.
"How many of those do you have?" I asked, incredulously.
"Oh, a whole bunch."
!!! What? I quietly bit my lip. No wonder her pack was so heavy and she had shoulder pain and blisters. Those things are mostly water and provide really poor calorie-to-weight ratios. What else did she have in there? She might as well have been carrying around some bricks. She was done at the end of the day so I just didn't say anything.
Jason is hiding behind that boulder on his iPhone.
Jason was taking a really long time so I went to see if he was allright. Popping around a boulder I found him pecking at his iPhone.
"There's service up here!" he beamed with the crooked smile of someone caught in the act.
"Don't tell anyone else," I ordered, "or we will never get out of here with Tyler, Lindsay and Katherine updating their Facebook statuses." I asked him to get some intel on the restaurant at Red's Meadow: what time it closed and if we needed to book seats. I remembered reading something about an early close and limited capacity....
The trail south of Garnet Lake.
Heading down from our break we ran into a father-son couple from San Francisco. His son was doing the entire JMT and the father was ghosting him from Happy Isles to Red's Meadow. I noticed how little the father was carrying. "No tent, I'm cowboy camping. My son has a tent so if it does rain I'll squeeze in but it never rains in the Sierras in the summer." Encouraging words that I took to heart but which Gus and I would later learn were dead wrong.
The father then recounted how he did the whole JMT back in the '70's, no tent then either. It took him ~35 days, not pushing it. He and his wife just recently sold their house in San Francisco and got rid of almost all their possessions living a life of modern nomads, from one Airbnb to another. Hmmmm....then I heard him talking to his son about IP law in Silicon Valley and I could picture the types of Airbnbs they were staying in....probably pretty nice ones. Nevertheless, I liked his whole new 'pared down' approach. And here he was skipping down the trail talking about how he's going to do the California desert section of PCT next....."Oh, I'll just hike at night by moonlight, no tent...It doesn't rain in the desert..."
The "Missing" poster below the trail sign haunted us a few times that day. I wonder what became of him.
Down, off of the tree line and into the muggy, buggy forest.
Finally the trail started heading down, down, down into the forest. The afternoon grew overcast and humid and the mosquitoes came out with a little rain shower. I ran ahead to filter some water while Jason sorted dinner reservations from the last high spot with a cell signal. I fended off the bugs while I drew green water from a suspect swamp. I didn't have a choice as I was sleep-deprived and dehydrated. The group caught up and made wretching faces at the water I was filtering from. Lindsay and Gus were hurting badly and took it easy in the rear for a ways. Stopping for breaks became less inviting as the mosquitoes pounced when stopped.
The trail stopped its hard descent and leveled off at an intersection. I was out of water again and Lindsay was far in the back. We decided to filter water while we waited for her to make sure she didn't take the wrong turn. Gus and Tyler bushwhacked to a hard-to-reach slow-flowing river but returned claiming that the water wasn't as inaccessible as it looked. I made it over to the river and down a ledge to collect water and noticed something long and shiny on the bank. I returned to the intersection as Lindsay was pulling up and announced, "I found these down by the river and I bet I know whose they are" and threw the hiking poles at Tyler.
His eyes lit up and rolled back into his head, "I left my poles down by the river???!!! Aaarghhhhh!" Classic Tyler.
Katherine does her impression of Tyler's "I left my poles down by the river!"
Yes, we even hiked through Inyo National Forest for a mile or so.
Tyler and I were flying in the front as we came into the turnoffs for the Devils Postpile National Monument which is just off the JMT on the way to Red's Meadows. We blew through an intersection, me still dehydrated, both of us wiped out. I was struck by the sight of a large woman walking without hiking poles, earbuds jammin' and carrying a large umbrella. I dismissed her as a day hiker that couldn't possibly cover much ground. Yet Gus and I would be surprised to encounter her ahead of us days later...
Just a couple miles from Red's now. Even Jason is looking tired. We all pushed hard this day.
Tyler and I pulled up at a second intersection and waited and waited for the others. I finally heard Jason calling for us and stepped into the trail. Jason was happy to find us but was frustrated - Tyler and I had blown through the previous intersection without even knowing it, not stopping to wait for the others . I immediately felt bad and realized what sorry shape I was in to make a mistake like that.
Poor hydration and inadequate food intake are two of the most common causes of decision-making mistakes. Here I was guilty of both and I could have gotten a whole slice of our group lost in the confusing maze of intersecting trails in the Devil's Postpile area.
