Day 2: Conclusion
I picked my way through the marsh attempting to keep my feet as dry as possible. I had already gotten snow packed in my boots, so there was no way they wouldn't need to be dried out, but I was determined to mitigate how much drying out they needed.
One thing that's important while backpacking on heavily traversed trails is to be certain to stay on the path. Minimizing impact helps ensure that it's there to be enjoyed in the future. So, when you see multiple trails running inches from each other, it's hard to know which on to pick. The easy answer: which ever one the rangers haven't marked off with sticks or rocks. The slightly medium answer: which ever one is older (i.e. the deepest groove). The problem with parallel paths in marsh land, excuse me, meadows, is that the deepest groove is likely also a water channel. And if not that, then a mud pit. When it wasn't one of those two, I aimed for the deepest groove. When it was, well, I'm sorry to those who come after me, but, yeah...
Finally I reached Sunrise High Sierra Camp. High Sierra Camps during the season have cabins set up for paying customers to sleep in. During the off season, they have cement pads. At all times there is a backpackers' campground that backpackers can sleep in free of charge. These campgrounds have vault biffys to help reduce impact to the forest. As I was walking through the Camp looking for the backpacker's campground (and biffy,* man, I had to pee), I tried hard to follow the signs that declared, "Give plants a growing chance, stay on the trails!" Which I did very well, until I sunk into a mud pit--up to my mid-shin. And, there it was, in that instant I knew I was taking a rest day to let my shoes dry out. I also knew I was done staying on the trail, if it looked problematic. The only problem was, the campground was in the snow.
Now, the entire campground wasn't covered in snow, it was patchy, but there was snow. Also, a sad fact of high impact campgrounds is that most of the downed wood was well picked over; and, that which wasn't picked over was wet. From, you know, the snow. I finally found a good camping spot, near the stream that went through the campground, and the outhouse. I pitched my tent, and headed to the biffy. Wouldn't you know, another obstacle. This time I just let nature have its way. The river was too wide and swift to try crossing that evening. And, since it was getting late, I wasn't about to try my luck. I just dug a cat hole. Then I built a very tiny and not terribly warm fire and heated up some water for dinner.
Here's a protip: water may boil at 167.9°F at 8000', but that doesn't mean it's hot. Which translates into not being hot enough to cook your food (unless you let it boil or sit longer). I didn't. My food was undercooked and lukewarm. Fortunately, I only slightly cared. I scarfed down my dinner and climbed into my tent to put on every stitch of dry clothes I had, and remove every stitch of wet clothes. Then I climbed into my sleeping bag and passed out.
I woke quite cold in the middle of the night. My legs were freezing (though, thankfully, not literally). I pulled my rain shell over the top of my sleeping bag and tried to get back to sleep. As I lie there listening to the river babble past I heard, for the second time in as many nights, the heavy steps of a bear investigating my camp ground. I didn't make a sound, and eventually fell asleep.
*biffy = Bathroom In the Forest For You. Cute, yeah?
One thing that's important while backpacking on heavily traversed trails is to be certain to stay on the path. Minimizing impact helps ensure that it's there to be enjoyed in the future. So, when you see multiple trails running inches from each other, it's hard to know which on to pick. The easy answer: which ever one the rangers haven't marked off with sticks or rocks. The slightly medium answer: which ever one is older (i.e. the deepest groove). The problem with parallel paths in marsh land, excuse me, meadows, is that the deepest groove is likely also a water channel. And if not that, then a mud pit. When it wasn't one of those two, I aimed for the deepest groove. When it was, well, I'm sorry to those who come after me, but, yeah...
Finally I reached Sunrise High Sierra Camp. High Sierra Camps during the season have cabins set up for paying customers to sleep in. During the off season, they have cement pads. At all times there is a backpackers' campground that backpackers can sleep in free of charge. These campgrounds have vault biffys to help reduce impact to the forest. As I was walking through the Camp looking for the backpacker's campground (and biffy,* man, I had to pee), I tried hard to follow the signs that declared, "Give plants a growing chance, stay on the trails!" Which I did very well, until I sunk into a mud pit--up to my mid-shin. And, there it was, in that instant I knew I was taking a rest day to let my shoes dry out. I also knew I was done staying on the trail, if it looked problematic. The only problem was, the campground was in the snow.
Now, the entire campground wasn't covered in snow, it was patchy, but there was snow. Also, a sad fact of high impact campgrounds is that most of the downed wood was well picked over; and, that which wasn't picked over was wet. From, you know, the snow. I finally found a good camping spot, near the stream that went through the campground, and the outhouse. I pitched my tent, and headed to the biffy. Wouldn't you know, another obstacle. This time I just let nature have its way. The river was too wide and swift to try crossing that evening. And, since it was getting late, I wasn't about to try my luck. I just dug a cat hole. Then I built a very tiny and not terribly warm fire and heated up some water for dinner.
Here's a protip: water may boil at 167.9°F at 8000', but that doesn't mean it's hot. Which translates into not being hot enough to cook your food (unless you let it boil or sit longer). I didn't. My food was undercooked and lukewarm. Fortunately, I only slightly cared. I scarfed down my dinner and climbed into my tent to put on every stitch of dry clothes I had, and remove every stitch of wet clothes. Then I climbed into my sleeping bag and passed out.
I woke quite cold in the middle of the night. My legs were freezing (though, thankfully, not literally). I pulled my rain shell over the top of my sleeping bag and tried to get back to sleep. As I lie there listening to the river babble past I heard, for the second time in as many nights, the heavy steps of a bear investigating my camp ground. I didn't make a sound, and eventually fell asleep.
*biffy = Bathroom In the Forest For You. Cute, yeah?
posted by granola girl at 10:49 PM
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