[sticky buns]

The Story For seven years, I’ve been planning a long-distance hike, since my employer requires its employees to take three months off every seven years, with pay(!). The PCT was a big contender, but ultimately, I decided to include some traveling, and spent my first two months hiking in the French and Swiss Alps, to see what long-distance hiking was like in a different country. (Spoiler alert: beautiful, with chocolate. Stay tuned; I hope to post trip reports for the GR5, Tour du Mont Blanc, and Walkers Haute Route.) My third month was backpacking the John Muir Trail solo from Yosemite Valley to Mt. Whitney. "Wander here a whole summer, if you can. If you are business-tangled, and so burdened by duty that only weeks can be got out of the heavy-laden year ... give a month at least to this precious reserve. The time will not be taken from the sum of your life. Instead of shortening, it will indefinitely lengthen it and make you truly immortal." John Muir, Our National Parks (1901) Chapter 1. That Muir guy gives good advice. Twenty-five days in the Sierras was precious. I’ll keep you posted on the “immortal” stuff. I don’t know how I landed a permit from Yosemite; like so many places, the JMT has seen a huge increase in hikers over the past few years. I like to think that the permit-issuing gods wanted to help me celebrate my birthday since that was the start date for my permit. It was a pretty great gift. But because of the permit date and my already-booked return ticket from France, I had a two-day turnaround between returning from France and going to California. (My hiking poles, delayed by the airlines, had a few hours.) Between laundry, repacking, and last-minute chores, I read stories of fire, drought, and flood in Washington and plague in Yosemite. I had no idea what my trip would bring, but off I went! I stopped for a night at a friend’s in Oakland before taking a train and bus to Yosemite Valley. By the time I picked up my permit and went to sleep at the backpackers’ camp, I felt like I had already talked with more people in California than I did in two months in France. It was pretty fabulous after the isolation I felt in the Alps where I couldn’t converse much with others. It set the tone for the trip. I had a permit to climb Half Dome, but a low water supply at the trail junction, reports of an overly-friendly bear at the nearby camp, and a desire to do the higher Clouds Rest, made me walk by. I pulled 14 miles and 6000+ feet of elevation gain on day 1, with 5 ½ days of food in my pack. I was beat but happy, and it made me greatly appreciate being in good shape and being acclimatized from the Alps. I washed up in a warm lake (Who knew there were warm lakes in the mountains?! What a joy to jump in without wanting to jump out immediately.), ate dinner on a hillside of granite slab, watched the sunset, and went to bed at peace with my world. Ahh, it was good to be backpacking!

pre-trip. Food!

Day 0. Yosemite Valley and Half Dome

Day 1. Classic trailhead photo

Day 1. Vernal Falls

After a pretty quiet first day on trail, I started meeting what would become my trail community. There were three UGA grads I met on the bus; Nancy, from Washougal, hiking the trail for her third time, and her Portland sister Susan, who later left the trail after altitude problems; Jonathan and Coline, a young French couple (What fun to hear French after just returning.) who magically scored a permit from the UGA women; and sister-brother team Sharon (first-time backpacker) and Pete (wildland fire fighter) from California. It was exciting to all be starting out on our journeys and discovering what was around each bend. That first week was great – getting my first tastes of the trail, the people, the landscape, the rhythm. I was reminded of Washington at times – Prusik Peak, the Chiwaukums, the basalt of eastern Washington. But in general, the landscape was quite different. It was brown, especially after four years of drought, though the plentiful water surprised me – clear streams flowing over endless slabs, lots and lots of lakes and large tarns. The Jeffrey pines and junipers captivated me. I loved every snag I passed, with their red color and swirly patterns of grain. The flowers were mostly gone, but they weren’t entirely absent. There were some small purple ones that smelled incredible when rubbed between your fingers. The open scenery was beautiful, but it seemed more uniform in character and less dramatic than Washington – a wonderful place to be but not as photogenic as I expected, at least in the conditions when I was there. I’ve certainly seen plenty of stunning photos since.

