PCT 2018: Days 60-61, South Lake Tahoe and The 4th of July
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 60 and 61 in South Lake Tahoe, mile 1,090.
July 3, Day 60
0 miles [1090.0]
Note to myself (and others): while getting cross faded at 7:30 A.M. feels amazing and bubbly, it will never lead you anywhere photographically. This was the only photo I took that day.
No one was in a rush to get out of their tent. As we packed “Trash Bath” waltzed around and handed out yesterday’s pot cookies. Not long after, “Streak” came back from the store and passed out pounders. It was a fantastic morning. Made tracks to the grocery store for breakfast and a plan. Got a freshly toasted bagel from the bakery section and “Shocks” and I split an entire eight-ounce block of cream cheese. Had coffee for what feels like the first time in weeks. Interneted hard and stressed over the newest map section. Someone discovered there was free food for thru-hikers at a nearby restaurant and it seemed like a worthwhile investigation. At Base Camp Pizza I met “Gula” and “Gabe”, two young guys with a limited break from the Air Force. I made sure to drag my fingers through the bowl my bacon-jalapeno Gouda mac was served in and enjoyed the blissfully idyllic weather shaded by an umbrella I didn’t have to carry or hold. Back to the grocery store where I finally cobbled together a resupply. It cost way too much—$82 for 120 miles. Got a free ride to the Post Office from an Uber driver who took one look at us and pulled over. While buckling he told us he had a friend who hiked the AT, suddenly we were having a conference call in an Impreza. “You’ve already made it, make sure to enjoy your time,” he said, almost as if he had rehearsed this message before. Slapped on the correct postage and said a cheery good riddance to my bear canister which has to be the easiest and most emotionally charged two-and-a-half pounds I’ve ever lost. Even with a fresh resupply I feel lighter on my destroyed shoes. Gang reconvened at the beach for low-key beers. I swam for a total of three minutes, long enough to break up the dirt and grime layer. While the gang sunned themselves I watched a wedding photographer politely haranguing 25 family members into new poses, busting his ass without an assistant to move the monolight, unadulterated Schadenfreude coursed through my buzzed body. As the sun set we hit up McDonald’s for the third time in two days, a haven for last minute snacks and internet. The place was packed with festive high schoolers unable to contain themselves with the impending holiday. Found a good spot to stealth and set up our encampment near the ski resort. Zero’s are legendary with friends. So unbelievably stoked for the 4th.
July 4, Day 61
17.7 miles [1103.2]
Peaceful night behind the residential area. Packed up and retreated to Mickey D’s for breakfast and a hitch out. Didn’t want to eat my trail food so I got two hash browns and two sausage burritos plus a coffee. I probably could have made a valid argument for being awarded the senior discount from the mileage on my knees alone. Tried to hitch for over 45 minutes, my longest attempt so far. I was losing faith and seriously considered walking when a man with clear oval frames sporting a scarf over his tie-dyed dancing bear T-shirt approached us. “Grateful Dad”, father of “Vinyl” (who gave me my trail name), was headed to Grocery Outlet and asked if we needed any help. Beaming, we hopped into his van. “Trash Bath” bought four eight-count boxes of Firecracker Popsicles which were gone by the time we parked at the trailhead. Profusely thanked our sandeled Angel and loaded the new map. “Sticky Fingers” grew up here and had a plan for our day. Must have passed more than 50 other day hikers in the six miles it took to get to Lake Aloha. Set up lunch on top of a 25-foot boulder with a shear drop-off facing the water. I watched all of my friends casually backflip and gainer into a seemingly shallow lake. I thought about the phrase I write in every trail log I’ve signed: 1) go fast 2) commit. It took some encouragement, but upon standing I made good on my axiom. The plunge made my dollar cherry pie all the more sweeter. Hiked on to Gilmore Lake near the base of Mount Tallac. Made camp, devoured a tuna taco, gathered all my layers and alcohol, and scrambled to the top just in time for sunset. A bottle of Fireball was passed around in an attempt to block the unyielding wind as dusk turned into twilight. I counted five distinct firework shows scattered around Lake Tahoe’s rim, the Milky Way silently stealing the show. Survived a fairly treacherous and pitch-black drunken Class 2 scramble down to camp. Forgot about the Ranch—even for just a moment.
“Sticky Fingers” jumps into Lake Aloha.
Cherry pie on the 4th of July.
“Combo” celebrates his freedom.
Mt. Tallac’s shadow.
Lake Tahoe at dusk.
“Sticky Fingers” and Lake Tahoe
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PCT 2018: Days 62-65, South Lake Tahoe to Sierra City
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 62-65 from South Lake Tahoe to Sierra City, mile 1,090-1,195.
July 5, Day 62
18.9 miles [1122.1]
Slept in as late as possible due to last night’s celebration. Ate a chocolate snack pie to give my sour stomach something to work on while we lounged at camp. Eventually started making slow, unmotivated miles at 9 A.M. Up and over Dick’s Pass which was the only section of “up” for today’s terrain that looked sucky. Easy cruise the rest of the afternoon. Stirred up an appetite for a packet of PopTarts after a few miles. I just took a zero and had an outrageously fun holiday, still I want a vacation. Dare I say I feel bored? Perhaps any day which follows one like yesterday will be a bit bland. I’m so tired of hiking. The five of us took a windy lunch on top of some rocks along Fontanillis Lake. Did a double-ramen cold-soak and had handfuls of Swedish Fish. More lakes and snack breaks which always turn to smoke breaks. Called it quits without even hitting twenty and made camp. Had a small fire to keep away mosquitoes. Didn’t have much to say, probably dehydrated. Chowed down hard on my usual tuna taco and followed it up with a peanut butter and butter, honey, Oreo, and M&M dessert taco. Enjoyed sunset trickling through the dense blanket of trees surrounding our small camp.
