High Sierras, California
By Mike Henderson
“Ke Kaahawe” of ’92
July 13, 1996
ELL. It’s a little late, due to our accountants reviewing the books earlier
this week, but I now have a little time to report on our weekend jaunt on
the PCT with Rainman, Blue Man Fiction, Bigfoot, et al. This is a tad lengthy . . . I have to say that I nearly didn’t come back. I would have given up all the cheeseburgers and pizza that I would have eaten the rest of the way just for the chance to hike the rest of the way. Those of you who have thru-hiked know the strength of friendships that can grow on the trail over many months -- and these were three of the people I had thru-hiked with on the AT in ’92. As joyous as it was to see these people again and enjoy their company in the woods for three days, it was that much harder to leave them when the time came. But let’s not get ahead of myself.
Wednesday, July 3, 1996
Got a call in the afternoon from Rainman from the Dardanelles Resort (AYCE
bar-b-cue :) ) about 25 miles below Sonora Pass; pleading for bug dope -- the
emigrant wilderness was solid mosquitoes 24 hours a day. Drove up and met them at about 8 p.m., and surprise surprise there were 8 thru-hikers! (or at least long section hikers). Present were: Rainman, Blueman Fiction, Bigfoot, (all AT 92), Fiddlehead (AT 94?), Yippee and Yahoo (most of AT 94), Blister
Sister, and Bulldog. With the predominance of ATers, they all had trail
names, which is rare on the PCT.
After reunions and hugs, relishing that
thru-hiker smell, drove back down 20 miles to Pinecrest Lake and Royal
Robbins’ cabin. Explanation: this is not a remote hunter’s cabin (which
they were expecting); this cabin I would love for my own home -- heated slate
floor, industrial 6-burner gas range, sauna, showers with no water
conservation heads, darts, etc... It was dutifully dubbed the RR Shack.
Huge pasta dinner with plenty to drink (if you know Rainman...) lots of
conversation and catching up, bed about midnight.
Thursday, July 4
Spent the day lounging, eating, doing laundry, showering again, and
shuttling car and Fiddlehead’s van over to Ebbett’s Pass. Spent the night
just east of Sonora Pass around a campfire, eating, singing along with
Fiddlehead on his backpacker’s guitar and Rainman on harmonica.
Fiddlehead is an excellent musician -- earned them all free beers all night
at Kennedy Meadows for playing the piano with the band, blind drunk. In the
morning, the band gave him 1/3 of the night’s tips.
No finer way to spend the Fourth of July.
Friday, July 5 (9 miles)
Out of Sonora Pass -- the last time the trail and these hikers will be at
10,000 ft. (they had also just passed the 1,000-mile mark). Views back to the
treacherous descent into Sonora Pass (see Cindy Ross’ book). It ain’t easy,
but is glissadable (Bigfoot and Bulldog did this), and there is a blue blaze
(which everyone else did).
More skiing/glissading/butt sliding down to one of the forks of the Carson
River for lunch -- thought the bugs were gonna be bad, but we were either at
the right elevation, or the worst of the season is past.
Easy ambling down the Carson to a great campsite for the night. (12th night in a row Rainman has spent beside roaring water). Observation: many of the thruhikers have
not used a filter since entering the High Sierra. With so much snow melt,
they figured the water was good. So far, no one has gotten ill. I told them
that most of the Sierra has seen cattle or sheep at some point in the last
80 years, not to mention horses, and that I, for one, would not risk it.
Miriam had also just taken a parasitology class at vet school, and was
appropriately paranoid!
At this point, Fiddlehead, Bulldog, Blue Man and Yippee and Yahoo went on a
few more miles after dinner. They were heading for Fiddlehead’s van a day
early for some r&r and gambling in South Lake Tahoe. So now it was just
Rainman, Blister Sister, Bigfoot, and me and Miriam, (Ke Kaahawe and Little
Debbie). Just five of us to share rainman’s daily post hiking elixir -- 151
and gatorade, just like a whiskey sour!
Saturday, July 6 (13 miles)
Away from all the granite of the High Sierras and into the volcanic rocks --
basalt and rhyolite. temps in the low 80s, breezes, not a cloud in the
sky. Overtaken by Roger Carpenter, an ALDHA-West board member
thru-hiking this year. Met Mike and Joanne at lunch, another young couple
thru-hiking. They said about 20 or 30 thru-hikers are a day to a week
behind them. Saw the first non-thru-hikers any of them had seen on the trail
since Whitney. (Thru-hiker season in the Sierras is about 2 weeks ahead of
the general hiking season, it seems, because many people don’t want to deal
with the snow). Lunches are so long and leisurely -- 13 miles is easily
done, but I wouldn’t want to do much more for an extended period without
another week of “warming up.” Our first campsite was washed out by early
season floods, so we walked another mile to a pleasnt meadow, with, again,
few bugs. Some incredible weathered volcanic formations hung from the
cliffs above the campsite -- the guidebook describes them as “surreal.”
Right before bedtime, three more thru-hikers showed up and decided to pitch
camp with us. Bigfoot knew them, and they were psyched to finally meet
Rainman and Blister Sister. Registers are few and far between, mostly at
the PO’s, and then you usually don’t have alot of time to write much. The
PCT grapevine is small, but appears to be growing rapidly.
Sunday, July 7 (9 miles; last day)
Brought down to earth early as the three thru-hikers were up and off before
the tent was down -- it’s amazing how those routines develop over time. no
matter how much hiking I’ve done, it always takes many days to fall into a
comfortable, speedy routine for morning and evening chores. All this time,
Rainman et al have graciously slowed themselves down to accommodate Miriam
and me. And they’re chomping at the bit to start cruising now that the
trail is mostly snow free.
More surreal landscape, and many day- and weekend-hikers before finally
reaching the trailhead at Ebbetts Pass at noon. So hard to leave; even
after three days, the car looked clunky and unfamiliar. All I really needed
was my boots, my pack and a map north. The 5-hour drive home was not
appealing (but a cheeseburger was!). Left with promises of sending
dehydrated veggies to future mail drops, and a plan to meet bigfoot at
Castella at the end of July to climb Shasta.
The weekend was way too short, but we spent a few precious hours in good
company, saw some new country, delivered ample quantities of trail magic and
came out of the mountains refreshed and renewed, with even more
determination to hike the PCT when the opportunity arises in a few years.
Until then, I’ll keep reading these lists.
Happy hiking
~ Mike “Ke Kaahawe” and Miriam “Little Debbie -- Lucky Pierre’s ex-wife”
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