Wowee! Goat Rocks today! (Probably one of the most spectacular parts of the PCT.) We started off early, still in semi-darkness, determined to have breakfast at Cispus River, 3.5 miles away. But the PCT  going over Cispus Pass turned out to be a tough uphill with lots of rocks, so we only made it to the top of the pass before we decided, “Food now!” After enjoying breakfast with a view, we headed on down to the Cispus River, then on through steep green meadows, wildflowers, cascades, and alpine gorgeousness, before beginning the big long uphill to Old Snowy Mountain.

It was slow going for us because of the rough trail. Our 70 and 62-year-old feet don’t have much “fat padding” on them anymore! I soon gave up any hope of reaching Highway 12 today and decided to just enjoy the awesomeness around us.

At our midmorning Snickers break, we saw three very large marmot-looking critters on the hillside across the way from us.  It was fun watching them.  Still no luck spotting any mountain GOATS, though, even though we were getting close to Goat Rocks.  We got to our first snowfields on the trail–no problem getting across, even though they were hard and icy.   When we got to the Packwood Glacier,  it was 10:00 am, and Bill as usual, just zipped across.  I followed a lot more cautiously, and at first it was OK–the snow had softened enough to provide decent footing.  But halfway across, it turned to icy, hard and slippery, on a sidehill with a long runout to rocks at the bottom.  I sent my ice axe and Microspikes home long ago, so all I had were my trek poles.  Ack!  Bill was waiting on the other side and when he saw how slowly I was going, trying to chip out steps with the tip of my trek pole, he found a rock with a sharp edge and started using it to chop some steps for me.  Once I reached him, I was able to zip the rest of the way across.  Thank you, Bill!   And even though it was tough going, wow, the views up there were gloriously glorious.  We could even see Mt. St. Helens on the horizon–the side that was blown out by the eruption.  It was very gray and dour-looking.

Just before the famous “Knife Edge”, we discovered that the quick ‘n easy horse trail was completely impassable due to snow, so we had to take the longer, tougher hiker route.  It’s basically a lot of switchbacks up through rough lava boulders and rocks till you get to the top of the ridge.  At the top, we found a couple resting and talked to them for a little while, while trading  off taking pictures of each other.  Turned out they were just doing a short backpacking trip, “During the week,” they said.  “We hate the crowds here on weekends.”  They had stopped for a break because their feet were blistered and their knees were sore (common problems for folks who only backpack occasionally).

We left the couple still resting and headed down more steep, unbelievably rough ‘n rocky switchbacks to the “start” of the Knife Edge.  Actually, it was a relief to be back on dirt trail, even if it was only a few feet wide, with multi-thousand foot drop-offs on both sides, and to add to the fun, a strong, gusty wind blowing. I stood there facing what in 2005 was 1.5 miles of sheer terror for me, since I am/was afraid of heights. Not this time; last summer I went up Mt. Whitney, where there are also big scary drop-offs right by the trail.  Up on Whitney, at first I forced myself through those spots, scared stiff and miserable, but determined to make it through.  (For those of you who could care less about heights, this probably sounds silly, but if you are like me, you understand!)  Coming back down Whitney, I asked God to help me be braver and wow, what a difference!  I still don’t like big drop-offs right next to me, but I am no longer totally terrified.

So this time, I ENJOYED the Knife Edge trail–the views of steep, spectacular snowy mountains, the blue lakes way down below, the green meadows and forests–all there to enjoy, and the blustery wind adding to the experience.   We had a great time up there, and I almost felt regret when we finally were back down  on flatter ground.  Some stunted trees gave us a bit of a break from the wind as we cooked up a lunch made up of odds ‘n ends from our almost empty food bags.  It was a sort of mishmash of  noodles, salami, bacon bits & cheese, very tasty. The noodle cooking water became hot chocolate.  Then it was back to the trail, (dirt, not rocks, hooray!) till at about 3:15 we got to a junction that had us wrassling with map and compass, trying to figure out “Which way for the PCT?”

