JMT 2016 Journal — Day 10 of 25: Fire Fighters, Walnut Farmers, and the Milky Way
Wherein we meet some trail friends, take a dip in a freezing cold alpine lake, and stay up late stargazing.
On July 20, 2016, my friend Ovi and I started our 25 day thru-hike of the world famous John Muir Trail (JMT) in the Sierra Nevada mountains of California. What follows is a day-by-day recounting of that epic adventure.
Previously: Day 9 of 25: A Naked Man Donald Ducking in the Woods
Friday, July 29, 2016
My appetite roller coaster ride continued, with this being one of the good days.
Journal Entry, 7/29/2016
Slept well last night, and had appetite for breakfast. Yay! Today was the first day I felt 100%. Hope for more days like this.
Starting early, Ovi and I made short work of the 5.4 miles between where we camped at Deer Creek and Duck Pass trail, gaining 1,000 feet of elevation in the process. There were no water sources along the way, but we were prepared for that.
Our next milestone was Purple Lake, a couple of miles ahead. Along the way we could see some dark storm clouds approaching, and by the time we made it to the lake it began to rain hard, preceded by a bit of hail. It was the first (and if I remember correctly, only) time we experienced rain on our journey. But it was a warm summer rain, more refreshing than demoralizing.
There was no sign of lightning, so we hunkered down in a pine grove and ate our lunch, waiting out the quick-moving downpour.
At this point, a couple of hikers whom we had seen on the trail the last few days showed up, and we struck up a conversation while enjoying our meal. Their names were Zack and Kelbie, both firefighters from Portland, Oregon. We passed the time chatting about a variety of topics, from the housing market in Portland, to Ohio weather, and of course the common language of hikers, gear. After the rain subsided, we parted company, but unbeknownst to all of us, our paths would cross several more times before the end of the hike.
On the way to Virginia Lake, we passed yet another delightful pond, unnamed on our maps, but no less picturesque than the dozens of others we had passed on our trek so far. It looked like a tiny blueberry jelly bean had rolled down the mountain slope, coming to a rest near a rockslide of gray-white scree, and a lush green carpet of grass.
Journal Entry, 7/29/2016
We saw four more horse and mule packs today, carrying supplies or tourists. One was led by the most cowboy-looking cowboy I’ve seen yet, in a legit leather duster and wearing chaps, soaked from the rain.
We pressed on, climbing higher, until we arrived at Virginia Lake around 5 pm. With a couple hours of daylight remaining, we had a decision to make: continue on for a while longer, or set up camp here.
Journal Entry, 7/29/2016
We could have pushed on for a couple more miles, but this place is so beautiful we decided to camp here for the night. Found a secluded spot close to the water, and as soon as I was done pitching the tent I went for a dip in the lake! I even talked Ovi into it. It was fucking cold! But absolutely serene and very refreshing; an amazing experience in an alpine lake at 10,250 feet of elevation.
While relaxing and catching up on my journaling, another hiker camping nearby walked over and struck up a conversation. He was an older gentleman, hiking the trail northbound with his son. The quintessential old-school hippy, he was laid back, friendly, and very talkative. He told us he’s an organic walnut farmer from California, and gave us a brief history of the California water wars, and how farmers (especially almond farmers) get a bad rap for using too much water. The way he saw it, they were the ones who developed and paid for a large part of the irrigation system in the first place, and had every right to the water their farms needed. I knew very little about the complex web of money, conservation, and politics involved in the state’s water rights debate, but it was engrossing to hear someone’s first hand, passionate take on the topic, as biased as he may have potentially been. Just one more item added to our list of interesting and wholly unexpected experiences on the trail so far.
The waning daylight treated us to yet another example of what John Muir called “the range of light,” as the surrounding mountains transformed from gold to sepia to lavender.
After dinner, seeing the clouds clear from the skies, Ovi and I decided this was our chance to finally do some stargazing later that night. I was groggy as I crawled out of my cozy sleeping bag when my alarm went off at midnight, but the chilly night air woke me instantly. Looking up, it was impossible not to smile in pure joy as I was greeted with the arch of the milky way galaxy, surrounded by thousands of stars. To be sure, a breathtaking, and humbling, sight. We counted numerous shooting stars, and even saw what had to be satellites, given their slow but precise movement across the sky.
My Sony PowerShot G9 X camera, which I used to take all the pictures on this trip, has multiple pre-set functions for star photography, including capturing star trails. I put it to good use, and we stayed up for a few hours taking time-lapse pictures and just looking up at the spectacular light show above us.
I’ve color corrected my pictures a bit to bring out the details, but they still don’t do justice to the dazzling show the universe put on for us that night. After a few hours of just standing around, though, I was getting chilled to my bones. Satisfied with a fantastic night of stargazing, we headed back into our tents, and decided to sleep in later than normal. Tomorrow would have us traversing Silver Pass at an altitude of 10,754 feet, our forth mountain pass thus far.
To complement the heavenly pictures, here are a few earthbound ones as I wrap up this installment.
