Vogelsang Loop Day 5

It boggles my mind to think that just this morning I woke up to see the lightly glowing silhouette of mountains and frost clinging to our tent canopy.  Being in my own bed feels almost foreign to me at this point. But it's home. And home feels good.

So it got a bit chilly last night, but we stayed warm in our bags.  Maddie's wet socks were stuff and crunchy with frost in the morning, as were our shoes, which made for a jolting start to the day.  With my foot still a bloody mess, we felt better about cutting our trip a day short. We saw what we wanted to see, and we were ready to enjoy our final day of beautiful hiking.

Finally, an earlier start! We were out by 7:45am, and not more than half an hour into our hike, I spotted movement up ahead.  I wasn't sure at first, but as its furry brown behind scampered off the trail I realized it was a bear! My first sighting whilst hiking, I was so excited! Maddie was a little less so, but agreed it was very cool.  Another 15 minutes went by before I spotted another bear (perhaps, very likely the same one) wandering about adjacent to the trail. I alerted Maddie to its presence, we stopped, the bear took one look at us, and fled up the slope into the brush.  Amazing.

The terrain today was pleasant, pristine really, with lakes and ponds and clear views of the surrounding peaks.  We had around 9 miles to get back to the car, which we accomplished by around noon.  The pace was made feasible by the easy downward grade, retracing our steps beside Rafferty Creek.  

We passed more people approaching tuolumne than we had seen the entire trip, which makes sense. Running into other folks was jarring nonetheless.  The speed at which we hiked did not keep us from enjoying the scenery along the way, and we bounded toward our car, grinning. 

Rather than change into our clean clothes in the parking lot, we decided to drive to Tenaya Lake for a quick dip first.  Every time I visit Tenaya, I feel the compulsive urge to take a picture, to capture that moment. It's like living in a postcard when you're standing on its bank.  With a fraction of grime washed away, we changed and made for our next and penultimate destination: In'n'Out.  

I've discussed food rewards extensively on this blog, but it bears repeating, that food never tastes better than after a backpacking trip. Never.  After pigging out it was time to finally head home. We called the folks, likely the only people reading this, and told them about the trip.  After getting our things into the apartment and showering, I downed a bottle of Soylent, and Maddie and I settled in to watch Brooklyn (which was great!).  And that's that! 

What an amazing trip!  Until next time!

Vogelsang Loop Day 4

I had a dream last night. Now, I know hearing about someone else's dream ranks right up there with what he/she had for breakfast and how his/her colonoscopy went last Thursday in terms of how many shits one gives, but here goes. 

Skipping through the irrelevant and uneventful drag racing through Laguna Beach bit, I spoke with John. I'm not religious, but I suppose if someone were so inclined, one might also file this as some sort of supernatural communication with the beyond. As I said, that is not my spin on it, but I feel compelled to write about it because it was one of the most bizarre and surreal dreams I've ever experienced.  And I do say experience, because it felt so real I woke up in tears. I woke up feeling exactly as though I had just given him a hug goodbye.  I saw him standing on the beach in his Patagonia fleece, a pair of shorts, and some Tevas.  It was nearing sunset, and when he turned to face me, I couldn't believe it.  As I'm writing this the memory is etched as clear as any other in my catalogue of memories.  Even the sense memories come alive as I think about it.  We embraced. I smelled him. And we talked. For what felt simultaneously like hours and seconds, if that makes sense.  I asked him many of life's existential questions. I asked him if he missed me, as if operating under the pretense I was, indeed, having this conversation in some heavenly context.  And then he did something I never saw him do in life.  He cried. It wasn't all about me. He simply wept. I am sure my own selfish egotism was projecting a lot of what I wish John could be here to witness and enjoy. Nevertheless, it felt so real, so raw. His breathing slowed, catching on the inhale, and finally a smile planted itself on his tear-soaked face.  He told me it's okay. He told me he missed me.  He told me I'm doing the right thing. I wasn't sure what he meant by this, but before I could ask, his orange bug pulled up, he hopped in, and said one last thing. He said, "don't sweat it."  I'm not even sure why it ended this way. It's not as though that was his catch phrase or something.  And then I woke up.  

