Since the day Ryan mentioned that he and his friends Kip and EK were going to hike the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), I had the interest to join them at one or several points along the 2,660 miles of the trail. Of course I was not in shape but it gave me the excuse to get into shape and I started walking the hills around my home every morning for the past three months. The walks were good but nothing close to the real experience I would be facing once I set foot on the trail with a
40 pound pack at the 6,000 foot entrance at the southern end of the high sierras.

The Preparation

It had been five years since Ryan and I took our last hike up Yosemite Falls. Ryan provides the list of everything from new boots to an ice axe in the event we found ourselves in deep snow and ice. After several trips to REI and several hundred dollars later, I felt I had equipment enough to tackle the California Alps for the four days we would be together. The shear technology of how hiking gear has changed over the past 10 years is astounding. This is especially true regarding the weight and durability of materials. Everything anyone has written about backpacking any trail of this length is how much things weigh. I began to appreciate how ounces lead to pounds and every pound would feel like ten after a long day on the trail.

Maps are everything to Coco and we began wall papering our house with maps highlighting the trail from San Diego to Canada. Our house became an extension of the forest service or the local office of the  geological survey. Of particular importance was the section from a remote point called Kennedy Meadows to Take Out points near Lone Pine or Independence California along highway 395 in eastern California. It all looked easy enough traveling 42 miles and climbing from 6,020 feet in Kennedy Meadows to 10,500 feet at Lone Pine. I would eventually regret that I didn’t look closer at the topography of the trail I was about to join. All we needed to know was when the "Three Amigos" were planning to be at Kennedy Meadows and this was confirmed two weeks prior to our meeting. It might seem simple in planning this rendezvous but these were guys who had been on the trail for forty-eight days and traveled 697 miles up to this point. Weather, sore feet or a miscalculation of the terrain could easily change the date by one to five days.

Lastly, gathering the food to feed three hungry hikers let alone what I would need for the trail was a never-ending process. Coco assumed the mother’s role by baking a rhubarb pie, preparing two soups, dips, vegetables & fruit to start her own store. I on the other hand set off to Costco for jerky, dried fruit, pop tarts, trail mix (grog), oatmeal, 3 gallons of juice, a large watermelon, beer, and a 48 count box of snickers. The shopping continued for the next week with incidentals that
would nickel and dime you to death.

The Rendezvous

Getting to Kennedy Meadows from the San Francisco bay area is far from a drive across town. Given a stop or two along the way, it would turn out to be a nine hour drive through the central valley, across Yosemite and Tioga Pass and then down highway 395 near the turn off to Death Valley and northeast back up into the mountains to our meeting place along the South Fork of the Kern river.

After spending the night in Mammoth Lakes, we awoke to our first glimpse of the portion of the Sierra called the "John Muir Trail" that runs from the base of Mount Whitney 212 miles northeast to Toulumne Meadows in Yosemite passing through three national parks, one national monument, and four national wilderness areas. This would be the portion of the trail that would begin where I left the Three Amigos near Mount Whitney five days later. Those of you that are not familiar with John Muir should know that his life defies a quick definition as described in a 1989 National Geographic article: "Born in Dunbar, Scotland, in 1838,  he grew up in Wisconsin, then walked from the Ohio River a thousand miles to the Gulf of Mexico, signing his travel journal ‘John Muir, Earth-Planet, Universe.’ He planned to continue south to explore the jungles of the Amazon, but a bout of malaria turned his sights west to California, where he arrived in 1868 and immediately fell in love with the land. Over the next decade Muir became well known as a Sierra mountaineer, explorer, and naturalists. He often wandered near the trail’s present course, believing that ‘only by going alone in silence, without baggage, can one truly get into the heart of the wilderness’.  In later life Muir became the nation’s foremost conservationist. Yosemite National Park was established in 1890 essentially to Muir’s recommendations. Two years later he helped form the Sierra Club".

