Hardest day yet, and a bit grindy. It was hot hot proper hot. I decided to wait til I got to the tuolumne meadows visitors center to use a real toilet, then eat. I got lost a couple of times in the knot of side trails down by the center, got parched and grumpy and kind of landsick-wobble-legs by the time I rolled up to the center among clean tourists who’d driven there and parked in the tidy lot.
“Are you on your own?” enquired one fragrant lady. “Aren’t you scared about the bears?”. At this point I was mostly scared about how very hungry I was, turns out the visitors center had not so much as a candy bar for sale. A lady who’d just finished her hike offered me a ziploc of dried chicken and rice which I declined, and some fruit bars and a pouch of PB which I snarfed.
Then there was a blunder across meadows, up a road, through a closed campground, over a ditch and some construction fencing, and into the parking lot that housed the Tuolomne Meadows post office, in a tent. I’d sent my resupply packages at 1:05pm from Plattsburgh the previous Saturday (during which the clerk rightly hated me and told me there was no way to send packages “general delivery” to another post office). Michael at Tuolomne had written my name on both boxes in red sharpie and a jagged graffiti style, and handed them over saying “I will help you, Boxall, even though you’re wearing a UPS hat”.
“Oh I hate them too”, I assured, before being sent into the forest to do my resupply reload – I had about 8 minutes until the tent closed for shipping stuff back to myself. I made a sylvan swirl of mini kitkats and excess compeeds and the second epipen (reasoning if the first one wasn’t a lifesaver the sequel was unlikely to make much difference) and a knee sleeve and rain cover I decided I didn’t need, pannika-d across the road, paid Michael cash for the postage stamps he counted out for my return package, slapped a kitkat down on the table, and started walking.
I was carrying a lot of food and not much appetite for it and a chockful bear canister and the pack was a dead weight again. There’s a rule you can’t camp within 4 miles of Tuolomne and so I put on the pirate-watch mileage tracker and slogged through the pre-dusk meadows. I saw a deer buck with soft-furred antlers and a tracking aerial perpendicular to his black collar, indignant does with massive ears and tiny heads.
A couple of middle-aged ladies literally stood and cheered me “you go girrrrrrl! Out here on your own! Yeah!” and I wasn’t sure how to receive that other than with a heavy shrug and grin and thanks. It gets dark about 8:30pm. I was 4 and a bit miles in, told myself 8:15 was the cutoff for striding purposefully-panicked through the crickety gloom. At 8:15 on the dot I found a sandy patch above boulders and open meadow, emerald river. I slung the pyramid tent up on a hiking pole, the bear canister down by a rock. I dove into the sleeping bag, excited to have a kitkat and sleep for dinner.
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Comments 5
I’m loving reading your adventure. Straight and to the point, clinical and no excess emotio. Which is odd for me because I like that sort of thing usually. Anyways, I am captivated and look forward to more.
Thanks so much. There’s some excess emotion coming down the trail, fear not!
“slapped a kitkat down on the table, and started walking” hilarious!
I didn’t expect kitkats to feature so centrally in this hike – I never bother with them at home.
i like that you use them as currency