Boots and Marmots: The Demise of My 2011 JMT thru-hike.

In the summer of 2011, I decided to finally hike the John Muir Trail.  I had wanted to for a long time, ever since my family and I encountered JMT thru-hikers on my first backpacking trip in Yosemite.  I was familiar with it's layout, location, and length (211 miles) because I had hiked sections during previous summers, so I felt confident I could hike it solo in about 3 weeks time.

I found it apt that Dr. Godfrey said my first blog story was full of "recklessness," because I do tend to be more impulsive, deciding on plans and changing them on a whim, and I get myself into harry situations quite often because of that.  This trip was no different.  Instead of beginning the trail in Yosemite or at the Whitney Portal, the official start/ end points, I arranged to get dropped off at Road's End in Kings Canyon National Park, about a 2 hour drive east of Fresno.  Many trailheads into the Sierra Nevada backcountry begin at Road's End, and I wanted to get to the Whitney Portal on the other side of the Sierras by taking a route I'd never been on before.

The snowpack that summer was measured at 150% above normal at many high altitude sites, including many portions of the JMT, so I knew it would be quite an adventure, especially on the less traveled Bubbs Creek trail leading to the junction I intended to use while heading southeast toward the Whitney Portal.  When I got to the area where Avalanche Pass was suppose to be, it was completely snowed over and only a few protruding pine trees were visible.  I only had a map and compass, not a GPS device, so I decided to backtrack since there were no footprints.  No one had been through the area yet (late May).

As I trudged along heading toward a familiar junction leading onto the JMT, I was exhilarated, relieved to finally be back in the wilderness, where time seems to pass slower and survival as well as the surrounding natural wonders supersede all else.  After I reached the junction later that day, I continued on to camp near a pass I wanted to climb that night, but the threat of collapsing snow bridges caused me to stop and camp at a high altitude, a decision that began the demise of my hike.  Sometime that night, marmots chewed the ends and heels of my boots, and when I put them on the next morning (they were practically frozen, and so were my feet), I hiked with what amounted to little blades gnawing on my feet.  I didn't feel the damage being done until later that morning.

Needless to say, by noon, similar to my first blog, I was in a predicament.  To keep this blog down to it's suggested length, I ended up making it to the eastern end of the Sierras and hiked my way out on the Kearsarge Pass trail near the town of Independence.  When I was nearing the trailhead, a man and his son caught up to me and I asked him if he could give me a ride into Independence, which he agreed to.  From Independence, I caught a shuttle to Yosemite and eventually got picked up in Merced.  A cool story I want to end this on is sometime before I got dropped off in Independence, my camera fell between the man's jeep seats and I thought it was gone forever (I realized I didn't have it in Yosemite).

For the heck of it, I decided to create a Craigslist post in the San Diego area inquiring about a hitchhiker's lost camera, and I posted similar threads on the Whitney Portal Store and Whitney Zone message boards.  What happened?  I received an email a couple days later by a Whitney Portal Store message board member (an Inyo National Forest Park Ranger) with a link in it to a Fresno Bee article about a lost camera.  The guy remembered I said I was from Fresno and called the Bee!  Marek Warszawski, a sports writer and the Out There outdoors columnists wrote an article to see if they could find the owner, and when I emailed him and got it back, he wrote a follow up blog about it, explaining that I used my middle name with the guy at the Road's End permit station, that's why they couldn't locate me.  I was going to post the links but they are nonexistant now, but the point is to emphasis the fact I stated in my first blog post that it is a sort of culture of backpackers, and the generosity and camaraderie is unbelievable.

http://journeytojmt.blogspot.com/

http://jmtbook.com/?cat=3

Highs and Lows of a Spontaneous Adventure

I have decided to write a blog about backpacking. I will recall experiences and reflect on them in my blog posts.

The first story is the 2010 Mount Whitney climb and snow-blindness fiasco.  I was car-less and feeling adventurous, so I took a bus to Bakersfield and hitchhiked my way up to the Whitney Portal.  I bummed three rides in the process, even with my ice axe clearly visible strapped to my pack.  What kind of psycho would pick up a psycho hitchhiking with an ice axe?  It's common in that area (eastern Sierras, Highway 395) for hikers to bum rides.  All the people that picked me up understood the tradition and culture, except some Frenchman that was on vacation.  I happened upon him taking scenic pictures along the road and struck up a conversation.  He didn't think I was crazy, and offered me a ride as far east as Ridgecrest, which I accepted.

Eventually I made it to Whitney Portal.  It only took two days.  I didn't have a permit, so I hiked up into the mountains to avoid questions and payments required at the Portal.  I froze that night.  Then I was amazed by people hiking up to Mount Whitney early in the morning - early, like 3 a.m. early - in rows, slowly, clinking and clattering and echoing.  I defrosted and followed suit.  It was a harsh, lovely experience being wet, tired, hungry, and at the mercy of foul weather.  I made it to the summit of Mount Whitney later that day, and spent the night on top solo!

It was then that I discovered I became snowblinded.  My eyes were a mess, and burned horribly.  I didn't bring sunglasses, and my eyes baked at that high altitude doubly so by the reflected snow.  I tried to sleep but I couldn't, I just rolled around between rocks all night trying to keep warm.  The cold was killer, the wind was whipping, and clouds engulfed the mountaintop.  The air was so thin, I kept gasping in my despair and almost paniced (almost).

Needless to say I made it back down the next day, thanks to some girl that gave me her sunglasses as I passed her party early in the morning.  I still remember her face vividly when she saw my eyes and I told her where I'd been all night.  Fun times, experience of a lifetime.