John Muir Trail Day 28: The End of an Epic Adventure- Little Yosemite Valley to Happy Isles

I woke up on our last morning of the John Muir Trail almost laughing when I thought about the absurdity of the past eight hours. It started somewhere after midnight with the sound of what I thought were bear paws sporadically hitting a metal bear locker nearby. I knew black bears were a problem in the past at this particular campground and it was looking like we were in for a wildly eventful night.

We were camped out in the crowded Little Yosemite Valley Campgrounds, falling asleep after the area fell surprisingly quiet, at 10:00 PM. The silence seemed to amplify the sounds of the bear’s breaking and entering, allowing it to be the main actor of the night. 

I had pinpointed where the bear was located by the racket it was making when suddenly, I heard the thump of a large animal walking in a different part of the campgrounds. And then…there. Was that another large animal moving in the distance? I listened intently, wondering if there were multiple bears wandering through. I raised my head to look through the mesh side of the tent but could not spot a single animal in the thick darkness.

The night fell silent and I continued to listen…

THUMP. THUMP. Right next to our tent. Holy SHIT and OH MY GOD. I bolted upright, ready to deal with a wild animal upon us when-

I realized we weren’t dealing with bears. No, we were actually being bombed by insanely large pinecones. I heard another one thump heavily to the ground a good distance away and then another one followed closely, as it crashed through the tree canopy before hitting the ground with a shuttering impact. The ridiculousness would have had me laughing right then but I knew that the size and density of these particular pinecones have actually killed people, earning them the nickname Widow Makers. If one were to hit our tent, it would total the lightweight mesh and frame.

Another round of pinecones made their way past branches and I listened to nature’s missiles as they dive bombed whatever happened to be in their way. One particular beast of a pinecone seemed to hit every branch of an immense evergreen on its way to its final destination, waking Cliff up in the process, when it hit the ground with a resounding CRACK. 

I knew he had heard something alarming by the way he froze to listen and I whispered to him, “Pinecones, we’re being bombed by pinecones.”  It was the kind of story no one would believe unless they experienced it firsthand and we looked up to make sure our own tent was sitting under the night sky as opposed to a squadron of bombing evergreens before chuckling at the twisted hilarity of it all. I snorted another chuckle when a pinecone came hurtling through the many branches nearby, nailing a bear locker, to sound like an elephant had just used it for a field goal punt.

For the rest of the night, the occupants of Little Yosemite Valley Campgrounds hunkered down in the false safety of their tents. We all knew we were on the losing team, stuck playing defense in an epic game of nature’s version of one-sided dodgeball.

As we headed out of the campgrounds the next morning, we looked everywhere for signs of tent damage, shocked when we saw no indication of the pinecone war waged during the night.

The last 5.2 miles of the JMT was a long descent and we strolled down the path, munching on breakfast, while sipping our coffee. We passed a few groups of day hikers on their way up the trail, with one group stopping us to ask, “You’re already done?!” We looked at him blankly, causing the hiker to add, “Half Dome – you’ve already been up to the top?”

“Oh! No, we’re JMT hikers,” I said proudly.

“You’re what?” another hiker asked. 

“This is the John Muir Trail. We’re about to finish it…” 

“Oh,” he said, disappointed, “we thought you were already done with Half Dome.” 

The five miles we had left to hike gifted us with stellar viewpoints of some of Yosemite’s most iconic landmarks and I experienced the highs of laying eyes for the first time on these spectacular sights in the clear morning light.

As I smiled with sheer joy, we were stopped again when shocked hikers demanded, “You’re already done with Half Dome?!”

This time, I tried to explain patiently, “This exact trail you’re standing on extends for over 200 miles. It’s called the John Muir Trail. We are five miles away from finishing the whole thing. THAT is what we are doing,” I proclaimed proudly, sure they would finally understand.

Instead, I received blank stares in return and realized the error of my answer: they were focused solely on hiking Half Dome, while our bigger hike extended so much further than their segment of this shared trail. They were hiking on their own chosen part of the trail and we were hiking a length that extended past the boundaries of their figurative and literal comprehension.

I stopped trying to explain and, instead, cheered on their excitement at nabbing Half Dome permits and wished them good luck. Their confusion disappeared and they smiled happily and wished us well.

I grabbed Cliff’s hand, luxuriating in the wide concrete path that allowed us to walk side-by-side and enjoyed the last mile that carried us past growing crowds of park visitors out for a few minute’s stroll, content with hiking their own hike, whatever that may look like. 

We continued on until we saw our trail intersect with a road and, as 250 miles trained us to do, I looked to the other side of the road to spot where the trail would go next.

… and found that the trail went nowhere. I scanned the area and realized abruptly that we had reached the end of it all. 

We came to a stop at the Happy Isles Trailhead and realized we were standing at the end of the John Muir Trail. We had hiked 250 miles on our own two feet, together until the very end.

I made Cliff stay where he was and ran across the road, belatedly looking both ways and thanking the hiking gods that a Yosemite bus hadn’t plowed right over me in a plot twist no one saw coming except for maybe the national park bus driver who, I’m sure, has seen it all.

I set up my iPhone, opting for a video and let it run as I skipped back across the road for a thru-hike ending celebratory hug and kiss. We squished each other hard, grateful for so much shared goodness over these past 28 days.

As we parted and I walked back across the road to retrieve my iPhone, I said a silent thank you to my body and mind, laying a hand on my chest. The warmth seeped into my happily thumping heart as I said to myself, “So now what? Pacific Crest Trail? A 200-mile ultra race? Ohhhh…what about –”

“Hey,” Cliff called from across the road, “you ready?”

I truly was. Onward, I thought. It’s time for the next adventure – whatever it may be.

Stats for the Hiker Nerds (Like You and I)

Day 28- September 13, 2024 

Little Yosemite Valley to Happy Isles/THE END

Mountain Pass/Summit: N/A

Elevation Gain:1,076’

Elevation Loss: 3,201’

Mileage: 5.3 miles

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