Chief Lake to Ivabell Hot Springs
We wake late today. Partially due to not getting enough sleep while partying at VVR, and partially because we know that we have a pretty mellow day ahead of us. We’ll be hopping on the Fish Creek trail, an alternate that will take us to Ivabell Hot Springs where we plan to while away the afternoon soaking in the hot waters there.
After two miles on the JMT we merge onto the Fish Creek Trail which we’ll follow along the creek of the same name, up and over a small ridge, and down to the hot springs. We’re trying to rush today, but the heat is crushing us and we don’t move as quickly as we like. Still by 1pm we’re high on a ridge looking down into the hot springs. We can spot small collections of tents in the trees.
The ideal time to visit a hot spring in Southern California is not labor day weekend when droves of clued in, cool kids from LA and SF pour into the mountains and their secret spots that, like, nobody knows about. Except everybody knows. Nothing to be done. By this point in the hike our schedule has shifted enough that the only way to avoid the inevitable crowds at the hot springs would be to not go at all. That’s clearly not an option for Keith, so here we are.
We drop down a series of tight switchbacks, through more evidence of the avalanches that ripped through these mountain valleys taking out trees the size of telephone poles in the process.
In camp, it’s oppressively hot. And all we can do is chase little patches of shade until the sun stops harassing us. We haven’t been this low in elevation since we started on the trail and now it’s apparent that the heat from the central valley is encroaching into the higher elevations.
At 6pm we hit the fulcrum of hunger and heat aversion and the temptation of food spurns us out of our respective shaded hiding places. Tonight is spaghetti and meat sauce and it’s amazing. I’m realizing that hiker hunger is starting to hit me, and I’m hungry much of the day. While I’m actively eating I start to think about what I want to buy in Red’s Meadow. Chips for sure, cheese, salami. Just nothing sweet. I didn’t think it was possible to get sick of chocolate, but that’s another thing I can add to the “Stuff Kara is Wrong About” list.
During dinner we chat with a girl who’s part of a large group from San Francisco up for the long weekend. She’s a transplant to Cali – just like everyone – by way of Oregon and Vermont. We talk thru hiking and the JMT. Keith and I share the story of a hiker we’ve only heard lore of called 100 Pounds.
From stories told round the camp fire we’ve learned that 100 Pounds is a SoBo PCT hiker who is training to hike the single year triple crown in 2018 (that is to complete the AT, PCT, and CDT in one year, that’s like 8,000 miles of hiking, it’s crazy town banana pants, but people do it). Apparently this cat got it in his head that the best way to do that would be to carry weeks worth of food at a time, instead of just 3-8 days like most hikers do, and then save time by rarely going into town. This is resoundingly the opposite of what nearly everyone else does. It’s amazing how some people can take all the collective knowledge of those who have come before and then decide to do something illogically backwards. God speed 100 Pounds, you’re gonna need it.
Once the sun sets we hike up the ridge into the gloaming light and settle in a hot spring, the water is perfect for just sitting, hours and days could pass sitting here.
Another hiker shows up and we have the repeat conversation that comes with meeting people who aren’t thru hikers. A girl asks if we’re sad to be almost done – six days left to be precise. I’m struck in the moment that I hadn’t considered this notion, to be sad the end of our trip is approaching. Intellectually I know we’re on the home stretch but mentally I feel like I could stay out here forever.
We watch the sun set over the valley, through the smoke. There is no golden hour during fire season, the smoke suspended in the air leads to a permanent feeling of the sun almost setting. The stars pop out, just a few, their siblings muted behind the smoke and bats swoop over the water, catching bugs, pulling airborne acrobatics. Tee hee actrobatics.
The alpine scenery is as good as it gets, as nice as COLO. Your vertical stream shot is excellent.