Around the bear box

Hikers clustered at Crabtree Meadows, both pre- and post-Whitney -- the bear box, front, was an excellent place to store heavy gear during the 4,000-foot ascent. The mosquitoes, however, were thick. (Note the heavy use of raingear during an otherwise pleasant evening.) I picked up the stuff I'd dropped off and hiked on, hoping to get a little closer to Forrester Pass that night.

Crossing Wallace Creek

With some stream fords, we were lucky enough to find log bridges or rock-hop crossings. With others, no such luck. We'd roll up our pant legs and simply wade across, using trekking poles for balance. Time of day did make a big difference to stream crossings -- this picture was taken in early morning, before the sun melted snow to raise the water to shorts-high levels.

Bighorn Plateau

This desolate moonscape was at about 11,200 feet elevation, above tree line. I imagine that just a few weeks earlier it had been covered in snow.

Early view of Forrester Pass

Waaaaaay off in the center distance. The THGTTPCT says: "As you're approaching Forrester, you have no idea where the pass actually is. Look at that wall of rock in front of you. It forms a sort of wide 'V'. The notch of the 'V' is Forrester Pass. Really. I'm not kidding."

Troll points the way

I found this guy hanging from a gate shortly after Robin Bird Spring, carried him to Kennedy Meadows, and ended up with him again a day before Whitney -- so he spent well over 100 miles in my care. At least he was good enough to guide me to Forrester Pass (just beyond his outstretched hand).

Halfway up the rock wall

A steep trail switchbacked up to the pass (at top left). Not that it was at all easy to see from below; all I could do was follow it when clear, and try to climb up the scree to it when snowbound.

Forrester Pass: Upward ho!

At times, snow over the trail forced me to cut the switchbacks -- scrambling up the scree of the rock wall until I could catch up to the next trail segment blasted into the slope. The camera in this picture isn't quite pointing straight up, but there were points where it really felt like what this looks like.

The climb to Forrester

Lest anyone think "Eh, it couldn't have been that bad a climb -- he had a trail and everything!" ... this is what the trail precariously switchbacked up. You can just barely see a switchback in the lower left and trail above me at right.

Top of the PCT!

The sign right behind me marked the apex of Forrester Pass, the Pacific Crest Trail's high point at 13,180 feet. It was all downhill from there -- about 1,000 feet of steep snow slopes (glissade ho!), and another 3,000 feet of descent down the Bubbs Creek canyon, in the gentler grade near the water.

Panorama: North of Forrester (1/3)

Notice that line cut across the snow? That's where the Pacific Crest Trail would go if it weren't under several feet of snow. Forget that -- time to glissade down the slopes!

Panorama: North of Forrester (2/3)

The trail passed by the outlet of the lake just visible at center right. So I traversed the slope just far enough to get clear of the rocks sticking up from the snow beneath the pass, and slid a few hundred vertical feet down to shorten my descent. Fun!

Panorama: North of Forrester (3/3)

This is the high Sierra in a nutshell: Barren, stark beauty, with glistening snow brightening dark granite under brilliant, patchy skies. John Muir called the Sierra the "Range of Light."

A fellow hiker atop Forrester

This adorable little fellow, according to the notebook on his back, was looking for a ride north. I was already carrying the troll seen several pictures ago, so I regretfully declined his request for a hitch.

Down in Bubbs Creek canyon

The evidence of glaciation millions of years ago is easily visible throughout the high Sierra.

Log bridge over Center Basin outlet creek

As I said, sometimes we got lucky in our river crossings. Of course, luck may not have played a role quite as much as observation here. I reached a knee-high ford, did a cursory 30-second crossing check upstream and downstream, and found a beautiful fallen log to hike across. Later, when several groups of thru-hikers caught up to me as I was trying to jerry-rig a fix for my broken pack frame, everyone else had wet shoes and socks ... I was the only person who bothered to look for a dry crossing! (Five other rivers that morning had probably convinced everyone that trying to stay dry was fruitless.)

Sleeping in mosquito country

... looks an awful lot like sleeping anywhere else along the PCT. I wasn't packing an enclosed tent, so there was no point to setting up my non-bug-protecting tarp; I just laid out my bag under the stars in what hikers call "cowboy camping." As for the mosquitoes? They can't bite through your sleeping bag, and if you roll over onto your stomach during the night, the hood of your mummy bag protects your head.

Waking up in Vidette Meadows

"Is it morning already? Nrrrgggh ... alright, gimme a second ... WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Green Bean had rescued the sheep from Forrester Pass. When she and TDS got up before me (not a difficult task), she snuck the sheep to about three inches in front of my face.

Bullfrog Lake panorama (1/2)

Looking southwest back toward the PCT after taking the turnoff toward Kearsarge Pass.

Bullfrog Lake panorama (2/2)

Looking west back toward the PCT after taking the turnoff toward Kearsarge Pass.

Trail toward Kearsarge Pass

Down at about 10,000 feet, the trail wound through lush grassland and pine forest. The scents of clean air, alpine water, and fresh vegetation mingled in the morning air as a light breeze tickled my exposed skin and the last die-hard mosquitoes prowled for a morning snack before sleeping the day away.