September 14, 2019

Evolution Lake to Little Pete Meadow
Day miles: 13 mi
Cumulative miles: 116.3 mi

I fall asleep watching the full Harvest Moon rise over Evolution Lake. I wake up to Orion hanging right outside my still half-open tent vestibule. No bugs, no wind, warm night. My sleeping pad stayed full, though I give it a few extra breaths at 5 am before deciding to get up early anyway and watch the moon set. I eat a Clif bar without trouble, make my coffees, and am on the trail hiking at 6:40 am.

Evolution Basin is gorgeous and shaded from the morning sun and the combination of great scenery and cool morning makes for a brisk pace.

After about an hour of hiking to warm up, I take a 20 minute yoga break at Sapphire Lake to enjoy the sunrise. Ken and Danny pass me as I am rolling up my yoga mat and I leap frog with them all day.

I stop on the banks of Wanda Lake, inflate my sleeping pad and submerge it in the clear waters. No bubbles confirms no leaks!

It’s a steady, mellow incline up to Muir Pass alongside sapphire lakes, reflecting the intense blue of the cloudless sky, among stark white granite. I catch up to Ken and Danny on the top of Muir Pass. We take photos of each other and have lunch by the famous stone shelter. They make fun of me when I pull out my thermos of hot coffee. I think they are jealous.

One the other side of Muir Pass, the trail follows snow melt streams down another string of beautiful alpine lakes. It is sunny and hot so I decide to strip down to my underwear and jump in alongside the giant endemic tadpoles. (No fish up here!) I think I manage to stay in for 2 or 3 minutes. It was pretty cold! It was the perfect day for a swim; by the time I got down to Big Pete Meadow, my underwear was dry.

Following the string of beautiful lakes, the trail follows the headwaters of the Middle Fork of the Kings River as they become an impressive series of cascades and then mellow into a river meandering gently through lush meadows at the bottom of a glacially scoured granite canyon — Le Conte Canyon. Apparently, this is what Yosemite Valley used to be like before “they paved paradise, put up a parking lot” and all that jazz.

The day was so gorgeous, the scenery so magical, I felt so physically strong. My sleeping pad was fixed. My pack was carrying well since it had lightened up. The climb up Muir Pass was steady and not too steep, and the rocky descent was broken up into interesting and varied sections. There were so many small beautiful things on the trail: the sound of water tinkling over smooth rock, the sun glinting off glacier polished granite, the intense colbalt blue of the lakes, wildflowers. I am so so stoked, just elated to be out here in paradise.

I pass Ken and Danny setting up camp in a shady grove of trees at Little Pete Meadow, but determine that campsite is too buggy for me. (I am very mosquito susceptible.) I hike a little further and set up on a little shelf behind a tree on the other side of the trail where it is a bit higher up and drier and, I hope, less buggy.

But I’ve had such a great day I want to talk about it, so I take my dinner re-hydrating in its foil pouch down to Ken and Danny’s campsite, where I hide from mosquitoes in the smoke of the campfire they have built. We review our upcoming itineraries. At Ken’s advice I decide I will alter mine to go over Mather Pass and Pinchot Pass in a single day, since those are the passes with the least elevation gain/loss between them. Then a family of deer come to investigate. Did you know that baby deer meow? We’re sitting around the campfire and not 10 feet away the deer circle and sniff at Ken and Danny’s tents. Then they take off, not running away startled, but romping, hopping like bunnies on all four feet across the meadow. The sight is comical. I say, “I read on Guthooks that a deer at one of the campsites in this area will steal your trekking poles. Maybe it is this one.” I glance at the guys’ trekking poles just stuck upright in the ground in the campsite next to their respective tents. The guys laugh, but don’t move their trekking poles and we keep talking.

Two days later, I’ll see them on the climb up Mather Pass and they’ll say, “You were right!” They woke up and their trekking poles were gone! They found them in the meadow covered with deer spit and had to rinse them off in the river. As proof, Ken will show me how the deer chewed the brand logos off the wrist straps of his poles.

