The Snowy Sierra

On day 54 of my thru hike I left the desert section and began the ascent into the Sierra Nevada mountain range. The terrain slowly changed from the barren landscape I had been hiking through for the last 700 miles to a rocky forest trail until finally I reached the first patch of the snow.

The first night in the Sierra

The first couple days of the Sierra section had a lot less snow than I had expected. But soon we reached the base of Mount Whitney, the first true snow adventure. Mount Whitney is not on the PCT but it is a very common side adventure for thru hikers. I camped at Crabtree meadow, the campground where PCT hikers are allowed to stay before their Mount Whitney summit attempt. My alarm set for 11pm, I tried to fall asleep but my nerves kept me awake.

I had summited Mount Whitney the September prior from the opposite side of the mountain. But that was different, there was no snow on the switchbacks in September. As I journaled that night, I promised myself that if I ever felt in danger that I would turn around, no matter what. I wanted to get to Canada and a slip on this side quest would most likely mean the end of my hike.

Hiking down from Whitney

My alarm woke me suddenly, and I packed up quickly, leaving most of my gear in my tent. This was going to be an out and back hike, so luckily I did not have to bring my full pack. My group of 5 headed off, headlamps shining on the massive cliffs surrounding us. We soon reached the bottom of the switchbacks and started heading up. Crampons on and ice axe in hand, I traversed back and forth up the switchbacks. A rock scramble to avoid a sketchy snow traverse and I continued on. I finally reached a notorious ice chute, and there were no footprints across it.

It had snowed the night before and the powder on top of ice made my crampons feel slightly less secure on the frozen ground as I started across. Halfway across, I froze. I shined my headlamp down the ice chute, the endless abyss of black staring back at me. In that moment, I knew I had reached the point I had journaled about the night before. So I turned back around, retracing my steps back to the rocks. I felt completely defeated turning around 2 miles from the summit, but I will always rather be safe than sorry. I hiked back down to my tent, arriving at 7:30am and hung out there for the rest of the day.

Sunrise coming down Whitney

The following day I hiked to the base of Forester pass, the highest point on the PCT at 13,200 ft. After experiencing the conditions on Mount Whitney I was very nervous because this time turning around wasn’t as easy of an option. I followed behind Paws and we quickly lost the boot track we were following and headed straight up the snow. I got pretty sketched out, especially since I only had my micro spikes on and hadn’t taken the time to put on crampons. Disco made some steps for me in the snow with his ice axe as we traversed towards the trail.

Going up Forester Pass

We finally reached a couple of dry switchbacks and made our way to the most notorious part of the pass, a traverse across a shoot. The boot track was very well established because every hiker ahead of us had to cross it, and it felt like the least sketchy part of the ascent. I climbed over the cornice on top and summited the pass, feeling so proud that I had made it.

The top of Forester Pass

The next day I exited at Kearsarge pass and spent a night hanging out in Lone Pine, our first town in the Sierra section. The following day we had to hike back over Kearsarge Pass in order to get back to the PCT.

The top of Kearsarge Pass

The next section had a pass every single day so each day I woke up at 2am in order to get over that days pass while the snow was still hard and would hold my spikes. The first two passes of this section were much easier than Forester pass. My tramily easily made our way over Glen pass the first day and Pinchot pass the following day.

Hiking over Pinchot Pass

On the third day of the section I reached the base of Mather pass, known as the hardest pass on the PCT due to the steep headwall on the south side. I started doom scrolling the far out comments (an app where thru hikers ahead of me can post comments on their experiences) as I went to bed in my tent, and read comment after comment saying how sketchy the pass was. Worried that I wouldn’t be able to do it, I started to freak out. I finally fell asleep, and tossed and turned all night dreaming about falling down a giant snow field.

The giant scary snow field in my dream became a reality on the way up Mather Pass

The morning was foggy and my headlamp light bounced off the droplets in the air making it impossible to see more than a couple feet ahead of me. Luckily as I gained elevation the clouds disappeared until I was at the base of Mather pass. My group and I waited for the sun to start coming up so that we would be able to see the footprints up the route. The group ahead of us took a route up the right side of the pass and we decided to follow them, hoping there would be boot track to follow.

The climb got steeper and we turned to traverse across the giant steep snow field. The steps were not as good as I was hoping and each step I made was extremely intentional, making sure my foot wouldn’t slip at all before moving the next. After what felt like forever, I could finally see the top, and as Paws pulled me up the overhung cornice I instantly broke down into tears that I had been holding in for the past hour. Before the PCT I had no mountaineering experience, and that combined with the fact that I’m afraid of heights made this pass very difficult and although I am proud of myself, I never want to do it again.