Day 2. Cathedral Lakes swimming pool

Day 2. Cathedral Peak

Day 3. Lyell Fork

Day 4

Day 4. Camp at Thousand Island Lakes

Day 4. Banner Peak starscape

Day 5. The tree triplets

Day 6. Devils Postpile National Monument

Day 6. Trail sign

I hadn’t read much about the trail before going. I typically do more research for a weekend trip in Washington than I did for 25 days in the Sierras. Having rarely traveled in California, I had very little knowledge of what surrounded the Sierras or what the trail would be like. Where were these fires that were burning and the roads that were closed? Who managed the land that I was walking through? Why was I not going over a pass a day like I did in the Alps? I suspect it’s an unfortunate focus that befalls many long-distance hikers, who get on a trail and follow it. Our goal is the destination and the journey between the points; it doesn’t require a lot of the geographical decision-making that I do on shorter trips or those off trail. One day, I sat down for lunch maybe 30 feet off-trail. Five people passed me – three solo and one two-some -- and none of them noticed me. It was a good reminder to look around and not let my focus get too narrow. On the flip side, I found the focus on my immediate surroundings and lack of knowledge of the region freeing. I was where I was. Every day was a new discovery. A “canyon” on the map would really be a broad meadow, and a “meadow” would be a trail going through the forest, with a glimpse of open space through the trees. Maybe I knew where I would sleep at night, but often, I didn’t. And it frequently took considerable recollection to know where I had camped two days prior. The excitement and scenic beauty took a nose dive when the smoke arrived, as I was leaving Reds Meadow Resort – my first resupply -- near the town of Mammoth Lakes. I knew enough that I wasn’t in danger of being overcome by fire, but the smoke was a big unknown. It was coming from the Rough Fire, started by lightning in late July west of the JMT’s southern half, eventually burning more than 150,000 acres, finally contained in early November. It was extremely discouraging, being in a beautiful place yet seeing everything through a thick, yellowy fog. And it was scary. What would it do to my lungs which were already being taxed by the altitude? Hiking out of Reds, through a forest of snags from a prior burn, I pumped everyone I met for info, realizing days later that trail news is only valid for a specific time and place, that no one could make my decisions for me. I stopped and debated I don’t know how many times. Should I retreat to civilization or continue? I was feeling what I guess many thru-hikers face when they run into the first snowfall of the fall – is this a hurdle to get past or a gate turning me back? “Don’t quit the trail on a bad day,” I was told long ago. I continued, powered largely by inertia and bolstered by the company of my now-regular trail buddies Nancy, Sharon, and Pete, and the lack of an alternative trip, especially with Washington aflame as well. I could bail at other places if the smoke got really bad. Having a pack full of food gave me comfort and flexibility. Additional familiar faces from earlier on the trail did, too – fellow Seattleites Kaylee, whose father I would meet hiking in on my final day, and Tabitha, who decided to take a job at a resupply point mid-trail; Australians Ben, Andre, and Shalia, who were the subjects of a bit of group drama a few days later, reminding me that the independence of hiking solo could be so much nicer than hiking with a group. The smoke would let up sometimes, giving me a sunset that kept on giving, as the sun dipped beneath multiple layers of clouds or smoke. Then it would get bad. The sun was a deep red orb, still high in the sky, at 5 in the evening; the full moon could barely be seen; ash particles dusted all gear left out; I started feeling claustrophobic; all the rangers had left the trail as did many people. I looked back to my original goals for my three months – challenge myself, have a purpose, learn, connect and engage with place and people, practice flexibility and perseverance. Nowhere was “enjoy” on the list. Halfway through my trip, I made a decision: if the following two mornings were clear, continue; if not, bail.

Day 7. I fell in love with juniper trees.

Day 8. Squaw Lake

Day 9. Climbing Silver Pass

Day 9. Jeffrey Pine cones

Day 10. Marie Lakes

Day 11. Marie Lakes

Day 11. Resupply at Muir Trail Ranch, with buckets full of free food

Day 12. graffiti or commemoration?

