2 - John Muir Trail - Boy Scout Troop 845 - Carrboro, Chapel Hill, NC - Summer 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008 at 01:39PM The John Muir Trail
Troop 845
July 27th to August 12th 2008
Our bus wound through some pretty precarious roads at what I thought was a bit too high of a speed. But I didn’t care too much, I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep. We were up at 4am the day before to catch our flight to San Francisco and again at 4 am today to catch our train out to Yosemite Valley. As long as we got to the John Muir Backpackers camp on the Valley floor so I could take a nap I was happy.
When we did finally arrive and I dragged myself up after an epic nap, it was blazing hot and all the views were hazed over by smoke. We made our way to the backcountry office where we picked up our bear canisters, which added 2.5 pounds to our obsessively low pack weight of 28.6 pounds with six days of food. We picked up our backcountry permits and the local forest fires knocked out power to Yosemite so our last meal before stepping into the wilderness was not the epic burger we planned.
As we set off on the first few steps the trail was laid out steeply in front of us and packed with day hikers visiting the close by sites. The sun beat down and cooked us, the forest fire smoke filled our lungs, and we slowly made our way up the 6000 ft vertical climb with heavy packs and new legs. Switchbacks were plentiful, and as we slowly gained altitude we were afforded views of 1,000 ft waterfalls and the iconic Half Dome. After many hours and many breaks we reached the ridge and refreshed in our first of many ice-cold mountain streams, then leisurely made our way to a pine canopied campsite with fat old growth trees and no underbrush.
The first day was under our belts. We covered only 4 miles that day, but were completely exhausted and left wondering how we would manage the remaining 217 over the coming weeks. As I expected and the Scouts hoped, the following days proved to be a bit easier. Our legs got ever stronger, and as we ate through our provisions the packs got lighter and more manageable. We turned south out of the forest fires into clean air and the elevation brought relief from the sweltering temperatures of the valley. But our challenges on the JMT were far from over.
Signs everywhere in Yosemite warn hikers that bears are a real problem in the park and are very adept at getting hiker’s food. Therefore each person carried a hard plastic, 2.5 pound, bear proof canister that took up an obscene amount of space in our minimalistly small packs. The only problem with this scenario is that 15-year-old Scouts hiking 225 miles carrying big packs over even bigger mountains eat more food in 7 days than can fit in these canisters. Thus we were forced to hang the remainder of our food in stuff sacks in the evening.
On night three on trail in Lyle Canyon south of Tuolumne Meadows we hung our remaining food in two separate trees, ate our evening snickers bars and retired after yet another hard 15 mile day. After a whole three minutes of sleep a loud thump woke us up and was immediately followed by the call of ‘we’ve got a bear.’ And did we ever, after obviously eating plentiful hiker food over the years, he’d grown to a healthy 400 pounds and was not intimidated even slightly by our rock throwing, yelling, and stick clacking as he sat on the outskirts of camp and devoured our food.
A quick analysis of the faulty hang showed that he easily spotted our jet black spectra bear cord tied to an adjacent tree and without much trouble sliced it with a claw and ran with four bags. The bear watched from the woods as we tried to bear proof our remaining bags by making the line inaccessible to him – this took me 45 minutes in a tree wearing only boxers in the 40 degree weather…my Scout Spirit was not topping the charts at this point. Moments after turning off the lights, the bear deduced that he could not cut the line so he climbed out on the branch, sliced four of the five bags in half and was off with the remainder of our food. With nothing left to steal, the bear was gone and we were left with a couple hours left to sleep before wake up call at daybreak.
The day after the bear attack proved to be our hardest. The stress and lack of sleep combined with Donahue Pass at 11,100 feet wore down everyone’s spirits and bodies as we rolled into Garnett Lake for the evening. We began to look to our rest day and food re-supply for motivation. As we approached our first re-supply at Vermillion Valley, 90 miles into the trail, provisions started to run thin and talk on trail and in camp turned almost exclusively to food. Rumors of huge pancake breakfasts and monster chili burgers had made their way down the trail to us and the ‘food mood’ set in among the Scouts with an intensity that surprised even me.
Our bodies were getting a bit worn out and in need of the approaching day off, but we were also getting in much better shape very fast. The crew was motivated by food and on the day we were due to arrive at Vermillion we crushed out 12 miles by lunch. We took a break at what was becoming a classic scene for us: a rushing mountain stream, ice cold with snow run-off from the lofty peaks in the distance and surrounded on the whole by vibrant wild flowers of all colors and sizes imaginable. Our last remaining granola bars went down smooth, which was followed by a nap on a sun-basked rock in the middle of the stream. We then shouldered our empty packs and cruised excitedly down the mountain to the dock where we would catch the boat to Vermillion Valley, affectionately dubbed Heaven by us.
Our day off did not disappoint. A huge BBQ awaited our arrival at the ranch where we gorged to our hearts content…which is a lot for a food-mooding teen Scout. After a couple more hours of grazing the ice cream freezer we settled into our sleeping bags for a food coma that wouldn’t lead up to rousing at day break. We got up just in time to make the breakfast menu, which consisted of huge pancake and egg portions, and by the time we were done with breakfast, lunch was only an hour away and we then devoured chiliburgers and fries. With binge eating of this magnitude it’s hard to fathom how the Scouts lost as much weight as they eventually did.
