Bushcamp to Bushcamp

18.7 miles

Mile 785

At 2:30am my alarm did it’s thing, ruthlessly lifting me from sleep and thrusting me into yet another frigid morning of frozen shoes, freezing creek crossings and post holing past my knees. Yay…

Ok, it’s really not that bad…but I’m getting sick of these early mornings. I had planned with Spikes the previous night to meet her 8 miles down trail to begin our ascent of Forester Pass, so I needed to get moving early.

I packed up quick, chucking my gear into my sack while downing cold coffee before setting off into the dark night.

There were three creek crossings between me and where I needed to be by 6. The first I basically jumped over. The second was a bit more intense, so I slipped my shoes off before making my way across.

While putting my socks back on I noticed the big toe on my right foot looked rather haggard. I’d lost sensation in it during my ascent of Whitney the previous day, but hadn’t noticed how bad it looked until now. The skin on my toe was stark white, draped messily like a loose glove with multiple splits where puss was seeping like sap from a wounded tree.

Alarmed by my unfortunate toe, I tore a small piece from my bandanna to wrap it in before taping it up with luekotape. Obviously I’m no field medic, but it was the best I could manage with what I had.

Moving on, I was already behind schedule when I reached the third and final creek crossing. Wanting to keep my sad toe dry, I sought out a perfect rock bridge down river. Feeling solid on my route across the creek, I stepped confidently from the bank onto a rock that turned out to be totally frozen. I fell ass first into the creek, drenching myself before gaining my footing enough to wade my way to the other side.

Great, now I’m wet, my toes trashed, it’s still dark out, I’m waaay behind schedule to meet Spikes AND I have to cross the highest pass on the PCT in a couple hours.

Feeling sorry for myself, I pushed on despite it all. The sun began to rise as I crossed a snow covered meadow. It reminded me of a desolate frozen moon.

Around 7 I turned a corner to find Spikes waiting for me right where we’d planned! A whole hour late, I figured she’d be long gone. Turns out she was running behind as well, so hadn’t been waiting long.

We set out together towards Forester Pass.

There was a final creek crossing we had to navigate.

Safely across, we pushed on towards the Forester Pass approach.

The approach to the pass was nuts. Crunchy snow fields surrounded by jagged mountains daring us to cross them.

We took a short snack break before strapping on our microspikes and beginning our ascent.

It was steep as hell with no trail to speak of. We followed a single pair of footprints zigzagging up the mountain side.

So that line of white towards the left of the mountains is the pass…

Eventually we found the trail switchbacking up the unforgiving pass.

A few sketchy minutes later we were standing on top of the pass stoked to be alive.

Spikes and I had a good laugh when she realized she’d climbed the pass with one of her microspikes inside out…whoops!

After chilling for a bit up top, we decided we should get moving down the pass before the snow grew too soft. It was a bit sketchy, but manageable. I promised myself I’d buy an ice axe in the next town, without one I felt far too vulnerable.

From about here we glissaded (basically slide on your butt down a snowy ridge) our way down the remainder of the pass. I took an epic video of Spikes, except I didn’t press the record button…so no video. Whoops…

It was fricken gorgeous on our way down into the valley. Tons of snow melting into loads of creeks made for some epic views.

While Spikes and I were taking a breather Mike came out of nowhere! I figured he was in front of us…anyways, we set out together towards our campground about 3 miles off.

We never made it to the site we’d planned on…

It was past 2, so the deep snow was soft as hell, causing us to post hole with each step. If we were lucky it was up to our knees, if not, it was to our waist.

For those who don’t know, post holing occurs when deep snow softens enough so that when you step onto it your foot crashes through the thin layer of ice on top and slams all the way down to the ground. It really really sucks. The sharp layer of ice on top felt like a cheese grater against the skin on my legs.

Long story short, I said fug it and decided to call it early when I found some exposed dry ground flat enough to sleep on. It’s much easier to walk on snow in the early morning before the sun softens it, so why kill my self today?

We setup camp and crashed early. I’d been hiking for 12 hours and had only gone 18 miles…pretty depressing.

Honestly, today was my lowest point on trail. The post holing is mentally crushing, super painful and pretty much the absolute worst. Sinking to your waist every step makes walking a mile take hours. Oh and my toe really hurts…

BUT…I love it out here. There’s no where I’d rather be. I’m blessed to have the opportunity to experience the good and the bad.

Cheers!

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