High Sierra Trail - Day 5

Day 5 - Kern Hot Springs to Wright Creek

July 25, 2017

The journey from the hot springs (AKA glamping spot) had me anxious. Although not a lot of elevation gain, we knew we'd be crossing the three W's - Whitney creek, White creek, and Wallace creek. We had been warned by the ranger that these might require extensive off trail scouting if we were to cross at all. Making good time was critical to reach Whitney (creek) before noon.

Not five minutes on the trail and we were already crossing a creek (unnamed, most likely) with our shoes off. This one required a little scouting; we found a place where it split into three different creeks. The first two we did with shoes on and then we were forced to take them off on a little island of sorts. I was discouraged - if this was any indication how this day was going to go, I figured we would never get out of the Kern river valley.

Fortunately, we actually made decent time. Some of the trail was washed out in certain areas, and creeks were abundant. We didn't see any more snakes, but M hung behind just in case. She was also having her obligatory *tough* day. The Kern river valley is pretty spectacular, if you stop and look up. Which I only did when I stopped, as I was diligently searching for snakes. We now had a more detailed map (the Tom Harrison Mt Whitney Zone map), and we thought we knew exactly where we were and how close we were getting to Whitney Creek. We stopped to take a break from the pack weight; we just happened to stop by a geological marker. What a blessing! This gave us an exact point on the map and I felt encouraged.

Kern River - trail washed out

I love these...

We decided to eat lunch on the other side of the mighty Whitney creek. It was, as expected, pretty treacherous. Tom, from the UK, was on the other side of the creek, finishing his lunch. Seeing we had arrived, he immediately went back (pantless, I might add) in the creek and pointed with his trekking poles the path that we should take. I want to be sure it is understood how much this meant to us. First, we had no idea how deep or strong the water was, especially where it was white. We also had no knowledge if we could make it, but Tom apparently felt we could. He also went into that freezing, painful water to make sure we would be safe. I went first, then K, then M with my sandals. Tom waited for us on the other side. I thanked him profusely and balled my eyes out when M made it across. This was such a weight off my mind that I couldn't control the emotions that followed. Whitney creek, was in fact, the most difficult creek due to the current. It wasn't the widest or the deepest; it was the swiftest.

I'd like to describe these types of creek crossings. First, the prep work is a little annoying, and some people just trudge through with their pants and shoes on; they dry out later. I'm not that person because I wear waterproof Asolos with custom inserts that take three days to dry. Second, I usually convert my pants to shorts or at least roll them up. My camera then goes up in my pack and any snacks or stuff in my pockets must be put up high so they don't get wet. My boots are tied to my pack, throwing it a little off, and then the pack is unbuckled, should I succumb to the creek. This allows me to get the pack off and hopefully survive. Once the sandals are on, I extend my trekking poles and begin. The initial shock of snowmelt is painful. The first part of the creek crossing is usually not white water, and all I can think about is the pain in my feet and my legs from the cold water and rocky bottom. Then the white water comes; the pain disappears and the adrenaline kicks in. Each step is felt out after I have secured both trekking poles to either side. In the heavier currents, just getting the trekking poles in the right spot is a challenge. Then, I take a step, and the process is repeated. I do not think about anything else but the next step. I do not see or hear anything other than the rushing water in front of me. The current pushes me down one way so I have to counterbalance - but not too much, or I'll topple over because I'm top heavy with the pack. My knuckles are white because I grip the trekking poles so hard. I have no idea if there's pain, just survival of the next step. I go slow because my life depends on my next step. When I finally get through the white water and current, the pain rushes back like before, and I start stepping fast to get out of the ice cold water. Finally, the warmth of the air reaches my legs and feet. I stop, put my pack down, and turn my attention to whoever is behind me. Once we are all safe, we work in reverse - drying feet, putting shoes, socks, pants, and backpacks back on. Trekking poles are returned to normal size. The numbness continues, which actually starts to feel good now since I cannot feel my blisters or other pain in my feet for a while.

We pressed on to cross Wallace Creek. Please understand that I hate crossing on logs; I'd rather take my chances in the freezing, rushing water. While K & M searched for a crossing upstream, I was to confirm the log I saw downstream was a no go. I climbed it and walked back and forth twice. The broken branches were like handles, which left only a four foot section without any "handles"; thankfully, the log had a significant diameter. K & M saw me waiving wildly and came down to cross it; it ended up being the easiest crossing we'd have.  We thanked Mother Nature for her tree sacrifice.