On August 4th we set off on the 130-mile southern half of the John Muir Trail with no road access or re-supplies of any kind. Everyone was a bit nervous about this, and for good reason. Nine days of food was more than we could fit in our bear canisters and maxed our packs out in general. The packs were now at their heaviest point, and the mountain passes were ever larger, eventually working their way up to 13,600 feet at Trail Crest. Also, another bear raid would leave us with rather light rations and no options for the next week and a half. Lanky Scouts looking at a very possible food shortage had every right to be nervous.
We got into a rhythm shortly after our departure from Vermillion Valley. Each day we had a task, climb one pass and descend to tree line, very simple. We would wake at 7am, we no longer had to get up at 6 since it was cooler at elevation and we were significantly faster than before. After a breakfast of granola bars, Pop Tarts and Crystal Light we would set off for the morning. The hike in the early part of the day would wind through a Lone Pine forest usually alongside a fresh rushing mountain stream. The terrain would begin to slope upwards and over the next couple hours we would gain 2000 vertical feet. As we climbed throughout the morning, the trees began to thin and revealed views of jagged and lofty granite peaks all around. We would finally reach tree line and scout for a giant, eerily clear lake where we could have some lunch and contemplate how we’re ever going to climb out of the scree covered cirque in front of us. Consulting the maps we would see that our final push would be another 1500 vertical feet of steep alpine terrain. As we approached the rocky slopes we couldn’t imagine how we would make it over, and only when we were on the switchbacks was the trail to a small gap revealed to us. The trail was so steep that many times the pass would surprise us and we would stand atop the day’s accomplishment to gaze at the breathtaking ground that we’d covered and looking south we analyzed the climbs in the days to come.
Every evening the campsite we chose seemed to be better than all the previous and unbeatable by future sites down the trail. One night we would rock hop out into a river and camp on an enormous granite slab. We bathed in the rushing water, and cooked dinner as the Milky Way stretched out overhead. The next night we were ready to be disappointed by an inferior site but we were greeted with beach front camping on the shore of a mile wide lake with snow drifting into its waters on the far shore. While we ate a dinner of pasta and cheese and watched the sun set over the southwest side, the moon would rise over the opposite side of the lake. This we were sure was unbeatable, until the next night offered some equally as unique and wondrous. Eighteen miles of hiking in our legs and below freezing temperatures drove us into our 20-degree down bags for a night of sleep so sound and so quiet it can even be imagined on the cricket and cicada dominated east coast.
Spirits were very high in the southern portion of the trip. We had fully adjusted both physically and mentally, and shed the addiction to the constant stream of digital stimulus that we are conditioned to back home. The Scouts spoke with wisdom beyond their years when they talked of enjoying every day to its maximum and recognizing the uniqueness of this opportunity. As they talked with smiles on their faces about their shared experiences, I could see that everyone was losing weight, and with already strikingly low body fat counts, these guys didn’t have much to lose. Food was a constant topic now, and our approaching town meals were meticulously planned for days on end when we finally hit San Francisco. In the evenings the hungry hikers would lay out their food rations by day for the remaining time on trail. They would then agonize whether or not they could justify eating a granola bar tonight that was ear marked for four days later, in hopes of staving off the hunger enough to get a good night’s sleep. In the end, they were disciplined and went to bed hungry, knowing they’d be even hungrier miles down the trail.
Approaching the John Muir Trail’s southern terminus, Mt Whitney, there was the standard mixing of emotions. No one wanted this once in a lifetime epic trek in the ‘Range of Light’ to end. However, we had been working towards this goal for a couple long arduous weeks and it would be nice to revel in its accomplishment and smash the limitless food that would follow shortly after the summit.
So on the morning of August 12th 2008 we awoke before dawn, climbed out of our sleeping bags into the morning chill of 12,000 ft and began our final climb of the trip. The scramble up Whitney was full alpine style. The switchbacks were cut into the side of the mountain and there wasn’t a trace of green in the sea of white broken granite. As we crossed the 14,000 foot threshold, the air got ever thinner, and even though we’d been acclimatizing for the past couple weeks the final push was exhausting and every few steps left you gasping on the side of the trail.
A crystal clear sky and no wind greeted us at the summit of Mount Whitney. We were also met by the re-appearance of crowds since we were now again in day hiking range. For the next hour we took photos, cooked lunch, and talked excitedly about the food to come and the fact that we wouldn’t hike at all the next day. It was still ten miles and a seven thousand vertical foot drop to the parking lot from the summit so we headed off shortly after lunch. We made our way off Whitney summit, climbed down the south face through the notorious 96-switchbacks, and then with zero calories in our packs we descended into the gully leading to Whitney Portal.
In the late afternoon we re-entered civilization and my shoes were so worn out they basically fell off my feet ….at least they made it though. The showers were broken but the kitchen was open; we’d showered earlier in the month so who really cares as long as you have double chicken bacon swiss sandwiches with mounds of fresh cut fries and Mountain Dew on hand. Before we indulged in dinner, everyone did their final weigh in. Our biggest loser started the trip at 6’3” 149 and lost 13 pounds over the 18 days of hiking…. he put on 18 over the next 10 days.
The next morning we cruised back to San Fran to execute the food plan outlined on trail and then back to Chapel Hill where we were met by parents eager to hear tales of bears, mountain passes, blisters and serendipitous scrambled pancakes. Now all that’s left to do is think up something more epic than the John Muir Trail. We hiked it…. and we liked it.
by: Brian Burnham - ASM Troop 845, Guide
Reader Comments (1)
Incredible. www.troop845.net is amazing.