September 13, 2019
Piute Creek Junction to Evolution Lake
Day Miles: 11.6 mi
Cumulative Miles: 103.3 mi

I wake up and my sleeping pad is flat. Duct tape slowed the leak, but not enough to be functional. I re-patched with Tenacious Tape, which worked slightly better, but I still had a slow leak. I woke up a couple times in the night to reinflate my sleeping pad, and luckily I wasn’t terribly uncomfortable because temperatures did not drop to freezing overnight.

The day was devoted to worrying about my sleeping pad. I have 5 more nights to endure on trail before a bed and the possibility of replacing gear in Independence. I announce that my sleeping pad is leaking to my campsite mates, but no one has anything better than the Tenacious Tape I have already tried, so I get nothing but sympathetic looks. I pack up and start hiking to find a place to poop. (A considerable challenge as so many people were camped at Piute Creek Junction last night.)

I take some time to find the Muir Trail 1917 rock and take a selfie with it. Down by Muir Trail rock, there is a little eddy of shallow calm water in the otherwise turbulent South Fork of the San Joaquin River and I dunk my sleeping pad in this eddy to check for leaks. I learn that I had managed to find all the holes last night: there is one area of the pad with two tiny holes on the front and one in the back. I must have folded a tiny piece of sharp granite into my pad when I rolled it up in the morning at Rosemarie Meadow and then the rock ground into my sleeping pad all day at the bottom of my pack. When I submerge the pad in water, bubbles form around the patches of Tenacious Tape I have stuck over the holes. So it appears that while the adhesive does not form an airtight seal, the tape itself is impermeable.

Back on the trail, I happen upon a group of three packing up their camp site. “Hello! Does anyone have a sleeping pad patch kit?” I announce to total strangers. And one of them does! I explain my predicament and a guy named Ken gives me a tiny tube of Seam Grip. He says he is headed to Muir Pass today and hopefully I can give it back too him, but if not, not to worry about it. The trail provides!

After this, I stop twice to sun my sleeping pad, damp from being dunked in the river. I apply Seam Grip and new patches over my lunch break, hoping the sealant has enough time to set in the sun.

On top of the sleeping pad anxiety, it is a tough hiking day: uphill the whole day; following the South Fork of the San Joaquin River upstream to Goddard Canyon, climbing up the steep east canyon wall along Evolution Creek, and then climbing out of Evolution Valley up to a hanging glacial valley, Evolution Basin — 2,810 feet of elevation gain.

This shit is tough! I feel like I have an above average fitness level in normal American civilian life, but I am definitely a slow hiker by JMT standards. I am being passed by people in their 60’s with heart issues and hip replacements. I guess in that aspect, hiking the JMT is like hiking in Japan… The other thing that is happening is that my hands are in the worst shape ever from the sun and dryness. Even over all the seasonal jobs that have caused me to lose my fingerprints (handwashing glasses in hot water at a bar, glacier guiding in wet work gloves all day). I intended to bring a small tub of Vaseline but left it in Lone Pine and the small tube of Gold Bond I picked up at VVR isn’t cutting it. My right wrist is still kinda puffy from the bee sting I got at VVR. I stopped wearing my watch on my wrist to minimize irritation. Dunking my wrist in cold water helps. Also, I managed to lose my potty trowel. I think I left it stuck upright next to where I pooped at Rosemarie Meadow.

September 12, 2019
Rosemarie Meadow to Piute Creek Junction
Day Miles: 12.5 mi
Cumulative Miles: 91.7 mi

I woke up to a frost coating the inside of my tent. It felt warmer than the last two nights, but there were little ice crystals in my water when I poured it into my cookpot and heated water to make 2 coffees. Since I stopped cooking oatmeal for breakfast, I would make enough water for two coffees (Starbucks Via) and drink one out of my cookpot to wash a Clif bar down for breakfast and fill my thermos with a coffee for second breakfast on trail. (My mini thermos is incredibly well insulated and it takes a couple hours for hot liquids to reach drinkable temperature.)

