JMT - aka, Whitney the long way

“Previously on John Muir Trail: he had to bail out about two-thirds of the way in. When he bailed out, he thought that the last third must not be that much tougher than the section he had just experienced…”.  Unfortunately, unlike your favorite TV show, the current season could not start where the previous season had ended: I had to start from the very beginning. On the plus side, I am glad that I had not bailed out last year after Mather Pass: if I had, I would perhaps never have tried again this year. So, at the risk of spoiling the suspense, I should say that the last third is way tougher than the first two-thirds. And, with the sentence, I apologize for spoiling the overall ending too. But, if you do read on, you’ll get to see some cool foot after-picture.

So, some preliminaries – the John Muir Trail is the Crown Jewel of High Sierra trails and runs 211 miles from the Happy Isles trailhead in Yosemite to Mt. Whitney in California. And, it is not flat. I had tried it last year and had bailed out just after Muir Pass because of some issues – I have a blog post about it here. When I had bailed out, I had thought that I would never try it again because I did not enjoy the experience at all: despite some of the most spectacular scenery I had come across - going 40+ miles each day gets to be painful and leaves no time to actually enjoy the scenery. I am not sure whether Alicia believed it when I told her that I will never try it again.

Out rolls another spring, and I start training for a hard 100-mile race (Cruel Jewel in GA). I trained hard for it, and not just because of that race itself, but with another JMT attempt in mind. After the race in May, I switched from doing long runs in the north GA mountains to doing even longer runs/hikes in those mountains with a 20 lbs pack. By the beginning of July, five weeks before my trip,I was feeling quite strong and better prepared than last time: no disrespect to WI (where we lived last year), but it is a tad flatter than northern GA and High Sierra.

Then, the trip almost didn’t happen. While on an easy run in a recovery week, I twisted my gimpy ankle badly. Subsequently, my grand training plans for the last few weeks had to modified - just fast hikes in the mountains now, and only one of those hikes were what I would consider long enough for JMT training. Even a few days before the trip, I could not finish a hike without significant discomfort on the ankle. Alicia had suggested I try ASO ankle bandage, so I took the advice and decided to use that. A week before the trip, I tried the ankle bandage for a couple of 2-3 hours hikes at a local trail. My ankle survived 8 miles without any pain, so I must be ready for 211 (+11) miles on some very rugged trails.

I got to Yosemite Wilderness Permit Station early morning on Saturday, August 9 to try my luck at one of the few walk-in permits available each day. There were a few of us who got the walk-in permits that day: a couple from Sacramento (Phil and Nancy?), and a young guy from all over the place (originally from Atlanta). We talked for a while, and they probably thought I was a lunatic to try and go 40-45 miles a day, unsupported. But, they were nice about it, and I enjoyed the morning company.

The whole of Saturday, I was feeling quite “meh” about the whole thing. Recent medical issues had dampened my enthusiasm and the trip seemed doomed. I really did not have much excitement about the whole thing till about 4 PM (I was going to start about 4 AM next day). If there was a bet going somewhere as to when I would bail, I would have put my money on Tuolumne Meadows (the first actual bail out point). Then, I took a shuttle ride around the valley. When the shuttle got to the trailhead, I saw the sign – “John Muir Trail”. That was it – I felt goosebumps. Maybe, I would have now bet on Devils Potspile (the second easy bail-out point at mile 56).

Day 1 (~46 miles): I got to the trailhead at 3:57 AM and started hiking. It is basically all uphill for the first 20ish miles till Cathedral Pass. Along the way, I met an Indian guy (Aditya) – I am sure he was as surprised to see the specific ethnicity of another solo hiker reasonably far from the trailhead at 5 AM as I was. We had a pleasant conversation for a while – he was heading up to Clouds Rest. After a while, my strapped ankle started to feel a bit funny. The bandage is stiff enough to prevent much lateral motion and prevent a roll, but the natural constant flexing of the joint while walking/running did create some discomfort. Also, the bandage does rub against the Achilles, which got more and more inflamed as the days progressed.

Other than the ankle issues, the day went quite well till I started up Donohue pass (about 34 miles in). The pass itself defines the boundary of Yosemite National Park, and its summit is almost 11 K feet. That translates into – I can’t breathe and am nauseous. Well, maybe not the “park boundary” part. I realized that I had taken some Zofran with me (an excellent suggestion by my wife). The nausea went down and I was able to eat. I still couldn’t breathe and I did slow down considerably.

When I started up the next pass – Island Pass – it was already way into the night, and I hiked a bit more till I got to Garnet Lake. A bit around and above the lake, I decided to stop for the first night.

