VII. Forester: Two Faced
Behemoth
Forester Pass appears as a massive stone wall with a small notch carved near the top. The view from the pass was stunning, but we also noticed clouds beginning to gather quickly around us. There was still some snow lingering on the north side, which we navigated carefully, and of course we paused for a small group photo. Almost everything else was bare, aside from shaded crevices on higher, non sun-facing slopes. This was the first time in a long time on the trail that we had to walk on snow. Nut Crusher was already ahead, and we trusted she was okay. The next morning, we set out to
catch up. She camped on the other side of Forester Pass before you get down to Bubbs Creek. It looked like they encountered a bit of weather the previous evening, but nothing serious. As we continued, we descended the backside of Forester and followed Bubbs Creek at around 9,500 feet of elevation. The backside of Forester looked nothing like the front. It felt like an alpine paradise. Crystalclear water, waterfalls spilling through the landscape, air scented with pine and stone. It smelled like an alpine dream.
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VIII. Mountainous Teacher
of Humility
I remember wincing slightly before telling one of my tramily members, Ignition, about the mountains, that if you don’t come humble, you will be humbled. He had just declared that we were going to make the mountains our b!*@#. He laughed it off, and almost immediately we came upon a massive tree that had fallen across the trail, a full blowdown. I ducked under it. Ignition, still laughing, tried to casually hop over it. The tree bucked and threw him backward onto the ground. He laughed, got up, and tried again. The tree bucked him off a second time. This time, he landed flat on his back and stopped laughing. He apologized to the mountains. It felt as though the tree itself had echoed what I had just tried to say. Everything is
in relationship, and respect is essential for that relationship is to remain healthy.
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We continued hiking along Bubbs Creek, laughing and in good spirits. That afternoon we planned to hike out over Kearsarge Pass. From Bubbs Creek, we climbed roughly a twenty-one hundred feet to reach Kearsarge Pass, before descending about twenty-five hundred feet down to the parking lot and a hitch into town. The journey up Kearsarge is both arduous and beautiful. You move through alpine forest until breaking above treeline, passing several large alpine lakes along the way. One mountain in particular always catches my eye, shaped like the head of a dragon or a T-Rex straight out of a movie. The view from the top of Kearsarge is breathtaking no matter which direction you turn.
We climbed up, over, and down, reached the parking lot, and met up with the friend we’d seen in Kennedy Meadows. He packed all of us into his midsize sedan and drove us to Bishop. There was plenty of lap sitting, and the ride took a little over an hour, but the promise of real food, showers, and clean clothes kept everyone’s spirits high.
IX. Brief Respite
We stayed at Hostel California in Bishop for a well deserved zero. A zero is a day with no trail miles, a chance to prepare to return to the trail. It’s good for the body, the mind, and both individual and collective morale. It also strengthens the bonds formed on trail. I noticed sparks of romance forming— Cascade and Chinup coloring together, Nut Crusher and her fellow section hiker growing closer. From Bishop, the view of the Sierra Nevada to the west is stunning, and it carries a quiet call to return to the pristine backcountry. We took two zeros before heading back out. There was something about this way of living that felt deeply natural to me, an air of freedom more addictive than anything else I had ever known.
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Nut Crusher decided not to get back on trail with us at that time, choosing instead to spend a bit more time with her new romance. We all understood completely. Out on trail there’s an unspoken agreement to honor the choices people make for themselves, within reason. You could call it honoring freedom, or simply staying in your own lane. She said she would catch up with us on trail, and there were a couple of side routes that would allow her to intersect us easily. We stayed in touch through InReach messages.
X. Return with Reverence
Before getting back on trail, we decided to choose a camping spot with a truly gorgeous view. I already knew the perfect place: Rae Lakes. Rae Lakes is a spectacle of beauty. Crystal-clear alpine water surrounded by granite peaks, a place that feels like a wilderness chapel set on sacred ground. It was exactly what we needed.
