Episode Eight: Big Meadow to Echo Lake

TRT Section: Big Meadow to Echo Lake*
Days: 13-14
Mileage: 18.3*
Elevation Gain: 4,214 ft.
Elevation Loss: 4,083 ft.
Highest Elevation: 8,996 ft.
Lowest Elevation: 7,235 ft.
*Since I parked closer than the Echo Lake trailhead, this was not the actual total mileage hiked. The remainder was hiked on Day 1 instead.

Rachel and the Epic, Awesome, No Worries, Very Long Day

By noon on my thirteenth day on the Tahoe Rim Trail, I had put away over fourteen miles. Having finished my seventh section, I ambled over to the official trailhead of what would be my eighth and final section: Big Meadow to Echo Lake.

A little over a mile before Echo Lake, my car would (hopefully) be parked in a remote lot, (hopefully) unscathed from bears, cars, or any other means of scuffs, and (hopefully) ready to start once I arrived. The reality that I would be climbing into my car (presumably) by this time the next day sent my spirits swirling. Thoughts of completing this enormous feat made me electric. Knowledge that this trip was ending, however, cast a dark cloud in my head.

The combat of emotions within me ultimately resulted in a thrilling excitement. I was stoked to achieve my highest mileage day; after a productive morning of hiking, I felt ready to take on the last seven or eight miles to Showers Lake. But I knew I’d need to fuel my body first. So as I strolled up the trail into the namesake’s meadow, I looked for a place to gather water and take a nice lunch break.

Hiker’s High

Crossing a bridge over a steadily flowing stream, I found myself in the outskirts of the aptly-named Big Meadow. Its grandiosity was overwhelming in the very best way. Spotting a thicket of trees with plenty of shade on the opposite side, I knew I’d find a prime spot to relax for a bit. So, I unshouldered my pack so that I could crouch down to fill my CNOC in the stream. Then, I slapped the filled water bag onto my pack and headed for the trees.

As I meandered through this meadow, I lost myself in the mountains around it. The serene scenery gave me an indescribable rush of dopamine. I could have been in the midst of the hiker version of a runner’s high, but I felt like I was so incredibly in my element. The snow-speckled peaks in the backdrop provided a sense of depth to this wilderness that I wanted to get metaphorically lost in. 

Eating and Drinking All the Things

Once I reached the treeline perimeter of the meadow, I plopped my things down and promptly filtered my newly-acquired water. Knowing that Round Lake was just a bit further down the trail, I drank my water without stint. Chugging to my heart’s content was a luxury that I appreciated much more after going without just a couple days ago.

With only one night and the next morning to go on trail, I also snacked to my heart’s content, which really wasn’t all that much, something that surprised me. Still, I ate what I could in order to fuel up for the last miles of the day. I ate a jerky stick and a tortilla, washing it down with watermelon salt LMNT. Despite an indifferent appetite, I thoroughly enjoyed my lunch venue, taking in the meadow views before venturing deep into the wooded forest.

Round Lake

The trail proceeded through dense pines. Its protective canopy was a welcomed shield from the sun. Though the temperature was not nearly as unbearable as it had been the previous days, the heat was still considerable, so I was thankful for the reprieve.

A few miles later, I could see liquid turquoise through the gaps between the trees. They opened to the balmy beach of Round Lake. Enveloping the lake were tree-dotted slopes, backed by green hills spattered with only remnants of the winter snow. The scene unfolded before an azure sky while a slight breeze caressed the stray hairs of my braids.

Under the midafternoon sun, I slipped out of my hiking shorts and hoodie, walking into the lake’s cool vibrant waters in my tank and bikini bottom. With the lake entirely to myself, I waded out, assimilating the landscapes into my memory. 

Once I soaked in enough of the lake’s splendor, I returned to its shore. As my feet regained traction on the dry sand, I turned back to gaze at the panorama. Admiring the layers of wilderness beyond the surface of the waves, which lightly brushed against the shoreline with a soft shush, I was overcome with emotions. I recognized how alive I had felt in that moment. It’s an alive that is not replicated in many other places or facets of my life. I wanted nothing more than to bottle that feeling so that I could sip it sparingly on the days when the stress of existing could be cured by a literal breath of fresh air. But since that was impossible, I decided to simply breathe deeply and with gratitude.

Back on the PCT

About an hour after I left Round Lake, I came to a trail junction that revived the electric energy that had been propelling me all day: the Pacific Crest Trail. I hadn’t been on the PCT since Day 5, eight days ago.Thoughts of retracing the steps to this very junction again someday, in the midst of a much-longer trek from Mexico to Canada, made me giddy. A 2,600-mile thru hike has been a dream for me, and so many others, for years. Aspirations to realize that dream brought me back to the Tahoe Rim Trail when Kisha had to leave. And on this day, at the tail-end of my first triple-digit thru hike, my PCT dream had never felt more achievable.