The never-ending stretch of mountains along this 212-mile route was humbling to say the least. In all there are nearly a dozen peaks that exceed 14,000 feet. I began to feel the reality of what I was about to enter and the apprehension set in. Highway 395 travels along the eastern base of the Sierra through Bishop, Independence and Lone Pine. At anytime, you can take a shear mountain road climbing from 4,000 to 9,000 feet in a matter of minutes. Thirty five miles past Lone Pine we turned
northwest toward Kennedy Meadows, climbing back into the Sierra excited to see the Amigos for the first time since dropping them off at Campo 697 miles and forty eight days ago.

After one hour and traveling through a burnt forest, we spotted them on the porch of the general store enjoying a cold beer with a new friend (Robert Hirsch from Tennessee). They smelled and looked like they had not been near hot water or a Laundromat for seven days. Beyond the grit, their smiles shown through and we all immediately embraced. Kennedy Meadows is a collection of houses and makeshift commercial dwellings to support local hunters and campers. They generate their own electricity and provide a movie once a week in an outdoor theater. Ironically, the week after our departure, they were scheduled to show the movie "The
Three Amigos" with Steve Martin, Chevy Chase and Martin Short (guess, which character relates to Ryan, Kip, and EK?).

We moved down the road to the Kennedy Meadows campground and set up camp for the next two nights. This was the only break that they would be taking in the following two weeks on the trail. Within minutes, all the packs were emptied, the suburban unloaded, and tents raised. It was 6PM and time to start enjoying all that food we brought.

Fortunately, we had prepared for the feast and baked a side of salmon and a large steak over the fire. Between that moment and the next evening, these hungry hikers consumed 3 gallons of juice, a case and half of beer, two bags of fresh fruit, cookies, two bottles of wine, dips and vegetables, a dozen eggs, a bag of pancake mix, a watermelon and 5 gallons of water.  It made all the shopping worthwhile. We spent Sunday relaxing, washing in the river, sorting new gear, and trading out
for new shoes. I couldn’t believe how worn their shoes had become with duck tap patching holes and soles worn to within a fraction of an inch. To the person, they felt they had died and gone to heaven once they dawned their new socks and shoes.

During this time, I began to realize just how much they had been through now one quarter into their odyssey. The stories of crossing the desert, the snow in southern California and the many great people (Trail Angels) they had met along the way. The generosity of people seemed to touch them the most particularly in this day of mass communications, freeways and fast food. They also formed a kinship with several people along the trail and would often "hopscotch" with them over several hundred miles. One of these friends was Lawren Richards from Whistler BC who was riding horseback from Mexico to Canada by herself. Lawren had chosen to leave the trail and follow highway 395 for the next several weeks to avoid the snow in this upcoming section of the PCT rejoining the trail near Toulumne Meadows. Quite by accident, Coco and I would spot Lawren five days later (after leaving the Three Amigos at Horseshoe Meadows) on the road leading out of Lone Pine.

The other hiker the Three Amigos mentioned was Brian Robinson from San Jose. Luckily for us, Brian happened to be staying at Kennedy Meadows campground that night with his father otherwise we would have never met him. Brian has set out to be the first person to hike all three major National Scenic Trails, Appalachian Trail (AT), Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) and Continental Divide Trail (CDT), in a single year. In the long distance hiking community this is known as the Triple Crown.
To date, fewer than two-dozen people have completed a Triple Crown. All of them doing so over a number of years with each trail completed in a single year.
To accomplish this feat, Brain will need to hike in access of 7200 miles in a single year. This boils down to hiking an average of 20 mile a day every day of the year. It was really something to met Brian and the last we saw of him was Monday morning at 6:30AM and after that only his footprints on the trail and in the snow. For more information on Brian’s hike, checkout his website at: http://homestead.juno.com/roy.robinson/Triple_Crown.html

The First Day on the Trail for Dad

The day had finally come. I was to join the Three Amigos on the Pacific Crest Trail (picture). This isn’t so difficult, but inside I knew that could be wrong. After packing and reconfirming our re-supply with Coco, drinking two liters of water and loading up with carbohydrates we signed the trail log and set off for the high Sierra. Ryan packed the breakfast, EK the lunch and Kip the dinner food. The first time I lifted my pack, I knew I was into a different experience than hiking the hills around home. It was heavy!

