So hard the end – the walk

JMT Novo Final Section: Muir Trail Ranch A Happy Isles, 105 miles of 255.

Even Selden and Silver demand respect

It is easy to assume that the most difficult is behind you when you get to MTR going to Novo. After all, we had fulfilled Whitney and crossed the six highest passes in the JMT, all near or above 12,000 feet. Selden and Silver lie between MTR and Red’s Meadow. They are less than 11,000 feet. And the path has soft ground stretching to calm his feet. Objectively easier. And yet … that was not my experience.

Hiker Hunger had monopolized us. I was carrying more than 40 pounds. For the first time since it was at least a younger decade. And the rise from MTR to Seldon Pass was still more than 3000 feet. By the time we arrive at Lake Upper Salley Keyes, where the trees are thinned and the granite rises, the dark clouds married stridency in the passage. We retired to the lower lake and install the camp in Los Pinos just when the rain and lightning rolled in the drain. A short day, but we were wet and tired and we still had nine full days to walk 100 miles.

Dawn was clear and smokeless after the rain. We walk 15 miles to Mono Creek. I struggled enough water because I no longer had a tank with a hose. My CNOC 3L had renounced the ghost, so I turned my 2L tank into a dirty water bag, leaving only a 1L smart bottle. I struggled to drink from the bottle while walking, except when the path was soft and above all level. To avoid stopping, I kept water more than I should. That was also the day I washed my mouth with soap.

Experienced yes, but a puppet anyway

I am not known for my organization, mechanical skills or for being kind to the team (hopefully, yes, with people). For example, I do not double my store, the filling. I can launch a justification, that the folding folding results in more wear on the same line, but the truth is that I have never had the patience to fold a tent perfectly enough to fit in its bag. My stove has had a loose arm for the last two years. There are almost always loose straps in my package. From the right distance, I can be comically (crazy) predictable, walking walking directly to the oscillating board that everyone can see.

So it was with my powder soap and electrolytes. I packed them in the same type of container. I labeled the ziplock bags but not the containers themselves. Jody took a look and said: «You’re going to mix them.»

And I did. I thought the container that came in my refueling was electrolytes. I think I drank obediently half a liter, noticing that the taste was off, but ignoring it until I finally decided that something was wrong. The comedy was full. I left my water and filled. I took two white dust containers and tried each of them over and over again, trying to discern the difference.

Jody seemed fun and disgusted. A meticulous person would never make such a mistake and could not understand why he had not done something when he pointed out. There I was, immersing my finger in a plastic bowl, then the other, tasting, screwing my mouth. I could not notice the difference, because both were soap! He took me 24 hours to find my electrolytes.

My hardest day
The walk for Silver Pass to the impressive Lake Virginia (13.5 miles of Creek Mono) was the most challenging climb of the trip for me. Each step was one that I did not want to take. A smoke mist. He sifted on the ridges. The pleasure of walking disappeared. I forced forward, and my body reimbursed the affront with a feeling of being sick. I just wanted to go to bed. Was it dehydration? Had the soapy water drunk? Isn’t there enough fuel? The smoke in my lungs?

Lake Virginia

I was very happy to finally stop, collect water from the lake, sit in a rock in our kitchen looking at the moon getting up early on the crest. I sat there for a long time after my tasks ended, looking at the shadows of deeper ridges, the bright strip of the lake reminds me why I had come.

Lake Virginia in the moonlight

Back in the rhythm
The next day, the PEP in my step returned. The joy of moving my body through space. The smoke lay slightly in the air as we descended into the purple lake, where the smoked appearance of fog quickly moved through water.

Purple lake

I was careful to hydrate and fuel, even when it meant stopping more frequently. We walked 15 miles, the rolling band is easy once we left the high country, the smoke gradually met as the day progressed, clinging to volcanic red cones, ski trails in the gigantic mountain.

Just before Red’s Meadow, we entered the destruction left by the 2012 wind storm, the firs broke in half, trunks like dead Sentinels.

We arrive at Red’s Meadow in time for hamburgers at 2:30 and again at 5:30, ice cream and beer. Snacks Pancakes, sausages, potatoes and yogurt in the morning. Caloric hoarding. Save the food we carry. We discovered that Scott there made him spend another night in our company, he introduced Chris, another retiree with which we met in Selden Pass and had spent every recent night.