July 6, Day 63
24.5 miles [1146.6]
Went to sleep with the expectation today was going to be long. Prayed to the pit toilet gods that Barker Pass trailhead would be freshly stocked with TP. Completely empty. I’m out, hopefully the abundant lamb’s ear will suffice. Rare internet access and a wandering mind informed me Philmont won’t be open for crews this season; the early fires were too dangerous. I’ve been dreading “the one” for the last eight years, the time I’m not there, it happens. Tried not to dwell on things out of my control like potential fire which could consume this trail. Cruised along Alpine Meadows, ate my other chocolate pie and couldn’t help but notice the package design was being quite generous with their product depiction, then into Squaw Valley. Took a smoke break in the top-shack of the Granite Chief lift with “TB” and “Sticky” and fantasized about winter, sizing up all the shreddable sick ski lines. Pushed on to Tinker Knob in the howling wind. Had a brief see-ya-later with “Sticky” who parted ways for Truckee; hopefully we reconvene. A few sectioners passed us by, thoroughly done with their journey and headed for the highway, and gave me a Backpacker’s Pantry—major score. Half mile more to the only “campsite” on the bare ridge. Squeezed into the only tree cover with “River”, who we met back at Kennedy Meadows, and “Blue”, someone I recognize from around Tuolumne area. Shoveled in dinner and found a good spot to watch sunset. Our evening color show was absolutely bonkers. Wildflowers too numerous to document and identify, remarkably all in bloom for what feels like the last month, shimmered in the setting sun. Layers of clouds speckled and streaked the horizon.
Squaw Valley ski lifts, Lake Tahoe in the distance.
July 7, Day 64
22.3 miles [1168.5]
Windy night of sleep. “Trash Bath’s” tarp didn’t fare so well but I think he could sleep through anything except free food. Packed and hauled ass seven miles down to Highway 40 stopping only for a joint at Jerome chair. Word on trail was a free beer to any thru hiker provided by Donner Ski Ranch. The restaurant awarded me a 40 ounce King Cobra (malt beer, what a thirst-quencher) and we made use of the patio. Proceeded to get inebriated which lead me to order a patty melt with fries; I can barely resist the smell of charbroiled burgers sober, I’ll forget how much it cost. I caught a few moments of a World Cup match, enough to remember the USA still sucks at one global sport. “Trashcan” has been struggling with foot pain, I will sometimes notice him rolling out his arches during lunch. Perhaps it’s his slight cauliflower ear or maybe his constant furrowed brow, his very visage all but promises he’s never said “stop”. He’s decided to take a few days off here, the gang is dwindling. Utilized cell coverage and crushed five and a half miles drunk and distracted talking to a few friends in the outside world. It was a lonely and quiet ten more before we set up camp. There was hardly any laughing this afternoon, it seems like “Shocks” barely talks to me anymore. It still feels like he resents me for being here, like nothing has changed. In a weird space for dinner. Tired, done, just try and stay present.
Someone had a great campsite.
July 8, Day 65
26.9 miles [1195.4]
Hot and emergent midnight poop, it felt absolutely gross. Managed to fall back asleep with relative ease. Sunrise came and we left. “Trash Bath” and I chatted for most of the first ten miles, then he bolted ahead and began running like he always threatens. I think we’re all thoroughly tired of this section. I saw “Shocks” only twice on trail. The other 17 miles were spent alone with me and my racing thoughts. The four of us managed to coalesce under the North Yuba River bridge just before the highway. “Combo” must have been feeling daredevilish; he launched two spectacular 30-foot gainers off of the steep rock outcropping. A rather unexpected and fast-earned hitch cut off a mile of asphalt walking into Sierra City as the sun began to set. Hand-written, sun-bleached signs indicate town is closed on Sunday/Monday’s, I can’t possibly see how that’s a smart business choice even for such a backwoods location. Place is quaint, but it mostly gives off a homely and secluded vibe ranging somewhere between a dilapidated 70’s ski chalet and outdated Chinese restaurant. Fortunately the Post Office is open tomorrow: 10a-2p (reminds me of college administration hours), our resupply and my desperately needed new shoes are in that box. Listened to Jordan Peterson on Joe Rogan’s podcast and he got me ruminating about my current situation with Adam. Lots of nasty and malevolent thoughts. Bad juju. Broke down and got a can of Coke for $1.50. The church has provided a free overnight area, there were already a dozen or so campsites set up in the modestly sized front yard. I laid out my tarp and collapsed. My soles are sore, my calves are tight. No booze and I’m out of weed, stuck in sobriety. Two tuna tacos in hopes of replacing the malcontent with fat and sodium. Hopefully our package shows up tomorrow.
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About the Blog
Justin Kernes is a photographer and writer who thrives in the great outdoors.
From 2010-2017, he worked in the backcountry at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico.
In 2018 “Tiny Slice” successfully thru-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail.
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