Finally got it figured out, and from there till about 6:45, it was uphill, sometimes fairly steep, as we climbed to the top of a long ridge, then contoured along its side.  Supper was “Eat everything we have left”.  Finally we reached the top of Hogback Mountain and stopped to soak up the incredible views of Goat Rocks, Mt. Rainier, and the mountains to the north.  Wow!  We decided to go on till 7:15ish so that we’d only have a few miles to go in the morning to reach the highway.  The views on the trail down continued to be lovely–evening light on alpine lakes below us–can’t get much better than that!

At 7:10, we found a really nice campsite in a nook beside the trail, in a grove of trees.  The wind was blowing hard, but we were protected enough that we said, “Cowboy camp tonight– breakfast at the Kracker Barrel tomorrow!

Walk with Aragorn to Minas Tirith: In coastal lowlands near the Gilrain estuary

This was a long, tough, amazing day— we made it up and over Forester Pass! After fording Rock Creek (no problem) we made the long uphill/downhill to Crabtree Meadows with deer grazing peacefully in green meadows and Mt. Whitney piercing the sky way up high. I was impressed by the new “trail engineering” –somebody put in rock steps of a decent height for us short-legged people!  And we heard from some other hikers that the snow on the Whitney ascent trail is “not bad.”  That was encouraging to hear as we headed toward Forester Pass.  (The reason we didn’t do a side trip to climb Whitney is that we’ve climbed it several times already!) 

After that came the first of many scary creek crossings, notably Wallace Creek, Wright Creek and Tyndall Creek.  Fortunately for me, they got progressively harder, so by the time we reached Tyndall, I’d had some practice on the other two.  What we did was have  Bill go first while I watched very carefully to see where the worst of the current was.  Then once Bill was across, he yelled back some advice about how to proceed, and I stepped into the cold, roaring current,  leaning into my trek poles, facing the river, and sidestepping across. If I started feeling overwhelmed, I would yell for help and Bill would get back into the creek  to give me a hand. Tyndall Creek was the worst— pretty scary, and thighdeep on me.  But hooray, I made it through all three of them!  And OK, I also prayed every step of the way across.  (Little soapbox here:  praying during scary creek crossings is not a “crutch for cowards”.  It’s a continuation of what I do when I’m just plain ol’ walking the trail, only the topic is different.  I’ve noticed that even hikers who say “There’s no God” have their own ways of coping with scary creek crossings.  Some of them just plain swear their way across!)

Bill was talking excidedly about one of his favorite spots up ahead–the Little Bighorn Plateau, which he said has an awesome 360 view of mountains all around.  He did not exaggerate!  Wow!  And best of all, it was lunchtime, so we had an excuse to stop and enjoy the spectacle for awhile.  Bill said, “Let’s not cook this time. If we just eat quickly, we might be able to make it over Forester TODAY, if we hurry.”  So we just ate some crackers and peanut butter before heading on.  As it turned out, that was the last food we got for the rest of the day.

The PCT went on up to Bighorn Plateau, and when we got there, Bill was amazed at the amount of snow.  The few areas that weren’t covered with snow were snowmelt LAKES!   Bill hikes the JMT every year right around this time, and he said he had never seen so much snow at Bighorn before.  It was a bit of a challenge to find and follow the trail.  As we climbed higher, more and more often the trail disappeared under snow. Finding it again took a lot of time, and usually when we did find it, the trail itself had become a creek.

But we persevered, and got to the point where we could see Forester Pass against the sky, but everything was totally covered in snow.  We did our best to figure out where to go, but grrrr!  Up in Oregon on the PCT around Mt. Jefferson, where the trail is often buried in snow for a long time, they have rock cairns with a stick on top to mark where the trail goes, so there is never any doubt.  I would love to have those here in the Sierras!    As we got closer to the foot of Forester Pass, we met Ranger Alison, a very helpful gal  who had just come over Forester herself.  She told us to follow her footprints, and pointed out the best route (“Straight up!”).  We could see two other hikers up ahead, who were already at the foot of the pass.  “And be careful of postholing,” Ranger Alison warned.  “I just went down all the way up to my waist, with BOTH feet trapped.  I had to dig myself out–right over there.”   Sure enough, we could see a big hole in the snow. 