So on I frolicked through a meadowy valley, carrying on into my tenth hour of hiking that day. My legs kept on moving me forward, and though I had gone twenty miles since 5:30 AM, I felt relatively strong. The mountains surrounding the trail and the abundant wildflowers lining its path fueled me. Knowing that I would be leaving the trail tomorrow, I maintained an appreciative eye of everything around me, not wanting to take a single blade of grass for granted.

Showers Lake

One more hour of walking brought me to Showers Lake. I had trudged the last bit up an incline to get to the lake, but I had made it. There was one couple enjoying the waters that reflected the late afternoon sun.

I proceeded around the perimeter of the lake, scoping out a place to pitch my tent. Some tents had already been set up, so I knew I’d spend this night around other campers, which brought me relative comfort. At the north side of the lake, I found a nice flat spot that I was relieved to call mine for the night. Tossing my pack next to the downed tree that outlined my camp, I took my CNOC water bag to the lake to gather water for my final night.

The Last Supper

After I pitched my tent, I was ready to replenish the calories I had spent to hike 22.2 total miles with almost 4,000 feet of vertical gain over the course of eleven hours. So I prepared a package of instant mashed potatoes that I bought at the Tramway two days prior. 

While I let the powder rehydrate in my Stasher bag, I sat on a flat rock and used a tennis ball to roll out the muscles in my quads and calves. The work of today’s undertaking finally caught up to me, and I actually felt tired. Hence, I began digging into my classic backpacking meal, which evoked memories of my first ever trip on the High Sierra Trail with Kisha. I had had so many mashed potato meals in those ten days that I had not packed them for any other backpacking excursion since.

Alone, but Not

Meanwhile, a large group of PCT hikers congregated in a clearing down the way a bit. Sounds of their chitchat, laughter, and eventual splashes in the lake filled the mild early-evening air with a feeling of blithe summer joy. 

I’d be remiss if I said I didn’t envy those hikers for two reasons: first, they were on such a marvelous expedition, and second, they were sharing it among a group of friends. 

In spite of the pride I’d felt for tackling so much of the Tahoe Rim Trail alone, I missed the companions I had had on my journey. Moments of laughter with Kisha. Deep conversations with Lauder and Bobbi. Mutual appreciation of the trail shared with other hikers, like Kyle. A sense of community that Deb and Jim conjured at Site 19. Reflecting on everyone I had had the pleasure to join along the way, I was, once again, filled with gratitude. 

Enjoy It All

So rather than let my envy grow roots, I focused on all of the aspects of my hike that I had enjoyed (while chowing down on a delectably sweet dessert: a tortilla with almond butter and M&Ms): thirteen days of sunshine (albeit, hot sunshine for several of them), kindness of strangers, wonderful humans I was fortunate enough to meet, the plentiful wildflowers, a sense of adventure. The details seemed innumerable when I tried to count them out. As I took the final bites of my last tortilla, I simply considered myself lucky.

The sky transitioned to periwinkle as I readied myself to turn in for the evening. I climbed into my tent, alone, and enjoyed the peaceful summer sounds of my final night on the trail.

Day 13 (Part 2): Big Meadow to Showers Lake
Total Mileage: 7.8

Hey Look, Ma! I Made It!

Packing Up Camp for the Last Time

Without an alarm set, I woke up at 5:30. I felt the tightness in my legs from the previous day’s distance. Flexing my toes and rolling my ankles, my legs began to wake up, too.

In no real rush, I sat on a log and ate my last serving of oatmeal. My bear can was all but empty, so I set my last few snacks aside for the hike out and filled the space with all sorts of odds and ends in order to simplify the packing process. I felt simultaneously relieved and mournful to be packing my camp up for the last time.

The Bear Spray Incident

(You read the title. It’s not gonna be good.) With all my gear packed up and my site checked for remnants or debris, all that I had left to do was to put my newly filled bottles into the side pockets of my bag. 

As I stuffed one Smart Water bottle into its side pocket, the same pocket it had ridden in for over a hundred and fifty miles, a sudden hissing sound, like spraying water from a hose, erupted from my pack, accompanied by an orange stream. Flabbergasted by the sight and sound, it took more than a moment for me to realize that I had just discharged the bear spray that was also in that pocket, where it had also ridden for over a hundred and twenty miles, and whose safety cap had somehow become dislodged.

Assessing the damage, I noticed that my once-light-blue sun hoodie (which was more of a gray these days anyway) had transformed into a bright orange from the crook of the elbow to the wrist. And that’s when I felt it.

