Zero Day (0 miles) & Lower Cathedral Lake – Lyell Forks Area (16 miles ~500′ elevation gain)
2 coyotes, 1 badger (I wrote in my journal, but it was actually a giant fat-ass marmot), 12 deer, 1 permit check, 2 mule trains, 34756234856 stream and river crossings
Mirror-y
I woke up at 0900 to my name being whispered… THIRTEEN hours of sleep! Clearly, I needed it. The guys had come over to say bye- they were heading back out to Cathedral Lakes Trailhead to finish up their hike. I sat up in my tent and suddenly realized my sleeping bag was completely soaked from the morning dew. Ugh. Before they headed out, I had overheard the guys mention that it was warming up and 28°. Warm?! Ugh. Cold and wet, I forced myself to get up to move my tent under some bigger trees to prevent getting soaked again tomorrow morning. Even though I wasn’t hungry, I filtered some water and reluctantly made breakfast as a mama deer and her babies passed through. The lake was completely still with the reflection of Cathedral Peak. I sat out on a rock waiting for my water to boil and then spent a good while there drinking my coffee and eating runny, rehydrated eggs. It was quiet, calm, cold, and beyond beautiful. It looked like I didn’t have a whole lot of decision making to do since my body decided for me that I wasn’t hitting the trail early or even at all, so a zero day (when you hike zero miles) it was.
The only day I ever used the GoPro which I carried for miles until I ditched the extra weight at VVR
View out my tent with Cathedral Peak in the distance
Once the sun started heating up the granite, I stripped down to my underwear to do laundry, rinse off, wash up, solar charge all my devices, and air out my sleeping bag. I spent most of the afternoon laying out in the sun working on my tan, reading Elizabeth Wenk’s JMT guide book (my bible for the trip), and snacking on leftover food from the days prior. I had heard that the first week or so of the hike would require most people to force-feed themselves as a lack of appetite is quite common. This was definitely proving to be true when I would find myself constantly wanting to skip meals altogether, rolling my food over to carry the next day.
Elizabeth Wenk’s glorious masterpiece and my bible for the trip. Don’t judge our messy office and Jace’s unmentionables hanging from the ceiling fan to dry. (Sorry, babe.)
Laundry day!
I had been eyeballing the other side of the lake and decided to throw on my shorts once they dried to take a little walk around to check it out. I hiked a bit up the nearby dome over some evidence of glacial movement that carved out the area by spotting some glaciated rock on my way up and took a photo. The glacial striations were so polished they sparkled in the sun. I found a nice little spot to chill and looked down over the entire Cathedral Lakes area and over to Cathedral Pass. It looked as though I had the whole lake to myself because there weren’t any other tents or people in sight. I sat up there for a while to take it all in and then headed back down to my campsite below to continue sunbathing and enjoying an entire afternoon of doing absolutely nothing.
View of my little campsite down on the peninsula (cape? what landmass name is that?) below
After dinner I filtered some water for tomorrow’s breakfast and the day ahead and then crawled into my tent for the night. It was only 1730 and I was already so exhausted. I looked over my itinerary and knew I had to get a bit farther tomorrow if the VVR ferry rumor was at all true. The zero day was wonderful, but I’d need an extra day to hike in/out and didn’t want to risk it. I eventually fell asleep with not another soul nearby, the wind howling, and freezing my face off.
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GAH! HOLY SHIT! My phone alarm scared me nearly half to death as it stunned me out of sleep just before 0500. I scrambled around inside my sleeping bag trying to find it and turned it off in a state of semi-conscious delirium. I must have reset it, because it went off again a half hour later (this would inevitably become the pattern of every morning). I felt nauseous looking at my dehydrated eggs, so I decided to skip breakfast, broke down camp, and headed out just before 0700. I was amazed that no one else had set up camp while I was asleep, especially since it was a weekend, and didn’t see anyone until I was back on the main trail.
Day 5!