We then arrived at Junction Meadow where the "guys" were staying. We immediately began discussions of the creeks. While I relived the harrowing tale of Whitney creek, the guys were overwhelmed with the last creek (Wallace).  I felt a bit of pride that I had found that log and we had avoided that last one, and a huge amount of relief that we didn't have to cross it. We couldn't believe we had made it this far, this fast. Five creek crossings to get here, and it was still fairly early in the day. We decided to continue on. Tom was past us, but the couple from Delaware (later we learned, "Leaf & Taylor") were behind us.  We all moved at different speeds, but ended up at the same places at varying times. We were hoping to get to or close to the JMT, which was Wallace creek (again).

The terrain was rockier and brought us up out of the Kern river valley at a steady pace. The views of the valley were tremendous. With two W's down, and one to go, we felt pretty confident. We took one last break before heading east again.

Rock chairs and couches. It's a challenge to find a rock that doesn't hurt worse than standing up, or one that relieves your pack weight but doesn't make your back hurt worse. If such a rock chair or couch was found, it was your duty to offer it to the rest of the girls when you were finished. I mean, let's not be selfish people.  Here are some we found here:

M on a rock couch

K on a rock couch

Finally - Wright creek. It was worse than we thought. It looked worse than Whitney. M was tired, sunset threatened, and the creek appeared deep. The terrain, should we go scouting, was very steep. (We'd eventually see cairns marking the way, but not at this moment.) I think we were just standing there, contemplating if we should go forward or stay (and if we stayed, where the hell would we pitch a tent?) when Leaf & Taylor caught up. We exchanged ideas about the creek, and we shared our map briefly. We felt we were but only a mile or so from Wallace/PCT, and this seemed to strengthen their resolve to cross the creek. Leaf led the way, shoes, pants and all. He held Taylor's hand and used hand signals to help communicate. The water was near his butt, splashing up to his waist. If that were me, it would be waist deep. After they crossed, he pointed out a path for us, and they continued on full speed. By now I was getting cold from the mist from the falls/creek, so I can't even imagine how cold they must have been. Given the fatigue of the day, the depth of the creek, the onset of evening, and M's current state, we elected to not take a chance.

As the trip leader, I assured a park ranger at Sequoia National Park that we would camp in designated spaces. I also agreed to the usual rules such as staying 100 feet from water, along with restroom use, fire restrictions, and food storage.  Retreating to the last known flat area (see rock chairs/couches) was not an option. Wallace creek flowed below us, with Wright Creek in front, and a very steep slope above. I felt horrible as I succumbed to the notion we would have to pitch a tent on the trail. It was as if I was violating the wilderness, or pissing off Smokey the Bear, or Mother Nature herself.  It really was for safety reasons, and I hoped that anyone who might come along would understand. Well, we knew the boys were a couple miles back, and Leaf, Taylor, and Tom were ahead of us. It seemed safe to say we wouldn't be blocking the trail for anyone, and we tried to leave as little of an impact as possible. 

This was the coldest place by far, probably due to the surrounding water and altitude. The mosquitos were pretty bad, but if you stood close to Wright creek, they were tolerable. However, you'd be wet and chilled with mist. The tent barely fit on the trail; one entrance to the tent was a drop off while the other one was the side of a mountain. M ended up on a very large rock, but somehow slept the best she had the entire trip. K and I squished together to make more "flat" room for her. The creek was very loud, and I wondered if I would hear anything important with such background noise.

View from Wright

Wright Creek, looking up

Campsite in the trail. Do not do this!

Miles:  9.8

Elevation start: 6880

Elevation end: 9600
Elevation gain/loss: +2729/-negligable
Campsites: Umh, no
Water: Wright Creek, in your face
Toilet: N
Bear storage lockers: N
Privacy: N

Hashtags for the day:

#fiverivercrossings #whitneycreek #thankgodforTom #treesacrifices #wrightcreek #camponthetrail

High Sierra Trail - Day 4

Day 4 - Big Arroyo to Kern Hot Springs

July 24, 2017

The trail out of Big Arroyo, though an incline, was glorious compared to black rock pass. We passed a few backpackers; I never exactly knew why they were headed the opposite direction. From here until we collided with the JMT, we'd see the same people, exchanging help and advice regarding creek crossing, the hell we'd endure, critter encounters, and good camping spaces. After the incline, there was an amazing flattish few miles. Rain threatened, reminding M & I of a hike in Yellowstone in which we gave each other "Nemo" names. Remember "Sharkbait oo ah ah"? I was "Bear Cloud", M was "Sunshine Moose" and we named K, "Wolf Lily".  Mosquitos were very little. I enjoyed this part of the hike.