Marie Lake was very busy with hikers. I finally pulled over for second breakfast and some stretching where the trail leaves the shore of the lake and begins to climb up Selden Pass.

On the other side of Selden Pass was a beautiful little meadow crisscrossed with snowmelt streams feeding into Heart Lake. Heart Lake would have been a beautiful place to camp and I wished I could’ve just stayed there. But I was not confident I could hike a 20 mile day to make up such a drastic shift in itinerary.

Then came beautiful Sallie Keyes Lake and soft, duffy trail to walk on. There were lots of trout in Marie Lake, the the little stream below Selden Pass and in the clear blue water of Sallie Keyes Lake. I wish I knew how to fish! (I need a Tenkara backpacking fishing rod.)

Yesterday, I had been feeling discouraged that everyone from VVR seemed faster hikers with more ambitious mileage plans than me, but the scenery around Selden Pass made me happy to go slow and be slow again.

Then came a series of dry, hot switchbacks, down, down, down to the two trail junctions to Florence Lake and Muir Trail Ranch. Despite offloading food at Red’s Meadow and VVR, I still have too much food and no reason to stop at MTR, so I passed up the chance to check out MTR’s legendary hiker bins. The Wenk book neglected to mention this was a long dry stretch, and I finished my last bit of water 2 miles before Piute Creek.

I was so relieved upon reaching the Piute Creek bridge and crossing into Kings Canyon National Park that I decide to just camp at the busy camping area by Piute Creek Junction. The area was very busy. Luckily, Peter and John waved me over because they had an extra tent spot at their site. Ken and Danny from Rosemarie Meadow also camped nearby. After Peter and John went to bed, I joined Ken and Danny at their campfire. They are Santa Barbara County firefighters and Ken had planned and cooked and dehydrated all their meals. He’s a great cook from all his experience cooking firehouse meals. It turned out we had pretty much the the same itinerary to Onion Valley, where they would be completing their hike.

I go back to my tent and find my sleeping pad flat. Strange. I had blown it up when I set up camp. I think it might have deflated a little from the temperature dropping after the sun went down, so I blow it up again… but it goes flat again as soon as I lay on it. I scan the sleeping pad head to toe with my headlamp and find an abraded spot. I patch it with duct tape. I’m too tired to panic. I go to bed thinking, worst case, I have my foam pad and backpack to lay on…

September 11, 2019
VVR to Rosemarie Meadow
Day miles: 12.5 mi
Cumulative miles: 79.2

I was going to try to make it to Marie Lake for the night, but came up a bit short because carrying my 8 days of food became a struggle bus after the first few hours. I weighed my pack for the first time when leaving VVR. It was 36 pounds with 8 days of food and 1 liter of water, the heaviest my pack would be for the entire JMT. 36 pounds was under the guideline that your pack should be under 1/3 of your weight but it was burdensome and my ULA Circuit stopped feeling like it carried well. (ULA website suggests keeping loads under 35lbs for the Circuit.)

The normal ferry had been repaired the day before, so the trip back across Edison Lake was a leisurely scenic ride. The sun had come out by the time we arrived. I took off ahead of everyone delayering and repacking at the ferry dock.

Climbing up Bear Ridge from Edison Junction (2000ft+ elevation gain in ~5 miles) took 3 hours from 10:20 am to 1:20 pm, which wasn’t terrible, but I couldn’t seem to pick up my pace even after the terrain mellowed out. Everyone from my VVR ferry passed me and I didn’t see anyone again until I passed Peter (a retired ornithologist) and John from Hawaii, who I’d eaten dinner with the night before, setting up camp. They explained that they are “union hikers” and only hike until 4 pm. I asked, “Did no one else need to stop for a lunch break?” My pace of 10-12 miles a day seemed to be a common 65 year old retiree pace, and it was a little demoralizing not to see anyone for so long. (Not that I am not totally used to getting my butt kicked by 70-year-olds carrying giant packs full of heavy camera equipment in Japan. Also, I think this is because most people my age have jobs and try to complete the JMT within 2 weeks. So people who budget to hike the JMT in about 3 weeks are retired, or work seasonally or on contract or are European…)

Most of the day was not super impressive in terms of scenic vistas, but I loved the smell of the redwoods and the sound of Bear Creek running over bare granite. A little gem of the day was when a father-daughter pair showed me a fish they had just caught as I passed them at a creek crossing.

