The PCT Volume 21 Redux (First Part): Subverting Murphy (and His Damned Law)

[Brad Young]

I really do have a great life. Two PCT trips with two great daughters in two great states, supported by a great wife. All in one summer. Katie and I finished our trip; we had a lot of fun, magnificent scenery and a great sense of progress. We’re already talking about next year.

But this one had its share of troubles - just like August's trip with Tricia. Smoke, Weather. Gear. An energy-sucking head-cold. But mostly we had success. Success over six days on one of the most sustained, difficult and prettiest parts of the trail.

I'm absolutely tickled. And exhausted. I need some rest.


Day One, September 6:

Tricia and I did the PCT from Tuolumne Meadows to Sonora Pass in July, 2014. Katie and I finally got to it this month (September, 2025). Such a fantastic part of the trail. Such a great part of Yosemite.

Vicki drove us over to the trailhead as in 2014 (2014 in the first photo):













Sierra skies have been perfect this summer... or at least they were until a few days before our departure. A lightning storm then started fires in the west part of Tuolumne County. And it started the Garnet Fire south of Yosemite. As a result, to our disappointment, we had to hit the trail in smokey skies (but Tuolumne Meadows is still just magnificent):













Day one of this part of the trail is really tough and there’s no getting around it. It’s six miles of downhill to gorgeous Glen Aulin and a crossing of the Tuolumne River:






















I hadn't seen the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River for some years:




Glen Aulin is the last water. It’s then eight miles to more at Virginia Canyon. With 1,200 feet of elevation gain. Carrying first day loads. So the first day is a mandatory, hard, 13.8 miles:







At least the skies were clearing (that's Mount Conness in the distance):




Difficulty aside, this is a wonderful eight miles. We did well, buoyed especially by the energy of day one and the clearing skies:







I remembered how striking this boulder was in 2014. It hasn't changed:




Between the drive over, getting a permit, the longish hike (for two non through-hikers at least) and the heavier loads, it was getting late by the time we neared our day’s goal:







Camp was in the shade by the time we got there, but it was a beautiful section of slabs 150 feet from the creek. We made camp and rested:







A funny thing happened too that night. Katie woke up and saw that it was light out. She decided that it was time to get up. She did. And then noticed that is wasn't daylight, it was 11:30 and the light was from the full moon. Typical Katie though - instead of just grumping back to bed she took this shot:




Day one: off to a great start.

[Brad Young]

Day Two, September 7:


Today started smokey too. And cold. I rarely sleep cold while out, but I kinda blew through a weather forecast of colder than normal temps and packed a light sleeping bag. Oh well, we lived:




Easy hiking warmed us up on the way to Spiller Creek:







Another pretty drainage:




Old-school switchbacks (steep and tight) led us up to Miller Lake:




For some reason, Miller has always felt way out there and isolated to me. It felt that way this time too, even though we saw other hikers there. Regardless, we enjoyed some rest after our climb:










Up and over a small climb after Miller. And we started another old-school set of switchbacks down to Matterhorn Creek (the PCT guidebook describes “two dozen closely-spaced switchbacks” - and yes Matterhorn Creek as in it flows southwest from the south side The Sawtooth Ridge and The Matterhorn to and beyond where we walked it):










Matterhorn Canyon is very pretty. It also has easy hiking:




Our second and biggest climb started after lunch there. An 1,800 foot gain in two stages to Benson Pass:










Volunteer Peak makes an appearance from Benson Pass. It’s not a high elevation peak. But it’s much higher than anything around it and so it stands out. It looms also above Smedberg Lake, our destination for the night (and the sky had cleared again):




An easy descent:







Smedberg offers excellent campsites and great light:

[Brad Young]

Day Three, September 8:


The night at Smedberg wasn’t bad at first. Early to bed and all that.

But then it got really bad. Terrible. I woke up in the middle of the night and realized that I damn near couldn’t breathe. The smoke had settled with the winds and we were in the absolute, absolute thick of it. Thick of it as in as bad as that night at Lake Thomas Edison, but now 28 miles from the nearest trailhead.

I’m not prone to panic but I felt like I could barely breathe and started wondering what would happen if it got worse.

Katie had awakened too and was horrified by the smoke. Two Brits we’d befriended were camped nearby. They had a really bad night too. The hell with you Murphy and your law; how much more?