An hour into the morning we stopped to bathe ourselves in sunscreen and pull out the sunglasses. The temperature in Kennedy Meadows had been in the 90’s and we were looking toward a warm afternoon. Sunscreen and sunglasses are absolute essentials on the trail and especially in the high country. The Three Amigos had only been above 8,000 feet temporarily around Idyllwild and in the San Gorgonio Pass. We were about to enter the area that the elevation will fluctuate between 6,500 and 13,000 feet for the next month. There are six passes over 12,000 feet.

The question arises "who wants to lead?" and with hesitation EK takes the lead. It seems that the lead requires more concentration and the more relaxing position is to follow. Hirsch, who joined our group at Kennedy Meadows had started the PCT alone but decided to join the Three Amigos through the Sierra because of the snow and the fact that we were the first through the area this year (with the exception of Brian).Robert didn’t want to lead since he was always leading while alone on the trail. Robert is from Tennessee and has hiked the Appalachian Trail (AT). Between these adventures, he completed his Masters (BioChemistry I believe) and will join the Peace Corp this fall. He is a delightful person.

Talking on the trail is optional and there are many hours spent where everyone just walks. The talk seems to lessen as the grade increases. Kip begins to explain his first hour routine of pissing no less than four times and sometimes taking a moment to relieve himself in the woods before first break two hours out. It seemed to work for me. As the morning progresses, I begin to realize that we are climbing more that I expected and the promise of only a fifteen-mile day begins to look longer. Our first break is taken with water and a snack of grog (trail mix of nuts, dried fruit and candy). Everyone continues to emphasize the importance of taking water often and I can only think that the next water point is 8 miles away. I trade out my soaked cotton shirt for a dry one and lean back on my pack for a short rest. The mosquitoes begin to show up in herds. Maps are taken out and we plot where we will take lunch.

Hiking for the next three hours up and over Clover and Beck Meadows, we arrive at the Kern River and a sandy beach where I immediately take off my shoes and soak my feet in the sand. During the morning, I had  already fallen behind Kip, EK and Hirsch by 30 minutes. Ryan has remained back with me patiently progressing at my pace and I appreciated having his company (picture).

Lunch on the trail is a special time of the day. It usually lasts for an hour and gives you the opportunity to air your feet and socks, check for blisters, and settle in for a feast of bagels/tortillas with peanut butter & jam. Snacks usually include power bars, snickers, grog and maybe sardines if Melinda  has sent them in the last re-supply box. With all the food, you continue to drink between 1 and 2 liters of water. With the water stop, I refilled my water bottles and dropped the iodine in for purification. Since this was the first river the Amigos stopped for lunch in 700 miles, we decide to try our luck at fishing. EK and Kip scout the stream and relentlessly attempt to catch the fish they see on the other side. To no avail, we pack up the spinning rod and throw the packs on for what was expected to be a leisurely 5-mile
afternoon.

Climbing out of the river valley, we make our way into the woods along a ridgeline climbing at a comfortable rate. The wind begins to blow and it looks like rain over the horizon. The views and serenity are only broken by an occasional sound of an airplane 40,000 feet above. After two hours, we break along "Cow Creek" for a snack and feel good since this is the creek we will be camping near that evening. Kip suggests that we have maybe 1-2 hours before camp but EK and Ryan suggest much longer. I’m partial to Kips optimism and begin to think that I will make it through this first day. More water and we are off for our last leg of the day.

Little did I know that everyone interprets maps differently and the conversation always seems to center around how far is it to the next water and what is the exact point to camp. From our last break, we  begin to climb up and ever higher. Every time I think we are approaching the saddle that will yield our campsite, another saddles appears. This process continues for hours. Now what seemed to have been an hour or two turns into several more. By this time, EK, Kip and Hirsch are out of sight leaving Ryan patiently encouraging my progress while drenched in perspiration and grasping for breath. This is where I began to appreciate a hiking stick. Having never used one before, I always thought they were useless. At this point, I was using the hiking stick as my third leg and having it help me with every step I made up the mountain. It was during this time, I first thought about stopping and camping with Ryan and meeting the others the next morning.