Thankfully, the next morning was clear, and that was enough. Evolution Lake was gorgeous, in its basin of granite and reflecting the blue sky. I ignored my decision; memories of the blue sky carried me through the smoke-filled Le Conte Canyon the next morning, where I felt like I was walking through a Pacific Northwest fog. Walking through a cloud or, in this case, smoke makes me focus on the small things close-by – the pine cones, the tiny lizards, the bear claw marks on the tree, the reeds along the creek. It was beautiful in a different way. Nancy left a note saying she was leaving the trail, but I met up with DC Mike, from earlier in my trip, whose conversation carried me up a notoriously long climb, far beyond where I would have otherwise stopped for the night. The smoke was settling into a regular pattern – clear mornings and smoky afternoons. The mornings made all the difference, and I was able to climb all the remaining passes on the trail in the clean air, with stunning views. The trail had cleared out some, too. Where I once hiked from person to person and wondered whether I’d get so caught up in conversation that I wouldn’t hike anywhere, I now might go hours without seeing anyone, except at the passes, which seemed to be the community gathering areas of the trail. At times, it felt fabulous, grooving in my comfort zone, totally at peace; other times, it was downright lonely. I was reminded of my lessons of impermanence from hiking in the Alps – everything changes and new people will arrive. Still, it was easier to be alone on the trail than to feel lonely in the city. I imagined going to the grocery store at home, asking everyone I passed, “Hey, how are you? Where did you sleep last night? Where are you heading today?” On the trail, I loved that instant bond, the real community, the feeling of going somewhere new every day.

Day 12. Evolution Creek

Day 13. Evolution Lake

Day 13. On the way to Muir Pass

Day 13. Wanda Lake

Day 13. 1931 shelter at Muir Pass

Day 14. Almost swallowed by the whale

Day 14. Jeffrey Pine or molasses crinkle cookie?

Day 14. Palisade Creek aspens

Day 14. The Golden Staircase to Palisade Lakes

Day 15. Smoky skies near Lake Marjorie

Day 16. Clear skies near Lake Marjorie, climbing to Pinchot Pass

Day 16. Marmot near Pinchot Pass

Day 17. Fresh bear prints near South Baxter Creek

Day 17. Fin Dome

Day 18. Smoky morning at Rae Lakes

Day 18. Upper Rae Lake

Day 18. Pika below Glen Pass

Day 18. View from climb to Glen Pass

Day 18. I was enchanted by the beauty of the trees.

Day 19. Kearsarge Lakes

Onward. I had a rejuvenating stay at a hotel owned and managed by a thru-hiker -- a resupply, a shower, a bed, bonding with two other solo women hikers. The end was getting closer; just one more leg. Upon returning to the trail, I had my smokiest evening of the whole trip. The smoke arrived in minutes, like a storm cloud on Rainier. Tiny bits of white ash accumulated quickly over my camp, and for the first time, I put on the dust mask that a hiker had given me a week or two earlier. The next day, it was nice to cross paths with various northbounders, who all said the smoke cleared south of Forester, my final pass. I also ran into Jonathan and Coline, the French couple from my first and second days, chatting and catching up as they ate breakfast in the sunshine. I always enjoyed my morning climbs to passes – blue sky, feeling hopeful, making progress, views ahead. Climbing up to Forester Pass, 13,180’, was long and, for me, slow. Instead of getting stronger through the trip, I felt like I had become inexplicably weaker. But in low gear, one foot in front of the other, I got there, surprising myself by tearing up with emotion. I was actually going to make it, through smoke and plague and high elevations, through three months of my first solo travel, through whatever uncontrollable circumstances might have stopped me. I was both excited to reach my goal, but also had no desire to finish, no cravings for burgers or beer (… or in my case, salad or sticky buns) or home. The other side of Forester felt like another planet, one where the sky was deep blue in the afternoon, where I put on sunscreen multiple times and still got a little burned, where, ironically, like a Seattleite, I got tired of the direct sun by mid-afternoon. The lakes were still beautiful, though they had gotten cold. The snags were still stunningly gorgeous. A pack of coyotes woke me with their howling one morning. And Muir’s “range of light” had finally returned, at sunset, lighting up the mountains around Guitar Lake, the traditional camp before summiting Whitney. I took my time going up Whitney, spending an extra hour in conversation with Angelina, another solo woman and Seattleite, camped nearest to me, knowing that I still had a night before exiting. I passed no one until I met the hordes of unacclimatized, struggling day hikers and weekenders who had come to summit the 14,505’ peak. It was a harsh adjustment, all those people, all those “tourists,” though it was hard to be grumpy. The summit was broad enough to find a quiet corner. The summit views were incredible – far different from the volcanoes in Washington with all their prominence. The sea of peaks, dotted with cloud shadows, was lovely. And no smoke!

