Just Before MTR to Bear Creek
When I wake up it feels early, but when I get out of the tent to baño I realize that half the people camped near us are already gone. Womp womp, last out of camp again.
Our day today starts with a climb up Selden pass, and it’s a real bitch. It’s hot down here at this lower elevation and humid with trees still dripping from yesterdays rain. Early into the climb we pass a couple of hikers fresh off their resupply at MTR.* This means they have rested legs and heavy packs. They are no match for our light packs and we pull ahead of them and soon they’re out of sight.
* MTR or Muir Trail Ranch is a privately owned backcountry outpost known for charging a lot of money to stay in their cabins, and generally being unwelcoming jerks to thru hikers who aren’t staying there. You can mail yourself a resupply there, but the general consensus is that it’s not worth it.
We spend the entire morning climbing up Selden, Keith making puns behind me “I’ve Selden seen anything so beautiful.” I groan. I’m dripping sweat and the occasional breath of a passing breeze is all that keeps me going. Thru hiking is all about taking pleasure in the little things and every time a breeze blows past both Keith and I stop and sigh with pleasure. Then the breeze is gone and we’re still hiking up.
The top of Selden Pass is like something out of a movie. That movie is probably Avatar – remember when they go to the planet of the blue people and everything is really gorgeous and there are plants everywhere? I read somewhere that they modeled that planet off of the Japanese hanging garden. So really I should have said the top of Selden Pass is like a Japanese hanging garden. Water pours seemingly from nowhere, from between the rocks, and down across the trail. The world is so green here with hundreds of little wild flowers speckling the hills in a riot of color. We’ve been so high lately we haven’t had the chance to see many wild flowers and now they’re here in full force, their brightness is startling and wonderful.
Once we crest the top of Selden Pass we can see Marie Lakes sprawling out below us. It strikes me now – in a way that names on a map never do -that we were at these exact same lakes almost a year ago! Except then it was closer to sunset and the reflection on the water was so beautiful that it literally made me weep which, I didn’t know was something that people actually did until I became one of them. Today the lakes aren’t quite the same, cooly reflecting big puffy clouds against their calm waters.
Keith wants to take a break at the lake to – no surprise here – fish! I’m game to sit around and stretch my legs which are tight from our long day yesterday and my knee is still complaining at me. Unfortunately for both of us, and fortunately for the fish, it’s mid-day and there are no little fishies to be seen, so we continue on. Down towards Bear Creek, passing the campsite we stayed at a year ago when Keith and I were up here tackling a loop over Italy Pass. Memories! I think I could hike through the Sierras and never know them entirely. But then, I’d miss so many other wonderful things. I guess that’s your choice in life, to know a few things intimately or many things only a little. I’ve always chosen the later.
At the bottom of the descent we know we’re going to have to ford Bear Creek. Before the ford a group of giggly girls tells us we’ll have to put our water shoes on to cross the creek. We just smile and shake our heads, this confuses them but they hike on in their heavy leather hiking boots and heavy water shoes.
With our trail runners on we simply walk across the creek – causing a minor scandal amongst another group of hikers on the far side who feel the need to ask us “don’t your feet get wet?:” I stare at them unsure how to answer. The water is above my knees, of course my feet are wet you walnut! But I don’t say that aloud, just “trail runners drain water really well.” I can’t tell they don’t believe me, and they can probably tell I don’t give a fuck about what they think.
We hike on and I ponder all the weird judgement there is around thru hiking. Keith and I don’t carry water shoes because they’re too heavy and we’ve decided that we can do without. Conversely people are constantly mentioning, critiquing would be a more accurate word, our small packs. As thought we couldn’t possibly be happy/comfortable/safe with so little gear. And yet here I am judging those girls for having heavy packs and big hiking boots. Maybe all backpackers are hyper competitive assholes and that’s why we all spend so much time alone in nature. Yeah, that hit’s close to home.
The afternoon is spent hiking along Bear Creek, or as I’ve decided to call it The Creek of Many Faces. The waters are always changing, merging, spilling over rocks in new and exciting ways! Oh mama nature, may I never understand you.
The trail along the creek is lovely and relatively flat for a change, wet from rain we didn’t see, keeping the dust at bay. We’re aiming for a big campground where we hope to camp with some of our fellow JMTers. But when we get there it’s completely empty and nothing is as it should be. Assuming it’s GPS error we hike on and a quarter mile later come along another, smaller, less nice campground and it’s filled to capacity. No Fitz, no Limpy Perkins, just a chubby man camped too close to the water who makes a useless comment as we back track to the bigger, emptier campground.
Back at the correct – but empty – site we make to set up camp and Keith hangs up his hammock, waiting to gloat at the next hiker who comes by. This of course means that nobody hikes past our campground for the rest of the day.
Dinner tonight is bean and cheese burritos – sans tortillas because we forgot to pack them. Perhaps a better name would be bean and cheese burrito soup. It’s still one of my favorites.
Night falls and with it comes the stars. We opt not to cowboy camp because rain is in the forecast. Tomorrow is a town day and we’re both stoked. Showers! Salads! Beer! I try not let myself fall into the trap of constructing elaborate fantasies of the perfect resupply stop, knowing that it will never live up and I’ll only be disappointed. Finally, sleep.