Day 1: Mist Trail
As I set out from Happy Isles I passed a ranger with a gaggle of junior ranger hopefuls. The ranger was talking with the kids about the wildlife in the area when she spotted me and took the opportunity for an object lesson. "Now, see, there's a hiker with a bear canister on her pack." I paused and let her talk about my bear canister, and how it was important to keep food away from bears. Once she finished we exchanged smiles, and she thanked me for stopping, and I carried on my way.
The first part of the trail is pretty easy. And, by first part, I mean, the first the first <2 miles, up until the point where you have to make your first trail choice. Do you take the Mist Trail which offers spectacular waterfall views, and also some, well, misting? Or, do you opt for the less wet, less spectacular, much less steep, JMT (John Muir Trail)?
In a previous trip, I took the JMT. This time, I opted for the Mist Trail.
One thing to note about the Mist Trail is that it lives up to its name. Another thing to note is that it's amazingly popular (apparently the most popular trail in all of Yosemite. I believe it).
Other things of interest:
It's freaking steep.
The trail is made up almost entirely of granite steps (reportedly 500 of them. I have no idea, I didn't count).
The trail is about 2 people-wide. If you find the need to pause, it's best to aim for a switchback (of which there are plenty) or a slightly wider spot where you stopping won't hold up the 100 people behind you.
Since the trial follows a waterfall, the granite steps are quite slick from the water.
Climbing steep, slick stairs with a 50-60 pound pack on is, as you might be surprised to hear, slow going.
I picked my way up the trail, frequently aiming for wide spots on the trail to stop, I chatted with fellow hikers, and even leap-frogged with a few. Most people who talked with me were interested in where I was headed and how long I'd be out. I tried to not tell many people that I was going it alone—you never know who the crazy murdering murders are.
As I approached the last 1/4 mile or so of the accent to Nevada Fall I paused and chatted briefly with a couple whom I had been leap-frogging. In accented English the husband (presumably) asked, "Can I try carrying your pack?"
I smiled and laughed, "It's really heavy!"
"I know." he insisted, "can I try?"
I assessed the situation: My pack weighed nearly 60 pounds. What were the chances that he'd get very far with it? He was hiking with a partner, so, what were the chances that he'd take off running and abandon her? And, then, the kicker, he had his own backpack (a school pack of the Jansport variety) which, once I agreed to let him try my pack, he asked me if I minded carrying. I smiled and picked up his pack—confident I was getting the better end of this bargain.
Then, he surprised me.
He turned and headed up trail at a good solid hiking (not backpacking) speed. I easily kept up, but didn't feel like I was going too slow. The entire time his companion laughed and took photos of him. I smiled and followed, enjoying my reprieve.
We reached the top and he took off my pack and set it down. We stood around chatting and taking photos. His wife asked, "How heavy was it?" "About 50-60 pounds." he reassured her. I noted that I was impressed that he had carried it so easily. "Oh," he told me, "I used to carry 80 pound packs when I was younger."
Given that he was roughly my age, "younger" could really only mean 17-25ish? right? I didn't ask.
We kept talking and then I asked where he was from. His reply instantly cleared everything up for me: "Nepal."
My conclusion: I totally had my pack carried by a Sherpa! I didn't ask, but I feel confident assuming such. The one thing I wished I had done was ask him to take a photo with me. That would have been pretty cool.
Instead, you get a photo of my pack (and arm!) at the top of Nevada Fall. You're welcome.
(Note the bear canister the ranger pointed out to the kids. For those who are aware that the bears have figured out how to open the bear vault, never fear, this is the new and improved (hopefully more bear resistant) 2-click version).
The first part of the trail is pretty easy. And, by first part, I mean, the first the first <2 miles, up until the point where you have to make your first trail choice. Do you take the Mist Trail which offers spectacular waterfall views, and also some, well, misting? Or, do you opt for the less wet, less spectacular, much less steep, JMT (John Muir Trail)?
In a previous trip, I took the JMT. This time, I opted for the Mist Trail.
One thing to note about the Mist Trail is that it lives up to its name. Another thing to note is that it's amazingly popular (apparently the most popular trail in all of Yosemite. I believe it).
Other things of interest:
It's freaking steep.
The trail is made up almost entirely of granite steps (reportedly 500 of them. I have no idea, I didn't count).
The trail is about 2 people-wide. If you find the need to pause, it's best to aim for a switchback (of which there are plenty) or a slightly wider spot where you stopping won't hold up the 100 people behind you.
Since the trial follows a waterfall, the granite steps are quite slick from the water.
Climbing steep, slick stairs with a 50-60 pound pack on is, as you might be surprised to hear, slow going.
I picked my way up the trail, frequently aiming for wide spots on the trail to stop, I chatted with fellow hikers, and even leap-frogged with a few. Most people who talked with me were interested in where I was headed and how long I'd be out. I tried to not tell many people that I was going it alone—you never know who the crazy murdering murders are.
As I approached the last 1/4 mile or so of the accent to Nevada Fall I paused and chatted briefly with a couple whom I had been leap-frogging. In accented English the husband (presumably) asked, "Can I try carrying your pack?"
I smiled and laughed, "It's really heavy!"
"I know." he insisted, "can I try?"
I assessed the situation: My pack weighed nearly 60 pounds. What were the chances that he'd get very far with it? He was hiking with a partner, so, what were the chances that he'd take off running and abandon her? And, then, the kicker, he had his own backpack (a school pack of the Jansport variety) which, once I agreed to let him try my pack, he asked me if I minded carrying. I smiled and picked up his pack—confident I was getting the better end of this bargain.
Then, he surprised me.
He turned and headed up trail at a good solid hiking (not backpacking) speed. I easily kept up, but didn't feel like I was going too slow. The entire time his companion laughed and took photos of him. I smiled and followed, enjoying my reprieve.
We reached the top and he took off my pack and set it down. We stood around chatting and taking photos. His wife asked, "How heavy was it?" "About 50-60 pounds." he reassured her. I noted that I was impressed that he had carried it so easily. "Oh," he told me, "I used to carry 80 pound packs when I was younger."
Given that he was roughly my age, "younger" could really only mean 17-25ish? right? I didn't ask.
We kept talking and then I asked where he was from. His reply instantly cleared everything up for me: "Nepal."
My conclusion: I totally had my pack carried by a Sherpa! I didn't ask, but I feel confident assuming such. The one thing I wished I had done was ask him to take a photo with me. That would have been pretty cool.
Instead, you get a photo of my pack (and arm!) at the top of Nevada Fall. You're welcome.
(Note the bear canister the ranger pointed out to the kids. For those who are aware that the bears have figured out how to open the bear vault, never fear, this is the new and improved (hopefully more bear resistant) 2-click version).
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