Day 20. View from Independence during resupply

Day 20. My smokiest night, at Vidette Meadow

Day 21. I know it looks smoky, but this was exciting. The sun was still yellow at 5.

Day 22. View south from Forester Pass

Day 22. Looking back up to Forester Pass

Day 23. Another beautiful tree

Day 23. Evening light near Guitar Lake

Day 24. 14,000 ft flowers

Day 24. Group summit shot

Day 25. Final camp

Seven years – or maybe twenty-five -- in the making, I finally got my taste of long-distance backpacking. Other than the resupplies, it didn’t feel that different on a day-to-day basis from a more typical-length backpacking trip -- the simplicity, the scenery, the physical activity, living outside, the pleasure (and pain) of carrying my home on my back. Going solo was certainly new for me, giving me feelings of independence and capability and ownership. If there were differences, it was a sense of purpose and journey and greater movement over the landscape, with increased feelings of perseverance, discovery, and community. I hope I don’t have to wait another seven years for the next journey! The Practical Info Disclaimer: Your experiences, opinions, and mileage will vary. Hopefully your air quality will, too. Timing: The Sierras seem to have a similar snow and bug season as the Cascades. This year, with such low snow, folks were starting in late June and early July, though the trail got some snow accumulation in July. The rain and colder temps started in late September. Trip Length: I spent 25 days on trail. I was hoping to do some side trips and generally relax around camp. The smoke made the side trips nearly purposeless and the relaxing a bit boring. Had the weather been better -- or worse, with rain that kept me holed up -- 25 days may have been nice. But as it was, I would have preferred a slightly faster pace, in part so that I could have hiked longer with the folks I met on trail, who all seemed to have shorter agendas. The hotel and plane reservations crimped my flexibility more than I wanted, but such was life. Permits: There are more and more people using the trail, and the permits are getting harder and harder to get. Yosemite NP keeps changing the system, so figure it out before doing anything else. If going southbound – the traditional direction, so you can acclimatize while you hike -- see the Yosemite National Park website for info. Don’t go without a permit when it’s required unless you want to risk a ticket and being an uncool hiker. I was asked at least twice to show mine. If you can’t get a permit going southbound for the whole trail, you can try going northbound, or get one outside of Yosemite. The Sierras are beautiful; you don’t need to do the whole trail, though public transit is likely far easier from Yosemite. Getting There and Back: Ahh, I long for transit to the mountains in Washington. I was psyched to be able to do the JMT without needing a car. I flew from SEA to SFO and stayed overnight with a friend in Oakland who took me to the Oakland Amtrak station the next morning. BART could have done the same thing, though with different timing. Then I took Amtrak to Merced and the YARTS bus to Yosemite Valley, where I picked up my permit and stayed in the no-reservation-needed backpackers’ camp. It all worked well, though I was very relieved that YARTS waited for the (late) train before taking off. For the return, I easily hitched from Whitney Portal to Lone Pine, stayed overnight at the Dow Villa Hotel, then took an ESTA bus to the Reno airport. You’ll need to check schedules. Don’t rely on anything to be on time, though other than the train, it was all on time during my journey. I checked my bear can and hiking poles on both flights and carried on everything else in my pack, for fear that the airlines would lose my critical gear. I mailed my near-empty bear can box with clean clothes and packing tape from Oakland to the Dow Villa, a strategy I recommend. I picked up some spare cardboard from the outdoor store in Lone Pine which I then made into a box for my poles to return home. Resupplies: I resupplied at Reds Meadow, Muir Trail Ranch (MTR), and Mt. Williamson Motel in Independence, all of which worked well. MTR and Mt Williamson required buckets, which I picked up for free at a local co-op and restaurant, after a number of visits. I mailed a box, which got pretty mangled, to Reds. At Reds, I showered and ate lunch in the cafe. Mmm, fruit salad and a huge bowl of ice cream; really nice folks. Mt. Williamson