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To reach Rae Lakes, we had to climb back up and over Kearsarge Pass, a popular gateway in and out of the backcountry, and then up and over Glen Pass at 11,957 feet of elevation. Glen Pass is another sight entirely. We waited at the top for everyone to arrive before descending the north side toward Rae Lakes. A sharp wind blew in from the north, so we huddled together just below the pass behind a natural rock wall, pulling on our puffy jackets for warmth. It was there that we met Crossword, a lovely young woman hiking the PCT before heading off to medical school in the fall. She planned to stay at Rae Lakes as well, so she joined our group. We spent a beautiful evening there, soaking in the landscape and each other’s company. The next morning, a few of us decided to take some acid for the day’s walk. I didn’t join in. The mushrooms I had taken earlier had already given me what I needed, helping me connect with my inner landscape and the energies of the mountains. It made
for an interesting hike as we headed toward our lunch stop at Woods Creek, at 8,534 feet of elevation. Woods Creek is a significant crossing, spanned by a suspension bridge. We were in no rush getting there. The distance was short, and the trail itself was lovely. At lunch, we decided we would regroup about five miles past Pinchot Pass, at a lower elevation on the far side of the South Fork of the Kings River.
XI. Pinchot: The Turn
After lunch, I took a brief nap before beginning the long climb up to Pinchot Pass. I was grateful that, at this point, the trail and most of the surrounding mountains were clear of snow. As we climbed toward Pinchot, the weather stayed warm. From where we were, it was a seven-mile ascent with roughly 3,500 feet of elevation gain. The first four miles followed Woods Creek, which is beautiful but dangerous. The water rushes fast, carving channels that resemble a natural waterslide. It’s not a place you want to slip while collecting water. Beyond the creek, alpine meadows and forest slowly gave way to higher, more barren terrain as the elevation increased. The final push to Pinchot felt like a gut punch, knocking the wind out of all of us. We caught our breath and celebrated briefly at the top. Crossword had moved ahead of us, clearly motivated to keep pressing forward, while Cascade
followed behind on her own beautiful timing. We considered waiting at the pass to celebrate with her, but it was cold and windy, and we also wanted to honor her sovereign space. She was a strong, experienced hiker who had already proven she could catch up with ease, even before reaching the Sierras. Our group was a good size, minus Nut Crusher, whom we missed. After descending Pinchot Pass, we continued on toward Mather, which rose ahead of us like a sheer wall across the valley. We stopped a bit short of where we had planned to camp. It was cold, and we ran into some friends who already had a fire going, so we made camp on bare ground nearby. That night, a light dusting of snow fell. Earlier, while descending Pinchot, I had clearly seen Mather Pass about ten miles away. Alpine meadows, pristine creeks, towering peaks. A familiar and inviting sight. Cascade arrived not long after dark while the fire was still burning strong, and we were grateful she could warm herself after such a cold day.
XII. Mather Matters
The next morning, Mather Pass was gone. Light flurries were already falling at our lower elevation, and when I looked toward where the pass should have been, all I could see was white. Ignition and I decided to start hiking early so that
Crossword wouldn’t be alone going up and over the pass while the others finished packing. We crossed the nearby South Fork of the Kings River, moving carefully. Water clung to rocks and logs had frozen overnight, and this was not a river you’d want to fall into and be carried by. When we reached the campsite where Crossword had stayed, she was already gone. We picked up the pace. There was no question she was strong and capable, and I loved being surrounded by women like that, but being alone in the high Sierras can be dangerous for anyone. We hadn’t camped together as planned, and there was a sense of responsibility we couldn’t ignore. We followed her footprints as snow continued to accumulate on the trail. The closer we got to Mather Pass, the heavier the snowfall became. By the time we reached the final ascent and the base of the steep climb, we could see the mountain but not the pass itself, let alone the two fourteeners that flank it. As we climbed, we came across an ice axe lying on the trail. We had no idea who it belonged to or how it got there. It might have been Crossword’s, or someone else ahead of us who had set it down during a break. It was also possible it had simply been left behind, since prior to that day there had been no snow and no storm in sight. Ignition picked it up, and we continued upward.
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By the time we reached the top of Mather Pass, celebration was replaced with speculation and determination. The temperature was freezing, Crossword was nowhere in sight, and visibility was close to zero. Snow was coming down steadily, and we were openly worried about our friends both behind us and ahead of us. Still, our mission didn’t change. We were focused on finding Crossword and making sure she was okay. Looking down into the Palisades Basin, we could just make out the faint outlines of the Palisade Lakes and peaks. We decided not to linger on the pass and began our descent to try to catch her. Trail Magik Continues…