I gave up about 2 miles short of Marie Lake and camped near two fishermen, Ken and Danny, also hiking the JMT and also headed to Paiute Creek tomorrow. The meadow was pretty mosquito-y, and there was one mosquito I just couldn’t catch in my tent, so I fell asleep worrying I’d wake up with an archipelago of bites on my face.

September 10, 2019
Moseying about VVR
Day miles: 0 mi
Cumulative miles: 66.7

On my zero day at Vermilion Valley Resort, I didn’t even journal. (I took some notes the next day when I got back on trail.) A “zero day” is hiker lingo from a day where you hike zero miles. I had actually planned to take a “nero”, a day where you hike nearly zero miles, but was ahead of schedule.

It was wonderful to wake up, not have to pack up and just wander over to the main building, and order hot breakfast. I think I got both the classic bacon, eggs and pancakes and a breakfast sandwich. I had been craving savory breakfast. The pancakes were the best! Then, I got a shower and did my laundry. I fetched my resupply and packed my food for the next section of trail. I hung out at a picnic table, drank a beer, ate a bag of potato chips, and chatted with other hikers. There was a good mix of PCT hikers, JMT hikers and veteran Sierra hikers hiking loops they’d made up themselves. I pet sat a wonderful trail pup named Darwin when his mom went to take a shower. I took a nap. There is no wifi at VVR (though you can pay to use one of their computers), so I walked out onto the dam for AT&T cell reception and texted friends and family that everything was well. I did some yoga on the beach. I ate a giant fried chicken sandwich for dinner. All these mundane little things felt like absolute luxury. It was a perfect day. (Except I got stung by a bee, more on that later.)

This vortex of two nights and a day at VVR, including paying for my resupply pick-up and taking the ferry both ways cost me $195 and I tipped them $40. The VVR crew was excellent and it was an amazing hiker-friendly experience. Highly recommend resupplying and taking a zero at VVR!

September 9, 2019
Squaw Lake to Vermilion Valley Resort (9.5 miles)

After the long hiking day yesterday, I thought I might sleep in. But I woke up at 4:30 am, realizing that if you go to bed at 8:30 pm, by 4:30 you have probably had a solid 8 hours of sleep. I got up for a pee, fetched my bear can and boiled water for coffee while packing up things in my tent. I ate my breakfast of Probar & coffee sitting on the granite table next to my tent, with my feet dangling in my quilt foot box and the quilt buttoned up behind me, looking like some sort of mermaid, except half-human, half-fat caterpillar.

It’s a bit warmer than the previous morning, but there are still thin clear sheets of ice along the shores of Squaw Lake and Chief Lake when I begin hiking. I start hiking at about 7:45 and reach Chief Lake in about an hour and a half, just as the sun comes rising over Chief Lake. I find some nice flat slabs of granite, roll out my Thinlight pad and do some sun salutation into the sun. I decide I should make this a routine, hike until warmed up and then stop to do yoga and stretch.

At the top of Silver Pass I meet a PCT thru-hiker from Belgium named Weatherman, and we take some pictures of each other. Descending the south side of Silver Pass, the landscape is very reminiscent of the Gallatin and Madison Ranges in Montana (where I had done all my training hikes in the summer), only without the moose and grizzlies. Then the trail follows Silver Creek down into the forest flanked by smooth granite formations like those in Yosemite.

Mid-morning, I stop and take break where the stream runs over bare granite and ice my feet in an indentation in the rock that makes a perfect little footbath. The water is painfully cold. I eat salami wrapped in a tortilla.

Then it’s down, down, down an endless set of rocky switchbacks. At one of the stream crossings, I meet a couple with the best hiking pups ever, each carrying its own backpack and following faithfully right behind the heels of their owners. I stalk closely behind this group because the sight makes me so happy until we part ways at Mono Pass junction. (Between Yosemite and Kings Canyon/Sequoia National Parks is the dog friendly portion of the JMT and it was always a treat to meet people’s furry friends on the trail.)

