JMT Day 8 – Accidentally Hiking Forever

Upper Le Conte Canyon to near Muir Trail Ranch

Today, for once, we’re up early and on the trail quickly.

Keith is a non-competitive, anti-sports, band kid who grew up to be an engineer and as a result he’s a pretty mellow person. But occasionally he’ll get this weird competitive drive and today that drive is directed at one thing: beating Limpy Perkins to the summit of Muir Pass. Maybe his ego is a little bruised from being repeatedly passed by a hiker with an injury? Or maybe he just wants a win today? Whatever the reason I’m happy to go along with it and hopefully be able to make some miles before it gets too hot.

Even at 11,000 feet it’s warm this morning and we’re hiking in just shorts and t-shirts. Later we’ll learn that all of Southern California is in the middle of a heat wave, but in the moment I’m just glad it’s not freezing up here.

The approach to Muir pass is officially my favorite climb so far. The trail follows a creek that tumbles down the mountain in a series of short waterfalls linking bright lakes which glitter cheerfully as we pass. Soon we’re winding our way across gentle snow fields, already warm and slushy in the early sunlight. This is definitely type one fun, easy adventure, beautifully calm, and before long we’re cresting the pass and are greeted by the Muir Trail Hut. Hello cute little hut with your irregular walls!

Inside the hut we meet Fitz! He’s another hiker that we’ve been leapfrogging for a few days now, and whom I already dislike a little because we saw him camping behind a clear “no camping sign.” Luckily for Fitz he’s pleasant to talk to and entertains us with details about his MYTH (Multi-Year Thru Hike) of the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail). This basically means that Fitz started his hike of the PCT at the boarder of Mexico and hikes as much as he can in a two week span each year before going home. At this rate it will take him about 10-11 years to complete the entire trail.

While we snack and chat with Fitz a group of older hikers gather outside the hut and talk about “back in my day” and “how the hut used to be.” From their conversation I can gather that the hut is basically the same, perhaps a little better cared for now, and that hiking stories, like fishing stories, only get more outlandish and embellished with time. Before I know it the group is departing down the pass without so much as having stepped in the hut! Is that weird? I think it’s weird.

Fitz heads out shortly after the group, and after a little while Keith and I follow suit.

The north side of Muir pass is a gradual descent past a handful of alpine lakes. So blue contrasted with the glittering white of the snow and solemn grey of the granite peaks. While I stop and tape a hot spot on my foot I am passed by Limpy Perkins. There she is! I know she’ll soon pass Keith, and that he’ll be happy that we at least met our/his goal of beating her to the pass.

When I catch up to Keith I can tell he’s excited to tell me about a plan he’s hatched. “What if” he starts “we hiked all the way down to the San Joaquin River today?”

“Yeah?” I respond lamely. Admittedly I don’t really even know what that would even mean for our hike. More miles? Less miles? Good? Snacks?

We settle on snacks while Keith bulls on undeterred by my unenthusiastic confusion. Hiking down to the San Joaquin river would mean combining two days into one, doing close to 20 miles of hiking, and getting into our resupply at VVR one day sooner. Since we’ll be descending for much of  today this is probably the easiest big day opportunity we’ll have.

I’m in! I’m so so in. I start preparing for Big Hiking. We sit down to wolf calories, and I mix two coffee packets into some cold water and chug that which tastes terrible but I’m just here for the caffeine and calories. If I wanted to eat delicious food every day I wouldn’t backpack.

The first mile I have this weird anxiety about hiking this far. My legs have been really tight today and I’m nervous I won’t be able to make it all the way to camp. Conversely I really want to get to our resupply faster so I can stop rationing food. Eventually the calories kick in and the caffeine anxiety ebbs and my legs churn into high gear. The earth passing below my feet.

We wind down into a deep green valley where we are shaded by thick pine trees. This is another blessing as we’re both running low on sunscreen. All afternoon we traverse through bare sections where  avalanches ripped through during the winter. Even in August there are clear signs of the crazy snow year that the Sierras had.

The afternoon is punctuated by little breaks to snack and stretch. Never sitting too long lest our legs tighten up and we have to go through the entire process of warming up all over again. Halfway through the day the rain begins and we don our gear and keep moving. All around us little tents pop up like brightly colored mushrooms in the trees.

We’re getting close to our campground now. A few miles left, two miles left. Stopping to chat with an elated SoBo JMT hiker who tells us about how he scored big at MTR by raiding the hiker box for his resupply. One more mile to go and there are campgrounds everywhere.

Finally at the bridge, at the river, our big day is done! Except it’s not.

The one tiny campsite at the bridge over the San Joaquin is taken by a woman whom I’m sure is a lovely person but in the moment I kind of hate her.

Luckily for us there are several tributaries that we’ll cross in the next mile.

Unluckily for us, all these creeks are dry, and so we just keep hiking and hiking into the gloaming. The sun does a pink and orange sherbet light show above us, and we talk about how we’re both so grateful to be out here. Hiking late isn’t so bad when there are great sunsets to look at.

When we finally get to a viable campground we see 7 or more tents glowing in the dark. And Fitz is here! It would seem we were not the only people to miss the last chance to get water, and now we’re all down here gathered together.

As the last people in camp we sit around eating potato soup by the red light of our headlamps while all around us the other hikers get ready for bed. One by one the glowing tents turn into dark tents as headlamps are clicked off until it’s just the two of us silently slurping soup.

We go to sleep against the white noise of the river rushing past our tent.