JMT Hiking Day #4: Lyell Canyon to Thousand Island Lake. August 8, 2014

*About twelve miles with roughly 2560 feet of elevation gain.

The day did not start well.

I awoke to the feel of cold water dripping on my face.  Confused, I opened my eyes and -- condensation.  Massive amounts of condensation covered the inside of our tent's roof and walls.  I carefully sat up and looked at the girls.  Their sleeping bags appeared to be soaked.  Not good.

Moving slowly, I put all our things outside the tent to prevent them from becoming "rained on," then I woke the girls.  I told them to move carefully and to avoid the walls and ceiling if they could.

It wasn't just our tent --- Melissa and Bobby's were wet too.  I felt better about this, in the sense that I now knew it wasn't our specific tent that was the problem...it was simply the atmospheric conditions within the canyon.  We'd have other wet mornings in our immediate future, but each and every time, everyone else around us, regardless of their tent's brand, would have the same issues.

We spent some time drying the tent with hiking towels before packing up.  Thankfully, the sleeping bags, in spite of having been repeatedly splashed, were dry on the inside.  Later, I'd find that the outside of the bags dry on their own after a few hours inside their stuff sacks (I doubt they'd do that after having been dropped in a river...we're talking condensation here).  The self-drying aspect was a huge plus.  (I'll add a sleeping bag review to our gear page after I finish writing this post).

Melissa and Bobby were purposefully slow to pack up; they weren't in a rush.  On the contrary, they didn't want to do a lot of miles that day; their intent was to take it slowly and enjoy the scenery and, of course, each other's company.  We bid them a fond farewell and began our hike toward Donohue Pass.

A mile and a half later, Sage realized she was missing the wool hat she's had since she was four years old.  That hat has been with us on so many hikes -- it held a lot of sentimental value.  She refused to emotionally let it go, so I backtracked with her a while but -- no hat.  Several people had passed us, heading toward Tuolumne Meadows, and I had a feeling one of them had picked it up.  Sage became upset -- and (this is the really bad part) -- I lost my patience.  I loudly fussed at her for losing the hat in the first place.  It was not a good scene.  Somewhere in there, we ran into Connie again, who must have thought Joan Crawford had risen from the dead.

I eventually chilled out and apologized to Sage for losing my temper.  Sage apologized for losing her hat.  Then we all realized we hadn't eaten much for breakfast.  We hadn't eaten much for dinner the night before, either.  Come to think of it, we were all rather thirsty as well.

It's amazing how quickly and thoroughly you lose your appetite on a multi-day hike.  You simply become uninterested in whatever food you have in your canister.  The hunger returns, with a vengeance, after a week or so of being out there, but the first few days are different -- you often don't feel hungry or thirsty, even after hiking ten+ miles.  The resulting lack of food can therefore wreak havoc on your body...and emotions.

The girls and I had a quick second breakfast before continuing onward.

The climb to Donohue Pass consists of a steep section, followed by a flat-ish section, followed by another steep section.  The first steep section takes you out of the canyon and into a lovely wooded area (with a couple of lakes and plenty of high-altitude camping options).

Looking back at Lyell Canyon

We caught up with Connie again during the second, flat-ish part of our ascent.  She commented that she was moving more slowly than she had planned, since she wanted to photograph almost everything she saw.  I understood her dilemma -- my photos below don't do the scenery justice.  Connie graciously took our photo by a particularly picturesque lake before we parted ways yet again, the girls and I hiking onward while she lingered to snap some more photos.

Onward...

The third part of the climb is above treeline.  The girls hiked quickly and strongly, not realizing they were now above 10,000 feet.  I purposefully did not tell them how high we were, since I didn't want psychological altitude issues creeping into their psyches.  Sage led the way, walking at her usual pace.  Neither girl seemed affected by the altitude.  We therefore carried on as usual, moving speedily and taking very few breaks.