Luckily the worst of the smoke had dispersed by daylight. But all four of us were coughing like we were sick (more on this subject later). Our tents all smelled strongly of smoke for the rest of the trip. Yuk.

Here’s the view across Smedberg with the only slight morning smoke:




As with every morning this trip, this one was chilly. We were both pretty fanatic about shorts though even if we had to wear jackets up top. Uphill gave way to one of the steepest tightest, old-school set of switchbacks I’ve ever hiked - down to Piute Creek and the Benson Lake Trail:













The downhill got gentler and we could see what would be the day’s big uphill across the canyon:










We took a break and got water. And my damn Steri-Pen broke! Eight years of reliable use and my means of purifying water breaks! Thanks be to duct tape, at least. I rigged a field repair:




The air got less smokey as we hiked. Things were really bad to the east and not so bad to the west (and thankfully we were heading west):







The long section of uphill that followed was fairly exposed. It took us to a curiously unnamed lake and lunch. The Dawsons will recognize the lake - we spent a night here when I did this section with them:










I received a satellite text from Vicki here with an updated weather forecast. The Brits had joined us for lunch and Rob had an InReach that also gave him weather. The two sets of predictions caused us some worry and a lot of discussion followed: Thursday - the day we intended to go out along the actual Pacific Crest to Sonora Pass - was now predicted be rainy. Oh and the forecast called for thunder and lightning there too.

With nothing we could do about the weather, we headed out toward Seavy Pass and then Kerrick Canyon:










Having established a fair number of new climbing routes, I usually keep an eye out for new-route potential. And back here, tens of miles from any road? Well the potential is there, but I'm not going to do it. Here’s a photo across the canyon of what the next generation can do by way of “FAs.” You know, after we’ve left them nothing close to the road (nice granite):




Kerrick Canyon, and Rancheria Creek which flows through it, have a bad reputation with PCT hikers. Two through-hikers have died there in the last ten years, swept away by spring snow melts in June, when the height of the through-hiker “bubble” is passing through. But for us? Three months after high water, we just boulder hopped across, dry. We camped on the other side of the creek:










We went to bed early, of course. Katie still had a very scratchy throat and was blowing out lots of crap from her nose. But we figured she was just still feeling the residuals of a shitty, shitty smoky night.

We’d change that opinion when we woke up in the morning.

[Brad Young]

Day Four: September 9:


Today Katie woke up with a full-blown cold. All of the symptoms of too much smoke exposure - but 24 hours since the worst of it, and also feeling totally wiped out. All while 38 miles into a 76 mile backpack.

With just two options - call for a helicopter rescue or hike, Katie packed up. We headed up out of Kerrick Canyon for our first of two big "ups" for the day:







From the crest of this up one can see the north edge of Yosemite, defined by, among other features, The Sawtooth Ridge:




Focussed on just moving along, neither of us took many photos during the first half of this day. Here’s one looking from that crest, over the next canyon, Stubblefield, and onto the day’s second big up (we climbed the crease which appears in the left side of the photo):




The day got easier after we climbed out of Stubblefield Canyon. Actually, the whole rest of the this part of the trail gets easier. The PCT guidebook comments, after the part about climbing out of Stubblefield, that one “leaves the deep canyons behind” at this point. There’s lots of slow downs and slow ups from this point on and also lots and lots of nearly flat hiking.

Good, Katie needed this. We started down to Wilma Lake:




When we stopped for lunch Katie was able to nap for half an hour. This seemed to recharge her for the rest of our hike.

Wilma is a big lake. Interestingly, it’s also called Wilmer Lake on the signs in the park and on some maps:







Wilma sits partway down Jack Main Canyon. It’s interesting that, like several creeks and canyons in this area, the canyon and the creek bear different names. So, as we turned to walk up Jack Main Canyon, we walked along Falls Creek (and at least there’s a rational basis for the name of the creek - miles later it pours over a huge waterfall into Hetch Hetchy Reservoir).

The “nearly-flat” hiking kicked in here. One gains only 2,000 feet of elevation in over nine miles in Jack Main Canyon northbound. And most of that is near the north end of the canyon near Dorothy Lake.

Katie wanted to just make miles and we kept on:










Clouds were building and rain seemed possible (we didn’t get any though today).

