Into the South Sierra

After taking our much needed break on the Kern river for a few days, we made our way back to the trail via Walker pass and resumed hiking. In this last stretch of desert, the heat continued to force us to hike during the night, primarily in the interest of water. In a few days time we found ourselves entering rock house basin, where high desert transitioned into the South Sierra Nevadas. We stopped into the Kennedy Meadows general store where we made our last resupply before entering the long awaited mountain kingdom. Here we got some more warm clothes, micro-spikes for added traction, and a ten day's supply worth of food.

With packs loaded to the brim, we made 14 miles from Kennedy meadows before reaching the Kern river at 8000ft -in contrast to where we had taken our trail-vacation at 3000.... Instead of low desert, we now found ourselves in large sweeping alpine meadows, well vegetated and abundant with water. In the distance we occasionally steal glimpses of snow capped peaks, one of which is Mt. Whitney. As we continue to head North, the peaks become more prominent, and our elevation steadily increases. Three days from Kennedy Meadows and we hit our first true alpine lake called Chicken Spring. Positioned just below tree line at 11,200ft, the lake is lined with ancient fox-tail pine, gnarled and twisted from the relentless wind. After spending the night next to the frigid waters, we crossed the border into Sequoia National Park and descended into Crabtree meadows at the base of Mt. Whitney. We made camp in one of the most beautiful meadows we'd ever seen, adjacent to the meandering Crabtree creek, enclosed by 13-14,000ft peaks rising straight up out of the valley.

On the anniversary of two months on the trail, we woke up shortly after 2:00am and began packing our things for Mt. Whitney. By 3:30 we left our base camp and began climbing. As we began to catch signs of first light, we hiked up on Timberline lake, the first of many along the way. Shortly after we arrived at Guitar lake, and here the initial pinks and oranges of the sunrise began to come on. From the lake we switched backed up the scree slopes of the west face. High above tree line now, the sun began to illuminate the basin which we had hiked up from, and the lakes that sat like nested reflecting pools. By 8:30 we reached highest point in the lower 48 at 14,505ft. Despite the elevation, we felt light without our packs, and experienced no problems with mountain sickness or even shortness of breath. A good contrast to the last time I was above 14,000ft. As to be expected, the summit was quite windy, though the views were well worth it. After enjoying our thirty minutes of solitude on the top of the world (complete with a 100 year old stone wind shelter) we began making our way back down, passing the hoards of day hikers out for the weekend. We spent the rest of the afternoon resting and relaxing at our base camp before getting back on the trail the next day.

As our good friend Sherpa had advised, mountain passes are best hit in the morning, when the snow is still frozen and you can avoid post-holing your way down the trail. With this in mind, we only hiked 9 miles after Whitney, positioning ourselves at tree line just below Forester Pass, the highest point that the PCT officially intersects (Whitney was just a side trip). The following morning we were out early, wandering the lunar landscape above tree line as the sun began to make its appearance. Spotted with frozen lakes, snow fields and scree slopes, it was easy to imagine that we were on another planet devoid of life. From the pass, we stood on the dividing line of two major parks, To the South, Sequoia National park, to the North, King's Canyon. As we came down the North side, the snow fields were much larger, necessitating the use of our spikes. We quickly became surrounded by peaks that seemed reminiscent of the Alps, only the bottom of the canyon was low enough to support trees at roughly 9500ft. Over the course of one of the best days we've had on the trail, we traversed the canyon, only to go up Kearsarge pass on the opposing side. From here we left trail to make our way to the town of Bishop, where our next resupply awaits. While it requires 7.5 miles of off-trail hiking and 50 miles of hitchhiking (one way), it is our only option in these isolated mountains. That's all for now, but there is still so much more to come.