In retrospect, I should have slowed our pace on this ascent, even though both girls acted as though they were at sea level.  There were no headaches, there were no problems breathing,  there were no negative signs whatsoever -- BUT -- hiking that quickly and that hard on our second day at high altitude was a huge and potentially deadly mistake.  I'm getting ahead of myself, though...I'll discuss this issue thoroughly in the next installment of this journal.

Up we went...

Donohue Pass.  11,056 feet.

We dropped our packs and spent some time enjoying the accomplishment of the ascent.  We ate, drank, and chatted with the five or six other hikers who lounged in the immediate area.  One fellow, whose name I can't remember (sorry!) was particularly nice.  We'd see him off and on over the next two days.

Connie arrived just as we were packing up to leave. We exchanged greetings before beginning our descent.

Moving on...

About half a mile down, I realized I didn't have my hiking poles.  Arg!  I had left them at the top of the pass...and I did not want to hike back up to retrieve them.  I acknowledged to the girls that I had done exactly the thing Sage had done that morning.  I hadn't been careful and I'd lost a piece of gear.  It was a humbling, but healthy, confession.  I apologized to Sage once again for having become Monster Mama that morning.

I let everyone who passed me know that there were now free hiking poles at the top of the pass.

We had one more pass to conquer before arriving at the evening's destination.  Island Pass is tiny, just 500 feet or so.  Unfortunately, the sky was dark and the clouds were thick by the time we arrived at the base.  After discovering from descending hikers that the trail over the pass was mostly in the trees, the girls and I decided to hike onward.  We wouldn't be (all that) exposed if a storm began.

Luckily, the storm held off until later in the evening, and we were able to get over the pass without atmospheric troubles.  The view from the top of the pass was, of course, stunning.

The descent to Thousand Island Lake was lovely -- our first glimpse of the lake and all its little islands was breathtaking.

Thousand Island Lake is a popular camping spot, for obvious reasons.   There are therefore strict regulations on where you may and may not camp.  Unfortunately, the sign at the foot of the lake, by the intersection with the PCT and other trails, isn't clear.  You're supposed to camp beyond the first island...but it isn't obvious exactly where that first island is located.  Some of those little land masses run together, and the girls and I couldn't tell if we were definitely past the no-camping zone or not.  After careful inspection, we pitched our tent in a spot that had obviously been recently used.  It was close to the water -- but not too close -- and nestled in some short trees.

No sooner had we set up camp when, once again, the thunder and rain arrived.  Once again, we were thankful for our timing and, once again, we dove into our tent to wait out the storm.  The thunder was loud and there were a few flashes of lightning, but, once again, the storm only lasted a half hour or so.  After the storm moved on, the girls and I came out, ate dinner, and enjoyed an amazing sunset before retiring for the evening.

Just before falling asleep, I head a lap-lap-lap sound.  I sat halfway up and listened.  Lap-lap-lap-lap.  "What is that?" Alex asked.  She and Sage were both awake.  I told them I had no idea.  Marmots playing in the water?  Probably not.  People?  No, there were no voices or human sounds.  Alex said the noise sounded like our cats drinking water.  Lap-lap-lap.  She was right.  The girls and I looked at one another with realization dawning.  Cats.  Lapping water.  We're in the Sierras.  Mountain lion territory.  Alex wanted to go out, walk down to the water, and see what this was...if this was a mountain lion, then she wanted to see it.  I told her NO...she is just the right size for a yummy snack, so she wasn't going anywhere.  We lay there and listened to the sound for long minutes.  It went on and on and on, without a break.  Our curiosity grew and grew...if it was a mountain lion, then it sure was thirsty!  Neither the girls nor I were frightened; there isn't one documented case of a mountain lion attacking anyone in a tent, and there are no verified reports of a mountain lion attacking anyone on the John Muir Trail.  I figured as long as we stayed in our tent, we'd be fine.  Eventually, we each drifted off to sleep.  The next day, we'd discover what had made the noise...

The next installation of this journal, "JMT Hiking Day #5: Thousand Island Lake to Reds Meadow Resort.  August 9, 2014," will be posted by late Monday evening.

I'll post my sleeping bag review late tonight, Sept. 21.