I'm still not sure what to make of this.  I feel silly imbuing any dream with any great amount of significance, but then again, I can't shake the seeming reality of it.  Regardless of its place in the canon of dreams that have stuck out over the years, his parting words could not have been more useful today.

In keeping with our theme, we woke up and packed up even later than yesterday, hitting the trail around 10:15.  But we both felt pretty good, and the trail was supposed to be all downhill from here to Merced Lake ranger station.  And what a glorious downhill segment it was!

The canyon combined features of Lyell and LeConte canyons, two of the prettiest sections of the JMT.  We were intermittently swarmed by mosquitos, but not even a thousand buzzing blood suckers could dampen our moods.  

When we made it to Washburn Lake, we were on cloud nine, ready to drop our packs and enjoy some well-deserved lunch.  Before long, Maddie was taking a dip in the icy water, cleaning layer after layer of caked on dirt from her skin.  I took her lead, but in a less modest fashion, plunging into the water stark naked, without a care in the world for who might pass by. Having seen a grand total of 3 people in 3.5 days, I felt fairly confident my indiscretion would go unseen.  Damn was that water cold! One dunk, a quick scrub, and I was outta there, dressing myself before laying down on the sand to bake in the mid afternoon sunshine.

After nearly snoozing there on the tiny stretch of gravelly sand, we decided to pack up and head out.  Luckily it was another prolonged, beautiful descent out of the lake because my muscles felt sluggish and stubbornly insistent that it was still nap time.  

We took a quick break at the ranger station before commencing our climb back up toward Vogelsang.  Maddie passed a young girl with her father who wishes her luck on the climb.  Great. That bodes well.  And the girl's rattled face said all we needed to know.  It was a grunt of a climb, but we trudged and tripped all the way up.  We set our sights on Babcock Lake, a couple miles and almost 2,000 feet up.  It was ambitious, but we morale was high, and you always want to capitalize on that.  

I'm having a hard time describing an account of today's climax without garnering an anxious wince from my mother as she reads this.  But in the interest of full disclosure, I'll get right into it.

Around 5:30, we hit the turn off for the lake, and so navigated the marshy side trail until hitting the bank of a stream that fed the raging river we had paralleled on our way up.  The stream was moving slow enough that crossing would not be an issue...so we thought.  After some debate, we decided to take off our shoes so as not to end the day with drenched footwear.  I took the lead aiming for what looked like the shallowest segment.  What I failed to take into account was how incredibly slick the granite was. And just as I was turning to warn Maddie of said slickness, I felt my feet give way beneath me.  With a tremendous splash, I was flat on my ass in the ankle deep water, drenched from head to foot, my shoes and poles slowly flowing downstream, Maddie fetching them.

In an instant I felt several things.  My butt, and by transference of force with a heavy pack, my back, were in pain. As were my shoulder and elbow.  As I struggled to lift myself out of the water, and onto the rocky bank, I looked down and noticed a pool of blood where I was standing.  After a quick body assessment, I realized the ball of my left foot, just under the big toe was gushing blood, turning the small pool of water around it a cloudy red.

I scrambled to over to Maddie, whose calmness immediately put my rattled nerves at ease.  And so, for the first time, I set about putting my first aid kit to good use.  Without going into too much detail, the cut was by far and away the deepest I've had, and cleaning it took a fair amount of time--I'm still not sure I was able to get deep enough.  

After cleaning and patching myself up, with Maddie's indispensable assistance, I found myself a frigid, throbbing mess, in what was essentially a swamp, with the sun minutes from setting behind the adjacent ridge.  We acted and decided quickly to move onward and upward.