Putting Out an Invisible Fire

Instinctively, I stripped the hoodie off as my left forearm became alight with an invisible fire. A stinging sensation crept into my eye sockets. I unscrewed the lid of the still unpocketed Smart Water bottle and began flushing my arm with the water inside, until I exhausted all 1.5 liters. A slight tingle prickled on my inner left thigh, which must have suffered a light misting. So I opened my other bottle and flushed the skin there as well.

I retrieved the soap I had brought with me and applied a couple small droplets to my arm, hoping to counteract as much of the pepper in the spray as I could. Its efficacy was minimal at best, but in my head, I felt it had soothed some of the burning sensation.

Take Two

Having done all I could think to mitigate the effects of the bear spray, I refilled my waters, changed into my spare shirt, and recapped the bear spray with the safety cap securely intact. With my ego about as damaged as my forearm, I swung my pack onto my back and departed from Showers Lake.

Feel the Burn

As Showers Lake grew further in my rearview, I began to climb. My legs were still a bit fatigued, so putting one foot in front of the other required more effort than usual. Meanwhile, my arm still felt as if it were being roasted over a spit. That’s when a godsend of a snow patch appeared.

There had been no snow in this entire section, and I hadn’t expected to see much, if any of it, following the heat wave from days ago. So happening across a pile of the heavenly cold substance felt like something just shy of an actual miracle. Pack still strapped to my back, I knelt in the snow and plopped my body into a backpacker plank position, nestling my left arm deep within the ice crystals, letting them soothe the pain. The relief that this brought me cannot be understated. This snow patch subdued both my physical and mental discomfort, which allowed me to ready myself to hike on with relative ease

With the residual stinging finally dissipating from my eyes, I was better able to appreciate the incredible mountain and Lake Tahoe views that awaited on the other side of Showers Lake. I was acutely aware of the sustained burning on my skin, however, but I didn’t want to let that rob me of my enjoyment of my final nine miles on the Tahoe Rim Trail.

Appreciating Every Moment

Bear spray burning aside, my final miles were filled with my admiring each new perspective, whether it was a sliver more of a distant Lake Tahoe, or a slope studded with towering granite, or vivid paintbrush flowers glowing in the mid-morning sunshine.

In addition to taking in the sights, I also recognized my privilege in being on this trail. The privilege to put my life on hold for weeks to spend them in the wilderness. To enjoy nature, unadulterated by overpopulation or pollution. The privilege of a life partner and family who are supportive of my pursuits. The privilege of receiving help and kindness from so many people, even strangers. The Tahoe Rim Trail Association who facilitates impeccable trail maintenance and inspires wilderness stewardship among recreators. 

As I hiked along this trail, I had each of these privileges on the forefront of my mind (overpowering my still-burning limb). I could not contain my joy.

Highway Crossing

The morning wore on, and after three and a half hours of hiking, I could hear obscure echoes of highway traffic. I was getting close to Highway 50, I concluded. Which meant that I was nearing the end of it all.

The trail switchbacked down a slope from which I spied asphalt. Suddenly, the end felt more attainable than it ever had. Continuing down the trail, I descended closer and closer, until the dirt path turned into black: the highway.

Looking both ways, I trotted across Highway 50 and surveyed for the TRT trail blaze. The curved triangular blaze glimmered on a tree behind a sign for the remote lot where my car was (hopefully) waiting for me. The turn for it was a quarter of a mile down the road.

Closing the Circle

Within three minutes of veering off the highway and back onto the TRT, I reached the junction of the TRT/PCT and the side trail that led to the parking lot. I officially hiked in a complete circle. 174 miles. 174 whole miles. In a whole freaking circle.

The realization of my feat reduced me to happy tears. Overcome by the gratification from all I had accomplished, I soaked in the moment and every emotion that came with it.

The End

And so I sauntered up the connector trail, back to the parking lot. My steps became much more relaxed and my pace slowed. As I had been doing so much the past 24 hours, I absorbed each sensation and every minute detail with zeal: the thin, tall pine trees, the profusion of wildflowers, the clarity of the air. Finishing such a monumental endeavor brought me a profound fulfillment, but I didn’t want it to end.

Tears streaming down my face, I kept walking, and the trailhead sign appeared up ahead. The very trailhead sign where Kisha and I had embarked on this crazy voyage two weeks ago (almost to the hour!).

Alone at the trailhead, I surrendered to my tears. I made it. All the way. Through fourteen days of countless bug bites, three blisters, heat rash, heat waves, excruciating thirst, departing companions, solitude, fear, doubt. I made it through it all.

After 174 miles on the Tahoe Rim Trail, I felt entirely empowered. Empowered to take on more seemingly unattainable goals. Ones that lie just beyond the boundary of my comfort zone. Because only there can I test the bounds of both my inner and physical strengths.

Day 14: Showers Lake to Echo Sno-Park
Total Mileage: 9.2