PCT Thru-hike #10: Mt. Whitney and Kings Canyon
Thru-hiking the Pacific Crest Trail was a life-changing experience for Arthur and Jill. This is our story.
Follow the PCT thru-hike adventure from the beginning and hike with us to mile 2,650.
South Sierra Wilderness
Written by Jill
Tomtit and I woke up this morning ready to leave Kennedy Meadows — but first we wanted breakfast. There was a restaurant four miles from the general store, Grumpy Bear’s, that served an all you can eat pancake breakfast and we really wanted to go. The chef of Grumpy Bear’s came by at 7:30 with his truck to pick up any hungry hikers and eight of us jumped in the back.
Tomtit and I sat at a table with Cashmere, Physio, Treebeard, Salamander, and Stone and we all got the breakfast with coffee except Tomtit. He ordered an amazing looking BLT sandwich.We sat at that table for a good two hours eating lots of pancakes and drinking lots of coffee until the chef drove us back to the general store. By that time the store was open, which was perfect — we had a few things to buy for the next week of hiking because one of our packages never arrived. We were missing some extra food and our microspikes. Tomtit and I bought some more hiking food and gave the owner a box to mail to our home (old shoes and the like) and then I settled our tab. It was less than I expected!
We were all packed up and ready to start hiking. Everyone on the porch had been cheering hikers as they left to start the Sierras and for us it was no different (awkward but funny and sweet). The road walk back to the trail seemed to breeze by and we passed other hikers who were just coming in with a jealous “You’ll love it at the store!”.
The first three miles were a little sluggish with our heavy bear canisters and a deep sandy trail, but we were excited to start going up! We passed a bridge over the Kern River and then officially entered the South Sierra Wilderness and began to gradually climb uphill. There was a burned section with a small rattlesnake, a grassy cow poop filled meadow, and then a beautiful view of the upcoming peaks.
We walked through the meadow for about a mile and then went up into the hills on the eastern side. We hiked up and over the hill and were treated to a view of the Kern again. After a short 14 mile day we picked a sheltered camp site in the woods next to the river. We found a few developed spots with a large fire pit and Tomtit made a camp fire. We had plenty of water nearby in our platypus bladders and the river as a source for more. No fires allowed above 10,000 ft in elevation, but we weren’t quite there yet!
Salamander and Treebeard joined us at the fire for a bit and then we all crawled into our tents. We planned for 15 mile days to get us to the town of Independence in seven days (adding an extra day for a Mt. Whitney summit attempt), so we were right on track!
Finding Camp Along the Kern River
Mountaintops
Written by Arthur
All of our food now has to be carried inside of bear canisters, from now through the next couple hundred miles of mountains. Bear cans are big, bulky, bear-proof containers that bears cannot break into. They can still smell the food through them, so instead of keeping the canisters in our packs at night we hide them hundreds of feet away from our camp spot so that if any bears are attracted by the food smell they will attack the can instead of ripping our bags and tents apart. We had also developed a habit of eating our dinner at least a mile before we make camp, again to confuse the bears.
I had to explain all of that for context, because we have seven days of food stuffed into our bear cans, filling them to the brim. The last two mornings I had found my vanilla almond granola as soon as I open the can’s lid, and thought to myself “Ah, this would be so good with a little water and the powdered milk I have!” But alas, the powdered milk was buried under days of food at the bottom of my bear can and will not be eaten for quite some time. This is also the case with my peanut butter, and a few other things. I now know that proper bear can food storage planning is needed. Next time.
After a breakfast of some sort of bars and a poop behind a big rock, we crossed the river Kern and began our first ascent to 10,600 feet. The going was steep, and the elevation kicked our butts. It was a slow go, but it was a beautiful walk. We hiked through a green forest of weirdly shaped and twisted pines, cedars, and small sequoias.
A creek crossed our path several times. Near the top of the climb we stopped to gather water from the small creek, the easiest gathering point being a tiny trickle under a big rock. It was a long reach. The water was cold and tasted great. Not far after leaving the creek did we see our very first marmot! It was much bigger than we expected, sort of like a beaver. It had light tan fur and a big fluffy tail. It ran away before we could take a picture.
The peak of our climb showcased a view of the Sierras. They were a sight to behold. Mighty and tall. Though the peaks held some snow, it was much less than we had planned for. It will make for easy hiking, but California was in a drought and desperately needed the snowmelt. The snowiest and tallest mountain we could see looked to be Mt. Whitney, the highest peak in the contiguous United States. We’ll be there in a few short days!
Throughout the day we could hear loud jets booming and soaring overhead. At times we could catch them with our eyes as they cut through the mountain passes. Military jets zoomed not over, but between, the mountains. It was insane! Another pair of hikers had told us that they saw a jet fly not 20 feet over the trees above their heads. The sounds were deafening. We even saw some big military planes float through the mountains. I don’t know how none of them smacked right into the hillsides. I’m still shocked from it all.
