Intense Sierra

The landscape of the Sierra Nevada mountains can arguably be considered the most beautiful in the world. I don't usually like comparisons of beauty - something absurd about it - but the Sierra have certainly had more impact than any other landscape.  

In the 19th century a Scottish immigrant to America named John Muir fell in love with the Sierra. He spent years exploring its secrets and being moved by its ravishing splendor. His passion led him to write powerfully about nature, and to lobby his government to protect the area from commercial development. The spiritual quality and enthusiasm expressed in his writing became the catalyst for the National Park Service, the first of it's kind in the world. The idea caught on in other countries. Therefore, every protected landscape on the planet owes a debt to John Muir and the Sierra. 

Freya and I began climbing into the Sierra like many of John Muir's mules must have done - thinking, 'crikey, these packs are heavy!' We had 6 days of supplies, sleeping gear, tent and various other bits. Fortunately, the miles pass under foot quite easily in such grandeur. 

That evening, under the campfire, I was reminded in a deep experiential way exactly WHY I love these hikes so much. These is something magical about spending several hours with someone without any type of potential distraction. Without phones. No television. Nothing. After the initial cascade of topics, there is always a pause. A silence that, once accepted, allows the connection to broaden. Sometimes that path is inane, like lists of Hollywood favorites, and other times the conversational tour leads to moments of deep discussion, of hopes and fears, that deep texture of life. Captivating. 

The next day we started climbing into the Sierra proper. Each mile brought us to higher elevation, and into thinner stretches of trees. The day was warm, and the sun kept us eager to find the trees when we could, for their shade, whilst also grateful for the stunning vistas. 

Poor Freya was struggling a bit. She had 27 mosquito bites (to my 4!?), and she was struggling with the weight. After several hours and about 12 miles of steep mountain hiking, we took a lunch break. This involves falling asleep in exhaustion under some dark trees for an hour or so. When I woke up I realized that Freya had spent that hour quietly weeping to herself, overwhelmed by the pack, the sun, the mossie bites - the trail. 

We were in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing I could do but guide her to soldier on. As we hiked her knee began to bother her more, which is an injury for which she's seen orthopedic specialists. Twice I saw her fall into the rock, her shins and knees and body battered. Each time, she dismissed it as a slip and bravely vowed she was fine. 

I've fallen into the rock from exhaustion before. I know how it feels and looks. As brave as she was being, we needed to change something. After another 8 or so tough miles of this, we came to a road. I hitched us a ride to Murkleeville to regroup. 


There I was able to go through our bags and find nearly 10 kgs (~20 lbs) of unnecessary pack weight!! That, plus our water strategy of carrying nearly 2 liters at all times, even though we were passing a stream every 20 mins (doh!), meant we could and should've been hiking with much less weight. I felt more than a bit careless.

Armed with a new strategy, we headed back to the trail the next day.  With a bit of luck we got an amazing hitch-hike from Scott.  He has spent 21 years as a fire-jumper - the type of chap who voluntarily parachutes into forest fires.  He had plenty of amazing stories to share with our rapt ears and, before long, we were on the outskirts of the Yosemite wilderness, ready to hike again.

This time we'd try a new adventure. In the past, I'd always had some clever technology to clarify our location on the map. This time, we were going to hike using trail maps and my handy compass. These maps and trails are well-labeled, so really not a big deal... but it doesn't tell you where the actual campgrounds are like the sparkly app maps. This little omission would prove a little dicey.


As we began the second leg of hiking, we both had strong legs. Getting rid of 15kgs+ makes a big difference! We had a spring in our step, even on the inclines, and the miles were unfolding before us like we were motorized.

We came across deer and streams, fields and mountain scapes, all with a cool breeze on a pleasantly warm day. If you were to draw some Disney cartoon of the perfect hike, it would look like our day. Freya enthused that she could finally understand why people loved hiking.

The most spectacular part of the day was Tuolumne Falls.  Powerful and remote, we had the dual pleasure of being right up close and alone with it. 

My soul annoyance with Yosemite is how crowded it is along the main trails. I realize its good that so many people are being exposed to nature. And that its equally impressive that some of them hike a couple of miles from their cars and into the woods. Bravo. Seriously. But on this hike, I'd longed for the sense of adventure of being remote, and these back trails gave us just that.

After a long day of hiking we decided to camp before a planned summit of Mount Hoffman the next morning. Just as we found a place, the booming crack of mountain thunder shuddered around us, and we knew one of the famed Yosemite storms was closing . As we had no official tent site reference points on our map, we had to invent one. The best we could find was beside a large wall of granite, amidst some trees, between that granite and a stream. More experienced hikers are already snickering, I'm sure.

With timely precision we erected the tent. Freya's training had been effective. Just as the hail stone began to fall we sat inside, cozy and pleased with ourselves, with the pounding storm lashing our tent walls, content with our precision.


Until after about five minutes and we looked down. We noticed the floor of the tent moving. We both jumped back in surprise. Here and there, in fact everywhere, the entire floor of the tent was being undermined by an immense flow of water. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. Like a river. I now deduce all of the rain from the entire mountainside had to go somewhere, and the earth beneath us was the only path between that mountain and the nearby stream, which was filling up fast.


The mini flash flood was picking up forest debris so quickly that the side of our tent became a dam, and the detritus of the wild crept up the edges of the side of the tent. In places, water leaked through the bottom. Everything was getting or soon would get soaked. Quickly, we realized we had to break camp and move in the middle of this storm. It's a good tent, but not designed for surfing!

Fortunately, the storm subsided as we packed everything and dug ourselves and our tent out of the dirt. The whole storm may have lasted 30 minutes, but in its wake most everything was either soaked or wet or damp, and lots of it muddy. So of course, even after shaking everything out, our packs were even heavier than before.


The next day we headed to Mount Hoffman, which was a long 8 mile ascent. For some reason my legs were stone, I couldn't find my energy gear. Freya had hers, bless her, and kept encouraging me with bright calls of, 'Come'on dad, you can do it!'.  Having hiked and climbed more mountains than..., well, I smiled at the deep irony.  Ok, dear.


We finally got to the base of Mount Hoffman, and even though my legs were thick, we agreed to summit it. We started in with a strong pace, and I quickly returned to those familiar feelings of summit fever - buoyed along by the imposing mountain.


Just as we got to the shoulder of the mountain, with the last bit of scree to clamber up, maybe 45 more minutes of climbing, Freya declared she couldn't go on. In addition to her knee, her hip was now bothering her. Scree can be hard going, especially on your legs, so I knew there was no choice but to turn back. With our heavy bags, and her now carrying two injuries, I also knew it was time for another break.


Fortunately, before descending, we had time to enjoy some extraordinary views of Yosemite - resplendent even for an overcast day.



So we hitched a ride to Lee Vining, CA. Little side note - I have a little hitch hike dance that I've now used across four continents, three decades and at least 100 rides. From Kenya to California, if you ever want some tips on getting rides while hitch hiking, let me know.

We are now on a rest day. Freya's hip and knee are both still bothering her. I'm a little lost now as to what to do. At twelve years old, one is not generally advised to push through pain. There's too much stuff changing. So we'll see what each day holds.


All I can say for sure is that we will remain spontaneous and ready for adventure.