I felt sad leaving Cathedral Lakes. It was my first time thus far being completely alone for an entire day. I had the whole place to myself. It was magical and it was exactly what I needed.
I love hiking in the early morning. It’s before most people get up and out, it’s cold and easier for me to breathe, and it’s the best time to see creatures. My eyes are constantly scanning the trail ahead and in the woods surrounding me where I usually get to see a bunch of mule deer grazing. This morning, my first marmot, which I thought was a goddamn badger because holy hell it was the size of both my cats combined, was hanging out in a nearby tree stump. Oh, and if you know my cats, you know one of them is borderline obese, so yeah.
I mean, look! Dude’s gotta be at least 20 pounds! Totally badger-able until you realize it’s a damn marmot.
“Nice marmot.”
The sun was really starting to come up, so I stopped to strip off some layers before the heat would start. There’s a saying out on the trail: “Be Bold, Start Cold” which is also part of the technique of dressing for 20 minutes down the trail. It’s freezing in the morning, so stripping down to shorts and a t-shirt isn’t ideal, but the odds are that you’ll be sweating in no time. And sweating in the cold is never a good idea. However, I suck at this whole thing even though I know better and always have a hard time pushing myself to “Be Bold” in the morning. This was a perfect example of why starting cold works, because it always slows you down to stop and take off your warmer layers and then put them in your pack. As I got my shit together and continued on I looked up to see two figures walking down the trail toward me. A couple coyotes were heading my way with some trash in their mouths. When they finally noticed me, they dropped what was in their mouths and slinked off into the woods. I picked up the Clif Bar wrappers from the ground and tried to see if I could get a good photo of them close up, but they were long gone.
Squint your eyes and you can see my coyote frandz trying to escape my photo op
A bit farther down the trail I passed by a couple mule trains heading out to resupply some hikers. I felt so bad for them as they slowly walked past me with tons of food and water on their backs. Even more down the trail I ran into a ranger who stopped me to check my permit and see if I had a bear can. We chatted for a bit and she wished me well on my journey ahead.
As I made my way along, hikers passing by started to smell SO GOOD. They were clean. Perfume. Deodorant. Shampoo. Laundry detergent. I knew I was getting closer to Tuolumne Meadows.
Man, Tuolumne was beautiful. Crowded, but damn was she pretty. I really enjoyed walking around in the morning and took my time filtering water, reading signs, and checking out all the deer. There was an old man and his wife taking selfies holding up their pomeranian with a herd of deer behind them that I wish I had just taken a photo of. It was ridiculous and amazing all in one. I wandered around and then sat down at a picnic table for lunch. I had spotty cell service, so I tried to call Jace, but our calls kept dropping. At lunch I realized how much extra food I really was carrying around. It was stupid and pointless, so I gave some away to other hikers and threw out the rest so I could lighten up my pack a bit. My lower back and shoulders were starting to hurt from the constant weight and friction. It felt good to sit down to repack and redistribute the weight of my gear. Another bonus to TM were the vault toilets (!) I got to use before heading back out. I crossed back over highway 120 (the only times you’ll cross a road the entire length of the JMT) and passed some incredibly tempting waterholes. It was a ridiculously hot afternoon, nearly 90°, so it took every fiber of me to not jump in for a quick dip and I really needed to get some miles in because this section of the trail is the flattest of the entire hike.
I was just up there!
Tempting waterhole after waterhole
I kept walking on for a few miles, drinking my water while it was still coldish, and checked my maps for my next possible water source. It looked like there were plenty marked and the trail was constantly rubbing up against the nearby Lyell Fork Creek and crossing several others, so I wasn’t worried. But man, the drought in California is noooo joke. This was the day that taught me to never, ever rely on where the next water source should be, because mile after mile I’d approach one only to find it all dried up. I started to get worried about dehydration as I looked at what I had left in my water bottle, which wasn’t much. I felt stupid and should have stopped for that quick dip and to filter water- what a fool. I learned to always ask passing hikers about conditions ahead if they didn’t already offer up that information. Speaking of passing hikers, a NOBO guy and I had stopped to chat and he mentioned again that the VVR ferry wasn’t running. He also told me about a woman he had met who was hiking the entire JMT without a resupply; she was drinking Shakeology for every meal. Hrm. I’m really intrigued to learn how that turned out.