I reach Ediza Lake junction by 2 pm, so I decide to take the 4:45pm Edison Lake ferry to Vermilion Valley Resort (VVR) half a day earlier than planned. I meet some folks already waiting for the ferry by the bear box around 2:35. They mosey down to the ferry dock while I spread out my tent and ground sheet to dry in the sun. The sun out by the ferry dock is harsh, so I roll out my foam pad to nap in the shade of the trees by the bear box.

I am laying prone on my mat using my freshly dried tent as a pillow when Ellen rolls up. We catch up. She’s been having trouble with the cold due to old frostbite injury and managed to lose one of her two pairs of shorts and hasn’t been able to swap out her outfits as she normally likes to do. I tell her I saw her shorts at Red’s Meadow and was hoping I would see her there and I am super glad to see her again going into VVR.

Around 3:50, Ellen and a section hiker we have been chatting with head over to the ferry dock. I am rolling up my foam pad and putting my hiking boots back on when another familiar face appears, it’s Larry! He made it from Red’s in less than two days, camping last night at Lake Virginia. It turns out that the usual ferry is out of commission, so the boat captain has to make multiple trips across the lake in a little skiff and can only take 5 people at a time. My dilly-dallying in the shade puts me on the third and last boat, so Larry, another hiker and I share our life stories as we wait for our ride.

We finally arrive at VVR when it is starting to get dark. We get the spiel, get our tabs set up, go set up camp (JMT and PCT hikers get two nights free camping and a free beer at VVR) and I eat a steak dinner. Showering will have to wait till tomorrow.

September 8, 2019
Deer Creek to Squaw Lake (15 mi)

It’s a frosty morning. Sitting in my sleeping bag poking at my oatmeal, I come up with a theory that the reason it takes me so long to get out of camp every morning is I don’t really want to eat my oatmeal. I wake up around 6 but can’t seem to get on the trail until 8. I wish I had savory breakfast, that I had packed something like cheesy grits with bacon bits. I have never had issues with oatmeal before, but I decide to experiment with eating Clif bars for breakfast the next couple of days and see if that speeds up my morning routine.

There is a 5 mile dry stretch between Deer Creek and Duck Lake, one of the longest dry stretches on the JMT, so I start the day carrying just over 2 liters of water. I see a sooty grouse as big as a chicken and then some cute California quail with their little bobbing head plumes, twittering and running about in the manzanita. Too bad Dan and Dakota aren’t here to get them for me for my dinner and I’ll have to eat a dusty looking ziplock of Mountain House instead.

I take my lunch break at Purple Lake, then head on to impressive Virginia Lake. Virginia Lake is as clear and blue as Lake Towada (caldera lake in Japan famous for its bright blue color, which is the pride of the small town where I lived for two years after college). I would have and should have swam in Virginia Lake, except I was still relatively clean from yesterday’s shower.

From Lake Virginia, the trail descends to the headwaters of Fish Creek, which was true to its name, full of small mountain trout until the river began to descend steeply in rapids and waterfalls. There were a few nice campsites along Fish Creek and I thought about how if you planned to fish along the trail you would plan a different itinerary and camp at Minaret Creek and Fish Creek, etc. instead of the high alpine lakes I have a preference for.

After crossing Fish Creek over a nice steel bridge, it’s a slogging climb up towards Silver Pass. Squaw Lake sits hidden atop a shelf and when you finally step up there, it feels like a magical secret world.

My tent site is a gravelly patch behind some stunted pines. It is not quite flat, but I will tuck my backpack under my sleeping pad to help level the floor. 15 miles is the longest distance I have hiked in a day so far, and I am looking forward to having a short 8 mile day tomorrow where I can fully enjoy Silver Pass and its lakes.