As Bill Bryson bests describes this feeling in his book "A Walk in the Woods", " The hardest part was coming to terms with the constant dispiriting discovery that there is always more hill. The thing about being on a hill, as opposed to standing back from it, is that you can almost never see exactly what's to come. Between the curtain of trees at every side, the ever-receding contour of rising slope before you, and your own plodding weariness, you gradually lose track of how far you have come. Each time you haul yourself up to what you think must surely be the crest, you find that there is in fact more hill beyond, sloped at an angle that kept it from view before, and that beyond that another and another, and beyond each of those more still, until it seems impossible that any hill could run on this long. Eventually you reach a height where you can see the tops of the topmost trees, with nothing but clear sky beyond, and your faltering spirit stirs-nearly there now! ---but
this is a pitiless deception. The elusive summit continually retreats by whatever distance you press forward, so that each time the canopy parts enough to give a view you are dismayed to see that the topmost trees are as remote, as unattainable, as before. Still you stagger on. What else can you do?"

Climbing on and on from one false saddle to another, we finally came upon a clearing and saw camp in the distance. The views were tremendous and our 15-mile day turned into an 18-mile day climbing from 6,020 at Kennedy Meadows to more than 10,500 feet at our camp. The days hike had been 4,170 feet of climb and 1,020 feet of decent. The reason these figures are so accurate is from a watch type device that Kip received from a client before departing on the PCT. The watch keeps track of altitude change up and down plus the barometric and altitude reading at all times. It is a very helpful tool when fine tuning your map reading
with altitude readings compared to the map descriptions.

It was hell. First days on hiking trips always are and there isn’t anything that can prepare you for it. For a first day this was particularly difficult and the guys admitted that this was longer and higher than they would have liked on their first day. As much as I had trained walking, I was hopelessly out of shape. The pack weighed too
much and I can’t remember trying anything so hard and every step seemed a struggle. But now we were in camp and apologies were flowing. I was never so thankful to be sitting down.

The first order of business was pitching tents, collecting firewood and preparing dinner. EK was the fire starter and Kip began organizing the meal. I sat motionless drinking water and eating grog. Dinner was a delicious combination of instant potatoes with seasonings and some tuna thrown in for body. The theme of this restaurant was something warm and filling. Completing the menu was a snickers, more water and tea. Cleaning up was a unique process of pouring some water into your cup and running your spoon along side the cup until all is washed from the side and then drinking the water not to waste anything. These guys have this down to a fine science and someone even does this with the cooking  pans.

Satisfied with the great meal, we talk around the fire for 30 minutes and they remind me to stand up and stretch. Stretching is something they do in the morning and evening to avoid cramping legs. This is ever more important for a virgin hiker. Along with the stretching, I take a couple Advills and begin to think of the sleeping bag I’ve been carrying all day. Before retiring, everyone does their bathroom chores of shitting in the woods, taking vitamins, writing in journals, and brushing teeth. I
have to attend to my personal pain of the chaffing that has turned my skin raw between my legs and apply some "Gold Bond" ointment that burns but also raises some sympathetic laughs from the guys.

Before retiring, the map is read for the last time today and its noted that tomorrow we will have a slight climb and then gradual downhill for 7 miles to "Death Canyon" and "Dry Creek". Unfortunately after lunch the climb is described as an "aggressive" 2,000-foot climb to another summit of 10,700 feet. I go to sleep with this image implanted on my eyelids.

Day Two

Since we covered more miles the day before, the morning is leisurely with a fire and a hot breakfast of oatmeal with your choice of sugar or jam for flavoring. EK and Ryan don’t like oatmeal and need every bit of flavoring they can find. The process of drinking more water, stretching and packing up tents and supplies was underway by 6:30. We finished breakfast with hot tea and re-filled all water containers.