was pricey and required a scenic, 14-mile RT side trip, but I liked having a known ride to and from the trailhead and town, and not worrying about getting to the PO before it closed. And the owner is a long-distance hiker who treats her guests wonderfully. I was worried that going to civilization would mar my wilderness experience, but it didn’t. The shower and bed felt really great. I was able to buy isopro fuel and to recharge my phone and camera at all three resupplies with no problem. Each place also had hiker buckets full of free food, ranging from one bucket at Reds to a huge number at MTR. I spent a good half-day at each resupply, repackaging all my food, charging my electronics, and hanging out with trail friends. I’m glad I had the time to do that; I didn’t expect the process to take as long as it did. Maps and Data: I used Elizabeth Wenk’s “John Muir Trail” book for logistical planning; Tom Harrison Maps’ 13-page map set; Guthook’s JMT Guide app for mileage, water, and camp info while on trail; and the John Muir Trail and Ladies of the JMT Facebook groups and johnmuirtrail Yahoogroup for random questions and insight. Wenk’s book was helpful for orienting me to the planning process. I didn’t bring it on the trail, though I did bring photos of her list of camps, which I referenced a couple times. The Tom Harrison maps were great – similar to Green Trails, on waterproof paper. Turning from one loose page to the next was both a hassle and fun. Trails Illustrated has a map booklet that has elevation profiles and a bit more info than Harrison. I might have chosen that had I known about it. I wasn’t impressed with Guthook; it didn’t seem accurate in its listing of campsites, but the cumulative mileage info was helpful. The Facebook groups and Yahoogroup are very active. The Yahoogroup has a number of shared files that I found helpful. People: Don’t do the JMT unless you’re OK seeing people. Go elsewhere in the Sierras. For reference, my ideal backpacking trip is to go out with one friend and not see anyone else. But the people on the JMT really made the trip for me, especially since I was solo and had just come from two months of hiking solo in the Alps where I didn’t speak the language. There were only a few times it felt uncomfortably crowded. Sometimes I purposefully camped with others; a few times, others were quite close; most of the time, I had privacy, but others were in the general area, typically out of sight; and sometimes, I was entirely alone. Going Solo: Other than a single-night trip last year, I had never been solo hiking or backpacking before, though I’ve spent many nights alone in a tent and have plenty of backpacking experience. Going solo on the JMT was generally great, and I would certainly recommend it to anyone who’s hesitant. Sure, it was lonely at times, but the ability to set my own agenda was worth it. Gear and Conditions: Go light! Make sure your gear works and you know how to use it. Filters seemed to be the biggest fail point. From mid-August to mid-September, I had 45 minutes of light rain. Temps ranged from warm to below freezing on at least two nights. A few camps were quite windy. What I really liked or worked well, given my weather: Six Moon Designs Skyscape X, polycro ground sheet, MSR Ground Hog stakes, 30 degree down bag, homemade fleece pillow case, ensolite sit pad, pan scraper (my only dish cleaning implement), 1.3 L ti cook pot, canister stove, Bearikade Expedition bear can which was jammed full on my 8-day leg (PM me if you want to buy it, as I don’t need it here.) and several pennies to open it, GSI insulated mug, sun hat, warm hat, sunglasses, wool tshirt, wind shirt, thin synth puffy, OR sun sleeves, zip-off pants, 2 pairs Darn Tough socks, OR Sparkplug gaiters, Salomon Comet 3D Lady GTX boots (overkill for the good trail, but comfy and durable), very lightweight camp shoes from a thrift store, cotton pee rag and micro-biner for attaching it to my pack, snow stake as a trowel, Gregory Sage 55 L pack, REI 18 L Flash pack for camp wanders (including water bladder fill-ups and laundry) and side trips, two credit cards (helpful for when the first one was compromised in the middle of my trip), a paper clip and Tenacious Tape to splint my spoon handle when it broke, journal and pen, Sony RX100 camera. I brought my rain gear, and used it a few times for warmth. What I didn’t like or didn’t use: Sawyer Mini used inline on my bladder hose (Flow was too slow. I had backup AquaMira