Two passes to glory

June 18

When I wake up in the morning, I usually take a moment to examine the maps for my next 20 or 30 miles to see what delights or terrors wait me. This morning, my map study revealed that I had a choice: I could hike over Forester Pass, the highest point on the PCT, and camp in the valley thereafter. Or I could double up, climbing up to Forester, jolting down to the valley, then regaining almost all that altitude as I climbed up and over Glen Pass.

Wasn't even a choice. I laced up my shoes, ate my grits and coffee, and starred hustling.

Like Whitney, Forester has a glorious approach. You climb up a creek valley and into a steep-sided stone bowl, then climb up the side of that bowl, finally going up a rack of switchbacks to a wee little notch. You can tell where this notch is by looking for the steep snowfield that covers the last switchbacks; this snow always persists pretty late into the season. I focused on the snow and put the pedal to the floor.

If the crowds at Whitney were dispiriting, Forester was the antidote. There were few people, and they were all thoroughly groovy thru-hikers. A young man named Momento snapped my picture as I crossed that snowfield, ice ax in hand like the sensible middle-aged man I am.

Forester Pass, with Momento. You gotta zoom in on these panoramas!

It felt great to be up top. It is not like it's "all downhill from here," not even like the rest of my day was going to be downhill. But for me? I had been unsure my body would let me hike this year. I had been huddled in grief 18 months ago, too weak to walk two blocks for groceries. My friends and loved oness -- Lily, Dan, Kelsey, Ezra, Tim, Shoshana, Tobias and Madeleine -- they had nursed me back. It had taken, as they say, a village. And here I was, a fully realized person again, doing fancy person things. That was my accomplishment.

The trail down took me past the turnoff for Kearsage Pass, which most hikers use as a resupply route. When I passed it, it reshuffled the deck of hikers around me; of course I would see other fast hikers again. I strongly suspected I'd see Hoops, BFG, and CO again. I cannot remember if I've introduced them all... But they were the best company and among the fastest hikers I'd been around. But almost all the other faces were replaced by new ones.

Lots and lots of new ones.

Because the trail was really crowded. By skipping Kearsage, I had jumped ahead a day in the pack, and the afternoon was noticeably denser than the morning. It's not all bad, though; I hiked with a young man named Diesel for an hour or so, and he was great company.

Glen Pass wasn't in any way technical. There was snow, but just the kind that gets your feet wet and slows you down. It was, however, super duper exhausting, a gratuitous ladling of thousands of feet of climb onto an already long day. But I did it, making it over and down to Rae Lakes before dark. 

As soon as the trail hit the shore, I dropped my pack, got out my rod, and cast. I used a Panther Martin spinner bait, and my first cast yielded a 10" rainbow. So did my second. I probably landed 15 fish in 45 minutes, keeping the biggest four to eat. It was the best trout fishing I'd ever had. I made a stringer from a willow branch, collected my fish and looked for a place to cook, eat and sleep.

I found the place at the next lake, a bearbox and campsites. There were some other hikers there, and they watched in bemused interest as I attempted to steam my catch. I put rocks in the bottom of my pot, then some water, then laid the fish on top. It was an improvement over boiling, and I ate well. I still wished for a skillet, though.