I arrived in Kennedy Meadows on 12 May. Traditionally this is a place where hikers pick up a bear canister and some extra gear for the Sierra. In high snow years it becomes the central location for people to decide to flip—go hike another portion of trail before returning—and where the real fear mongering begins. With two restaurants and an outfitter in town hikers don’t have much to do but sit around and speculate about what might lie ahead.
My first two days in Kennedy Meadows were pleasant enough. I made lots of new friends and said goodbye to some old ones as they decided to flip or take time off to go take a road trip. By day three I was starting to go stir crazy. A storm was rolling through the southern Sierra and the group I was with wanted to wait until Friday before hiking out. There were some signs that there might be intermittent weather after that but waiting forever just wasn’t an option.
While hanging out in town I made several additions to my pack. The aforementioned bear canister, required in the National Parks, was the largest and most annoying of them. I also picked up new snow equipment for the snow: crampons, ice axe, gloves, and pants. I made the decision to stick with my trail running shoes for this stretch and see how that might work.
My mother had mailed my bear canister with some food to supplement my resupply. Between the outfitter and my resupply from home I had ten days worth of food to make it from Kennedy Meadows to Kearsarge Pass. Given the long nature of this stretch I decided to err on the side of bringing less food since it was such a significant food carry. I allotted myself a bowl of granola for breakfast, four fruit leathers, a complete cookie, and a cliff bar for snacks throughout the day, a Knorr rice side (red beans and rice or the queso rice) for dinner with a salmon fillet and some cashews for dinner then a Milky Way bar for dessert.
When Friday rolled around a couple of us were still waiting for packages so our group, now at nine hikers, decided to make it a short day. The bulk of the group hiked out early, around 2 pm, and we would catch up when our gear arrived.
We didn’t get hiking until 5 pm. With ten days of food and all the new snow gear packs were heavy but we hiked hard and fast. After two hours we caught up with the group. It was getting cold so we quickly pitched tents and turned in.
Our group making our way into the Sierra.
The next morning as we packed up a group of boys from Mississippi joined us. My understanding was that they wanted to find people more comfortable in the snow because, well because Mississippi.
The group deliberated about which campsites we might make it to. We picked a closer and a farther site, agreeing to shoot for the father but have the closer be our fallback plan. With everyone moving at their own paces the group quickly split into smaller groups.
It wasn’t until early afternoon that Forage, Mule, and I found snow. Fortunately it was cold so the snow was relatively easy to walk on. We caught up with Claire as the snow started to get more serious. Clouds were rolling in looking quite ominous and it seemed safer for us to all stick together.
Our normal rate of travel limited by snow travel we decided in the late afternoon to stop at the closer of the two campsites. There were a couple patches of dry ground which meant we might be totally surrounded by snow but none of the hassle of actual snow camping. We started making dinner and waiting for the rest of the group.
Snow camping while avoiding snow.
The next morning everything was covered in a new layer of snow, nothing too deep but new snow nonetheless and it was still coming down. The group still hadn’t caught up but we figured that by our virtue of being the smaller of the two groups we could continue to operate on our own without feeling to responsible to them. We hiked on into the snow.
My first morning hiking in the snow.
We had weather on and off all day. Fortunately again the base layer of snow was still hard and compacted so it was relatively easy hiking as we did our first large pass up to 10,600 feet.
A cold world above 10,000 feet.
The afternoon started to clear up and we really hammered the miles. At camp we caught up with the same group of Canadians who I had hiked through the snow into Idyllwild with when we were assailed by the wind some 500 miles ago. It is one of those endearing aspects of the trail—you never know who you’ll see when. The impermanence of life and experience is always present. Parting at lunch maybe the last goodbye you say to a person but you also never know who might be just around the bend.
We camped away from them on another patch of dry ground to keep the streak alive.
The next morning we woke to find not a cloud in the sky.
A beautiful day in the high Sierra.
As the day started to warm up snow at lower elevations turned to slush. We were slipping and sliding everywhere trying to work our way up to our next big pass—Cottonwood Pass.
Even at high elevations the snow was still soft and every step was knee deep.