Cheers from the trail!
Stump & Mandalynn

Walking Across the Mojave

Leaving Hiker town, we knew we would be in for hot dry desert, with water sources far and few between. We left a couple of hours before the sunrise, and soon found ourselves walking on an open aquaduct flowing abundantly with water between its concrete banks. After a few more miles the aquaduct became sealed off taking the appearence of a concrete road winding through the desert, up into the hills and through the wind farms. As the heat of the day began to set in, we were forced to take whatever shade we could find, even if it meant lying in the few feet of headspace between the aquaduct and a concrete bridge leading over it. With memorial day around the corner, we had good luck with trail magic in the area, being treated to cold sodas and even hard boiled eggs. After a long day of 24 miles, we spent the night in Tylerhorse Canyon, where we decided it was time to transition into night hiking. We spent the following day trying to rest in the shade, but had a hard time amongst the talkative hikers. After waiting out some stormy skies in the afternoon, we began hiking around 9:00pm. As we climbed by headlamp through the night, we enjoyed being some of the only hikers on the trail for a short while. As the first signs of light began to appear around 4:30am, we found ourselves stumbling in our steps, in desperate need of some rest. We quickly layed out our sleeping bag on an uneven slope beside the trail and promptly fell asleep. After a couple of hours we woke up shortly after the sun had risen, and hiked 4 more miles to Willow Springs road. Still exuasted but able to stand up-right, we hitchhiked into Tehatchapi with a hang gliding enthisiast in town for a special event. With nothing better to do before the event began, he drove us around to pick up more stove fuel, water, and groceries, before driving us back to the trailhead where he had found us. We quickly set up camp beneath the shade of some large oaks and took a very well deserved rest.

For the next three nights we followed this schedule, though we found it easier to begin hiking closer to 5:00pm, walking through the sunset and into the night. While hiking in 60 degree weather is very enjoyable, the disadvantages of night hiking cannot be ignored as you miss many of the defining characteristics of the landscape that surrounds you. Also, there were times at night where we found it difficult to follow an unfamiliar trail and repeatedly got lost. In this light, night hiking is more about survival than recreation, but when you're hiking across the Mojave with highs in the 100's, self preservation is the priority.

Our third night we pushed ourselves hard and hiked 20 miles in 9 hours. As we usually take a siesta to break up longer days, it normally takes us much longer to hike this far. We payed the price the following day with sore feet and muscles, Mandalynn's shin being particularly problematic. We continued with our new routine into the following night, but only made 9 miles to the Blue Robin Spring before the pain in her shin prevented us from going any further. Thankfully we were at a reliable water source with plenty of shade during the day beneath the pines. It felt great to get something resembling a full night's rest for a change, as we slept late into the morning. After a full day of relaxation, we decided to try and push on to Lander's Meadow Camp, the last reliable water source for 42 miles. Despite the rumors we previously heard, this section has been very diverse and beautiful. As we ridge walk along the high desert mountains between 5000 & 6000ft, we see large pine, lush meadows filled with tall knee-high grass that has not yet withered, and the occasional cow. After we arrived at Lander's Camp late in the evening, we decided we needed to take some time off rather than push through a 42 mile dry stretch with a possible injury.