The Devil's Postpile - it does look unnatural.
I am not going to attempt to explain how this occurred. Just google it.
Devil's Postpile is an amazing rock formation. One of the most unique rock formations I have ever seen. I barely could stop and try to take some pictures. In fact I actually don't think I even stopped when taking them. And there was this nice girl, a summer volunteer maybe, who stood there asking us if we would like to know more about the geological phenomenon. We all smiled wanly and blew past leaving her there with some flyers in her outstretched hand. It was 6pm and the showers and restaurant at Red's both closed at 7pm and none of us were missing either of them.
Red's Meadow. The store is on the right. Lots of hikers walking around in their underpants after the shower like fellow in green bandanna.
Red's is a confusing place when you first show up. We slipped in a side trail off a road and landed in the car camping area. We were directed from there to a trail south that made us climb one last insulting hill and brought us down into Red's proper. What a sight. Attractive log cabins for guests of the ranch. A log cabin restaurant and a log cabin store (where our resupply hopefully waited). All this centered around a dirt courtyard with large log tables and chairs piled with packs of thru hikers in various stages of resupply, recharging or relaxing. We immediately set to renting our towels and shower tokens. 1/2 hour later we were seated in the restaurant at 6:55pm, and not too soon. 5 minutes later they turned an obviously famished looking hiker away due to closing time. We had 5 minutes to order...and boy, did we.
Oh yeah - toilets. They flushed!
This is a decent shot of everything I had on the trail (minus the Red's Meadow $2 rental towel for the $7 shower). Restaurant with dinner bell in background.
Taking UltraLight to a different level. He hiked in those sandals. And the thong was leather (I checked).
While better suited to car-campers, the store was still a backpacker's delight. Yes, when you've been hiking 100 miles this qualifies as delightful.
Red's Meadow restaurant.
Other hikers could be heard complaining of the prices. We were just happy to have seat and a menu.
Tyler kept asking where his water was. It was the first time on the trip that it wasn't his fault he couldn't find something. The sweet waitress was doing her best taking care of us, our last minute order deluge, as well as other customers. There sat Tyler frowning his biggest mad-boy frown. "Where's my water?" He and Jason got the "hangry" award at dinner. The waitress should have been given a Nobel Peace Prize.
For some reason they thought we had pre-ordered the blue plate special - porkchop. I didn't care and accepted one - but was jealous of Tyler and Jason's burger, so I got one of those too. And a milkshake. I think I remember at one point spooning the thick milkshake onto the burger because...it just seemed like a tasty way to eat it. Or I couldn't wait to have dinner and dessert at the same time.
Charging phones, updating Facebook and Tyler practicing his "hangry" face for the waitress. Jason's was scarier.
Tyler is talking to his milkshake.
I am not talking.
45 minutes later we stumbled out into the High Sierra setting sun, bloated and blissful. Even the walk back on the trail to the backpacker plot didn't bother me so much.
The backpackers was filling up quickly. Thankfully Gus had dealt with the host and staked out an area for us or we might have been squeezed out. I could barely pitch my tent but felt better when I observed a solo hiker struggling to pitch a hammock tent with her hiking poles since there were no trees. That extra effort would have killed me. I silently commended her.
The sun set, the campground got a bit quieter. But then there was giggling. And giggling. And more giggling. Like a guy and a girl giggling. And I realized it sounded familiar. It was coming from Lyndsay and Tyler's tent. The whole trip I would hear this chatter as I fell asleep at night but as I always set up a bit apart I could never tell who it was or what it was. Sometimes it sounded like chipmunks, I don't know. Since the backpackers was so crowded I had to pitch right next to them and I got the full treatment.
Lindsay: "That chipmunk at the lake was soooooo cute!"
Tyler: "Oh my god - I love chipmunks. They make these little faces [voice gets higher] like squeeek squeaky squeeek when they get close to our food!"
Lindsay: "I love squirrels too."
Tyler: "Squirrels are AWSOME! Such good climbers!"
Lindsay: "Jason is mean to the squirrels. He shouldn't hit them with his hiking pole when they take his food. Next time he should just shout."
Tyler: "Yeah he is kind of aggressive. Like the way he does their laundry. Always mashing it up so hard in the bear can!"
Lindsay: "Yeah, maybe he's pretending it's the squirrel!"
Giggle Giggle Giggle. For an hour.
And I left my earplugs in the bear locker.