for a SmartWater bottle, both of which worked well.), second wool tshirt, second long-sleeve poly shirt, second thermal bottoms, extra camera batteries, external battery pack for camera or phone, 2-port USB adapter, clothesline/cord. Don’t bring a hammock unless you want to be limited in your camp selection. I never weighed my pack, but it was probably around 25 pounds, including what I was wearing and excluding food, water, and fuel. Food: Because so many people tend to ask, here’s what I brought. It was near perfect; I was never hungry, never quite full, though I may have gained a couple pounds. Because I was traveling for the two months prior to the JMT, I prepared and vacuum sealed all my food far beforehand, then had my family purchase cheese and tortillas before mailing the buckets. This method worked well. It was helpful to keep a list of meals, ingredients, and serving sizes so that I knew how to ration once I was on trail. I repackaged all the food into ziplocs when I resupplied; small scissors or sharp knife were critical for this. Because much of my food was homemade, I don’t know what my average daily calorie intake was. It may have been in the 3000-3300 range. For reference, I’m 5’7” with a fairly high metabolism. Breakfast: 1-minute oats, nuts and seeds, dried or freeze-dried fruit, granola, dried milk, protein powder, powdered dehydrated strawberries, tea. Lunch: peanut butter, soy jerky, cheese sticks (Yes, they last for a month without refrigeration.), nuts, other nuts, gorp, tortillas, rice cracker snack mix, plantain chips, giant Peruvian corn, seaweed, dried fruit, cookies, candy bars, other candies, energy bars. Dinner: bulk pea soup, instant mashed potatoes, bacon bits, olive oil; bulk curried lentil soup, couscous, dehydrated spinach; tortillas, instant refried bean mix, dehydrated salsa, cheese, dehydrated pulverized yams, chipotle powder; homemade black bean-yam-corn soup and instant brown rice; homemade chili with quinoa, Fritos; Fantastic Foods taco mix, instant brown rice, freeze-dried corn and peppers; homemade lentil soup, instant mashed potatoes, dried milk, bacon bits; homemade Moroccan stew and couscous; dehydrated mini penne pasta, pesto mix, walnuts, dehydrated tomatoes, freeze-dried zucchini, parmesan, olive oil; tea. Water: I tend to carry a lot of water with me, so had no problem finding sources, even in late summer on Year 4 of a drought. If you don’t want to carry more than a liter, you’ll have to pay attention, but generally, there seemed to be plenty. My Camps and Ambiance Ratings, from north to south: Sunrise Lakes** (side trail), Cathedral Lakes***, Maclure Creek footbridge, Thousand Island Lake***, Gladys Lake**, Reds Meadow CG, Duck Creek*, Squaw Lake***, VVR trail junction*, Marie Lakes***, outside the Muir Trail Ranch boundary, Colby Meadow*, between Helen Lake and Big Pete Meadow*, Lower Palisade Lake**, between Lake Marjorie and Pinchot Pass**, Woods Creek bridge*, Rae Lakes***, Kearsarge Lakes*** (side trail), Mt Williamson Motel*** (side trail), lower Vidette Meadow, tarns SW of Center Peak***, Tyndall Creek ponds**, Guitar Lake***, Trail Camp**. Some of those three-star areas can be overly crowded. Trail Camp felt like a tenement. Just wander a little bit away, and you can find reasonable privacy. There were a few areas where camping was prohibited, most notably near Tuolumne Meadows and the beginning of Lyell Canyon. When you get your permit, they’ll give you all the regs. There were no designated sites like in national parks in Washington. I rarely had difficulty finding an established site where I wanted, though I could see how some areas could fill up earlier in the season. Cell Reception: Don’t count on it. For me, on Verizon, it was very sketchy in Yosemite Valley. I had enough on Clouds Rest to send a birthday text to my twin sis; enough on Donahue Pass and Reds to check email; enough on Island Pass to spend an hour talking with my credit card company; too much between Kearsarge Pass and Independence (work emails. ugh); and enough on Whitney to call my mom, who was following my journey via the Wenk book and told me more about the trail than I knew. Cost: I spent roughly $1150 on the trip, excluding airfare and general gear and clothes that I’ll use other times. Most of the expense was food ($500), resupply fees and postage ($260), two nights in hotels ($175), and public transportation and baggage fees ($120). Questions? Just ask. I’m happy to share. Happy hiking!