One thing I hadn’t accounted for was the amount of time it took to get ready for bed – force feed myself, put the remaining food in the bear-resistant container I was carrying, setting up the bed. And, being tired made all that take that much longer. Eventually, I got to sleep about 1:30 AM.

Day 2 (~33 miles):  After getting up at 5, it took me a while to get ready – get the day’s food out of the bear container, have some breakfast, pack sleeping stuff.  Eventually, I got going about 5:30. A short downhill, followed by a bit of uphill, and the subsequent downhill got me to Devils Potspile. Then, a slog up on an exposed trail during the hot part of the day led me to Crater Meadows, then a more shaded trail to Duck Lake by mid-late afternoon. A few more rambling ups and downs lead to Tully Hole. It was here that it first started to hail, and I could see lightning on the higher passes and peaks. About here, I met another hiker (Sean?) who was trying to finish the JMT in under 8 days.  We talked for a bit, and he camped and I carried on.

My original plan for the day was to make it to Quail Meadows (~ mile 88) before taking a break. Unfortunately, as I was making my way up to Silver Pass before the eventual descent into Quail meadows, it started to hail on me again, and I noticed that it was mainly the Silver Pass area that was completely covered in a threatening-looking cloud with thunder. It was only about 11, but the cloud did not look like it was going anywhere. So, instead of either wasting time waiting for the cloud to go away or, the more dangerous option, getting hit by lightning on Silver Pass (~11K ft), I decided to bivy half way up Silver Pass with the plan of waking up earlier.

Due to possible rain all through the night, I set up my tarp-tent. It was a piece of pure artwork (pic below) – less tolerant of wind than Scottish midges and rain than a cheap climbing guidebook. Needless to say, I had to get rid of it within the first 15 minutes and take my chances with the rain. Luckily, it just drizzled a bit, and I was able to manage about  3 hours of sleep.

The "tent".

Day 3 (~44 miles): The plan for the day was to get up by 3 AM and try and make up for the lost mileage the day before. The first part was successful, but I had only a qualified success in the second – I needed a 50 mile day.

It started off quite well – I got down to Quail Meadows at a reasonable pace and managed to get up the big climb up to Bear Creek Trail fairly quickly. Last year, this particular climb lead to a bonk, but it went much better this year. I suspect  all the hill training in northern GA had something to do with that. Then, up to Seldon Pass (~11 K ft), and down to Blayney Meadows trail junction. Last year, I had cut across to Muir Trail Ranch to resupply (by August, they have enough leftovers from previous hikers). This year, I was determined to do the trail in a completely unsupported fashion. I skipped the side trip to MTR and kept going towards Evolution Meadows. 

Just before dusk, I had my first scary moment – I felt a sharp tinge on the side of my gimpy ankle. I sat down on a rock and bent over to remove my shoe, the ankle brace, and the sock. Ah, it is just an oozing blister. Whew. Then, I felt my Achilles region where the brace was rubbing – there was a bit of a painful lump. I put the shoe back on and straightened up to start standing. Ouch – that was a sharp pain in my abdominal region, like a back spasm.  At this moment, I thought to myself – “it sounds ridiculous to go forward, instead I should probably hike out from Muir Trail Ranch to Florence Lake and bail. Then, another voice inside me said that the back spasm was probably due to something from my pack digging into my back.  Since I have already spoiled the ending for you, you can guess which voice won.

Getting into Evolution Meadow proper involved a choice of possible ways to cross a raging Evolution creek. I decided upon the least scary – a careful act across two logs onto the spine of a big rock. From that rock, a short hop put me on the other side. To make it about 50 miles, I had to make it to almost Muir Pass. But, the going was fairly slow now as I was tiring. So, I decided to stop somewhere just past Mclure Meadows.

Before stopping, I had my second scare for the day. As I was shuffling across the lower Evolution basin, I looked across a small meadow and saw two bright eyes staring at me. The two eyes seemed a bit too far apart to be deer eyes. And, in the moonlight, the coat seemed too light to be a black bear’s coat. Mountain lion?? Appear BIG and make noises!! I resisted the urge to gallop, pulled myself up and puffed out my chest to present my most imposing frame to the animal (hey, even a skinny 6’1” frame can be made to look big).  And, started banging my hiking poles together. I saw the animal take two steps forward to get a better view. RESIST THE URGE TO RUN! To fight the panic, I visualized my obituary – “DNF – mauled by a mountain lion.” Suddenly, the animal lost interest, turned around and left. If that was actually just a deer, it must have been amused by the silly human antics. I hope it was not just a marmot.

As it was a bright moonlit night, I decided to forgo setting up my tent and slept under the stars in my sleeping bag.

