September 10th: Middle Rae Lake – Center Basin Creek Crossing (10.5 miles, 2,490′ elevation gain)
Cumulative Distance: 207.6 miles
Cumulative Ascent: 37,365 feet
The morning sun creeping its way toward me and Fin Dome looking out over Middle Rae Lake
I woke up, unrested, and was begrudgingly on the tail by 0730. As I turned onto the main trail from the campground I ran into Mark and was surprised the group was up so early! Apparently, as I had suspected, they hadn’t been that far off from where I was- tucked around the corner and behind some large rocks on the other side of the campground.
It was a long, slow, miserable slog up Glen Pass. I kept looking up at this giant wall in front of me and cursing the hikers who had kept me up the night prior. I could have stopped anywhere and fallen back to sleep. In my journal I wrote that the only thought going through my mind at the top of the pass was, “womp.” If that doesn’t sum up my morning in one word, then I don’t know what would.
Dragon Peak, the Painted Lady, and Glen Pass. Bring it.
Standing on the isthmus between Middle and Upper Rae Lakes, Black Mountain reflecting in the water
Okay, hi, giant wall of doom. I didn’t need sleep anyway. No Biggie.
Glen Pass was a tight squeeze without the normal room to spread out and chill for a bit with a snack to take in the views. The scenery back toward Rae Lakes was astounding, but the expansive view out to the Great Western Divide was behind the far wall of the cwm on the south side. However, its little unnamed tarn was a brilliant shining blue and looked tempting to jump into. There were a bunch of people up there on the pass, so I went, “meh,” and headed down the other side into its cwm.
A cwm, or bowl, or cirque, or corrie- take your pick- is cut out from glacier erosion. The ice and rock debris impact and converge carving out a steep headwall down into a bowl-like shape with three walls. This ice/rock flow leaves a deep tarn in its wake, which, in this case, is the unnamed south side lake seen a few photos down below. Just on the tarn’s other side was a rock glacier hanging out… chilling (heh). I thought it was just a colluvial fan, but turns out I’m wrong and it’s actually a rock glacier that took over the terminal moraine, which is way cooler (heh) anyway.
Diamond Peak, Black Mountain, some unnamed lakes, and Rae Lakes
North side of Glen Pass and the teeeeeniest, tiiiiiiniest cloud you ever did see
And let’s do a little twirl over this way to look down the south side. See how narrow the pass is? Not enough room for morning snack craving hangouts if there’s more than even one little marmot guy up there.
Looking down the cwm to an unnamed tarn and a little rock glacier peaking out of the shadows
I passed by a couple mule trains on the way down and approached a gorgeous view out over Charlotte Lake and Charlotte Dome. I ran into the whole Palisade Crew at the Kearsarge Pass Junction where they were exiting, parting ways with Tim who would continue on by himself out Whitney Portal.
Dem switchbacks tho.
Looking back up. Hi. Bye.
Charlotte Dome
Finally able to get a great view of the Great Western Divide now that I’m out of the cwm
Mt. Bago and Charlotte Lake with Charlotte Dome way out there
Okay. I wish this shot didn’t come out so blurry because it’s honestly one of my favorite photos from my entire hike.
Charlotte Lake
After passing Charlotte Lake I was on my way down to Vidette Meadow, which sits at the base of the imposing near-vertical walls of an arête called East Vidette. Arêtes are formed when two glaciers flow parallel to each other carving out separate valleys with a sharp edge (French: arête) between them. You might remember another arête called The Hermit that I wrote about on Day 13.
Down and down I eventually got to the Bubbs Creek Junction and had to pull over. My insides were on fire and I felt like I would vomit at any moment. The pain was unbearable so I dropped my pack, climbed up onto a flat rock, curled up in a ball on my side, and almost started crying. It came hard and out of absolutely nowhere. My pack’s belt strap didn’t help by adding so much pressure to my stomach. I could feel the blood draining from my face and knew I probably looked awful. I honestly don’t remember how long I stayed there, but it definitely wasn’t just a few minutes. It took every bit of me to force myself up to continue on.
Je m’arrête to take a photo of the arêtes. East Vidette looking fierce and another, Center Peak, in the distance at the top of Center Basin
Potentially West Vidette? Maybe? Sure.
PIKACHU!