Picking the pack up this morning was painful even though Ryan insisted carrying my sleeping bag. The first few hundred yards in the morning at 10,000 is slow for the new guy on the trail and I immediately fell behind with Kip this time as my companion. Upon reaching the summit, we began a gradual decent along a ridgeline regularly walking through snow and water run off. We also encountered more mosquitoes than ever before. At one time, I must have had more than 100 in or around my hat (picture). The Amigos all had mosquitoes netting and this morning they even had long pants on for additional protection. The mosquitoes didn’t bother me since I was more concerned with breathing and taking that next step. It was well understood that the mosquitoes would be with the trip throughout the Sierras given that it was early in the summer and still a lot of snow to melt.

Along this portion of the trail we begin to see Mount Whitney in the distance, the highest point in the continental US at 14,455 feet. The guys have been talking a lot about whether they would be able to climb it several days from now. Hirsch is the only one that purchased a  permit before starting the hike. Besides the concerns for weather and the snow conditions, Ryan Kip and EK are starting to develop their stories for the park rangers as to why they don’t have permits and whether they
would pay fines if caught. Mount Whitney is one of the most protected areas in the Sierra in limiting the number of hikers per day and season. My continual comments regarding safety first is hopefully getting through. Neither EK or Kip have hiked above 10,000 feet before this stretch of the PCT. Ryan did climb Mount Shasta two years ago and finds slow exhaustive high altitude climbing less interesting than trekking. I’m convinced that if one decides to climb all will climb and they are certainly in good enough shape to complete it. I will be happy that my time on the trail would have been completed by the time the Mount Whitney decision is made.

Arriving at "Dry Creek" we find a shaded spot near what is far from a dry creek. Lunch is the usual peanut butter on bagel with various snacks and discussions about where camp will be made that evening. At this point, I’m not listening to the various interpretations on how long and where from my previous days experience. What I am thinking about is the 2,000-foot climb we have ahead of us before camp. Rested and full of water we lift our packs once more and begin approaching the 3.7-mile climb back up above 10,000 feet. I ask the guys to carry extra water since I will be using most of my two liters before the summit. It is a hot afternoon and the climb is slow but steady for me. From my previous days experience, I stop focusing upon each crest but instead only upon the next 100 feet. Ryan is again very patient and waits with me often while I catch my breath along the path. Though the afternoon sun is warm the wind is cold against a soaked shirt. I now understand why synthetic clothing is preferred because of its breathing and fast drying characteristics. As we climb the vistas become more dramatic and the hope of reaching the pass closer at hand. After a couple of hours we reach a false pass covered with snow and a series of  7 switchbacks between the crest and us. I know I can make it now and I take one switch back at a time until we reach a crest and a view off  the eastern side dropping 8,000 feet to the valley below. Kip, EK and Hirsch
all throw high fives my way and we sit down for a mini celebration with water and a power bar.

After fifteen minutes, we start the gradual downhill for about 4 miles toward our next camp. Almost to the person, the guys would prefer climbing to going downhill and the pressure it puts on the knees and legs in general. At this point everyone decided that I would lead.  Along this portion of the trail Hirsch introduced us to a trail game of spelling words. The first person would start with a letter and each person thereafter would add a letter until you either spelled a word or someone challenged you on the progress you had made toward spelling a word. The goal was not to be caught spelling a word with your letter. If someone challenged you and you couldn’t name the word you got a point. If the challenge failed they got a point. I finally learned that being in the lead for this game was a disadvantage and moved to the rear. It was fun and helped past the next 3 miles until camp. You had to have been part of it to understand. We hiked 3,140 uphill and 2,630 downhill
that day camping at another point above 10,000 feet.

Arriving at camp, we began setting up tents and I realized that my (and Ryan’s) tent poles were left on the ground near my pack at Dry Creek. Tonight was going to be sleeping out under the stars and it proved to be a restless night for me. Dinner tonight was a combination of black beans with tuna.

