John Muir Trail Day 2: The Great Watery Doughnut

JMT Day 2 — 8/5/24
Parker Pond to Rush Creek
Hot And Cold Camp to Dusty Roads Camp
JMT miles: 9.3 miles
JMT total: 16 miles
Elevation change: 1,939ft gain, 3,537ft loss

“Wow, this is pretty epic for Day 2.” There was no doubt about it. The trail up Koip Peak Pass was one heck of a way not only to start the day, but to start a long hike. Ever since my mom and I crested Parker Pass yesterday afternoon, Koip had loomed ahead, as confusing as it was intimidating. Was the trail a thin ribbon of loose outward-sloping shale, or was it wide and stable?

Now we knew. It was somewhere in between, steep and safe-ish. The high morning sun beamed down on us harshly, but a constant alpine breeze did more than enough to keep me cool as we huffed higher into thinner air. The trail was steepest at each turn, but smoothed out in between. The footing was secure on the uniform shale shards. Where we stepped was a dusty chocolate brown, but the rest of the slope was more liquid. I didn’t know why. Probably something about minerals.

The air was rare to our city lungs, but we took our time and kept our breath. There was no rush, though the illusion of urgency bubbled in the back of my mind instinctually. Fortunately the views were ample to distract that part of my brain, and I spent most of my time gazing way down to the great watery donut of Mono Lake. It was a world away, beautiful and out of reach from our narrow trail scratched into the scree of Parker Peak.

Neither of us fell, or even came close, but this climb was far from boring. Delightful was the word that came to mind. Delightful in an edgy kind of way. Climbing above 12,000ft was kind of ludicrous for the morning of Day 2, but I wasn’t complaining as we sat on the long final switchback above a cliff of sun-cupped snow. I munched on a bar happily despite the chill that was seeping under my skin.

After really struggling with our selfie technique at the true pass, we crunched down the other side on a broken trail of rolling stones. The view on this side was arguably better, so stops were frequent even though we weren’t panting for air. My mom asked if I recognized any of the endless sea of mountains that extended to the jagged horizon. Yes, I did. Many of them I recognized easily. Many I had climbed or walked between. While it was cool to be so familiar with the Sierra, the truth was that attached to the familiarity was melancholy. I remembered those trips, all of them wonderful, and longed for them now. But how nuts was that? On day two of the JMT I was sick with nostalgia for a past that was still fresh in so many ways. I guess that maybe I was afraid that my life had carried me in a direction that didn’t involve these mountains as intimately as had been. Colorado was still new, and I might never feel the same connection with the Sawatch or Sangre de Cristo ranges that graced my doorstep. The Sierra had been and were still my favorite. It was good to be home.

Immediately at our feet were the spectacular Alger Lakes. I’d heard a lot about these over the years, so it was nice to finally meet them. And this basin was as perfect as any other. Huge lakes between big peaks. The top of the three was a weird milky green like I hadn’t seen before, but the bottom two looked beautifully normal. We followed the trail as it cut towards these through a blaze of purple and yellow flowers. To see this much color in August surprised me, but that was just my ignorance showing. I was happy to be surprised.

Lunch easily turned into a two-hour siesta beneath a shady clump of short pine. My mom went for a swim, then I went for a swim. The muddy bottom of Alger #3 warmed my feet, but the water had me shivering in no time. So like I was on a beach in Bali, I stretched out to roast and fight off hypothermia. Looks like this was a beach trip after all.

The afternoon was a hot and dusty tumble below the trees. Pack animal poop aerosolized with each step, and I breathed in the pungent aroma, which contributed to my dehydration and made the hot hours blur by. After one more hot climb above Gem Lake, we found a mostly flat spot to make camp near the rushing Rush Creek. And not too soon. We were both cooked and amazingly tired for such a short day. But the altitude was nothing to sneeze at, as my achy legs told me. Our effort was worthy of a great day.

A big pot of beans transitioned us from sunset to night. The warm air at 9,000ft helped us stay up past dark watching the stars come out and satellites fly. One mosquito, two mosquito. Smash, smash.