When we got to Cottonwood Pass we tossed all of our wet gear out to dry. The air was still so I didn’t bother to toss rocks on anything. Suddenly, with the air still motionless around us, the wind began to rip at Forage’s rain fly and suddenly sucked it straight up into the sky. We sat for a split second watching this before my quilt flew straight up into the air followed shortly by my tent. As my tent sailed up higher and higher into the sky my heart sank and I wondered how I would survive the night with no shelter and no insulation. Replacing it would be expensive too. That was going to be another issue. Would I have to share a sleeping bag and tent with someone else for the next several days? That would be a huge hassle.
Suddenly it began to fall. Tracking the tent as if I was back in the outfield I charged barefoot across the snow and gravel. I caught it clean, called the batter out, and proceeded to run around like a mad man. The relief I felt having my shelter in my arms when seconds before it’s future had been so unsure cannot be overstated.
The air was again still so we tried to dry out our belongings again this time anchoring then down with large rocks. None of Claire’s belonging were tampered with by the wind though her tent was right next to mine and all my socks were sitting exactly where I had layed them earlier. We have yet to come up with an explanation for this phenomenon.
Claire, Mule, and Forage (left to right) on a ridge walk after Cottonwood Pass.
As we hiked that day water was scarce and the sun was beating down on us. The map listed numerous streams but every time we crossed one there was nothing there. The Sierra have notoriously difficult water crossings and ample water sources in most years but we couldn’t even find water to cross. All the streams were either frozen or so far below the snow there was no indication that a stream was ever there. We even walked over a couple lakes with no luck finding water. It was looking more and more like we may have to melt some snow, a tedious undertaking.
There is certainly a great irony that exists when one is out of water but also surrounded by snow everywhere. We desperately need water and water is also the root of almost all of our problems. This much is not lost on me.
Mule and Forage cross over a frozen lake.
In the afternoon it started to cool down early and we were able to pick up the pace substantially.
Looking at the weather we knew we were going to have to make a decision about Mount Whitney soon. In 2013 I was part of a group that planned a trip to Whitney that summer. I ended up being unable to go but the rest of my group went and had an outstanding time. I was somewhat frustrated I couldn’t go and ever since then I’ve been yearning to go summit the contiguous United States’ highest peak.
Forage crosses a snow covered meadow.
We looked up a weather report on my GPS and it indicated snow every single day for the next five days with increasing precipitation each day. Doing Whitney would be possible but it would jeopardize the passes that followed. We agreed to make that decision the next day.
Claire crosses the most difficult creek crossing we’ve had to date.
The next morning started off with near perfect conditions again. We relentlessly mocked the weather report all morning as we approached the Whitney Junction. But shortly after noon conditions changed and the blue sky was crowded out by clouds moving in. By the mid afternoon clouds had ominously blocked out the sun. Our decision was made for us. Whitney was going to be a no-go and we’d just have to push on to Forester Pass. Having to walk past the junction and save Whitney for another day was a difficult decision for me but I knew it was the right one. The upside to all this was that by not summiting Whitney we all had a one and a half day’s of food surplus so I no longer had to ration snacks and dinners so strictly.
Afternoon clouds moving in
Forester is the most notorious of the passes on the PCT and also the trail’s high point at 13,200 feet. It is a granite wall jutting out of the valley floor that features a wall of ice hikers must cross that lasts late into the season even during low snow years.
The morning we started hiking toward Forester there was minimal precipitation but after an hour of hiking we found ourselves in near white out conditions.
Slowly working our way through the blizzard to Forester.
As we hiked on conditions got worse and worse. We were climbing, that much was certain, but beyond that it was a challenge to ascertain any information about our whereabouts. We were above the tree line for most of the morning so there was no visible vegetation and the snow was so thick we could not see the mountains that surrounded us. We were resigned to endlessly climbing white hills into a white sky. The wind was blowing snow side ways covering the inside and outside of my glasses making it hard to even follow Forage’s tracks just a few feet in front of me.
Forage at the approach to Forester.
Suddenly out of nowhere Forage pipes up, “I think that’s Forester.”
It took considerable work to see it through the storm but sure enough he was right. There was Forester.
We sat at the base discussing what we should do given the conditions and agreed to give it a shot. There were no dissenters.
We strapped on our crampons, traded our trekking poles for ice axes, and off we went.
Immediately we began the steep climb through feet of powder. Forage was first in line and I was second. Stepping in each of his tracks I could feel how unstable the powder was. As put my weight into the next step I watched it give out the side beneath my foot. I began to try and pack down every step before trusting it with my weight. It was an arduous process doing this for every single step.