September 7, 2019

Trinity Lakes to Deer Creek (12.6 mi)

I manage to rock hop across Minaret Creek without getting my feet wet. The creek crossing is at a peaceful little bend where cute little trout appear suspended in place where the current is mellow over smooth rock. (Trout on the JMT are non-native and have decimated native amphibian populations. More info here.) Shimmying between two trees on the other side of the river, I find a package of Backpacker Pantry Pesto Pasta with (real Alaskan) Smoked Salmon and a Pro Bar, that must’ve fallen from someone else’s pack when they did the same shimmy. I decide I can’t just leave food on the trail, because bears (duh!), and this stuff is fancier than the food I packed, so I pack it up with the intention of swapping it out with a couple of my meals at Red’s Meadow. Trail magic!

The descent into Red’s passes through an area where a crazy windstorm uprooted massive trees in 2011. The gnarled root bases of some of the blown-over trees are twice as tall as me. It would’ve been absolutely terrifying to be on the trail when the trees were toppling. The trail is pumice sand, soft on the feet, and, since it descends in elevation, nicely shaded by forest.

I arrive at Red’s Meadow around noon. First, I go find the hiker boxes, which are in one of the bear boxes at the campground. I drop off my extra food and score some soap, shampoo and conditioner. There was some good stuff in the hiker boxes, including a brand new Sea to Summit SOL emergency bivy, which I seriously consider taking. (Totally didn’t need to for the JMT, but would like to add one of those to my winter ski touring pack.) Then, I went to the store to get shower tokens. You have to get a minimum of 5 $1 tokens for 5 minutes to start the shower machine. So, I got 10. I stripped down in the shower and washed all the clothes I was wearing, except my pants. Wet everything down and soaped up during the first 5 minutes of shower. When the shower stopped, I took my time and scrubbed everything thoroughly before rinsing off in the second 5 minutes of shower. I put on my extra hiking t-shirt and hung my wet clothes on the deck outside the shower building, next to what looked like Ellen’s red shorts.

I looked around for Ellen but didn’t find her; instead, I found Larry getting into a car with his wife to go into Mammoth. Ellen and Larry had both stayed at Red’s the night before, and Ellen was back on the trail. I went to the Mule House Cafe, got the weather forecast and ate a cheeseburger with Endless (who I had met down by the hiker boxes) and his PCT trail family. Then, I went back to the store and bought a beer and some postcards. Finally, I went and collected my mostly dry clothes from the shower building. I meant to leave Red’s by 2 but ended up staying until 3 because any stop into civilization turns into a vortex! However, it was worth it because I stayed long enough to poop in a real flushing toilet!

The trail south of Red’s climbs up through a hot shadeless burn, which is annoying because I don’t want to sweat because I am freshly showered. When I get to Deer Creek, which is a very popular camping area, Kathryn and David, who I’ve seen a few times on the trail, wave me over to join them at their campsite and I accept. I intend to be more social in the evening, but there are so many mosquitoes, I just eat my dinner and retreat into the safety of my tent.

September 6, 2019
Thousand Island Lakes to Trinity Lakes (9.4 mi)

I wake up to my watch alarm at 6:15 and after a couple snoozes get up to witness the morning light show on Banner Peak, still shrouded in cloud as it was in the evening.

I manage to leave camp even later than yesterday, even though I did not poop before packing up! (#thousandislandlakeproblems) Part of this is because I am only able to start my day after packing and unpacking and repacking everything in a panic, thinking I’d broken my only hair rubber band and not being able to find a replacement. I have to fish the snapped hair rubber band out of my garbage ziplock and tie it back together. (Later in the evening I will find my spare hair rubber bands in my electronics bag…. not with toiletries or first aid where I looked.)

I reach Garnet Lake at 9:30 am and take my first break for the day, then break for lunch around noon at Shadow Lake. I climb the Shadow Lake switchbacks with Don and Mike (who I distinguish by the fact that Don is carrying two solar panels, and Mike, one) who make it much more bearable.