Bill and I were very glad to know there were hikers just ahead of us and a footprint trail to follow, and we were making very good progress, when whooomph!  Down I went, postholed up to my waist, just like the ranger, and both my feet were instantly caught in what felt like solid concrete.  I could not move them at all.  Bill was pretty disgusted with me, because it happened near a rock (the vicinity of a large rock is much more likely to produce postholing) and he said I should have been more careful.  I felt really bad, knowing what a chore it was going to be to get out of the hole.  It was already late in the afternoon.  And sure enough, it took me a good half hour to dig out of the hole.  I am the only one with an ice axe (which was the most helpful tool), so there wasn’t much Bill could do to help.   Man, I was glad I had that ice axe, though!  If I’d had to dig myself out with only our little plastic trowel, that would have been awful.  By the time I extricated myself, my feet were freezing cold.  It was a wonderful moment when I was able to climb out of the hole, put my pack back on, and head for the pass again. 

At the foot of the pass, we headed straight up, following the “footprint trail”.   Bill breezed right up, climbing up the snow, using just his trek poles, while I followed much more slowly, chopping secure steps with my ice axe.

Note from Alexa: Hmm perhaps Bill needs the new trail name “Legolas”

We were encouraged to hear the whooping and cheering of two hikers who were ahead of us, every time they came to a stretch where the PCT switchbacks were actually visible and they could follow a dirt trail for at least a little way.  We also cheered when we reached those spots!  Finally we could hear a great outburst of hooting, hollering and cheering.  “They must have made it to the top,” we said, and that was a great encouragement, especially to me.  I have to say that for much of the climb up, I was totally terrified.  All I could do was concentrate on “the next step” and not look down. 

Near the top there was a whole stretch of nice trail, heading for the famous “Chute of Death.” I was very surprised and relieved to find that enough hikers had already crossed it so there was a relatively secure “trail” across the Chute. I was actually able to go first, and walk right across.  Amazing!  A few more short switchbacks, and by 6 pm,  we were yelling and screaming at the top, too.  (Well, to be accurate, I was doing the screaming and yelling.  Bill doesn’t go for such behavior!)   

But a couple of quick pics were all we had time for…  then it was a race to get down before dark, over snow that was rapidly becoming icier.  First comes a long traverse across a steep mountainside.  There were pretty good tracks to follow, but still scary, because if you slip here,  you’ll be a very dead duck at the bottom.  I was very tired and scared, and of course, Bill was soon way out ahead, but I kept plugging along the best I could. 

Bit by bit, we came down off the pass, on various other “steep mountainside traverses.”  The footprint trail which had been very clear now began to “disagree” and footprints headed in various directions.  Every bit of bare ground we came to was soaking wet from melting snow, and every bit of PCT trail we managed to spot was not a dry trail, but a snowmelt “creek.”   By 8 pm, we still had not reached “dry ground” out of the snow, and we were very exhausted.  We’d had nothing to eat, not even a Snickers, since noon.

But hallelujah, shortly after 8:00, we spotted the trail!  And not only that, we were able to follow it down to the first little set of campsites above Vidette Meadows.   These campsites are literally perched on the mountainside near a creek, but oh wonderful, a couple of them had dry snowless spots big enough for our tarp.  The last time we did the PCT, in 2005, this area was warm and sunny and the wildflowers were awesome and a lady was lounging in the sun writing in her journal.  Now, it was 8:30 pm, the sun was down behind Forester Pass, it was very cold, and we were both so tired we could hardly move.  I thought about trying to cook some dinner, but decided that all I wanted to do was crawl into my sleeping bag.   Before I laid my head down, I managed to figure our mileage (23.2 miles–not bad, considering the conditions) and wrote “Up & over Forester” in my journal, before I turned off my headlamp and just crashed.  What a day!  One big pass done!

Walk to Lórien: Attacked by Wargs in a barren country of red stones near the Sirannon