The following day we got the word from some fellow hikers that some mutual friends back at Blue Robin Spring had coordinated a ride out on account of a case of tendonitis. In time we got a hold of the trail angel as well and arranged for a time and a meeting place to be extricated at 5 miles away. Before we could make it halfway there, we recieved word that our original ride had bailed, but someone else would be at the meeting spot at 7 to pick us up. As we began to drop several thousand feet into Kelso valley, we were surprised to hear the sound of an ATV coming our way. As the woman came to a quick stop beside us, she promptly asked Mandalynn if she was the injured hiker. Confused and a little bewildered, she responded "Maybe?" After a brief conversation our friend ripped back up the mountain to grab her truck (she loves any excuse to take her quad out for a spin). In a short while she returned, and after we more fully explained our situation, she kindly volunteered to help track down the other group of injured hikers as well. Our exploration of the mountain roads was cut short when we came across a large pine across the road. We turned around and made another attempt from the other side of the mountain but to no avail. In the mean time we learned all about how this woman lived atop the mountain, totally off the grid, raising her quadripalegic son with the help of her partner. As we began to run low on time, we at last got dropped off at the meeting spot, quite literally in the middle of nowhere. 7:00 quickly passed and we didn't see another car until 7:30. A red van pulled up and as we leaned in the window, hundreds of gallons of water crammed into every nook and cranny could be seen. Turns out he was refilling a water cache along the 42 mile dry stretch. After we explained our situation yet again, we agreed to let him go about his bussiness, but asked him to stop if we were still on the side of the road when he headed out. We didn't see another car until he reappeared around 9:30pm. Without a clear alternative, we hopped in his van and decided upon a destination for the evening. As we had heard through the grape vine earlier in the day, the Chimney fire had just broken out 50 miles due North of us, closing a good stretch of trail. Consequently we decided to go to Walker pass campground for the night, marking the edge of the closure. In the morning we were able to hitch a ride down the pass to the nearby town of Lake Isabella, where we stayed for a couple of days as we followed the status of the fire. As one hiker put it, "It looks like your options are either burning deserts above 100 degrees, or post-holing everyday in the Sierras."

While the fire has now been contained and the trail is set to reopen in a couple days, we are in no rush to jump into the heavy snow pack of the Sierra, only 50 miles away by trail. As we continue to let Mandalynn's foot take some time off, we are spending a few extra days on the Kern river, just North of Kernville. With shade and fast moving snow melt from the mountains to the north, it is only a small preview of what is to come.

Cheers from the trail!
Stump & Mandalynn

Hiker House Hopping

After leaving Hiker Heaven in good spirits, we were fortunate enough to enjoy overcast skies without the threat of rain. Despite being in the desert, this kept the temperatures down and made the hiking much more bearable. Two days and 24 miles from Hiker Heaven we found ourselves at yet another fire closure. With an opportunity to stay at a another trail house -this one called Casa de Luna, we decided to take a day to stratigize and create a plan of action. After catching the first car that went by, before we could get in a white mini van flew up and asked if we were headed into Casa de Luna. It was none other than Terry Anderson herself, the owner and operator -along with her husband "Papa Joe." We made our introductions then made our way to her house. With a much more passive form of management, this hiker house was considerably more relaxed than thd last. As one hiker put it, "The maximum stay at Hiker Heaven is two nights, at Casa de Luna, this is the minimum stay." With complementary coffee and pancakes every morning, "Taco Salad," for dinner each night, it was hard to leave. As it took us, and most other hikers, one lunar cycle to get here, this is where the house derives its name. We camped in the backyard, where dozens of isolated little campsites could be found amongst the jungle of mature manzanita.

After meeting our two-night minimum, we hit the pavement and made our 13 mile road walk around the fire closure. Along the way we passed by a wolf santuary where we were well recieved with a symphony of howls. As we walked by we met a couple of the care takers walking with their wolves. We stopped and talked with them for a good while, introducing us to the wolves as well. Freedom was a rescue from Palmer, Alaska while his counterpart Takota, the alpha male, was from the Mckenzie valley. Shortly after we left the wolf sanctuary, we came across an ostrich farm where we once again stopped and admired these strange creatures. After we finally departed the road, we only made a couple more miles to the upper shakes campground where we called it early and made fresh nettle tea.

The next day we found ourselves in beautiful oak savannas, decorated with hues of yellow, orange, red and green, as the mats of miner's lettuce faded from wilted to thriving. Soon after we hit the 500 mile mark, leaving the bad taste of 90's pop hits in our heads for the remainder of the day.

After another early rise in the dewy desert morning, we made our way to Hiker Town, our last resupply before Kennedy Meadows in 180 miles. The property appears to be the set of an old western movie, complete with a post office, school house, doctor's office, flower shop and so on; prop guns and dust can be found everywhere. While we will make an early gettaway in the morning, we will soon transition into night hiking to cross this desert they call the Mojave.

Cheers from the trail!
Stump & Mandalynn