Ok so let's recap:
I had walked, no, staggered, through the last fifty miles of the desert, growing more ill with each step. I definitely had a fever, and my throat was so painfully swollen that even hydrating was becoming difficult. When I finally made it to Kennedy Meadows, I crashed hard. Every part of my body stiffened as I sat down, as if somehow by becoming rigid it could prevent all future movement. After a fitful night's sleep, I knew for certain that I needed to get to a doctor. But the nearest medical center was more than 2 hours away, all the way down to the desert and north on the highway, in a tiny town called Lone Pine. There was no cell phone service where I was, and no Wi-Fi. The pay phone didn't even work. I had to get a ride, but how I would acquire it was evading me. I spoke to the store manager and asked his advice. As fate would have it, his parents, who were currently cooking a pancake breakfast for the hikers, were heading "down the hill" and could get me as far as the highway. Close enough right?
I waited for the manager's parents to finish up in the kitchen, then loaded my pack in their truck and we started down the mountain. It was long and winding, but it was cool to see just how far we were from civilization, way up there in the high country. They dropped me off on the side of the highway and wished me luck. I could tell they felt bad they couldn't do more for me, but I was so extremely grateful for their help.
The desert heat hit hard. The car thermometer had changed from 75 degrees up at the store to a whopping 110 degrees on the desert floor blacktop. The land was barren, and the sun was glaring down at me. I did not want to be standing there with my thumb out for long. I made a quick sign with a simple message: "PCT HIKER TO HOSPITAL." I tried to look pitiful. It worked. In less than 5 minutes, a clean white Subaru SUV pulled up and a middle aged couple got out to ask if I was ok. I told them my situation and that I needed to get to Lone Pine, and they gladly gave me a ride. It was a long ride, but they had lots of questions for me about my hike, so before I knew it they were hugging me goodbye and wishing me well outside the front of the emergency room.
I walked inside, smelly hiker clothes, pack and all, and asked to see a doctor. After reviewing my symptoms, the doc told me what I wanted to hear: just a case of step throat, nothing worse. He put me on penicillin, told me to rest, and gave me a steroid to reduce the swelling in my throat for the night so I could eat.
I felt 100% better less than an hour later. I ate a few big meals and checked into the hotel with an old friend. Color Wheel was in town! I was ecstatic to be reunited with my oldest friend on the trail. Her first words to me, after 300 miles of separation, were: "Wow, you look like s***." Good old Color Wheel.
The next few days, I spent my time eating, sleeping in the hotel, hanging out with Color Wheel and her new hiking crew, and enjoying a little taste of Virginia lovin', with a visit from my friend from "Schmarrisonburg", Ducky! Ducky had flown out with the intention of hiking with me for a week, but had unfortunately busted her foot up two days before the flight. We spent a few days being busted up together, driving around, shuttling hikers, doing a little sight-seeing, and just being goofy in general.
Exploring the Alabama Hills outside of Lone Pine
After four days of rest, I started getting antsy for the trail again. Ducky's foot was feeling a little better, so we decided that we would hike out of Cottonwood Pass together, camp overnight, and in the morning she would hike back to the parking area while I hiked on. I was so excited to be back in the mountains!
SO EXCITED.
So finally. FINALLY. I am in the High Sierras.
The next week was indescribably beautiful, and so unbelievably challenging. After four zero-mile days, I was raring to go. My illness had vanished without a trace. I could have run down the trail, I had so much energy, +10,000 ft elevation and all. I acclimated to altitude beautifully, and had no adverse effects there whatsoever.
I hiked the side trail up Mt.Whitney for the sunrise, and you can read about that experience here.
I camped at Guitar Lake (which is, indeed, shaped like a guitar) and pan-fried freshly caught California Golden Trout, caught and donated to us by John Muir Trail north-bounder (NoBo) Corey, otherwise known as Black Wolf Run.
Something smells....FISHY
I stood on top of the highest point of the PCT, Forrester Pass, at 13,000+ feet, buck naked for International Hike Naked Day on June 21st.
I saw marmots frequently enough that I began to fantasize about catching and eating them. Seriously, those things need to have a natural predator. They are way too cocky. I nominate thru-hikers for the position. Marmot population reduction and attitude adjustment, hiker calorie supplementation and preservation of food bag security, it's a win-win all across the board!
Look how fat he is....there's probably so many calories in there...
The Sierras are HARD. It is a lot of tough climbing and a lot of tricky descending. Fortunately, we had almost no snow to contend with, whatsoever. It had all melted away ages ago. It's bad news for the rest of California, which depends on the snowmelt for water, but it's great for us hikers, who don't want to have to carry ice axes or crampons!
The view from the top of Forrester Pass, looking out into Sequoia Nat'l Park
But even without the snow, and with a week of absolutely perfect weather, the walking was wearing us down and food supplies began to wane. Bear canisters are required throughout the Sierras to keep the highly habituated bears away from humans and their food. It's great for peace of mind and bear safety (the ones that get used to people have to be put down), but trust me when I say that it can NOT fit more than five days worth of food. Not by thru hiker standards anyway.
Needless to say, I ran low on rations and had to get down off the mountain. I hiked out over Kearsarge Pass to get down to a town called Independence. I was exhausted when I got down from the hill. All I wanted was a place to sleep for cheap for one night, and food. Lots of it. I was depressed to find that Independence had very little to offer on both accounts. I heard a rumor of a hostel in a town called Bishop just north where a lot of hikers were gathered, that it was cheap, clean, fun, and offered a hiker shuttle service. Bingo. I got a ride with a few other hikers, and spent a very enjoyable and restful night in Bishop at Hostel California. Week one of the Sierras was complete, and though I'd loved every second of them, these mountains were beginning to take their toll.
P.S. I apologize for the lack of and poor quality of pictures. My camera died halfway through this stretch of trail and I couldn't capture a whole lot of what I saw (not that it fit in the frame too well anyway...the Sierras are kind of big). More pictures from here on out!
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