We passed Chittenden Peak which sits between Jack Main Canyon and the very, very long Tilden Lake. The Dawsons and I summited Chittenden when we passed through here on their PCT hike:




A beautiful wall of granite beyond Chittenden reminded me of Amity Dawson’s determination to come back to this location and establish some multi-pitch climbing routes here:




Grace Meadow sits well up the canyon. Our slow but constant walking brought us there eventually:













It was time now to find an end-point for the day. There were surprisingly few flat, open spots though and so we kept on in what were now fairly cold and dark conditions:




Finally we found a just-right spot and settled in:




This was a tough day but we felt highly encouraged by the difference between 38 miles left to go and 22 miles remaining. Katie knew she could hike the next day and then part of one day after. We crashed directly into our tents just after dark.

[Brad Young]

Day Five, September 10:


When we woke up, Katie still had her cold. Luckily she’s just like her sister Tricia: both seem able to keep an excellent attitude through most adversity.

Conditions were chilly:







We had a decision to make this morning. Vicki had texted us another updated weather forecast for Sonora Pass for tomorrow (Thursday), the day we planned to exit there. The forecast for Sonora Pass contained this phrase:

“Thu: Showers & thunderstorm likely...”

I can say without equivocation that the part of the PCT we planned for tomorrow, the eight miles south of Sonora Pass, is one of the five prettiest sections of the entire 2,650 mile trail.

I’d been talking up this part of our walk to Katie since day one (and before, of course). For much of those eight miles one is walking on and near the actual Pacific Crest. The trail there is above 10,000 feet elevation, and weaves between summits and along incredibly viewful saddles. I’ve told hikers with only a little hyperbole that, from this part of the trail, one can look west and see Hawaii and look east to the spires of New York City.

Here’s a shot from 2014 with Tricia, taken along the trail and along the crest. Jaw-dropping views and beauty:




And it’s sometimes not just the views up on this length of crest. When I did this section with the Dawsons? We hiked among these amazing swarms and swarms of little blue butterflies perched on rocks right on the crest. It almost felt like we were swimming in butterflies at times.

But a weather prediction that includes the phrase “thunderstorms likely?” Yeah, no. I’ve had enough close lightning encounters to last for the entire rest of my lifetime, thank you. More than enough. Katie agreed. No way in hell were we going to expose ourselves to that risk (besides, in that weather there’s no way Katie could see Hawaii anyway).

Accepting Murphy’s ruling, we quickly decided that we’d bail from the PCT late this day, 14 miles before Sonora Pass, right before the climb up onto the crest. We’d finish this trip out the West Walker River canyon to Leavitt Meadows Trailhead, staying low and non-exposed during the storms up high.

We started the day early since storms and lightening were possible today too and we’d pass over a very exposed area at and on Dorothy Lake Pass starting at our 3.5 mile point:







Dorothy Lake is one of the gems of the High Sierra. It sits right on Yosemite’s north border at just below 10,000 feet:










Naturally I thought of my younger climbing friends when I took photos of this what, 600 foot high pillar sitting just off the north side of Forsyth Peak? Gorgeous new climbing routes just waiting here. And only 18 miles from Highway 108:







After a break we walked over Dorothy Lake Pass (250 feet higher in elevation than the lake itself) and out of Yosemite National Park:










The flatter, granitic area to the north was very exposed and weather was clearly coming in:







We made it past here and down to lower, forested areas before hail and rain started. We heard thunder in the distance:










There’s a significant waypoint on the PCT at this area, one that I’d been hugely excited to pass with Tricia and couldn’t stop smiling about today: right here a hiker passes the “1,000 miles from the Mexican border” point, entering “four digits” for the rest of the trail.

I knew from my trip with the Dawsons that the 1,000 mile point wasn’t at the same place as it had been in 2014. Any trail as long as the PCT will change over time, and over some years, changes to the trail to the south have shifted the 1,000 mile point about 9/10 of a mile further north than it was for me and Tricia. Dawsons had found a simple trailside “1,000” made from pinecones or rocks when they’d hiked by. Now there’s a more sophisticated indication:










Dark clouds continued although a break in the precipitation let us eat:







There’s a bridge where the PCT crosses the West Fork of the West Walker River. Dawsons and I and Tricia, Reid and I had camped just the other side of this bridge. But this point was today’s exit spot:




Katie hiked a little extra PCT to ensure no missed steps when we come back (and we will be back):