 

I look for familiar faces at Rosalie Lake, and not finding anyone, continue on the Trinity Lakes and set up camp around 4 pm.  Most of my trail friends are headed to Red’s Meadow for the night. I didn’t plan to stop at Red’s and Trinity Lakes is the last established campsite in the Wenk book before Red’s Meadow. According to the book, you have to hike 4 miles past Red’s for a decent campsite. Trinity Lakes are three little marshy ponds. My tent site is nice and wide open; it’s easy to stake tent stakes into the ground. But it’s relatively hard to gather water that’s pretty stagnant and a tiny, tiny bit murky, less than ideal for the JMT, where clear water flows over granite most of the time.

Waiting for your food to rehydrate is when some company would be nice. Otherwise, it is nice to be camped alone after 3 nights at popular campsites. The Guthook app suggests that I may have cell phone reception in this area, and indeed I am able to post a couple photos to Instagram. I do a bear can inventory which confirms I have a too much food. I have not been hungry on the trail so far and it is the idea of lightening my pack that motivates me to eat. I decide to stop by Red’s Meadow and drop off some stuff… and find myself very much looking forward to having a burger for lunch!

September 5, 2019
Upper Lyell Base Camp to Thousand Island Lake (8.6 mi)

There is a break in the clouds and warm sunshine to bask in when I reach the outlet of Thousand Island Lake around 3 pm. I filter some water and and relax on the lake shore contemplating whether to camp here or continue on. I have been leapfrogging with Larry and Ellen all day, and they have been trying to convince me to hike a bit further than planned and camp at Garnet Lake instead of Thousand Island Lake, which Larry pish-poshed as “Thousand Camper Lake.” It is still early, but storm clouds have been threatening since I crested Donohue Pass at 9:25 am.

It hadn’t rained yet despite the ominous dark clouds and I had bragged to Larry and Ellen over lunch about my ability to make it not rain on backpacking trips. Larry exclaims, “You’re not supposed to talk about such things!” Ellen pipes up that she never filters or treats her water and she has never gotten giardia. Larry is aghast that we would so nonchalantly curse ourselves.

When I finally decide I will stop hiking for the day and camp at Thousand Island Lake after all, the clouds close in and the temperature drops. I put my fleece back on.

Larry is not wrong, Thousand Island Lake is a super popular place to camp. The nice sandy campsites Jackie and I occupied two years earlier are already taken, and I walk further around the lake away from the other people and pick an exposed, rocky spot for the view as a light rain begins to fall. I retreat into my tent planning to nap, and of course the sun comes out and turns my tent into a sauna. Banner Peak is shrouded in a cloud, but as the clouds blow across the lake towards me, the sun appears to burn them off. Make up your mind, clouds! I just want to nap! Then, it suddenly starts to rain in large droplets that pummel the ground with such intensity that they spray sand all over everything. It rains so hard that water bounces under the vestibule of my tent and I have to stuff my sleeping bag back into my drybag/packliner to keep it from getting wet. Rain is followed by a bit of hail.

It cools down and I am lying comfortably in my tent when there is a commotion outside as what sounds like a group of 10 weekend backpackers from the city contemplate setting up camp right behind me. There is not enough room for all of their tents, thankfully, and they move on. And so, it turns out to be a good decision to camp at Thousand Island Lake instead of hiking through intense downpour and hail to Garnet Lake.

Cons of Camping at Thousand Island Lake:
This is the hardest place on the JMT to find a good place to poop. There probably are a thousand campers at Thousand Island Lake every summer. It’s part of a beautiful backpacking loop from the Mammoth Lakes area. Behind every tree on the slope north of the lake near the campsites is some sign that a cathole has recently been dug. Or worse. Thousand Island Lake seems to be a place where a lot of beginner backpackers camp and I saw travesties like a bunch of rock piled on top of naked poop and toilet paper. Thousand Island Lake really needs a toilet because it is so popular. Some Silicon Valley tech billionaire should endow a pit toilet, like the public restroom in Bryant Park in NYC. (Bay Area friends, write your friends.)

Pros of Camping at Thousand Island Lake:
The view. Memorialized and made famous by Ansel Adams. You can only to fully enjoy the view and its infinite changes at sunset and sunrise if you camp here.