We were all warm and comfortable last night in the Muir Hut, even though the outside temperature dropped to below freezing.  The two brothers left at 4:30am.  It was still very early, and I watched out the little window by my “sleeping ledge” as their tiny headlamps departed into the darkness.  Bill and I waited a little longer, before getting up at 5:15, because we figured that everything would be very hard and icy, plus the light was so dim it was hard to see where the footprint trail went. 

Once we were ready to go, Bill put on Yaktrax and I wore my Microspikes. The whole scene looked like Antarctica, and it was 30 degrees. Brrr!  We were very glad of a well-established “footprint trail” to follow, because the snow here has melted into “suncups”, which makes it like trying to walk on a giant eggcarton with 1-2 foot deep “cups”, all hard and icy. Breaking a trail over suncups is very tough— we were glad it wasn’t us!  And in the shadow of the mountains as we were, the snow was VERY icy indeed. 

Down, down, we went, till the trail went around a big bend in the valley and the snow wasn’t quite as all-encompassing.  We began to encounter snowmelt creeks, which we crossed on snow bridges. Eventually we were in the sun again.  Hooray–the snow almost immediately began to soften up.  It is amazing how fast snow changes from hard ‘n icy to soft ‘n fluffy!  Of course I put my black headnet back on. 

The scenery all around us was breathtaking.  I kept wanting to stop and just drink it in, but Bill as usual was way out ahead and I had to do my best to keep up.  Whoever made the footprint trail was definitely an “islandhopper” who headed for every bit of bare rock he could find.  I am a bit leery of rocks now, after two bad posthole experiences, so I actually tried to steer clear of the rocks.  This meant I had to break my own trail around them, and sometimes that made for slow going.  I got quite a nice little entertainment at one point, though, which I HAD to stop and watch!  It was a marmot, trying to cross a snowmelt creek.  Marmots look a bit rolypoly and not very athletic, but wow, turns out they are really good jumpers, and very agile!   That furry little guy managed to rockhop all the way across the creek without getting wet.  Some of his leaps were absolutely amazing!  I cheered when he made it across!

We were making pretty good progress through all the snow, steadily heading down the hill.  I just kept plugging along, following Bill, till suddenly he stopped.  I caught up with him, and he said, “Something’s not right. That looks like the trail–on the other side of the lake.”  I hadn’t been paying attention much–just following Bill, and now I realized in horror that yes indeed, in all the snow we missed the turnoff to where we were supposed to cross upper Evolution Creek, followed by walking along the OTHER side of the lake.  

Oh no!  Very sadly, we turned around and headed back UP the hill we’d just come down, looking for the trail crossing.  We could not find it.  (Hikers later told us that the crossing, which is a line of huge steppingstones, was completely buried.  No wonder we didn’t see it!)   Finally Bill said, “We have no choice. We’ll just have to ford the creek.”  I was terrified. The “creek” was roaring and very wide.  The place Bill chose to cross looked deep.  Downstream a little way it looked wider and shallower.  I suggested that we should try to cross there, but Bill was adamant.  I tried my best to summon up all my courage and face that crossing, but I just felt like I couldn’t do it, and to Bill’s disgust, I started to cry.  I cried not just because I was so scared, but ironically, because I was so angry with myself for being scared.  I was also angry with myself for not being cheerful and brave!  Oh man!  The result was tears.  I know, I know, it’s totally illogical…and that made me even more angry at myself.

  But Bill put his foot down and said, “Let’s go, we HAVE to get across this thing. ” So I forced myself, sniffles and all, to put my gear into “nasty streamcrossing mode”, then since it looked pretty bad, I did not try to cross by myself, but sidestepped BEHIND Bill, holding on to his pack.  That way, he took the brunt of the roaring, freezing water. Yikes! But we made it, and not only that, but the snow was rapidly less and less, so it wasn’t long before we were hiking on green grass around Evolution Lake. 

Halfway along the lake, we stopped for lunch, very frustrated that it had taken us all morning to cover just 5 miles.  But the sun was warm, the grass was soft & comfortable, and pretty soon we were laughing at the marmots who literally surrounded us on all sides, obviously scheming on how to steal our food.  Bill and I practically had to sit back to back to protect our stuff, since the marmots were coming in from every direction!

Then we switchbacked way down to the Evolution Creek valley and lovely McClure Meadow.  It was gorgeous.  The blue creek wandered along through lush meadows.  Snowcapped mountains were all around.  Quite a few people were camped in the woods there.  A little way before the trail crossed Evolution Creek (another famously fearsome ford), there was another “ranger note” posted by the trail.  It said, “Evolution Creek is chest deep at the official crossing.  I recommend an alternate place upstream–follow the trail of upright sticks to reach the alternate.”  

Yikes!  Chest deep sounded nasty.   “Whose chest?”  I wondered.  “Was he six feet tall or five feet tall?”  We lost no time in following the stick trail through the woods, till we were standing on the bank of Evolution Creek.  The creek was pretty wide, but it was obvious that the deepest part was right below where we were standing.   I lowered my trek pole into the water to check the depth.  Thigh deep!   No problem!  And it wasn’t rushing and roaring, just moving along nicely!   Bill and I crossed easily, with no problems.

 On we went through the woods, till we were back on the PCT/JMT again.  I found it fascinating how quickly a river can change!   In McClure Meadow,  Evolution Creek just flows peacefully along, but just after the official trail crossing, it begins to plunge down the canyon, and instantly becomes a whitewater foaming ROAR.  Looking at it, you’d never dream that it was easily fordable just upstream.