Oh, hey water source #3652387456283456 that was all dried up! Cool!
Eventually I turned around a bend and heard the sound of rushing water. HOORAH! I walked down to the bank, shrugged off my pack, took off my socks and boots, and dipped my tootsies in. It was amazing. I spent a good hour or so drinking, filtering, snacking, wading, and charging up my GPS transponder. A man set up nearby and started fly fishing as I watched and took in the relief from my earlier worries. I had quite a few miles left until my goal for the day which was Lyell Forks or Upper Lyell Canyon, so I packed up and continued on.
The rest of the day was right along the edge of the beautiful, crystal clear waters of Lyell Fork Creek. It was so, so, so pretty. I couldn’t believe that where I was standing was actually real. I kept glancing back to look how far I had hiked and felt a wave of happiness take over me. These past few days had been so incredible, I never wanted it to end. I kept wondering if it would be like this every day while I was out there.
Glancing back down Lyell Canyon
My first good glimpse of Donahue Pass- where I’d be climbing up and over tomorrow
Just. Stunning.
Once I got to Lyell Forks, I climbed up a bit in order to reduce the amount of elevation gain the next morning. I had at one point gotten cocky and thought I might even make it to Donahue Pass base camp, but as I climbed up I began to fall apart. It was 1530 and time to stop for the day if I wanted to be able to have time for dinner and my nightly routine.
I found a campsite near the water that was completely empty and set up my tent. As I was sitting around camp, all of a sudden it hit me: I WAS STARVING. Finally, my appetite! I cooked up a big dinner of rehydrated beans, potatoes, and vegetables and scarfed it all down. It was starting to get dark, so I headed over to the river to filter some water and as I was hunched over on a rock I heard something walking up behind me. I wasn’t scared of bears, but the idea of a mountain lion did occasionally make me feel uneasy. They were known to find hikers who were alone and attack from behind. I whipped around and as I nearly fell backward in the water, up walked a guy with a big, “Hello!” He asked me if this was the camp him and his friend were looking for, which I honestly didn’t know. Nothing was clearly marked, which usually left you guessing on your location for the night. He introduced himself as Joe “Great Legs” and his friend Pete “Minnesota Pete.” They had both met while hiking the Appalachian Trail a few years back and were out here to take on the JMT. We chatted for a bit, they decided to set up camp there as well, and then I headed off to bed.
Looking real cute covered in trail dust and my lips starting to crack and bleed
Inside my tent, I tended to my poor feet. They were starting to turn slightly purpley-blueish and I had a couple hot spots I needed to tape up before they started to blister. I grabbed my first aid kit and found some little notes of encouragement hidden inside from Jace (awwwww). Then as I unwrapped my Leukotape I found “I ❤ you” written in Sharpie on the tape too!
I settled in for the night. Tomorrow would be Donahue Pass, which many consider to be the first “real” pass of the trail since Cathedral isn’t all that difficult. Climbing over Donahue is also where you cross out of Yosemite National Park and into Ansel Adams Wilderness. Throughout my whole pre-hike process, I had all these images in my head of the trail from the countless blogs, books, and articles I had read. Several depict the trail as it snakes its way through national parks, national forests, and wilderness. To pass over Donahue from one section to the next was what I considered to be my first major checkpoint. I was looking forward to leaving Yosemite behind and hopping over into Ansel Adams.
My journal entry for Day 5 finished with “1909: it’s MUCH warmer here than last night at LC. Hopefully tomorrow am won’t be so bad. That’s been a big part of me not wanting to get out of bed in the am. I need to learn to power though.”
So here was hoping to power through.
trips and trailmix 