We descended back down into a valley and had a late lunch. The calories were plentiful and we wolfed down our food. Hiker hunger had taken over. I didn’t even mention all the snacks we had between breakfast and lunch. The elevation must be adding to it. Spam and Snickers and pepperoni and crackers and pop tarts, oh my.
We then gathered water from a trickle of a spring and met with several other hikers. We each took turns walking off trail to the spring for water and defending each other’s bags back on trail from a determined chipmunk. It was definitely not this rodent’s first rodeo. It tried to sneak into backpacks the entire time we were there, not at all deterred by our loud noises and projectile attacks. It crawled into one person’s extra shoes and started pulling at someone else’s bag straps, but it nabbed no food and tore no holes this time around.
Another ascent to over 10k feet had begun. We eventually made it to the top and had a spectacular view of the desert to the east of the Sierras. Directly below us was Owen’s Valley, and what was once a huge lake until the Los Angeles Aqueduct drained the lake and left dust in its place. Beyond were more mountains and behind them was Death Valley. Even though the view was amazing, everyone who had stopped here with us had realized they had cellular service for the first time in a week. Everyone was on their smartphones texting and Facebooking. Separation from society is hard to handle.
A couple more miles in we picked a tentsite under a sequoia with the moon overhead and the sweeping view of the east visible from inside our tent. It was quite a chilly night.
Sun Protection at its Finest.
Chicken Spring Lake
Written by Jill
We slept in until 7:15 this morning! Such lazy bums : ) I think the altitude took a bigger toll than we had thought and we needed the sleep. It wasn’t as cold as expected last night up at 10,500 feet and our tent was nice and dry in the morning. It didn’t matter too much that we slept in because we had only planned a 15 mile day to Chicken Spring Lake.
We packed up the tent, ate breakfast out of our bear cans, and got moving at eight o’clock. The forest was so beautiful and we had a nice six mile stroll down to Diaz Creek. On our way down we met a southbound weekend hiker who lamented the lack of water and snow in the Sierras (it was pretty scary) and we passed on info to him about the spring he was headed to.
Diaz Creek had a low flow, but there was plenty compared to some of the desert sources we had encountered. Tomtit and I filtered two liters each and made lunch. I had rehydrated chili with Fritos and he made a bag of stuffing. From the creek we had nine miles of climbing to the lake at 11,200 feet. Along the way we walked through an incredible meadow and saw some outstanding mountains.
Tomtit struggled a bit today with the altitude — he had a headache and an upset stomach while we were climbing. He took ibuprofen and drank plenty of water to help acclimate to the higher altitude.
When we made it to Chicken Spring Lake we were totally blown away. Neither of us has seen a high alpine lake before and it was stunning.
We found a nice place to camp underneath a huge pine of some sort (it had five needles for every place a needle goes) and set up the tent. I got dizzy setting a stake and had to remind myself to breathe when I bend down. We grabbed some water from the lake, avoiding the boatmen and shrimp fellas, and ate food for about twenty minutes.
There were about fifteen other hikers up here with us next to the lake, so there was plenty of company — even a couple with a dog! I think we will start to see a lot more day hikers and weekend warriors out while we are in the Sierra.
Climbing into the High Sierra
Guitar Lake
Written by Jill
We woke up all acclimated to around 11,000 feet. One of my biggest fears prior to this trip was that I wouldn’t be able to acclimate to the altitude and my brain would explode (as Tomtit likes to say). Several hikers who had lots of experience at altitude assured me that my brain would not explode — and they were right! Really took a load off my mind (pun intended).
We had a gradual downhill to our first large creek crossing — Rock Creek. I washed my socks downstream of everyone gathering water, we ate lots of yummy trail food, and soaked in the sun. Then we rock hopped across and started up a brutally steep climb. Stairs cut from stone went straight up away from the creek valley and we climbed back up to 11,000 feet.
I was expecting a view as reward for the climb (we are spoiled on the PCT), but there was only a big pile of rocks for our efforts. The trail went down again on the other side via some switchbacks through forest until we reached Whitney Creek. The snow melt creek was very clear and wound its way through a flat meadow of thick, spongey grass. We snacked again and filtered some water. As a side note, some people don’t filter water in the Sierras as it is mostly direct snowmelt. We chose to filter all our our water. Better safe than sorry.
