Day 67: Woods Creek and Pinchot Pass

June 10; Mile 794-809

I slept in a bit after the bad night before hiking downhill past Arrowhead and Dollar Lakes. Eventually I came to the first crossing of Woods Creek. There was a wet log spanning the first half of the water, but the water beneath it was raging past in a frothing white stream. There was no way I was going to walk across that alone. I waited a few minutes to see if anyone else was close behind, and in the meantime I scouted up and downstream. When no one came, I decided to wade across the shallow, slower section I’d found upstream. The water was pleasantly cold, though my socks and shoes were now waterlogged.

After crossing I came to a wooded section. I heard something crashing through the undergrowth and saw light brown fur bounding away. At first I thought it was a deer based on the coloring, but as I watched I soon realized it was a small bear. And it had run in the same direction I was headed. Great.

I waited until it was gone before moving. I clacked my poles together and whistled loudly, took a few steps, and looked to my left. There was its mother, thirty feet away, watching me as I walked after her cub.

Oh, fuck.

Immediately I smacked my poles together over my head and called out “Hey bear!” – my throat tight with fear. I slowly backed away down the trail, watching to make sure she didn’t come after me. Once I was out of sight I heard her moving off in the direction of her cub, but I continued backing up until I reached the clearing before the wooded section.

I wanted to make noise – to sing loudly – but my mind was completely blanking on any songs or lyrics. It didn’t help that a cloud of mosquitos had descended upon me and were flying into my face and biting at my arms and legs.

I grabbed my foam pad and slashed at the air with it while loudly singing the first lyrics that I’d remembered (“Change” by KT Tunstall – not what I’d normally pick to scare off a bear). I decided to wait until another hiker arrived before continuing, and so I donned my rain pants, rain jacket, and head net and then sat on the ground in shock for 15 minutes.

Thankfully a John Muir Trail hiker arrived before long, and he was happy to hike together for safety after I told him about the bears. He told me that he was ending his trip early since he’d spent the past four days throwing up due to the altitude.

Soon after I came to the suspension bridge over Woods Creek. It rocked precariously as I crossed, and I felt kind of seasick when I stepped onto solid ground again. I’d reached the low point of the trail in that section and it was hot and sunny. A long, steep climb lay between me and Pinchot Pass, and I considered camping before the pass, even though it would only be a twelve mile day.

Instead I soldiered on, climbing up past grassy fields and sparkling lakes. There were a few short sections of snow, but nothing steep. I arrived at the top just as a few hikers headed down. I spent half an hour enjoying the views of the sparkling lakes far below, and the rocky basin I’d climbed past.

The trail meandered down toward the lake far below, and thankfully almost all of the snow had melted out. I hiked down with a few people I’d been leapfrogging with lately: Spicy Batman, Sweeper, and Double D. They had all planned to continue another few miles, but when we reached the shores of Lake Marjorie, everyone decided to stay. It was too beautiful (and relatively bug-free) to pass up.

Sweeper led the way into the icy water, and everyone jumped in while there was still some sunshine to dry us off after. We all immediately put on our puffy coats and rain gear to warm back up as we made dinner. Petra had been hiking with them as well, and when she realized no one was continuing on, she actually hiked back a mile to join us at the lake. We spent the evening sitting in a circle chatting until the sun dipped below the horizon, and the peaks towering above us were stained orange and pink.

I retreated to my tent and tried half-heartedly to zip the doors closed. When that didn’t work, I used a combination of safety pins, my retainer case, and a carabiner to ‘zip’ my tent closed, and then stuffed socks and bags into the gaps. Only one mosquito made it past my slipshod defenses.

I kept thinking that what I needed was a few clips to seal the mesh together. And the next morning as I was packing up my tent I found a plastic bag clip wedged between two rocks not five feet from where I’d slept. The trail provides.