John Muir Trail Day 4: One Section Down

JMT Day 4 — 8/7/24
Shadow Creek to Red’s Meadow
Packed Bench Camp to Shade and Hot Springs Camp
JMT miles:  11 miles
JMT total: 36.2 miles
Elevation change: 1,585ft gain, 2,746ft loss

Let’s all be proud of my mom, who today completed the first section of her first larger thru-hike. She’s backpacked longer than four days before, but this is different. Rather than going home at the end of today, we are still camping as we rest and prep for the next section. This might be the point when this trip starts to feel a little bit different than the others, when a sense of accomplishment isn’t immediately overwritten with thoughts about what comes next. Well, we are thinking about ‘next’ but that’s just hiking. No driving or emails yet on the horizon. This thru-hike is still our life. We’re just getting started actually. My mom is doing great. I’m proud of her and am excited to continue our adventure together. Now if only someone would bestow on her a trail name, I could stop calling her ‘mom’, right?

We tried something a little different this morning and packed up camp before sitting to catch our breath over a pot of tea and breakfast cookies. This was a nice change, and the sun, devilishly hot as it would soon be, was a pleasant complement to the quiet morning. As we sipped and munched, I could hear the deflating sleeping pads and tinkle of tent stakes as the rest of the bench crew packed up their homes.

Back on trail before 8am, we followed Shadow Creek on its mad tumble to Shadow Lake. The air was filled with noise and mist, the water’s edge frothy like a latte with whoknowswhat brown crema, but despite the racket, the morning was peaceful. Deep shadows anchored at the feet of humongous trees kept the vibes chill.

Shadow Lake was vibing equally cool. The clear waters reflected an abstract rendition of the surrounding forest and cliffs. Angled light showed a muddy rim in the shallows that quickly dropped to a bottomless blue. With zero camping allowed on the steep shoreline, there was no hubbub of humans other than the other two hikers sharing in our awe and snapping photos. It was pretty here, and enhanced by the surety that we were only allowed to visit.

That was also an excuse to linger a little bit before the big climb of the day. But we couldn’t put it off any longer. The shade shadowing the switchbacks was fleeting and I needed to find enough distance between me and the water to drop an LNT-adherent dookie. So up we went.

Mom was charging, claiming that a faster rhythm helped her feel less fatigued, so I waterskied behind her on the most pleasant of switchbacks. Soon we were 700ft up, plunking down on the shore of Rosalie Lake, again impressed by the overt scenicness. The damp chill of my sweaty feet drying and watching two chipmunks caper was a small highlight to a wonderful morning. The critters first stared at us for 10 minutes, before becoming the playful animals that existed without threat. Cute AF.

From there, or actually after a little more up, it was all downhill and heat. The grade was gentle and the trees pleasingly huge, but the blazing sun could not be tempered as we descended to the lowest elevations that we would see during this entire hike (maybe?). Below 9,000ft, then 8,999ft, then 8,998ft, all the way to 8,000ft. Each successive lake was less attractive for swimming than the one before it. My water disappeared as fast as my lifesaver candies. The dust of my mom’s footprints crusted my nostrils and irritated my throat. I enjoyed coming up with descriptions of my favorite trees (the big ones with red chunky bark) as I cruised along, trying to keep my mouth shut as much as possible.

Unfortunately, the biggest trees also seemed to be the deadest for some reason, and their titanic carcasses littered the dry needles. Some had shattered on impact, spilling their rusty guts in degrading mounds of featherweight wood. Others were still intact, giving no indication of why they went down. Was it just their time? How many years had these giants weathered and thrived in the elements? How shocking it must have been to see them fall. These were the ancients, the wise. Most were dead now, giving what they had to the next generation that only looked small relative to the previous one. And here I was. Young and puny.

Minaret Creek arrived just in time. We dropped our packs and waded in, filtering the cold water into our mouths while standing in it. The ankle-deep water refreshed immediately, and the ensuing two-hour lunch break made sure it would last. I finished off the last of my food, proud that I had finally not carried way too much, and lay in the shade as a few other hikers stopped and moved on.

We were both roasted again when we swished into Devil’s Postpile at 7,600ft. In stark contrast with what Spice and I experienced during the SHR, there were zero other people there as we checked out the twisted columns of basalt. A season-long road closure ensured that we hikers had this spot nearly to ourselves, and we took our time without any of the overwhelm that had erupted during the last visit. It was hot, but it was quiet at least.

Finally, after one final mile, we made it to the collection of wooden buildings that make up Red’s Meadow Resort. It was perfect and the ponderosa pine were bigger than I remembered. But even though they were our people, the clustered tables full of hikers were intimidating. They were strangers, after all, and all I wanted was a cold drink and patch of shade. Who were these dirty fellows with courageous stories full of epicness and bravado? I hate small talk with hikers sometimes. It’s usually more “how many miles are you hiking a day?” and less “what do you enjoy most out here?”

Well, I enjoy food and ginger beer when I can get them, and I did. Our resupply boxes were safe and sound, and the cold drink fizzy and flavorsome. We cheersed to my mom, and prepared to relax to the maximum.

Shady campground, natural hot springs, a yummy dinner, and talking past dark. These closed out the day and the first section of the JMT. After a full rest day tomorrow, I know I’ll be ready for the next.