Whitney Creek was our jump off point for the Whitney Trail — an eight mile side trail to the peak of Mount Whitney. Mt. Whitney is the highest point in the lower 48 states and most PCT hikers take the opportunity to summit. Our goal for the evening was to camp 3.5 miles up the Whitney Trail at Guitar Lake to set us up for a morning summit attempt. On our way up the trail we ran into many hikers who had come down from the summit and we received plenty of intel and tips for the climb. All of the hikers assured us the attempt was doable without microspikes as long as we were careful and took it slow. One of our friends, Limey, who we hadn’t seen since Wrightwood, psyched us up for the hike and we started up to Guitar Lake with great enthusiasm. The 3.5 miles were so amazingly beautiful! We passed Timberline Lake and took a million pictures.
At Guitar Lake we found a tent site within a boulder field. There were marmots grazing by the lake and the sun was beginning to set as we set up camp. We planned to start hiking at 7am so the snow would have a chance to soften and be less icy as we went up the mountain. Hopefully it works out!
Tomtit Posting Halfway up Mt. Whitney
Mt. Whitney
Written by Jill
The morning was filled with tension as we emptied our packs of things we wouldn’t need on the peak attempt. We left most of our gear in our tent at Guitar Lake in care of the marmots and only brought some water and snacks. The lighter packs were a relief as we strapped them on and started up toward the switchbacks above. The first mile was harder than either of us had anticipated. The stone stairs were taking our breath away and Tomtit was feeling dizzy. Once we hit snow, however, our attention was diverted from the altitude effects. Our timing was pretty good — the snow wasn’t very icy and we were able to walk along the path without microspikes.
I was completely terrified for two and a half hours. Imagine a trail 18 inches wide with switchbacks stacked up for 1,000 feet. Now cover that trail with snow that slopes away from the mountainside. And put footsteps in the snow that are slippery with ice. Climbing those switchbacks was the most terrifying and awesome experience of my life. Tomtit was having a blast and was my rock as I tentatively took each step. We ran into lots of friends coming down the mountain who had gone up early in the morning to catch the sunrise. They were all so excited and were talking about the summit which made us excited too.
There was one pretty sketchy part where the footstep snow path went through a rock. The way around was to turn your face to the mountain, back to the snow chute leading down to infinity, and hug the rock to get around it. Fun stuff!
After that it was pretty smooth sailing up to the summit hut. There were supposed to be more switchbacks at the end but everything was covered in snow and someone had cut steps straight up to the peak, of course. We charged up the incline, passing all of the day hikers who were all decked out in their full spikes, ice axes, and helmets. Gaining the summit was exhilarating! 14,505 feet made us the tallest people in the contiguous United States. We hung out with other thru-hikers: Runaway, Hot Mess, Limp Noodle, Deluxe, The Puzzler, Seth, Malia, and a few day hikers for about thirty minutes.
Eventually we signed the trail register and started back down. It was 11:30 at this point, it had taken us four hours to go five miles, and the snow was starting to get slushy. We slipped, slid, and post holed (when your leg punches through the snow to hit whatever is underneath) down the mountain and back to Guitar Lake. We summited and made it back down without dying!!
Back at camp, the first order of business was eating and resting. I took off my shoes to let them dry while we watched a few hikers jump into the freezing Guitar Lake. We packed up our bags and tent and were ready to start hiking back to the PCT by 3:30. We were able to make another three miles to Wallace Creek before we collapsed. Both of our faces were sunburned from the snow and our legs were dead. It was a crazy awesome day!
Dropping into Kings Canyon
Kings Canyon
Written by Arthur
Our riverside tent site was a cold one. We hurriedly wrapped up our supplies and crossed the campside stream (hadn’t fallen into a creek yet!).
As we made our first steps of the day we had begun our humungo ascent to Forester Pass. We had 3500 feet of elevation to gain in order to pass over the highest point in the PCT at a little over 13,000 feet. Remember how we climbed Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the U.S. (other than Alaska), just the day before? Yeah, our quads and calves were dead. But still onward we went!
We climbed into a forest, and through the forest. An early lunch was in order when we reached a stream with a bear box and ranger station (no ranger on duty and it was locked). Knowing that once we started to climb the rocky pass we would not want to stop for a meal, we scarfed down as many calories as we could before moving on.
Climbing higher and higher, we climbed until there were no more trees. We climbed until the creek broke into dozens of streams, until the grass turned to tundra and then to rock, higher until chipmunks were replaced by marmots and pools of water became solid ice.
A thousands-foot-tall wall of solid rock stood in our way, and it was ours to defeat. The trail meandered through a marsh of snowmelt before it disappeared under several feet of snow. We lost the trail and crossed the drifts of powder, following the footsteps of previous adventurers. The white below our feet had turned into a cool blue, and we realized that we had walked out on top of a frozen lake. Yikes! We hurried across and connected the dots of rocks breaching the snow surface until we finally found the trail again at the base of the rock wall.
