John Muir Trail Day 17: Anus Graffiti, Middle Finger Pass and VVR Influencers
Climbing out of the tent on the morning of Day 17 on the John Muir Trail felt like an all out brawl between my sore body, tired mind and the added help of my sleeping quilt deciding to come along for the ride. I stopped struggling half-way out of the tent, disentangled my sleeping quilt from my legs and decided this would not be how I began this day. I stared at the anus graffiti spray painted on a nearby rock and said, “Happy Anus Day to you, too.” There, that’s a better beginning to this morning, I thought, laughing out loud at the deranged-ness of it all.
After finally extracting myself from the tent, I set about making coffee, while feeling very much like I needed to somehow redeem myself for feeling like I had failed the day before.
I had fallen into the bad habit of expecting everyday on the JMT to be physically and mentally perfect, as if anything less than optimum performance was a failed effort. Where do I come up with this shit, I wondered, and why am I aiming for perfection? I’ve never hit that unattainable goal in my life. Enough already…How about aiming for having fun?
After my husband, Cliff and I drank coffee and ate a quick breakfast, we packed up and left by way of a jumble of rock as we hopscotched over micro waterfalls, making our way back to the official JMT.
The trail was beautifully flat before trending slightly downhill for almost 4.5 miles. We cruised along feeling energetic enough to talk for hours. When we arrived at a fork in the path for Bear Creek Trail, Cliff assured me that there would be no real elevation gains for the day.
Comically, the trail gave us a giant middle finger and seemed to shoot straight up, for 3 miles, to an unnamed pass that made me insanely cranky that no one bothered to name it. If it makes a hiker work hard, it should be named, I thought as I gave everything in view my best death stare.
Middle Finger Pass, that’s what we’ll call it.
When we finally reached the top, we were both feeling the effects of nine days on the trail and the accumulation of low quality, fragmented sleep, not enough calories, water or adequate physical and mental recovery. When the trail leveled off before looking like it was going to ascend again, we looked at each other and declared that it was time for an extended lunch break.
When we set off again, it was with new resolve (aided by a gallon of caffeinated energy gel) that whatever the trail brought our way, we would get through it. Thankfully, the trail started its consistent descent for the next 3.6 miles as it dropped us 2,120+ feet in elevation loss.
During that time, we passed no less than seven solo SOBO hikers who asked us if we were going to stop in at Vermillion Valley Resort. When we vaguely answered that we probably weren’t, each hiker launched into what seemed like an affiliate marketing pitch about why we absolutely should. With each SOBO hiker we encountered, we took bets that they would wax poetic about VVR.
“This is so weird. Do you think VVR has a referral program?” I wondered out loud. We shrugged it off but could also feel ourselves falling under the heavily-influenced spell of taking a zero day at the fabled resort.
When the trail arrived at the junction of Mono Creek Trail, we had a choice to make. Do we go to VVR or do we continue on the JMT and start the climb up the 10,754’ Silver Pass? We stood at the sign post in total indecision.
The problem was that we didn’t have a reservation for a room at VVR and their very small motel. In our muddled thinking with exhausted brains, we didn’t see the point in paying for a ride on the ferry ($40 per person/round trip, as of Fall 2024), leading us away from the JMT, only to have to camp in our tent. So, we agreed that when we arrived at the ferry, we would inquire as to if VVR had any vacancies. If they did not, we would skip going to VVR.
We hiked the 1.5 miles to the pick up point for the ferry at a fast pace, eager for all the much needed services they had to offer. Once there, we realized we were an hour early and waited, sprawled out on a rock, until the pontoon-style boat arrived.
When the ferry docked, we climbed on board and asked the captain if VVR had vacancies and were told they had none for that night but they did have plenty for the following night. I turned to look at Cliff expecting him to grab his backpack and climb off the ferry with me but he did not move.
I urgently whispered to him, “Aren’t we getting off?”
…at which point we had the most humorously frustrating conversation in which his last working brain cell was speaking a language only he knew to my last brain cell. We should have known we were both mentally and physically done by the manner in which his points for going to VVR kept missing its mark in my brain. I, in turn, kept advocating for us to get off the ferry and to do so now because it was about to leave.
Cliff continued to stay right where he was, actively growing stubborn roots to the metal ferry seat while I stared at him wondering what the hell was going on. The ferry captain began to back up the boat and Cliff said, “Well, we’re stuck now.” and I stared at him in disbelief, while resigning myself to spending money to sleep in the dirt.
The boat ride (truly, it’s not a ferry but a pontoon, although the boat did ferry us across the lake) was a pretty one and I soon found myself wallowing in the luxury of someone else making forward progress on my behalf and what a simple thing for which to be grateful.
When the boat pulled up to a shoreline, I realized later that this was basically the back door to the “resort.” It was a rough first impression and I looked at my husband wondering what we had gotten ourselves into. He, in turn, ignored me.
I heard someone say my name and turned toward the voice to see some fellow hikers we had hopscotched with on our way back up Kearsarge Pass many days before. As we chatted, I realized a VVR employee was coming towards me.
“Whenever you’re ready, we’ll start the orientation!” she cheerfully said to me.
The orientation? I thought. Organized activities, my god, what did we get ourselves into?? I had no desire to be social and only wanted to bathe, eat, sleep and not come up for air for at least 24 hours. I cut a glance at my husband and held my suspicions to myself as I followed the cheerful lady who smelled like clean and joined a group of other hikers.
She gave a quick pitch as to how to go about navigating VVR, directed us to leave our backpacks on the paved patio unattended and then led us into the main general store and restaurant telling us our first drink was free. I grabbed a soda water and then stepped out of the line to wait for Cliff to make his decision, but again, I had thrown off the VVR Tour Guide when I did so by not following the crowd.
“Uh oh! You need to go this way! Let’s go! Let’s goooo!” she sing-songed as she came towards me.
I stepped away from her and said, “I’m waiting for my husband.”
She chirped back, “Of course you are! I guess we’ll allow it!” and then swept her clean smelling self away to wrangle other hikers wandering around the merch displays.
I watched her suspiciously, then rushed towards Cliff, still trying to decide on a beer. With all the comedic drama I could muster, I hissed in a low tone, “I think we’re being recruited into a clean-smelling cult! We’ve been influenced! There’s something in the soda water!” He gave me a look filled with a lot of grump, a hint of grouch, overflowing with tired crankiness, and with not one laugh in sight…because he knew the power of good food, a shower with hot, running water, a soft bed and clean laundry. He was just waiting for me to catch up.
…and boy, did I.
Stats for the Hiker Nerds (Like You and I)
Day 17- September 2, 2024
Rose Marie Meadow to Vermillion Valley Resort
Mountain Pass/Summit: An unnamed pass that certainly deserves the recognition of an official name Elevation 9,987-ish
Elevation Gain: 1,069’
Elevation Loss: 3,192’
Mileage: 12-ish
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