Coming over the cornice at the top of the pass

After hiking over Bishop pass trail, I finally arrived in Bishop for a zero day. The one zero day turned into four, as Paws, Monochrome, and I all got sick for multiple days.

Finally back on trail and but still feeling slightly sick, the promise of snow free trail kept me moving. To enter back to trail I took the Piute pass trail, a 17 mile hike back to the PCT. I was so grateful to finally get back to the PCT.

Since my couple of days off from trail, the snow had stopped freezing overnight and now the snow was full of sun cups and mashed potato slush. The silver lining of this was that since the snow was slushy no matter what, I didn’t have to wake up early to get miles in while the snow was still hard. I was very grateful to turn my 2am wake up alarm to a 4:30am wake up alarm.

So happy to be on dirt trail

The section from Bishop to Mammoth was the most snow free section since I had entered the Sierra but also the most mentally challenging. Each day I pushed myself to my mental limit, sliding around on the snow and post holing up to my thigh while only moving one mile an hour. Another challenge came along with the warming temperature in the form of more difficult river crossings. On the third day of the section, we reached Bear Creek, one of the most dangerous river crossings on the PCT.

Paws went first, making the crossing look easy although afterwards he told me how terrified he was the entire time. Monochrome went next, Paws coming back into the river to help her across. I decided to cross slightly higher up the river where the current was slower but the water was deeper. Paws met me halfway across the river, and he stood behind me pushing me upstream as my poles and feet starting to get pushed downstream from under me. I am on the shorter side (5’ 1”) and as I got closer to the opposite side of the river, it rose up past my waist.

I was soon unable to stop my feet from getting pushed downstream and I yelled out to Paws that I couldn’t keep going. He yelled back something along the lines of “you have to, you are so close” but his words got drowned out by the noise of the raging whitewater. Paws dragged me across the last couple of feet to the shore, and as I pulled myself onto dry land my legs were shaking not from the icy cold temperature of the river but from the fear of almost being swept away. I thanked Paws for his help, knowing that if he hadn’t been there I surely would not be standing on dry ground in that moment.

My phone was tucked deep in my backpack during the Bear Creek crossing but this was another deep and much easier crossings

We were all shaken up after that crossing, Monochrome had also felt like she was going to be swept away. But soon the terrain flattened out into dirt forest walking and as we got dive bombed by hundreds of mosquitoes, the river crossing turned into a distant memory.

We soon arrived in Mammoth, the terrain becoming more snow free as we continued hiking north. Mammoth was a relaxing and much needed town stop, and soon I was heading out on the last section of the high Sierra mountains. I went over the slush fest that is Donahue pass, marking my entry into Yosemite National Park. After hiking along the Tuolumne River, I arrived at the first road crossing since leaving Kennedy Meadows South. The tramily spontaneously decided to head into Yosemite Valley, but the road was closed for another three days to the public so we started the long road walk. After walking on the closed road for 7 miles, a backcountry ranger picked us up and drove us into the valley. I am so grateful for people’s kindness out here.

The next day was spent eating lots of pizza, swimming in the river, and enjoying the views of giant granite cliffs. The stark contrast of quiet trail life to the touristy crowded car full valley made me excited to get back on trail. After three separate hitches, I finally arrived at the closed gate at the road. The next day was bike day, meaning not even workers would be driving up the road. But luckily after waiting at the gate for a couple hours, one maintenance worker drove us, passing the hundreds of bikers on his way to dropping us off at Tuolumne meadows.

Monochrome and I so happy to be almost done with the high sierra

Back on trail, the following days were magical. Easy, flat, rolling hills in comparison to the Sierra. Descending down to Sonora pass, the steep slushy snow felt like one final test from the Sierra. I finally made it to the road at Sonora pass, marking the end of my time in the high Sierra mountains.

The Sierra mountains taught me so much about myself, determination, and resilience. Constant cold wet feet on frozen snow, waking up at 2am for multiple weeks in a row, always feeling like I was at my breaking point. The challenge of the Sierra truly taught me that I can do anything I set my mind to, and often my mind wants to give up far before my body is done. I am so proud of myself for pushing outside of my comfort zone by traveling on snow over tall mountain passes, and crossing raging rivers in low valleys. The Sierra broke me down and built me back up even stronger than before. And for that I am forever grateful. Now, onto Northern California! 

Grateful for all these experiences