And so we exited into the Hoover Wilderness. Although we’d been “Murphied” off the PCT here, I was actually a little excited for the rest of the day's hike. I’ve spent many, many days in the Hoover Wilderness and yet I’d never hiked this section of trail. Out past Long Lakes and The Chain Lakes to Fremont Lake:













Our rain stopped but it was still there, up on the Sierra Crest:




Lower and lower we walked until late in the day we found just the right spot to camp, right near the West Walker River, seven miles from Leavitt Meadows Trailhead:

[Brad Young]

Day Six, September 11:


Our hike out on Thursday was short and pretty easy. Naturally though Murphy needed one more word:







The West Walker canyon is very long and open. Highway 108 reaches it about five miles east of Sonora Pass. So our rides, Vicki and my co-worker Ellen, had to come over the pass from the west slope to reach us. The last part of that five miles of highway east of the pass is, because of the open canyon, visible from the trail for many miles.

Here’s a view of 108 from the canyon. A steep down and right followed by a steep down and left to the canyon floor. The Trailhead is about half a mile further:




Oh, but here’s a closeup of the same view:




Why are all those cars parked on the highway? Just sitting there?

We watched as we walked. No movement. Wondering what the heck was up, I took advantage of the increased cell reception built up for the nearby Marine Mountain Warfare Training Center and checked with CalTrans on the internet:

Highway 108 was closed “five miles east of Sonora Pass due to a jackknifed big-rig.”

Oh for shit’s sake, really?

Great. How long? There’s no way that Vicki and Ellen will be able to get to us if the road isn’t cleared (two drivers for us by the way because Vicki is going to Truckee with Katie and Ellen is taking me back to Sonora).

Hike, hike, hike.

No movement on the road. But what can we do?

Hike, hike some more.

We arrive at the trailhead and find a place to sit. A man waiting in a car there was up at the highway closure. He says that they just told him “another hour.”

We decide that we’ll wait (pretty easy decision).

Thanks Murphy.

And then he relents.

Six minutes after we arrive the eastbound Highway 108 traffic starts zooming by. Twenty minutes after that Vicki and Ellen roll up. They experienced no delays:




We don’t linger long. Katie is pooped and has to work tomorrow. In the 30 years Ellen has lived in Sonora this is only her second time at or over Sonora Pass (the first time was in June when her work assignment for the day was to go to the pass with Vicki and me to see it and have a picnic). I want her to see more of the pass and I’m anxious also to see how the weather is there as we pass by.

Off we all go.

I took this shot of the Sierra Crest from the highway at around 1:30 p.m.:




Glad we aren’t there right now!

This one is from Sonora Pass itself about 10 minutes later (the PCT passes through the saddle that is just right of the highest point shown):




It started raining on us about one mile west of the pass. We stopped for lunch at Kennedy Meadows (and lo and behold, the Brits were there!). It was raining when we walked out.

Sometimes one makes tough decisions and then worries about whether they were the right ones. Not this time. Besides, all of the trails we need will still be there next year. Is it really such a hardship to have to go back (with the dogs since we’ll be outside the park) to do this section in gorgeous weather instead? Who knows, maybe we’ll even do it in a leisurely three days (29 miles to get back to the PCT and then to the pass)?

Oh, and postscript: here’s all the food I had left when we walked out after six days:




Good planning? Genius? Nah. More like pure dumb luck. But I'll take it.

[mungeclimber]

a mere 18 miles, he says 

[Brad Young]

a mere 18 miles, he says 

It wouldn't be unheard of - there are now six or seven multi-pitch routes on The Watchtower two miles to the east (it's a huge outlier to Tower Peak). Over the last 15 years several parties have climbed there by walking in or by having their gear horse-packed in.

EDIT: It's also possible that any significant discussion about climbing back there should be on the Sonora Pass climbing forum  

[footie]

Way to hang in there Katie!

[mungeclimber]

yes, horse supported, and you should answer my question about dome on that other forum! lol

[Brad Young]

I suppose that I shouldn't be so surprised that Dom found this and posted it on the SPH site - after all, if I can see it from the trail, other climbers can too:

https://publications.americanalpineclub.org/articles/13201215001/Forsyth-Peak-Torre-del-Caballo-Salvaje

I did grin to see that my estimate of the height was fairly on.

[mungeclimber]

I believe this is called the Flying Saucer boulder



http://www.supertopo.com/bouldering/boulder_photo.php?bc=tbcoldcn&dpid=Pj07Pz89KCEk