Crossing creeks (with shoes)

\

Oo ah ah

Nearly missed the trail

Enter "log vahalla".  This is apparently where logs go to die, and there was no way around it - trust me - we looked. A graveyard of fallen logs lay before us. As a vertically challenged person, these presented quite a difficult task with a top heavy pack on. That group of bathing folk passed us here, playing "Love Shack" and some Donna Summers on their phones. {Tall people, pffft.} Some of the logs were burnt, leaving our butts blackened, adding to the sap already splattered on our behinds. (At one point, M pulled a chunk of pineneedles stuck to my butt because it was "driving her crazy looking at it.") Log vahalla behind us, we came upon a meadow. I was hellbent on making up lost time this day, so as lead hiker I missed the trail junction. I noticed our "Love Shack" fellows on the other side of the meadow and stopped. We backtracked, thankfully only a short ways, to the trail split.


We finally came upon the Kern river valley - a poster child of a U-shaped valley, and began our descent to the Kern river. The trail dabbles in the Funston Creek, eventually causing us to cross it, twice. (dammit, more creek crossings). Finally the skies began to weep. I knew if I put my rain gear on, it would stop. Had I not, it would pour incessantly for hours. Sure enough, it stopped, and we spent some valuable time covering packs and swapping out waterproofs. Still thankful it was downhill, we reached the Kern River  and the gate to the wilderness. No, really, it was a gate to the wilderness. The sign said "Close this gate to protect wilderness", and it was latched. Any critter could have gone under or around it - there was no fence attached to this gate. We laughed hysterically at this, but diligently closed the gate the wilderness, just in case...

The gate to the wilderness (photo courtesy of M)

Enter rattlesnake territory and "trail under water". Remember I stated that sharing sandals would not prove to be a very good idea? Well when you have to trek through 1/4 of a mile of water, sharing sandals is not an option. M took one for the team and hiked through barefoot while K took point. M was petrified of snakes, one of which we encountered immediately upon entering the Kern river valley. The trail meandered in water then on the west side of the valley, up and down steadily, with only one more snake encounter. This was a juvenile rattlesnake. K tried to get it to move off the trail more; eventually we had to run by it like our lives depended on it, which they literally did. A bridge to cross the Kern came into view. At least someone, somewhere, had the good sense not to allow hikers to traverse the Kern river, should there be more drownings and deaths attributed to the backcountry and lack of hiker sense.

Rattlers still a threat, but the Kern now to the left of us, we weren't out of the woods yet, literally and metaphorically speaking. Another creek crossing and a final one (possibly Rock Creek?). I had thought this would be the easier part of the day's hike. Instead, this part would take the longest with all the obstacles.

Hot springs privacy; Kern to the right

Glamping. Kern Hot Springs was, by comparison, glamping. Pit toilet. Flat campsites. Multiple bear storage lockers. Mosquitos, oddly, not an issue. A fire pit, which we utilized to dry M's shoes out. A HOT SPRING. A glorious, 150 degree, spring. Oh we were on it - we pitched tent and divvied up the campsite tasks in record time, and worked out a 2 girls at a time rotation at the hot spring. The hot springs were supposed to operate in a fill up/drain sort of way, but the plumbing and plugs were a little worse for wear. We made due; that bucket for cold water was rusted and super leaky. I didn't care - 150 degrees was tolerable and I got in, all the way. I cannot express the feeling of a four days of layers of sweat, deet, dirt, and sunscreen on the body, despite sponge baths, and the euphoria of hot water on said layers of nastiness, followed by a warm fire and dinner. This was truly a special place - the halfway mark a day late (but not a dollar short).

Useless bucket

View from the hot spring bath

This was a peaceful evening. I had a dream, though, one that would seem so real, I questioned reality the next morning. I dreamt of the next morning. We clearly had three days to exit the wilderness, either way, so not moving forward was not an option. In the dream, I had lost touch with reality. While we were still in the Kern River valley, I believed myself to be at home. K & M would ask me where I was, and I'd say I was in the bedroom, or in the living room. They kept saying they didn't know what to do. They kept telling me I was in the Kern river valley, on the High Sierra Trail, and I kept arguing that all I could see was the house. They'd point to a rock; I'd say it was the couch. They tried to shake my psuedo-reality, but it would not work.

When I woke, I was clearly in the Kern River Valley, with some major creek crossings on the radar for the day.


Miles:  12.5
Elevation start: 9520

Elevation end: 6880
Elevation gain/loss: +1030/-3670
Campsites: LOVELY
Water: Creek very near by
Toilet: Y
Bear storage lockers: Y
Privacy: Definitely

Hashtags for the day:

#sunshinemoose
#bearcloud
#wolflily
#logvahalla
#sappants
#pineneedleass
#straddletheblacklog
#loveshackbaby
#closethisgatetoprotectwilderness
#rattlesnakeswamp
#machetetrail
#perfectcampsite
#kernglamping
#hotspringbath