I. Portal Into the Unknown
As we headed north from Tehachapi, we met a beautiful soul named Nut Crusher, who let me try one of the best kinds of candy I’d had in a long time: freeze-dried Skittles.
Our little constellation at that point was Greenman, Ignition, ChinUp, and me. We moved steadily through the Mojave corridor, where sporadic mountain rises interrupt long stretches of open desert. It was hot. Some water sources were dry; others reduced to a
painfully slow drip. Several of our carries stretched beyond twenty miles, and I remember spending nearly an hour at one source alone, waiting to collect enough water to filter before moving on. Somewhere along that stretch, Nut Crusher officially joined us. She carried a beautiful, spicy energy and simply felt good to be around.
Toward the end of this section, the trail opens to your first real view of the Sierra Nevada, just before the descent to Walker Pass, a road crossing leading to town, hot springs, or both.
When I arrived at that overlook, something felt off. In previous years, this view had been crowned with snow, the familiar white caps spread across the range. But this time, in May, there was nothing. Just bare mountains. The absence was unmistakable.
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We took in the view and then began our descent. I
think I had torn a ligament in my knee earlier that year, and I could feel it clearly on the way down. Each step carried more pain. As I descended, I kept
imagining what it would feel like if my leg were healthy, trying to invite that sensation into my body as I moved.
II. Hitches & Manifestation
We reached the road and decided to try to get a ride to Kernville, a small town along the Kern River, about forty miles from Walker Pass. I had never been there before, so I was in. I’ve always been inclined to do something different, something new. It took a series of hitches to get us there, and along the way I used the experience as practice in conscious manifestation. Instead of trying to get a ride or hoping someone would stop, I focused on the feeling of already being picked up.
I tuned into what relief would feel like, what excitement would feel like, what it would feel like to already be closer to town, closer to real food that didn’t need to be rehydrated. One of the rides packed us in tightly and carried us as far as they could before turning off. The next hitch was one of the more dangerous I’ve ever been part of. It was a truck hauling a trailer loaded with heavy machinery. Some of the group rode in the truck, while a couple of others climbed into the trailer itself, riding alongside the equipment. If I remember correctly, it was a large tracked shovel, lashed down with massive chains. It didn’t feel particularly safe. I chose the truck. Not long after, we rolled into Kernville.
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III. Liminal Reset
Kernville was a splendid little town tucked right along the Kern River. We grabbed a campsite beside the water, complete with showers and laundry, which felt downright luxurious. That night we celebrated Nut Crusher’s birthday and surprised her with cupcakes. River nearby, clean clothes, sugar, and laughter. It checked all the boxes.
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We were buzzing. Town food, a birthday celebration, and the threshold of the Sierra Nevada ahead of us. We resupplied for the next stretch toward Kennedy Meadows, just under fifty miles from Walker Pass. We decided to carry an extra day of food so we could take some mushrooms. Whenever I did mushrooms, it was always with intention. I invited them to speak to me, to help me unlock and release parts of myself that were ready to go.
IV. Approaching the Gate
Back on trail, we planned a long push, over twenty miles from Walker Pass to our next camp. The following day we took a break at around seven to eight thousand feet, where Nut Crusher serenaded us with her ukulele. Below us, the Mojave Desert
stretched out in full view.
Sun, music, elevation, open land. She can really sing. What a way to take a break. We reached the campsite we had chosen to spend the day at, just south of Kennedy Meadows South. We all took some mushrooms. Greenman and Nut Crusher bonded closely, taking the same kind, which were different from mine. I spent much of my time connecting with the land, breathing with a mountain, letting the trip unfold in conversation with the terrain itself.
At one point, I had an unexpectedly insightful exchange with a bluebird. The following day, I saw somewhere between twelve and fifteen snakes. About five of them were rattlesnakes. One was a sidewinder, which I had never seen before. The way it moved was incredible, almost unreal. I also saw a California kingsnake. The sheer number of snakes felt like a message, a signal that I was entering a period of profound transformation. In that moment,
I was physically approaching Kennedy Meadows South, crossing mile 700 on the Pacific Crest Trail, heading north, or NoBo, as we called it out there.
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V. Waiting with Intention
When we arrived in Kennedy Meadows South, we decided to wait for Cascade to catch up to us. She had caught norovirus, which set her back by a couple of weeks, though she was moving fast and steadily closing the gap. We stayed there for a few days, intentionally slowing our pace once we learned what had happened. Even though she was a strong hiker, it felt wiser to enter the Sierra Nevada with solid numbers, so we could look out for one another.
One of my favorite spots in the small community is Grumpy Bears. The food is hiker-sized, which really means adult portions multiplied two or three times, and it’s plentiful. It’s also a good place to restore the body before heading into the Sierras. There isn’t much else to do there beyond Grumpy Bears and the Kennedy Meadows General Store, which gives the place a strange, suspended quality.
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During our time there, Nut Crusher met another section hiker, and they began to connect romantically. We more or less absorbed him into the group on her behalf. Another hiker, Shaman, who had gotten off trail due to an injury, was also around with a vehicle and took us down off the mountain to grab additional supplies. Nut Crusher was section hiking and didn’t want to wait too long, and we wanted to honor her timeline as well.
VI. The Ascent Begins
Shortly after Cascade arrived, we all headed back out, entering the backcountry of the high Sierra Nevada. Excitement ran through the group.
Kennedy Meadows South sits at around 6,100 feet of elevation, and the climb begins almost immediately. Once you’re in the Sierras, you rarely drop below 9,000 feet. For perspective, before this point on the trail, we had only gone above 8,000 feet a handful of times. The southern Sierras hold most of the range’s highest peaks and the highest
section of the trail itself. There is an option to step
off trail and climb the tallest mountain in the lower forty-eight states, Mount Whitney, which rises to 14,505 feet. Almost everyone takes a day to make that ascent, and we were no different. We decided to go up and come back down the same day.
I remember someone mentioning that we would have good weather, citing a Garmin InReach forecast that showed only a one percent chance of a thunderstorm. I knew better than to trust mountain forecasts.
The mountains are creators and co-creators of weather, with very little outside interference in what they decide to call in. The views from the Whitney climb were unforgettable. On the way down, that one percent quietly shifted its decimals and became a full hundred, but everyone made it down safely.
Nut Crusher and her romantic interest chose to move ahead of the rest of the group and get over Forester the same day
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Two prominent heights sit close together in this section. After climbing Mount Whitney, the trail immediately carries you toward the highest point on the Pacific Crest Trail, Forester Pass, at 13,120 feet. Once we were all down from Whitney, we headed to a campsite that positioned us perfectly to take on Forester first thing the next morning. Some people climb Whitney one day and Forester the next. This is where part of our group differed. Nutcrusher
her romantic interest decided to push over Forester that same day. After reaching camp, we decided to that we would head up Forester the next day. The climb pulls you out of alpine forests and meadows and onto a wide, exposed plateau, mostly barren except for small alpine plants and scattered patches of grass. The openness up there has a particular feeling, expansive and alert. Trail Magik Continues…