ZOOM!
East Vidette arête looking down on me, disappointed. “Get your ass up and stop complaining.”
The next day would be Forester Pass, which I had heard horror stories about. It would be the highest I’ve ever hiked and the last major pass until Whitney. I needed to set myself up for success tonight in order to get a good start the next morning. Tim had mentioned a campsite a mile or so past Center Basin Creek crossing, and that would be my ultimate goal, but with the way my stomach was feeling, I’d settle for Upper Vidette Meadow at worst.
So up it was. I kept stopping every 200 feet, wincing in pain. Times like this called for some serious inner-mantra chants. A few that stuck were, “This fucking trail isn’t going to hike its fucking self;” “Too legit, too legit to quit;” and “Every step is literally one step closer, Jaimie.”
It was a painful morning with the struggle up Glen half-awake and now this insane stomach pain, but I somehow managed to get up to Center Basin Creek crossing. I know I’ve said it before, but it’s amazing how it’s 90% mental and only 10% physical. Being alone was a blessing because everything was at my own pace and it proved to me how capable I truly am. Maybe that’s what got me through the bad days- just knowing, deep down, that I was (am) strong enough and letting that inner pride take care of the rest.
Following Bubbs Creek upstream, Kearsarge Pinnacles on the left
I found a great open site not too far off from the trail next to Center Basin Creek and set up for the night. I was completely alone again for another night and was reflecting a lot on the past 200 (!!!) miles I had put behind me. Despite the bad days, I had a sudden sadness fall over me: I’d be done with this journey in three days. Then what? It was the first time I really sat down and pieced everything together where it finally made sense. Most days were spent looking forward to the next- looking forward, excited to put miles behind me. But that afternoon was different. I was sad that it was all ending.
The occasional hiker would wave as they passed by, most likely trying to get up to that same site I had set out to find along with Tim. Then suddenly I saw a familiar face coming up the trail… “GABRIEL?!”
Let’s bring it waaaaaaay back to my Day 1 post. The day before I started, Jace and I waited in line in Yosemite before the sun came up to grab him a walk-up wilderness permit. We were behind a guy named Gabriel, who I saw one other time at Red’s Meadow, and here he was again!
He came over to chat for a bit and then asked if I’d mind if he camped with me for the night.
We ate dinner together, swapped life stories, and he set up his ground cover. I looked on with envy- I had been wanting to cowboy camp and hadn’t mustered up the courage yet to do so. “You should try it! Just keep your tent set up over there and if you get scared or cold in the middle of the night you can always go back in.” So I pulled the footprint out from under my tent, grabbed my sleeping pad and sleeping bag, and snuggled in for the night. Looking in the distance toward Forester Pass, the clouds were gathering and looking dark. Hopefully the rain would hold off for the night, and fingers crossed I’d get up and over Forester without any storms tomorrow.
Building clouds making me slightly nervous
Every night in my tent, I’d journal about the day and look over maps for the day ahead. This also included reading about what lay ahead the next day from Elizabeth Wenk’s Essential Guide to the JMT. Gabriel had had a little ritual each night with some other ladies he had been hiking with where they’d read the Wenk book out loud for the section ahead before going to bed. He asked if I was down for doing that, so we took turns reading paragraphs out loud and it was an awesome way to end the night. We laughed at the ridiculous names for some of the wildflowers that we wouldn’t even be seeing this late in the season and passed out.
Little side note here: I have to say that people turn up in your life for all sorts of different reasons. G walking into camp that night changed the rest of my hike and I found in him a dear friend who I look up to and respect endlessly. We’d spend the next couple days hiking together and I couldn’t have asked for a better way to finish those 220 miles to Whitney than with him by my side.
It had been a rough day physically, and I was realizing that mentally I was starting to feel a sadness welling up inside of me that everything would soon be ending. But I had gotten through the day, the stomach pain went away, and the night ended with laughs with a friend. I fell asleep under the stars without a thin sheet of nylon between me and them for the first time in my life.
COWBOY CAMPING: SUCCESS
trips and trailmix 
Beautiful photos! I came through here during the Rough Fire in 2015 and it is so thrilling to see what it looks like without the smoke. I’m heading back in four weeks for the chance to see it like you posted — thank you for getting me extra pumped for our trip!
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