Whether the black beans digested fast or not everyone seemed to be generating a serious amount of gas. Since there isn’t a lot of entertainment readily available on the trail, passing gas seems to fill the void. It doesn’t matter who starts because sooner or later everyone participates. The laughs are never ending. EK has the most stylish delivery and Kip the most surprised. Ryan and Hirsch seem to provide the chorus and me the base.

The campfire that night was warm and closing for me since the next day we would be meeting Coco and I would be leaving the trail. We talked politics and how this experience was having a profound impact on their lives. I don’t believe they were sure why they were making this journey but they were sure it was more important to them now than pressing the keys on a computer keyboard. Maybe during the next several months some of this will become clearer. As we settled in that night EK and Ryan continued to write in their journals and address postcards to family and friends. We didn’t encounter bears that night but I was sure I heard something all night. The stars are so bright at that altitude shimmering like diamonds.

Day Three

Morning found us breaking camp early since we had 9 miles to go by noon to meet Coco at Horseshoe Meadows above Lone Pine. The morning was relatively mellow until mile 5 where we had another 1,000-foot climb before a crest and the eventual downhill to Horseshoe Meadows (picture). Though the trail is well marked, there are points that seem confusing and need a careful review before proceeding. We had one of these crossroads near our re-supply and it took several reviews of the maps and reading the narrative from the trail guide before choosing the appropriate path.  The Amigos learned their lesson a month earlier where they missed the path and decided to cross-country back to the PCT trail. A few hours later they encountered several waterfalls and a very precarious scaling of these falls that lasted 4 hours and only covered one half mile. From that point they agreed never to leave the trail and if they did always back track to the trail and don’t attempt a short cut. We made the right choice and danced two miles down a trail over a lot of snow and water on our way to meet Coco. Little did we know what Coco had been through in meeting us at this point?

It turned out that the road to Horseshoe Meadows had been closed. She spent 2 days sorting out the hierarchy between the Forest Service, County Roads Department and National Park Rangers. The dust storms persisted throughout the day.  As it turned out Alice (from the grocery store) tapped her on the shoulder and whispered "my husband cleared  most of the boulders from the road that day and you would be able to drive up regardless of the signs stating the road was closed". This was not any ordinary road either and she had to drive around fallen rock while climbing on switchbacks with no railing to over 10,000 feet. The
surprise she carried besides all the other food was two large pizzas for the guys. Upon arriving in the deserted parking lot, she came upon a black bear that must have sensed something special. Though the bear scared the shit out of Coco, he decided to move on and we arrived within the hour.

Coco related her experience and the Amigos ate two large pizzas faster than you can believe. Besides the pizzas, EK had mentioned his love of dill pickles (picture) and Coco pulled out a large jar that was consumed over the next several minutes along with a bag of Oreos, fruit, Gatoraid, water and several snacks. We spent the next several hours relaxing and organizing supplies and gear for the next 8 days. This will be the longest stretch without a re-supply for the entire PCT making Coco’s re-supply ever more important.

As packs were filled a storm was brewing a few miles away and it was time to go. We were pleased to see that all the shopping was now paying off and just about all was being packed away. It was hoped that they would get in another 5 miles that day and 15 miles the next day reaching the take off point for Mount Whitney summit. The packs were the heaviest since the days hiking across the desert with up to 8 liters of water each. Water will not be a problem throughout the Sierras with the constant snow melt. I couldn’t have imagined putting those packs on my back at that moment and felt every ounce of my energy had been spent
during the past three days.

Coco and I walked with them across the meadow and then embraced each Amigo with tears of joy beginning to appear from our eyes not theirs. The time spent with these men was inspirational not just because of the beautiful country we shared but more so because of the amazing commitment each of them was making to themselves and eventually the fiber they were planting for their lives. This was not just a hike this was a journey each of them will have to dig ever deeper to complete the next 1,850 miles. I look forward to meeting them again and encourage everyone else to share anytime with them as you can during the next three months. They have earned my respect and I will think of them ever time I pass a mountain driving home.