JMT Day 13 — 8/16/24
Middle Fork of the King to the Golden Staircase
Worst Trail Ever Camp to We All Trip Camp
JMT miles: 14 miles
JMT total: 121.8 miles
Elevation change: 1,647ft gain, 3,051ft loss
Was that blood on the rock? Shit. I’d heard a slip and turned around to see Flower Power semi-crumpled and face down across the trail. After a quick few steps back to her, I surveyed the scene. It looked like she tripped on a big step and fell flat on her face. The blood was discouraging and she wasn’t making an effort to get up. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Gently, I helped her sit upright in the dirt. One pole was flexed beneath her so I removed it then inspected the damage. Worst case would be a broken wrist or finger, or a badly smashed face. But neither of those looked true. There was a little bit of blood on her left cheek, her chin was grazed and her lower lip was bleeding. None of it looked deep or in need of specific attention. Fwewh.
She was dazed and confused, as anyone would be after the earth drops from beneath them, but there was no memory loss nor evidence of a good whack to the dome. All things considered, the fall was nothing serious. Physically at least. It had clearly shaken Flower Power, and me too. It always lurks in the back of my mind that all it takes is one bad step to end a hike, or worse. Here was that lesson in a red smear on white granite. Maybe we were unlucky, or maybe we were lucky. I was just glad that there was no need for medical care. However, the psychological bruise might be more persistent.
I dabbed away the blood with a damp handkerchief while asking a bunch of questions to kill time so that both of us could calm down. Finally, Flower Power got to her feet and took a few steps. Everything seemed good, but she was obviously shaken. Later at camp, after a grueling climb and another close call, Flower Power seemed wilted. Her melancholy was understandable, but it was heartbreaking. After hiking over 100 rugged miles, including the rocky garbage down from Muir Pass yesterday, all it took was one trip to strip away her confidence. With a lot more miles to go, how could she get it back? We needed it.
But let’s back up. How did we get here? A normal, but cold morning put us back on the trail before the sunlight could reach our narrow bottom of the upper LeConte Canyon. That annoying group of six was still packing up when we left, which gave me immense joy and satisfaction. Hopefully we wouldn’t need to wade through their midst again. Even better, Flower Power and I were feeling fresh again. The night had restored our faith in ourselves and this wild journey. Her knee didn’t even whisper of discomfort. Life was good.
Down we went, deeper below the sharp peaks into the land of cascade and meadow. The trail remained rocky, but green things grew up to meet us as we twisted between the river and rounded cliffs of granite. Then finally, after navigating a wide slope of talus that was fragrant with the aroma of scrub in bloom, the tread turned to dirt and the grade eased. The toothy grin of a rock monster was there to congratulate us on finally getting down from Muir Pass.
The payoff was nearly as smooth as anticipated, and the two of us finally lengthened our stride. Through the forest, down deeper into the canyon after bending right with the river, which was still causing a ruckus for some reason. From a small clearing surrounded by shimmering aspen, was a view of our next several miles — a narrow strip of forest between soaring cliffs of granite. The sheer faces flew thousands of feet above. Misting creeks poured from glacial basins invisible high above. LeConte, as always, was a sight to behold.
Soon we were past the ranger station and junction to Bishop Pass. Hopefully this would mean quieter trail ahead now that we were off the popular Evolution Loop. Some avalanche debris slowed us down intermittently, but otherwise, it was the trail of dreams. We chatted happily as the miles passed easily under the shady protection of the old forest.
Soon after our meadowside lunch, Flower Power and I followed the JMT sign pointing us up Palisade Creek. This marked the end of the mega down from Muir Pass and the beginning of the mega up to Mather Pass. And even though it was hot down here at 8,000ft, I was always happy to visit with my ponderosa friends again who were titanic at this altitude. They anchored the very ground, cultivating mounds of earth and burying them under thick mats of needles and cones. Other trees and shrubs filled the spaces in between, but each mature ponderosa had its own domain and I stopped to gape at each unique sentinel.
The heat eventually got the better of us. The sun was relentless at our backs, and the creek was nowhere to be seen when we needed it most. And multiplying our discomfort by a thousand were the thousand dead trees strewn across the trail. Some major avalanches had piled a mess of trunks and limbs across the path, each one requiring an arduous detour or hip-aching step-over. Our rhythm, so important on long climbs was blown to hell. Parkour and grabbing twigs sapped what remained of our flagging energy reserves.
Dehydration also played its sinister part. Neither of us was drinking enough water, so we shriveled like raisins in the intense afternoon heat. Finally, Palisade Creek turned to meet the trail, and we gulped it down by the filter-full.
And then the good day continued its slide from meh to damn.
A minute after our water break is when Flower Power fell, obliterating what little was left of our morale. Already it was clear that the fallen trees had eliminated our stretch goal as an option. Palisade Lakes would need to wait until tomorrow. Now, even our minimum felt distant. But I put on my best optimism hat and kept us moving. Flower Power, to her immense credit, got right back to it even though I was sure that she wanted to be done hiking.
A long slow slog put us on a granite perch at the base of a feature called the Golden Staircase. That was it for the day, even though I wished for a less epic, more comforting spot on soft flat ground. Here, the wind blew and a tossed rock would tumbled over a cliff. Not exactly welcoming to someone who didn’t trust their balance. Still, it was home, for better or worse. The sun shone brilliantly above the shark teeth of Devil’s Crag at the far end of the valley, warming us pleasantly. Flower Power seemed deflated and turned in for a lie-down while I gathered water from the nearby granite waterslide. Whatever negative self-talk was harassing her thoughts, I’m sure it was brutal.
For several minutes while I crouched along the edge of oblivion, these mountains didn’t feel like home anymore. They were too dangerous and I didn’t want to die out here. A slip, a splash, a tumble down the smooth granite slabs where they rounded to a vertical falls. It could all be over so quickly. Oddly enough, we were just a few miles from where I had last had this feeling when Spice and I had been caught in a lightning storm during the SHR. Again, after I had looked my mortality in the eye, recreation in the mountains seemed pretty stupid and frivolous. Of course, there are a lot of ways to die, non-exclusive to backpacking, and the feeling faded quickly then, as it did now after I left the vertiginous edge and returned to camp.
Flower Power had a little more pep when I returned, which was infectious. There was hope again, mixed with the sadness. It was just one bad step. Or was it? That was the tug of war, and we tried to move past the unwinnable game by eating a huge pot of hot noodles and planning out tomorrow. Finishing up the Golden Staircase and then humping over Mather Pass was a big task, but we both believed that a night of rest was the best thing for us and that a fresh start was just the ticket to a good day. So like last night, we put our hope in tomorrow. Could Flower Power bounce back? Could we hike the miles that we needed to?
I could feel the warmth of the rock billowing through my thin foam pad when I lay down to sleep. Like a heated blanket, it tempted me to forget everything and rest. That sounded good to me, and I fell asleep watching the moon’s glow turn the canyon walls silver.
Hike For Days 