John Muir Trail Day 7: Flower Power

JMT Day 7 — 8/10/24
Duck Creek to Silver Pass Lake
Palace Perch Camp to Quiet Alpenglow Camp
JMT miles:  11.4 miles
JMT total: 59 miles
Elevation change: 2,881ft gain, 2,513ft loss

Today was undoubtedly the hardest day of the JMT so far. It was also, with a little bit of doubt, probably my favorite. Funny how those two things tend to follow one another. Both my mom and I would have preferred a little less heat, but it’s the scenery I will remember rather than the tough slog to the top of Silver Pass. And now that we’re on the other side, there’s a whole new horizon and world for us to explore between here and there.

Normal morning stuff happened in the normal way. We’re still sleeping well and waking up naturally around 6am. The sky was gray, but the stars were gone. The outside air initially felt cold, but was soon comfortable and refreshing, and the rock dragon had flown away in the night. After packing up, tea, and breakfast, we were switchbacking up before 8am.

The trail carried us around a massive shoulder of granite high above the Fish Creek valley that wormed west to join the San Joaquin River. On the opposite side, the western edge of the Silver Divide glowed warmly in the morning sunlight. There was not a hint of silver anywhere except for in the resin-rich pinecones that clustered at the tops of the scraggly whitebark pine. The sticky clear droplets actually blazed more like diamonds where they caught the sun. Diamondcones.

Then, the best part of the day. After one more comment from a passing hiker about my mom’s outfit, which features a colorful floral skirt, we took the universe’s hint and workshoped an appropriate trail name for her. In the end, it was obvious. Flower Power not only puts words to her aesthetic, but also pays homage to her days as a filthy hippy back in the day. It fits her perfectly and she loves it. Flower Power it is.

Purple Lake looked better than it had the last time I visited, but it was still a little slimy, and with one of my favorite lakes just ahead, we moved on after a short sit in the dewy grass. A mellow climb through a gully of jumbly boulders finally delivered us to Lake Virginia, and although it was still far too early for lunch, we decided to take an extended break to enjoy that which was right in front of us. With a huge climb up Silver Pass ahead, it was easy to feel anxious about dilly-dallying, but of all places to ignore the frantic mind, Virginia is it. The breeze kept us cool in the shade, and some high clouds even pulled a thin veil across the sun while we soaked our feet and lounged. Some other hikers came and went, but we stayed. Finally, after chilling hard and becoming chilled, I launched off the rocky shore in a headfirst dive. Now with soaked leggings, I was freezing. Time to hike.

The long descent into Tully Hole gave me plenty of time to consider my lack of memories from this place even though I hiked through on the PCT in 2015. The only thing that I did remember was the horrendous mosquitoes, which chased me for miles along the low creek. It was a blur of bites and sweat, and I’d cursed the place ever since. Stupid Tully Hole. What was a hole anyway? And so it was a huge surprise to find that without mosquitoes, the stride along the tumbling Fish Creek was sublime. The warmth of the mid-day sun permeated below the tall canopy above, and the rushing water over granite slabs and clear pools was delightful and inviting. Although it wasn’t our time to stop again so soon, I wondered when I might make an excuse to come back and camp here for a few days. It was comforting to be deep in the granite’s embrace, at least for a short while. Then, at the footbridge across the final rushing cascade, Flower Power made her name official when she introduced herself to Scorpion. No turning back now.

Okay, now time for the biggest climb to date. No matter that it was now the heat of the day. Who planned this thing? What a jabroni. The steep trail started out shaded, but the heat still took its toll. I stayed close behind Flower Power, watching for signs that she was exerting too much. For some reason, she seemed possessed to charge up the pass as fast as possible, but this was much closer to a marathon than a sprint. She was a little bit delirious with heat, and agreed to take a break with me at the first shady spot near water. It was a late lunch at 2pm, but Lake Virginia had thrown us out of whack and it was no surprise that I was hungry.

Even with a cool-down, it was still a slog as we climbed back to and above 10,000ft. Fortunately, the surroundings were ever scenic, so our abundant breaks were always welcome and refreshing. Then finally, we made it to the much anticipated Nüümü Hu Hupi Lake. Time for a swim. Even though it was around 5pm, the sun still baked so it was easy diving into the frigid water. I swam out to where my feet couldn’t squelch in the lovely mud and kept myself afloat while turning in place. Surrounded by tall cliffs of bulging granite, I felt small, like an ant caught in a puddle. The scale of the mountains was immense, and even this small lake felt huge. Even just this one single climb took half a day.

Once Flower Power and I got hiking again, the day was pretty much done. The heat had waned and our energy was restored by the sapphire waters. The final 800ft to the pass was a breeze, but not without reason for pause with three more lakes on the way, all bigger and more sparkly in the lowering sun. I ate a bar at the turn of one switchback, gazing in serene satisfaction back at the hazy silhouettes of the Ritter Range. The Minarets, Mount Ritter, and Banner Peak were all now pleasingly distant on the far side of the Fish Creek canyon that stretched north with sloping walls of blank granite. The view was so similar to the last and only other time I’d seen it. Back then I didn’t even know those mountains existed and they caught me by surprise at the tired end of a long day on the PCT. Today I was both happy and sad to see them like this. Happy because they were beautiful and I was grateful to be back. Sad because I didn’t know when I would see them again after dropping down the other side of the Silver Divide. Would it be that long again?

With surprising immediacy, we crested Silver Pass on a gritty mound of granite sand. I remembered the Oreos that I smeared with peanut butter here over nine years before. I remembered the exhausted relief. I felt that again now too. The heat and long climb had sapped my energy and I was ready to camp.

I followed Flower Power into the alpine basin to the south. A small stream tinkled through a meadow of outrageous paintbrushes of purple and red. The long shadows crept across the ruffled surface of Silver Divide Lake. Somehow, amazingly, unexpectedly, we found the best campsite unoccupied and all to ourselves and the marmots. Without much time before nightfall after the long day, we got to work making camp before finally resting with a stupendous view south to Seven Gables and Selden Pass.

High lenticular clouds burned orange then pink before running out of fuel. Then the granite amphitheatre glowed by the light of the crescent moon. Ramen course, then spanish rice course. No room for dessert. An achingly beautiful end to a tough, but spectacular day.