After nine miles of wandering through snow-covered forest this morning, and getting lost a few times, I hit Ebbetts Pass at Highway 4 before noon. Expecting a bare and remote mountain road crossing, I was surprised to find a blue canopy there: trail magic!

A friendly guy named Doug had just set up an incredible pit stop for PCT hikers and planned to keep it going for three days. He laid us out a feast: cooked eggs, toast, Captain Crunch with whole milk by the gallon, apple juice, homemade brownies, hot chili, coffee, hot chocolate, bananas, strawberries, oranges, a fruit and veggie tray, Coke… I stayed and ate for four straight hours with 15 other hikers while Doug catered to every need. He’d even set up a pharmacy box with all kinds of medications, plus a box full of extra equipment from shoelaces to pocketknives, and charged people’s electronic devices on his car charger. Fully powered up, and morale totally restored after a tough couple of days, I eventually pushed another eight miles to camp with Honeybuzz and Annie. Thanks, Doug!

It was hard to escape Bridgeport this morning. After mailing my bear canister home at the post office, buying a few groceries, and eating a giant avocado burger for breakfast, it was time to hit the road. Five of us lined up at the edge of town to hitchhike back to the trail at Sonora Pass, and eventually got a ride with two funny ladies in a Suburban who insisted on taking us to a thrift shop in nearby Walker (where Boots purchased a much-needed set of pants, since his crotch has been ripped and he wears no underwear) and bought us Gatorade, before dropping us at the trailhead.

So, I didn’t get hiking until 4:15 pm, and put in a short six miles before camping with half a dozen other PCTers. This next section, 76 miles to Echo Lake (by South Lake Tahoe), should be easier than the last, but I’m still expecting about 60% of the trail to be covered in snow. Just gotta take it one day at a time…

This morning the water had dropped significantly and we were able to cross the river in Stubblefield Canyon before the sun hit, though it was waist-deep, fast, a little scary, and ice cold. Thus began today’s slogfest.

The farther north I go, the more snow I encounter, and the more demoralizing it gets. Today we were only able to make 14 miles in 11 hours of intense hiking, mostly navigating by GPS through a forest full of 10-foot-high snowdrifts piled like slippery vertical sand dunes. Climbing up and down the drifts is utterly exhausting, even in level terrain; when the route leads straight up a steep ridge, it’s almost suicidal.

So, forget the trail: this is a montane expedition interspersed with a few miles of scattered hiking. Looking at it that way, it’s quite an adventure. Still, I’m looking forward to the day when I can just walk on a regular trail all day; that might be a while, though…

It took 12 hours to cover 20 very strenuous miles today, pushing hard all day without many breaks. I hiked with Honeybuzz, Quake, and Unload as we bullied our way through miles of continuous snow (often bushwhacking and navigating by GPS when we lost the trail), clouds of mosquitoes, 3,500 feet of elevation gain, and several thigh-deep stream crossings.

I have a heavy pack on this stretch (35-40 lbs) but am happy to be carrying enough food. Last week I rationed hard during the most intense section of high passes before resupplying at Vermilion Valley, and lost enough weight to contemplate weaving a belt out of dental floss. (I haven’t stepped on a scale since beginning this adventure). So I’m on a mission now to eat 5,000-6,000 calories a day to keep from shriveling up out here; can’t afford to get any skinnier.

I drifted into another group of hikers and walked with four young guys over Donohue Pass (11,000 feet) today. It was a very tiring 20 miles, more than half on snow, with 3,500 feet of elevation gain, constantly watching thunderstorms roll past in adjacent valleys, but quite satisfying even though we didn’t reach the summit until past 5 pm. And I’m in good position now to hit Tuolumne Meadows, a major landmark, tomorrow morning.

I continue to be amazed at the sheer amount of water everywhere as the snow melts. Around midday we negotiated a set of three creek crossings which, in a typical year, might barely get your feet wet. For the deepest one all five of us linked up, hanging on to each other to ford the waist-deep river, and Honeybuzz, who took the upstream position deflecting the brunt of the current, admitted he probably couldn’t have stood up alone; it was too strong. Wet feet all day isn’t so bad, but I do grimace when putting on soaking, cold shoes each morning…

A late start since I had to wait for the morning ferry out of VVR, but I returned to the trail by 10 am with a new crew of hikers, and spent the rest of the day walking with Crasher, Flash, and Noodles Romanov. We climbed 3,000 feet to Silver Pass, which was snow-covered but not particularly noteworthy, then worked slowly north, putting in a solid 16 miles by dinnertime.

