PCT Day 96 – SoBo Flip – Cold in the Middle

Iva Bell Hot Springs on the Fish Creek alternate to Chief Lake (mile 886)

Total PCT miles hiked: 1352

Due to our early start Keith (Starman) and I arrived at the Sierras when there was still a lot of snow, and decided it wasn’t safe to attempt a crossing given my skill level. We elected to flip up to northern California and hike southbound (SoBo) back to where we left off near Lone Pine – giving the snow a chance to melt out. During this flip the PCT milage will be counting down, but I’ll include a tally of our total milage hiked so that you can keep aprised of our progress in a linear fashion.

From Iva Bell’s upper springs you can see the entire valley drop away into the distance. Back towards the two lower and more often visited pools, all the way out along the plunging canyon to the Middle Fork of the San Joaquin River. On this hazy morning the vista appears all the greater because of the smoke filling in the horizon, applying a false layer of distance. While we soak three does meander past, they pay us no mind in making their way towards the creek for a morning drink. We are just another pair of woodland creatures – albeit strange, hairless ones. Below us we can hear the shouts and calls of the two dozen San Franciscans, who have hiked into the springs for a long weekend only to discover that they are fall less in the know than they would like to believe. Iva Bell hasn’t been a secret spot for years. Yet every group I’ve met hiking in here acts as though the discovery of Iva Bell Hot Springs is their own doing. It really is such a human trait to believe that we are superciliously unique. Their voices come rushing up to meet us, unnecessarily loud and boisterous in the calm morning air. Despite the warm waters and the idyllic scene I’m ready to get back on the trail, away from loud people. It feels as though my hearing has been tuned to the levels of the natural world so that when I venture into well populated areas the world feels too loud, there is too much incessantly vying for my attention; as pretentious as that may sound.

We scurry up the hill into which the hot springs are built, which forms the great sloping back of this valley. We are following deer trails back to our human trail. By the time we reach the trail I am winded and my legs are burning. I try and psych myself up, I try and get pumped for 19 miles, 5,000 feet of gain in the high alpine. I can do this, these are the mountains I’ve been looking forward to. I’ll put a book on and wander through the sky, walk across creeks spilling with melt water, all while under the watching sentinels of the grand Sierra mountains. No more mopping today, today I can do this.

It would later prove that I can only kinda do this today.

My pack grows heavier and heavier all morning as I pull my way up out of the green valley towards thin air and White rock. By the time I admit I’m sick, we’re about as far from the next pass as the one we came in on. Going forward is going to be as fast as going out. My chest burns with congestion and the Buff I use to blow my nose is soaked through. Not even the dry alpine air can keep up with the amount of snot I’m producing. It would almost be impressive if the whole scene weren’t so disgusting and miserable.

In the end it takes us, me, nine hours to go as many miles. Much of the natural beauty is lost on me and I can only marvel in resentment at how much up there can be for one pass. We’ve been climbing forever! Eventually Keith manages to save me from myself and downgrades our already reduced goal of getting to the first site after the pass, to how about this site right here. Thank the stars one of us has some common sense.