Day 4 (~32 miles):  The day started with a climb up to the upper Evolution basin. It is a very pretty region, but is followed by a soul-destroying climb up to Muir Pass (~12 K ft). It is a fairly gradual climb, but one has to hop across one large basin after another large basin to reach the pass. There were several early morning hikers here trying to make their way to the pass. Among them was a writer from Japan who comes to do the JMT every year. 

The climb up Muir pass is followed by a knee shattering descent into LeConte Canyon (~9 K ft at its lowest). As I neared the low point, I was stopped by a couple of trail volunteers who said that they were blasting some large tree that had fallen across the trail. They didn’t warn as to how loud the blast would be! 

Soon, we got going and I passed the point where I had bailed out last year. With a cursory glance up the bail-out trail, I kept going on the JMT. I was on a mission to reach Pinchot Pass that night. Unfortunately, as it transpired, there was going to be no parade on top of a pass proclaiming “mission accomplished”.

The trail went gradually uphill to Dear Meadows, and, then, all hell broke loose. The climb to Mather Pass is divided into two segments – the first is the so-called Golden Staircase leading up to Palisade Basin. Then, after some meandering around the basin, the trail climbs steeply up to Mather Pass (~12 K ft).

It was a slow climb up to Palisade Basin, and I realized that I was slowing down. When I got to the Palisade basin, all the frustration at the slow going immediately evaporated. The Palisade region has always been my favorite region of the Sierra – rugged peaks on three sides, with North Pal and its friends right in front as one gets to the basin from the JMT, and beautiful lakes. The picture, though nice, does not do justice to this region. It dawned upon me that I missed this region very much and it was somewhat of an emotional homecoming for me. Or, maybe, that was just the pain.

View of the Palisade peaks (Winchell, Thunderbolt, Starlight, and North Palisade) from the Palisade basin.

As much as I wanted to spend the rest of the evening there, I knew I had to carry on. Or, stumble on – as it turned out to be. Here, the progress up to Mather Pass was really slow. Of all the Sierra Passes, I think the climb up to Mather Pass is the hardest of all JMT climbs – big steps on a big rocky trail. And, the summit of the pass just keeps getting farther and farther the higher one climbs. Actually, calling it a pass is kind of a misnomer – it is practically a ridge crossing at the lowest point on the ridge. I decided to rename it Madar Pass. From that point onwards, I referred to the pass by its new name to anyone I met on the trail. And, since I did not meet any more Hindi-speakers on the trail, my insistence on using the new name was sort of silly.

When I finally got to the top of the pass, I found that the other side is much easier – just a short initial steep section followed by a gradual, runnable downhill. I felt I needed some sleep and that I would be able to use the runnable section to a better advantage after some rest. So, I set up camp just below 12 K ft on the south side of the pass around midnight.

Day 5 (37 miles): Ah, the joy of sleeping under stars – especially when you are at 12 K ft, have a down sleeping bag and it gets completely soaked in dew. I guess, I woke up colder than I had anticipated. And, since I would have no way to dry out the sleeping bag (unless I decided to take an hour break in the middle of the day), I knew that sleep the coming night would be kind of challenging.

Let’s worry about that later – for now, let’s enjoy the jog down some fun terrain to 10 K ft (South Fork of Kings River crossing). Those 6.5 miles went fairly quickly, and, then much steeper climb to Pinchot Pass started – again in two section, with a basin halfway up. Compared to the previous climb, the climb up Pinchot Pass, though steep, was fairly pleasant with a much smoother trail and not many steps. The view from top was quite nice too (pic below). The climb was followed by a fun descent down to the Twin Lakes Basin.

Looking down towards Twin Lakes from Pinchot Pass.

Unfortunately, the fun stopped there. The next section from Twin Lakes to Woods Creek is a hot and exposed section with annoying downhill footing. Also, it was here somewhere that I ran out of all my non-perpeteum food (except three Oreos that I was saving up for the Whitney summit celebrations).

After a cool (and scary) swinging bridge over Woods Creek, the climb up to Rae Lakes is, again, exposed and hot. The view from Rae lakes is quite nice, and I stopped there for about 15 minutes to take in the view and snap a picture or two. Although the area looks nice, I could kind of see the upcoming climb up to Glenn Pass (~12 K ft - the faint ridge just to the left of the hulking giant on the upper right of the picture below).

Rae Lakes area. The brooding dark hulk center right (and far) marks the leftmost edge of the ridge making up Glen Pass.

As has been the story recently, this climb was, again, in two parts. The first part was steep, though reasonable. The second part – there was nothing reasonable about it. The rough trail became even rougher till it just looked like a pile of rubble, with the steepness to go with it. Eventually, I got to the “pass”. Even more than Mather Pass, it was just a ridge crossing that was barely 5 feet wide at its widest.