More switchbacking took us down to the South Fork of the San Joaquin with its nice BRIDGE (I LOVE bridges!) where we stopped and tried to eat some supper.  Neither Bill nor I could eat much.  We both still feel rather sick.  I have been dosing myself with
GSE all day, hoping to cure whatever it is I have.  I tried to tell myself that eating so little and exerting myself so much was bound to create problems, and tried to force myself to eat more, but I just could not do it.  So our supper break was really more of a rest break than anything else!

We pushed on again for another 3 miles or so, before finding a nice place to cowboy camp near the river.  A bit of breeze was blowing, so there were no mosquitoes.  I was very tired, but cheered up when I calculated our mileage.  Despite the slow start in the snow this morning, we still managed to get 16 miles done!  And what a contrast of scene today–starting in Antarctica, and now here, on a warm evening, with green plants and trees everywhere.  The only concern I have left is that I continue to feel so ill and increasingly weak.  On the bright side, we certainly will have no problem of running out of food!   Bill and I have eaten so little that we have plenty left!

Walk to Lórien: At the first leaves of Lothlórien, near the Nimrodel

I summarized today in my journal by writing, “Climbed Muir Pass today. It was like Antarctica.   Miles of snow, rockclimbing and routefinding.”

Well, we headed out at 5:30 am from our nice campsite by Palisade Creek.   Bill and I both slept very well, but we were still tired because it’s just plain been killer hiking for several days, and Bill was still battling some sort of giardiaish bug.  And I have a really bad sunburn from the snow, so I resolved today to wear my black mosquito headnet whenever we are hiking across snowfields! 

 The day’s hiking began with a long and beautiful climb up alongside the Middle Fork of the Kings River, which roared so loudly we had to shout in order to talk. The trail was constantly either wet, muddy, or crossed by little snowmelt creeks.  But oh, wow, the scenery!  Spectacular cliffs, snowy mountains!   Supremely Sierra!  Big Pete Meadow was actually a lake, the river was so high.  I don’t know how the “I wear Crocs for stream crossings” people ever manage here in the Sierras in early season.  The trail itself was a boggy creek.  But the meadows were so pretty!

 It’s a long, determined climb up to Muir Pass and its accompanying lakes.  By noon, Bill and I were both wiped out and spent most of our lunch break just lying down.  Now I was a bit worried about ME–I was starting to feel sick, giardia-style, and could not face eating anything much.  Neither could Bill.  I did not tell Bill I was feeling sick, because I did not want him to worry.  I just told him I was awfully tired, which was true.

Continuing on, we met a young couple sitting by the trail, debating whether to go on, or not.  Since it was now afternoon, they were worried about postholing problems in the miles of snow just up ahead.  We left them still debating, and pushed on.  Soon the snow became more and more of a factor until by treeline, everything was solid snow and we were back to just guessing where the trail went.  However, there was a pretty good “footprint trail” to follow, which did what I call “island-hopping”, because it went from one big rock to the next instead of just going straight up.  I was very pleased because I felt I was getting better at hiking on snow.  But at the same time, I was concerned because I was feeling increasingly ill. 

When we reached Helen Lake, we found it completely frozen over and shortly after that we came to a point where we had to decide which way to go. Tracks led 2 totally different ways. It was after 6:00pm and getting cold— the snow was starting to “ice up”. Bill and I were totally worn out.  Neither of us had been able to eat much all day.  I thought Bill would know exactly where to go, because he has hiked this pass before so many times, but it turned out that he had no clue.  We got out our maps, looked at landmarks, looked at the two radically different footprint trails, and started out again.  Just after we started out, the snow collapsed under me and I ended up in a MAJOR posthole, with BOTH my feet completely iced in.  I was so tired and and so ill that I did cry for a minute before taking off my pack and digging myself out.  It took about 20 or 30 minutes. 

The delay gave Bill time to make a decision about where to go,  which involved another “straightup” climb up a pretty steep face. I was so tired that I sort of cried again as I set out after him, and sort of “snuffled” my way along for awhile as we started up. The wind was blowing and it was very cold.  The snow was really icing up now, but still do-able.  Bill was quickly far ahead and eventually I couldn’t see him anymore. It was just me ‘n my ice axe and much prayer for strength and courage to “make the top”.   Then I heard a faint shout from Bill.  I couldn’t make out what he was saying (Turned out he was yelling, “The Hut!  The Hut!”)  Finally the snow stopped going up— it rounded off, and to my joy and delight, there was Muir Hut, glowing golden in the evening light.

There was no way to go on–miles of uninterrupted snow lay ahead.  When I stepped inside the Hut, I cheered!   It was warm and cozy!  The sun had been shining on it all day, and the stone had soaked up all that nice heat!  Oh man, it felt wonderful!  We laid out our sleeping bags on the stone ledges inside, then went outside to fire up our little alcohol stove to make some hot beef broth to drink.  Neither of us could face eating anything, but we agreed a hot drink would be wonderful.  I was just in the middle of doing the beef broth, when along came  two young men, brothers hiking together. They told us they did Mather Pass this morning, and here they were at Muir already!   Way to go!  They told us they were on a tear to reach Mammoth in time for 4th of July.  So we all slept in Muir Hut tonight, very comfortable and warm,  with a lovely sunset.  I felt so blessed!

Walk to Lórien: Arrive at Balin’s tomb in Moria and are attacked by Orcs and a Cave Troll