The trail no longer was just a trail. This was no longer just a hike. We now found ourselves traversing a mountain of solid rock which had been scarred by the men and women who had built the trail. The rock had been beaten, smashed, and carved by a monumental effort of sweat and blood to give us just a sense of direction, a linear throughway to guide us up this seemingly insurmountable beast which stood before us. And so we hiked and we scrambled and we climbed where no man was ever meant to travel. The climb was intense. The views were more breathtaking than the elevation.
When we made it to the top we saw that the pass was blocked by a large drift of snow. Without spikes on our shoes, getting across was impossible. So we literally rock climbed higher than the pass, scrambled over the spires of the ridge and beyond the snow drift so that we could get back down to the trail.
We made it.
But we only made it half way. Where the south side ascent was a gargantuan wall of rock, our descent down the north side was a different story. Holy mother of snow! Now on top of the world, we were afraid of how we were going to get down. The trail was gone– kaput! White powder and ice was all we could see, as well as a big frozen lake to catch us if we were to fall a thousand feet down the mountainside.
Gear check. Crampons? No. Microspikes? No. Yaktrax? No. Ice axes? Nope. Just shoes and trekking poles. What the heck were we doing? Being free and crazy I suppose. We slowly but not so surely made our way down, again following footsteps and moving along paths which led from rocks to more rocks. Rocks were safe, kinda. We could see the trail on a spit of dirt, a mile or more away. We went for it. The views could not be more insane or more beautiful. It was hard not to stop and stare.
We both slipped a few times, and I post holed many times, my feet stomping through a soft spot of snow causing me to sink to my knees or waist. It was very difficult to get back up sometimes. I fell over a few times as well, once was onto my side and off the beaten path where my leg was stuck in a post hole and my back was facing down the steep mountain of snow. I was unable to lift myself back up without help–- my hands kept sinking every time I tried to lift myself up and my legs were useless at the angle. Bushtit had to catch up to me and position her trekking poles as grips for me before I could pull myself back to my feet. Though it sounds frightening, I was laughing the entire time. The snow was deep enough that I was in no real danger of sliding down the mountain, I just couldn’t pull myself up!
We heard of another hiker, her name was Etch-a-sketch, who had been in a similar situation where she tumbled forward into the snow and was stuck with the top half of her body buried in snow with her feet sticking into the sky. She was stuck and couldn’t get herself up until she undid her backpack clasps and dug her way back up to the surface. Scary but so hilarious!
By the time we made it to solid ground my clothes were soaked and my legs were very scratched up by all the snowfalls and post holes. Our reward was a spectacular sight. The north side of Forester Pass was the most amazing mountain view I had ever seen. Maybe we were on a mountain adrenaline high, but we could not get over how amazing the mountains looked.
We dropped further down the mountain, again to where streams of snowmelt and frozen lakes flooded the trail. The amazement just did not cease as we found ourselves surrounded by walls of mountain and enveloped in Kings Canyon. What a freaking magical place we had climbed and crawled our way into. Every single direction held something astounding. Walking down into the canyon brought us some much needed relief from the sun in the form of trees. We took a long break in the first shady spot we found.
Once we continued we ran into a southbound John Muir Trail hiker. He was on a 27 day trek along the JMT (which is the same trail as the PCT for most of its journey). He gave us some good information on the mountain passes and snow levels in the sections further along our hike, and we returned the favor by giving him the scoop on Forester Pass and Mount Whitney.
We parted ways with the JMT hiker and moved further into the forest. Bushtit asked herself aloud what would she say if someone asked her to explain the ideal forest, and she easily answered it by saying the one in Kings Canyon National Park. An infinite number of flowing streams collided into big and small creeks, sequoias and pines towered over fields of green things and filled the air with their sweet perfumes, boulders and patches of snow added depth to the landscape, deer crossed our path, frogs croaked, birds chirped, and enormous mountains on both sides held it all in, cradling the oasis of wilderness like a newborn in her mother’s arms. Places like this, places that are only accessible by walking many hard miles into them, are the most magical of all. No paradise could be more perfect than this.
Our path brought us to our next mountain climb, Glen Pass. We climbed a thousand feet of elevation and then took a side trail to Kearsage Pass. We would soon scale Glen Pass, but now it was time to resupply. We started down the trail to Kearsage and camped a mile down the trail. This is where we found the most amazing tent site I had ever seen. Just by chance we found a rock outcrop off the trail which had the perfect spot to pitch a tent, giving us a mesmerizing sunset view over Bullfrog Lake and a dozen different snow capped mountains, all of it changing from blues to oranges and pinks as the sun set on this most amazing day of both of our lives. Each mile we had put on our feet so far on the trail, all 790, was made worth it time and time again on this day.
Magic is the only world which can come close to describing the day as a whole.
Simply magic.
The Best Camping Spot in the World
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See more pictures from Arthur and Jill’s Pacific Crest Trail thru-hike by downloading the Adventure and The Pacific Crest Trail eBook. A print version is available as well. All sales help support Better Hiker.