Forage leading the way up the switchbacks to Forester Pass.
After what seemed like an eternity we made it to the first of the switchbacks. It was reassuring to know we were on a flat trail even if it had waist deep powder and the consequences of a fall were now much greater with all the rocks around. Still, slow going was the name of the game as the powder there was just as unstable as before.
Myself, Claire, and Mule working our way toward the wall of ice. (Christoph “Forage” Lee).
Switchback after switchback, hour after hour we worked to clear waist deep snow and create solid steps. At the end of the first set of switchbacks is a long stretch of trail leading to the ice. It requires, at points, getting on ones hands and knees to crawl along the trail. As I did so my pack scraped along the granite above me, pushing me out towards the wall of ice. This was the second most terrifying moment for m.
Forage chopping steps in the ice.
The moment when I really stood there and had that deep conversation with myself was when Forage chopped the first steps onto the ice then stood there. Was it worth the risk? Why were we doing this? But then I remembered these were the kind of character defining moments everyone likes to talk about and now it was time to be about it. So I got after it and started moving even though I couldn’t feel my toes at this point.
Climbing straight up towards the cornice (Christoph “Forage” Lee).
Thanks to Forage’s steps once I was on the ice it felt like I was home free. I even had the energy to be a smart ass to him as he tried to give helpful advice up there. Across the ice all the was left was to climb straight up and over the cornice.
Some brief visibility coming down the north side of Forester.
Coming over the top visibility went from bad to worse. We debated sliding down the north face of the pass into the valley but we had almost no depth perception and couldn’t see if there was a cliff or something right below us.
Forage and I on the north side of Forester.
I interjected as we stood around talking at the top that if we didn’t get moving I was about to become a liability—having lost sensation in my toes I knew frostbite was becoming a real and present danger. In retrospect I’m very lucky to have avoided that. I’d assumed that if we were hiking and moving that it would be almost impossible to get frost bite. Blood is moving through the feet and that should keep them warm right? It seemed like the big threat was overnight when hikers stop moving but at this point there have been several hikers who got frostbite during the day while hiking.
Forage gets water from a stream.
The walk down was brutally difficult. Powder was deep enough that every step was like doing high knees leaving the hip flexors totally toasted. After the three and a half hours to go nine tenths of a mile on Forester and a morning that saw zero streams we were all getting somewhat desperate for water. As snow again made travel difficult the one thing we needed was to find water. Stream after stream listed on the map did we pass with no indication that there was actually a stream. We made fast time even though we were all exhausted as we tried to find a water source. It took several miles after the pass to actually find a creek we could get water from. At this point no one was bothering to filter water anymore. Drinking that ice cold water, knowing all that was behind us, I was at peace.
We made camp in snow for the first time of the trip. We were unconcerned with that fact as it felt like we were home free. The next day we would be in town.
Clearing clouds on a ridge.
That next morning we got up late. Most mornings were hiking right around dawn but knowing it would be a shorter day we didn’t even get up until 8 am. We lazily headed out towards the trail junction to Kearsarge Pass. It didn’t start snowing until we had to climb the pass that morning. For a short while we could clearly see some of the nearby ridges—something we’d be deprived for days.
More good visibility at Kearsarge.
At the top of Kearsarge we were back to whiteout conditions with waist deep powder. We walked several miles and thousands of feet down through that to the parking lot, excited to head to Bishop.
Riding to town after a long week.
When we made it to the parking lot at the trailhead the parking lot was empty. We sought shelter in the pit toilets. It wasn’t my first choice but it was the only shelter from the snow. We sat for several hours texting our families from my GPS to see if they could order us an Uber as we didn’t have any reception. Texting from the GPS takes forever and trying to coordinate travel this way was taking forever. Eventually a man came up scouting the area for game and let us pile into his truck. We were going to town.
Now in Bishop I’ve made a single but significant gear change. I traded my trail running shoes for boots and gaiters and that will make all the difference. Those unfortunate hiker’s experience with frostbite and my close call were enough to persuade me I needed some form of superior foot protection.
We plan to return back to the mountains Tuesday. We can see them from here, constantly enveloped in clouds but I know people who have left while I’ve been here and none of them have turned around so far. I know what kind of conditions lay ahead and I’m chomping at the bit to get back out there. If things go according to plan we will stop in Mammoth Lakes, Bridgeport, then South Lake Tahoe. And I couldn’t be more excited.