I met an interesting fellow named Caveman this afternoon, bearing a striking resemblance to that Geico guy. He had no maps for this section and had just completed a massively frustrating ten-mile circle after getting lost in the snow. While looking over our maps, he told us a bit about his aspirations to become a professional cage fighter, then apparently decided to try to night hike the remaining 15 miles to Mammoth when his friend Eight Mile arrived. Good luck, guys… I’m going to sleep ;)

The biggest excitement today was not Selden Pass (which required the usual 3,000 foot climb, awesome vistas, and a few miles of continuous snow; nothing new) but a series of creek crossings in late afternoon, after dropping back below 10,000 feet, near the end of a 20-mile day.

Bear Creek was the worst. I was hiking with Skipper and Dane when we hit the creek about 6 pm, in full force, and we scouted for a crossing for about 40 minutes before committing. It was impressive: 40 feet wide, waist deep, and fast. We forded using a tandem method where everyone lines up side by side, faces across the river, and weaves their arms around each other’s backs to hang on to opposing shoulder straps. Actually, pretty safe. I’m just glad I wasn’t alone; I’ve walked in a group of three to twelve hikers through the Sierras so far, which makes all the obstacles easier to manage, and the scenery easier to appreciate!

Some say that Mather Pass is the most dangerous section of trail on the entire PCT; deep inside a remote part of Kings Canyon National Park, Mather links two Sierra peaks with a thin, cornice-topped knife ridge, more than 12,000 feet high, and extremely steep-sided.

It certainly depends on weather and snow conditions, but I didn’t see the big deal. The hardest part was the approach; it took five hours to fight six miles uphill through sun-cupped and slushy snowfields to the base of the pass. Sure, there was a steep traverse at the top, but kicked-in steps and a good hold on my ice axe made it quite safe.

I glissaded down the back side with Goodness, Zm, Skipper, and Dane, and, after a few more miles of snow travel, we dropped low enough to find exposed trail (!) at an endless series of switchbacks called the Golden Staircase (or, as one guidebook mistyped, the Golden Suitcase) which led into a remarkably lush, snow-free valley. On regular dirt tread for the first time in several days, we logged a gloriously fast ten miles in late afternoon and stopped to camp at 9:00 pm after a very long 21-mile day, ready to hit Muir Pass in the morning.

This week, the mantra is “a pass a day,” and today’s climb was called Glen Pass. Although not quite as high or steep as yesterday’s effort, Glen definitely took a lot of hard work. The trail was buried in snow for most of the day, and traction spikes and ice axe once again came into play on the precipitous high traverses.

I hit a low point late this afternoon after two creek crossings (one slow, waist deep, and a fast knee-deep torrent that I crossed by interlocking arms with four other hikers). I was soaking wet from the waist down, clouds were rolling in, it was beginning to snow, and I got cold. Hustling down a valley toward tonight’s camp, I somehow left behind my beloved Leica binoculars, and didn’t discover them missing until at least four miles later, by which time it was too late to turn around. So, tomorrow morning I’m getting up early to run back to where I think I left them. It’s gonna be a very worried night’s sleep…

An “easy” eight and a half mile day today as the trail crossed high valleys and plateaus, at times completely buried in five feet of slushy snow near 11,000 feet. I hiked with two easygoing PCTers, Squirrel and Little Bug, and we’re now camped with half a dozen others by Tyndall Creek to set ourselves up for Forester Pass tomorrow. I’ve met about 10 southbound hikers over the past two days, all of whom turned around in fear at Forester, so it might be interesting…

Today was difficult enough with my first two major stream crossings, Wright and Tyndall. A record snowpack is melting fast with the hot weather this week, and Sierra streams are raging. When we arrived at Wright Creek this morning, the mere sight of it was enough to make Squirrel, Little Bug and me have to pee simultaneously. That accomplished, we donned our packs and waded fully dressed into an ice-cold, thigh-deep current 20 feet wide. Tyndall Creek was even more terrifying, but luckily someone had left a note about a safer crossing one mile upstream – whew!

It’s definitely summer. Even camped at 11,000 feet last night, the temperature didn’t drop below freezing, and I spent today in the high country hiking in a T-shirt. Despite recent reports of nearly impassable snowdrifts, the trail was clear and easy to follow for 16 miles to Crabtree Meadow, and I’m perfectly positioned – along with 13 other PCT hikers – to summit Mount Whitney tomorrow morning.

The high Sierras are incredibly beautiful. I’ll stay above 10,000 feet for the next few days as the trail skirts some of the most scenic vistas on this continent, weaving among awe-inspiring peaks. This begins the most dramatic section of this whole adventure, and I’m loving every minute of it!

I hit 10,000 feet for the first time today as the trail ascended a beautiful series of meadows and ridges, with snow-capped peaks rimming the horizon. With a heavy pack, I was glad to do 15 miles and camp with about a dozen other hikers by Death Canyon tonight.

Also for the first time, I hit annoying mosquitos this morning. They’ll only get worse as summer progresses, but hopefully I’ll be too high for them the rest of this week. The trail hits 11,000 feet tomorrow, where the snow pack is still continuous; should be interesting!