Glen "Pass".

The descent down the other side was more pleasant, and quickly deposited me down to Vidette Meadows (except for the 3 K ft of knee busting). Along the way, I chatted with a couple of guys who had climbed the pass just ahead of me. Together, we made fun of the “pass” nomenclature to describe that monster.

From Vidette meadows, the next pass is Forrester Pass. At ~13 K ft, it is the highest of JMT passes (not counting Trail Crest by Whitney).  The first section of about 4 miles is fairly gradual, followed by an ever-steepening climb up to the summit of the pass (another ridge crossing). 

This was another theme on the JMT – the trail shape after Muir Pass is mostly concave. A gradual middle section surrounded by ever steepening climbs to summits of the passes. So, although the trail from the lowest point between two passes to either pass climbs a reasonable 3 K ft in 7 miles, two thirds of that elevation gain appears in the final third interval.

Eventually, I got to the summit of the pass and made my way down the other side to a camping spot. It was about 3 AM and it would be 5 days in just an hour. So much for under 5 days - I was still about 20 miles from Whitney. However, I had known for about 1.5 days now that under 5 days isn’t going to happen and was pretty happy to do 3 huge passes in a day.

 I had planned to sleep for about 2 hours. And, then, I pulled out my sleeping bag and realized that it was still wet. Uh-oh. Maybe the emergency blanket would suffice. Well, it did for about half an hour before I woke up shivering badly. 

Day 6 (~20 + 11 miles) “aka – everything tastes like perpeteum”:  The breakfast consisted of – you guessed it. The day started with a big, though nice, downhill to Tyndall Creek. The creek crossing was itself a bit tricky with raging waters.

The next few miles give much different scenery than the first 195 miles of the JMT – now it feels like a high desert environment.  There are still streams and occasional lakes – but vegetation is sparse and shrub like for the most part. And, the next 10-12 miles to Guitar Lake are pretty annoying with a few tricky stream crossings (I had to wade barefoot across Wright Creek because the rock bridge placement felt quite insecure). It was somewhere along this section I started having some auditory hallucinations – I began hearing cheesy Hindi music. And it annoyed me that I could not make out the lyrics!

As I was leaving Guitar Lake, a woman just got there and asked which lake was that. I replied “Guitar Lake.” She retorted – “No it is not.” Well, you figure it out for yourself then, I said to myself and left. I had a while to go and did not feel like engaging in a conversation with someone whose natural tendency seemed be “confrontation first”. It was broad daylight with several other hikers nearby, it was not as if things were on the verge of catastrophe anyway.

The climb up from Guitar Lake to Trail Crest is long and steep – climbs about 2 K ft in a bit over 2.5 miles. However, the footing is quite good – so, the climb goes relative quickly (expect for the lack of oxygen – Trail Crest is ~13.5 K ft).

At trail crest, the trail becomes  a zoo – it meets the main Mt. Whitney Trail coming up from the other side, and the final 2 miles to Whitney summit are seldom lonely (especially early-mid afternoon). This part of the trail is a bit rockier than the immediately previous section. That, combined with lack of food and sleep, made for some uncomfortable path to the summit.

Southern terminus of the JMT! (Oh yeah, it is also the summit of Mt. Whitney).

Finally, 5 days, 11 hours, and 48 minutes later – I was at the southern terminus of the JMT! Although I had missed my original target of less than 5 days, I was pretty happy. It felt even better to have done this unsupported (not even mooching food of anyone even after running out of all but perpeteum).

I was getting really sleepy now – and was worried about ankle twists on the 11 miles out. So, I popped in a 200 mg caffeine pill and made an uneventful, but annoying, trip down to Whitney Portal. When I got to the portal road, I started making out distinct images of dancing gypsies on rocks where the headlamp light was hitting. And, they were fully reproducible – when I returned back to a specific rock, the previous images I had seen on that rock were still there! I even rubbed sand on a particularly annoying image to avoid seeing it again.

The promised picture of a burst yellow blister and swollen ankle. For those who like symmetry in the world - don't despair, there was a perfect symmetry on the other foot.

In the end, I hated most of the trail, had no time to enjoy the spectacular views, and dealt with significant pain throughout (especially early morning pain that was my usual alarm clock) but it was a very satisfying journey. And, it was very hard – probably harder than anything I have done so far. The combination of physical effort, the pain (knee and below), and the mental effort required when things were looking down (which they frequently were) was unmatched.

After I finished, it brought to mind my early middle school years. I was overweight for a 12 year kid and often was made fun of because of my weight and size.  So, although there are several people who have done and can do the JMT faster than I can, I would say I did not do too badly for a fat kid.