In an attempt to warm myself up, I hiked as fast as my hobbled foot would carry me up the next thousand or so feet to the meadow before Emerick Lake.  I could feel the wound pulsing, oozing blood into the already soaked sock.  But we finally made it, having chased our way back into the light, with 20 minutes of sunshine to spare.  We quickly set up our tent on what looked like a good impacted site, albeit we camped closer to the trail and to water than we should have.  But there was no better option really.  

Soon enough we had dinner made and were in bed in time to catch the golden light wane on the mountains around us.  I took a little medicine to dull the pain, so I might be more easily coaxed into slumber.  And now I'm going to yield, and enjoy some sleep in what is easily one of the top 5 most beautiful campsites we've ever had.  

I don't know what I would have done without Maddie. She's an angel, and the perfect companion on such a wild and crazy adventure.  

Vogelsang Loop Day 3

I'll be honest with you. Today kicked my ass.  Kicked Maddie's, too.  But no one ever said this was easy, and the trail provided some spectacular scenery. 

It seems we're slipping into our usual habit of saying one thing and then doing another. By that I mean, we say we're going to get an early start, but we end up on the trail even later than the previous morning.  Insomnia made its once-in-a-blue-moon appearance in Maddie's reality last night, giving her a taste of my every other night.  Sympathetic to her plight, I happily granted her the extra z's in the morning when she was finally able to nod off.  So we stayed inside until the tent became too stiflingly warm, drenched in the sun's rays.

Still in awe of the vista afforded by our campsite, we leisurely packed up, ate a bit of breakfast--bars, dried fruit, and oddly enough for me, beef jerky--and hit the trail at 9:48am.

The weather has proven remarkably cooperative.  I have become so accustomed to precipitation while backpacking that three consecutive cloudless days feels almost surreal. We continued our path toward Isberg pass with no intention to make an ascent.  Instead we resolved that we'd essentially drop down into the adjacent canyon and reverse course to Merced Lake.  As per usual, however, we underestimated even that consolation route.  

The first hurdle was Lyell Creek, which was swollen to the ranks of river at this point in the season, making its fording problematic.  We searched for the better part of half an hour to find a safe place to cross, and managed to find a long, slick tree suspended over the rapids, the only such link we could find.  Crossing the stream any other way would have been dangerous and foolish, so we settled for this mildly less so option.  

I took both our packs across, leaving Maddie to concentrate, as she's had a couple of spills on such slick bark.  We both made it over safe and sound, and commenced what would be the most punishing set of switchbacks I have ever encountered.  Perhaps we've tackled ascents with more impressive numbers--more elevation, more switchbacks, in adverse conditions--but for some reason these just felt harder.  They were steeper than most, for one.  But they were also covered with patches of snow for a sizable portion.  Between the two of us we fell and slid careening down a few feet of snow no fewer than 5 times.  

Once atop the climb, we continued for several miles along what felt like a pointless series of ups and downs that took its toll on morale.  Part of the idea behind using your vacation time for backpacking is that it becomes somewhat goal-oriented.  Lunch by a lake, an amazing vista atop a pass, long easy stretches through peaceful meadow.  Sure, we love just walking in nature, but I think the dozens of stream crossings and marching up and down through dense forest sort of wore on Maddie a bit today. And I don't blame her.  She's been feeling a bit queasy from the altitude, and the weakness that descends from lack of calories can really exacerbate even the mildest of annoyances.  

But once again, she soldiered through it, the two of us brazenly wading through streams in our shoes, with only making miles on our minds.  

Once down in the canyon, we followed the river that runs to Lake Merced.  This stretch having rounded the corner for the return journey, was where the day really picked up.  We walked for miles of flat, serene wilderness that reminded us both of Lyell Canyon near Tuolumne.  

We walked until we just didn't feel like walking anymore.  We found a good spot to set up camp by the river and didn't even bother making dinner.  Maddie couldn't put any food down and I made do with a few snacks.  We played gin, talked for a few hours, and sat silent as darkness enveloped our little home for the evening.  And with the sound of rushing water echoing all around me, and the hopes of a good mid-day lunch by Lake Merced tomorrow, I'm going to bed!