[bobbi]

congratulations ... absolutely fabulous! i really enjoyed reading your TR and your lovely photos! glad you got your solo, long distance trek checked off your list. i especially liked that you were at Thousand Island Lake and Rae Lakes area. you and i had a similar situation. i was in europe for about 3 weeks, returned back to the US, and promptly got back on a flight to California for the Rae Lakes Loop trek. jet lag was a pain the first day on the trail. congratulations again!

[RichP]

Some great details in your report for those planning to do this hike. It's been somewhere on my list for more than a decade but may have to wait a few years more now that I have a young daughter at home.

[RumiDude]

Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! I may do this next summer but I am planning to go from south to north. I really appreciated the info. Rumi

[Snowdog]

What a terrific TR!!! Truly excellent. Thank you for taking the considerable time to write it up so well! You rock Pam!

[marydave]

Thanks for posting your trail report, and kudos for pushing through the smoky conditions! The JMT is on my must-do-sometime list.

[Malachai Constant]

Nice report, we did the JMT just a bit earlier this summer. Saw the Rough Fire smoke heading our way as we topped Whitney. Probably the second best trip we ever did except for Nepal.

[coldrain108]

[John Morrow]

Been anxiously awaiting this one!!!! Thanks sticky buns. Good reading from the far reaches of Southern New England.

[olderthanIusedtobe]

Wonderful TR, thank you for sharing!

[Gabigabs]

Nice photography. It's a great trail for intro to long distance backpacking.

[Brushbuffalo]

[LuWeeza]

Loved your TR!! Been looking at the JMT and the Sierra Nevadas for some time. Searching out the best adventure, and path for my journey and way of traveling it. I like what you said about, if you like traveling with less people the SN's are big and plenty of less traveled areas can be explored and still get your fix for the area. Thanks for sharing !!

[wildernessed]

I have watched a couple JMT documentaries this last month that looks like a great trip.

[Sculpin]

Thanks for the great write-up! You put a lot of work into this. "Instead of getting stronger through the trip, I felt like I had become inexplicably weaker." In my experience, that can only be one thing. Were you replacing your electrolytes? Some folks can go 25 days and never worry about it, getting what they need from their food. I am good for about 12 hours. The key clue is you start peeing clear soon after you drink water. I bring powdered Gatorade (the fancy stuff just costs more IMO). Experience has shown that I need real sugar, the fake ones don't succeed in fooling my body into metabolizing the electrolytes.