June 28, 2017
Just after Pinchot Pass (mile 810, right before Kings Fork) to mile 824.5
Pacific Crest Trail Thru-Hike: Day 54

I had a good day today. It didn’t really start good: snow drifts down a huge valley while wearing frozen solid boots. Camping next to the creek meant anything wet became everything frozen. Once we got to the bottom of the valley we had a ‘major stream’ crossing. I went first, got in, got back out, got in again and crossed.

We spent all day with me anticipating the next terrible crossing, and it never came. Every single stream was under a snow bridge, even the monstrous Palisade Creek, which I saw raging from the ascent of Mather Pass and was bracing myself for. But then there was a snow bridge. The entire thing was under snow. We were sprinting across a snow field when I heard a thunderous rumble and saw the reddish tint that indicates the snow is covering up a large quantity of water. That’s when Alex shouted over the rumble “hey, are we crossing Palisade right now?” and I shouted back in an apprehensive screech “there’s a very good possibility!”

We almost crossed the South Fork of King’s River today. We knew we didn’t have to, but our navigation got a little wonky and what we thought was a large chest-deep tributary ended up being Kings itself—which we discovered with one last map check right before we stepped into the water.

Mather Pass was both long and left-handed, with a lot of the crossing dipping below giant boulders (post hole post hole). I was concerned about it, but we got over. The descent lasted for miles, with snow slides leading to semi-frozen alpine lakes.

A Canyon for Kings and Queens

When we finally crossed the snow bridge over Palisade, we came to a huge flat rock and the world opened up in front of us. We were in Kings Canyon. Here in front of us was the beauty that only John Muir’s words could describe.

We descended what we think was the Golden Staircase, built into the wall of the canyon, crossed a few snowbridges and smelled campfire. There was a beautiful campsite, but we didn’t want to disturb the two fellows that were there so we kept going.

That’s when I made the mistake of checking the map. I saw a ‘named’ creek (meaning, significant enough in size to have a name and probably horrible), and knew if we didn’t tackle it immediately I would have nightmares about it later and wouldn’t be able to sleep. It was the vow I had made to myself after White Fork. Never leave a known creek uncrossed before camping for the night.

We went for it, crossed stream after stream after stream, plowing through the valley. I wouldn’t look at the map because I didn’t want to see another stream ahead and then have to cross it. We obstacle-coursed over fields of downed trees, scanning incessantly for a flat place to camp, and suddenly entered a grove with a fire pit. I asked Alex if we had crossed the stream yet. He said ‘yes, about two miles ago. You didn’t even notice'.

And just like that, my fear of a stream lurking around every corner was cured. I could eat again. Look at the map again. Enjoy my surroundings again.

Bedtime

We’re sitting by the fire and ready for bed. The sun sets on the first great day in the High Sierra. The first day where there are more feelings than pure, visceral fear and anxiety. We have decided, as we sit around our first campfire out here, that we’ll sleep in tomorrrow and wait for the sun to come up. Enjoy our time out here. Live it.