In the morning after breakfast, we toured Devil’s postpile with Chris before returning to the JMT around 10 in the morning. Jody took off at a dizzying pace. I assumed that I still wanted to make Lake Garnett very announced, 13 miles away. He had renounced that thought. But I kept the best I could, dreaming of a night there and then a nero at Thousand Island Lakes. Swimming visions, laundry, yoga, reading next to the water with rock islands full of pine and steep peaks. It didn’t turn out.

Garnett Lake

Wind and too smoke

When we ran into Lake Garnett around 5 pm, there were hikers camped everywhere. Too many at clearly illegal points. The massive banner formed the backdrop of the lake. We had difficulty finding a legal place and ended up trusting the kindness of strangers, Anya («Al Dente») and Jeremy, who invite us to establish a few meters from their store in the rhythm wind.

Garnett Lake

The wind worsened all night, stirring our tents, blowing dust under the fly. A layer of sand on my bag and equipment. A dense cloud of smoke from Guilford’s fire. None of us slept. In the morning, Banner Peak was a stain in a sandy brown mist. We could feel smoke in our lungs. It was quite bad that I mentioned the rescue even though we were so close to Yosemite.

Leaving the Garnett Lake Basin, I put my k95 for the first time. We met hikers who came out of the field due to smoke. They had access to cars to flee to the coast. But the closest exits, Lake June, of June, had severe air quality warnings, which means that we would not be better, except inside a hotel with well filtered air. If we could find one.

We press. The Achilles tendon hurt. I needed a break after a long day chain. However, Thousand Island Lake lay in a fog of smoke and dust beaten by the wind.

Mil Lakes of Islands

Do not invite at all. I limited Rush Creek, where we found a place out of the wind. I took a nap. When I woke up, I got into a pool under a small waterfall. Back in the camp, I washed with soap and soap that had warmed the sun. I washed clothes and dried up in the sun. That night was clear. We saw the last kiss of light on the spikes east of Donohue Pass, optimistic that smoke would dissipate.

Instead, there was an investment. Each one woke up in the middle of the night, the smell of smoke everywhere. Jody told me later that he had put his mask. I didn’t think about that. Lie down there, breathing hard and wondering again if it would be smarter rescuing Rush Creek. However, once again, Dawn brought us hope and visibility. Renamed we packed and left, my feet felt better after the rest. But the smoke closed again. The peaks were like skyscrapers darkened by smog. From the pass, Lyell Canyon looked like a pumpkin full of brown brown.

Finally, the smoke was cleaned when we arrived at the Tuolumne River. We could see the ridges again in all directions, the pass from which we had come. The river shining in sunlight. There was a scare more when we install our tents. «Jody, the smoke is back,» I bark. We both looked at the sky. Nothing. They were our tents, the nylon impregnated with smoke last night, floating.
We later knew that the night we were in Rush Creek, the measure of air quality in the region had reached 1000 (300 is considered dangerous for all). An increasingly frequent concern of September hiking. When the dry land explodes in flames, a backpack factor monitors this century as the snow layer and storms, the mountains often become basins that hold the smoke.

And then it’s over

The sky returned to itself, blue or busy with water vapor. Stratus, cumulat, cumulat Nimbus. In the morning, there was frost in the Prado. We could feel that the end of the JMT approached. We saw cars again. In Tuolumne Meadows, we fill our bellies again with coffee food, we fill our packages with some shops in the store. Only 23 miles for the end.

That night, a last prominent point of Alpine Lake: Super Cathedral Lake, which reflects the John Muir peak became the first American European at the summit in 1869. He won our camp.

My store (Durston X Mid-1)

Frost covered the vegetation at dawn, the reflex of the ridges swayed in the lake, the fog slid over the water. The air was cold and felt good to breathe. The morning of the mountain excited with the rock walls, lace frosts in the meadow, the ponderosa pines and their magnificent cones.

We take the path of the Sunrise of the JMT, diverting to the rest of Cloud. It was ten miles to the top, so even with an early start, our arrival met thick clouds that in fact rested on the upper rocky part. There were no views. Disappointing until we descend under the clouds. We have lunch on a bald shoulder, looking at the half dome and beyond the Yosemite valley.

There was cell service in Cloud’s Rest Junction where we camped. I called Linda. My voice broke, the tears washed my cheeks. A dream fulfilled after so long. The highlight of my hiking life. Despite the smoke. The difficult days, my inflamed Achilles tendon. Oh, the peaks and the lakes! The rocks and streams. Creatures and trees. People who seemed to be worth knowing better.

I could have to do it again.

I never imagined that returning could be so difficult.

I could have to share more beauty with others just where I live.