Double
Running behind schedule for Vermillion Valley Resort—the next resupply stop before Mammoth Lakes—we had to double up on passes today and tackle two: Pinchot Pass, which we would never have managed yesterday, and Mather Pass. The first demanded every ounce of energy—perhaps because it was early morning and the trail began with a relentless uphill climb—while the second presented two tricky sections on the ascent: exposed traverses on soft, melting snow and an interminable descent. This is typical when you don’t know where the trail leads and have to improvise your route.
To avoid the steepest snow, where many people sit and slide down, we took a route through rocks and massive granite boulders, requiring some climbing down—thankfully, only one short section. Of course, an 8-kilo backpack doesn’t make these maneuvers any easier.
Before descending from Mather Pass, we were proud to have crossed all the day’s creeks without soaking our shoes—though not our feet, because we still walked through a lot of snow. Some crossings were only possible by wading straight through, so we switched footwear. With snow, marshes, and streams popping up everywhere, keeping our feet dry was impossible.
Just before reaching the chosen campsite, we faced one last creek. Fabio cleared it with an acrobatic leap, while I begrudgingly put my sandals on one final time. Wet shoes at six in the evening were the last thing I wanted.
We still have two more passes to climb (and descend), plus a detour to avoid a bridge on the San Joaquin river that collapsed last year. We’ll be at least a day behind the original plan, and I hope the food will last. It should, but it worries me a little. Water is no longer an issue, as expected, but food is. The Sierra presents challenges on many fronts: elevation gains and altitude, the condition of the trails, rivers to cross, and snowfields to navigate. All of this slows us down considerably. Even though we’ve covered more than a third (about 120 miles out of 300), it feels like we’ve been in these mountains for weeks.
Today Fabio said, “Maybe in Oregon you speed up because you’re just tired of walking every day.” That seems plausible. That moment will come, too—when even the breathtaking views of the Sierra or any other section are no longer enough; when you start missing home, your loved ones, or your couch; when you yearn for the simple comfort of sitting in front of your computer wasting time; when you miss sleeping next to the person you share so much of your life with. When that moment comes, what will I do?