Vogelsang Loop Day 2

Another beautiful day in paradise.  It's my kind of paradise, at least.  Last night, the moonlight was so bright I found it almost difficult to fall asleep in our exposed, but gorgeous campsite.  Headlamps were rendered redundant for the evening.

Maddie gently nudged me awake, just as the sun crested over the ridge. Its rays hit me square in the face, and in mere moments, I metamorphosed from my down cacoon to greet the day.  I was revved up for this section, as I had yet to visit Vogelsang high Sierra camp.  If Sunrise were any indication as to its beauty, then we were in for a lovely climb.  

We were on the trail by 8:30, and soon thereafter hit our first bit of snow.  The snow hung about the trail in sporadic patches, making progress only moderately slower as we tested each step before placing our full weight.  We had heard of treacherous accounts of 'post-holing' as recently as yesterday from our hitching hikers.  A broken leg would put a damper on things...

We didn't spend much time in Vogelsang, just enough to eat, hydrate, and admire the views of the surrounding peaks.  It was in these blissful moments I noted how fun the high Sierra camp loop would be.  

Trundling beyond the inviting scene at Vogelsang, we encountered the reported 95-100% snow coverage advertised at the ranger station.  From here on out, it was almost entirely a snowy ascent over precarious sun cups that were only becoming slushier as the afternoon heat wore on.  Having met a ranger last week with horrific sunburns resulting from the reflective snow, we were careful to cover up with sunscreen.  Maintaining purchase on the slippery snow field required a great deal of concentration, but our efforts were soon rewarded as we climbed above tree line to where we could fully absorb the immensity of the terrain.  We skirted the edge of Vogelsang lake, frozen over but for a small outlet that bore its way unrelentingly below the snow's surface.

Maddie was beginning to feel the effects of the altitude as we approached 10,300 feet, but after deeming it manageable, she soldiered on up toward the pass.  I wondered how fun a glissade this snowy basin would make.  At 10,600 feet, the pass provided some breathtaking views of both sides, and we treated ourselves to a bountiful snack break.  

Once over the other side, progress hastened as the snow here had melted.  Numerous stream crossings and 4-5 miles later, we found ourselves at an impasse.  Maddie and I both felt fatigued, likely a combination of exertion up to that point and a lack of fitness.  We sat down and discussed our options.  The great thing about a trip like this, with someone you really know, is that itineraries can change without much fuss.  We had planned for another 3 major passes, but weren't sure we could sustain a 12-mile per day pace and come out the other side anything but miserably tired.  There's a time and place for pushing those physical limits, but coming off an intense three weeks for both of us, we discussed changing our route to reduce that workload.  The more we talked it over, the more appealing the idea of making time to lounge by lakes and read became.  

We headed up in the direction of our original itinerary, as this would give us more time to mull it over.  At around 3:30, we happened upon yet another stream crossing.  This time, instead of following maddie's method of removing shoes and socks, I tried to game the system and use a precarious log crossing.  The water was gentle and the log close to the water, so the stakes weren't very high, but on my last step, I tripped and dunked both feet in.  Clambering up the bank, embarrassed, I met Maddie's knowing grin.  When am I going to learn she's always right?

It's not a big deal, wet feet.  I just kept hiking and two hours later it felt very close to normal walking.  At around 6:15 we found ourselves atop a plateau with breathtaking views of the Clark range, and we decided to stop for dinner.  This stop for dinner, not surprisingly, turned into our stop to camp.  With an 800-foot climb ahead of us, we couldn't resist the views.

Stuffed to the brim with Pad Thai and other goodies, we have now scurried into our sleeping bags to enjoy the sunset.  Purple mountains, pines lit up with a golden haze, and pinks highlighting the ridges far in the distance.  We both agreed it's a top-5 campsite for us.  

And that's that! As of now, our plans are to finish our climb toward Isberg pass, but reverse course and head down the canyon to Merced Lake. From there our itinerary is TBD, but it will likely result in our exit from the wilderness on Saturday instead of Sunday.  But now, SLEEP!