5:30 am. Daylight. No bears came to visit at the Glen Aulin camping area. That was almost disappointing! It has a reputation for almost guaranteeing a bear visit on a nightly basis. I tried to go back to sleep. 6:10 am. I looked outside the tarp tent and it was all quiet. I tried a second time to go back to sleep. It was all in vain. Everything that had been wet when I crawled into the tarp tent last night was still soaked. Even though I faced getting eaten by the mosquitoes, I didn't want to put on the wet long sleeved shirt and long pants I had worn into camp. I rolled over one more time and tried to sleep.
At 6:45 am I gave up on the sleeping idea and started packing the pack from within the safety of the tarp tent. 7:10 am. I had retrieved my food and smellables from the bear box and ate my simple non-cooking breakfast.
7:20 am. The ranger paid me a visit while I was taking the wet tarp tent down. At first I thought he was going to bypass visiting my site after he had talked with the two guys cooking breakfast in the next site. He acted as if he didn't see me as he walked by the entrance, then turned suddenly into my site. He asked me where I was headed. I told him north, on the PCT, hopefully about 20 miles or so. I commented that I was thru-hiking the PCT and had just returned to the trail after 17 days off due to a foot infection.
Then he asked for my thru-hiker permit. I dug through my pack for my wallet and produced the permit. He studied it. Then he asked the dreaded question about what I was using for protecting and storing my food. And I told him the truth. I told him that I was using two ultralight sil nylon bags and that I was using bear boxes when camping in the campsites that provided them. I told him that I was an experienced backpacker who had lots of knowledge about what items to protect from bears. I explained that in bear country I had been cooking dinner meals then hiking an additional 3 to 4 miles beyond the cooking site. I told him that I camped in places that were not popular sites used by the public, and that I knew it was useless to hang a bear bag in the west unlike back east. Then I told him I sleep with my food and am prepared to fight for my food.
The ranger's response was polite but firm. He told me that he appreciated my honesty in telling him what I was doing. He told me that he respects what the thru-hikers are doing and he understands our desire to minimize weight due to the tremendous number of miles we cover. He then agreed that my action plan for handling the cooking and my food is the exact plan he would recommend to someone not carrying a bear canister. And then he said that he needed to give me the rundown on Park policy, which he did. Then he said that he was well within his power to give me a citation, but he wasn't going to do so. I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him for not giving me the citation. He reminded me that I would still be in the Park for 30 more miles and other rangers might not give me a break. His last comment was that he hoped I am a light sleeper (which I am) and that I will fight any attempt by the bear to take my food.
Oh happy day. It was time to hike! The first three miles were up, with about a thousand foot climb along the side of the canyon and beside the river. In places, it was generally flat and I passed through wooded areas and semi open meadows with standing water...mosquito country. They weren't too bad, but I stayed busy swatting my arms and occasionally my legs as I hiked. After three miles the trail flattened and meandered through a large open meadow then through a couple of miles of dense forest. I could feel my foot at the location of the incision but it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as the joints of both big toes which ached (most likely arthritis) and shin splints which started at about mile four. My guess was that having not walked at all for 17 days then hiking on a trail with a pack on for 7 miles was a major shock to the legs and feet.
But I kept hiking, and the 8th mile was a 500 foot descent down into Virginia Canyon. Near the bottom of the canyon the trail flattened out and I could hear the sound of rushing water. I had already had to ford four of six rivers to this point and my feet had been wet all morning. I passed a yellow tarp tent to the left just before reaching two river fords, and wondered if a person was inside sleeping in late (it was 10:00 am). The first ford was deep and long, and I saw no opportunity either upstream or downstream to rock hop or cross via a downed tree. So I forded across then hiked a couple hundred yards to the next ford. Downstream I saw a large tree above a deep pool and decided to make the crossing there.
Successful in walking across the natural balance beam, I eyed a large granitic smooth rock just above the rushing water that would serve as a perfect place to dry out all my wet gear. So I spread it all out, emptying the pack so it too could dry in the warm sunshine. I spent the next hour and a half there, eating lunch, taking care of the gear, and enjoying the beauty of the canyon. I kept wondering if and when I would see Razz and his two buddies or any other hikers going north. But there was no sign of humans since I had left the popular Glen Aulin site earlier this morning except for the still campsite I had just passed on the other side of the two rivers I had just forded.
Once dry and full and packed to go, I resumed hiking north. The foot wasn't feeling so good, though I had been successful in drying my shoes and rebandaging it before leaving the canyon floor. Shin splints continued and my feet were just beginning to have a bad day. The next two miles were all up, another thousand foot climb, this time with a series of two dozen switchbacks which I counted carefully to help me take my mind off the difficulty of the climb.
At the top of the wooded pass, I decided it was time to take another break and to assess the condition of my foot. I stopped and found a shaded spot on the side of the trail and got out the guidebook pages as well as the databook pages. The facts: I had hiked 10.2 miles so far today, 16.2 since leaving Tuolomne Meadows. The foot was wet most of the hike. The incision point on the ball of the foot was opening up some, and the new skin around it appeared inflamed and there was some swelling relative to the condition of the foot before leaving Portland. Going north, I could reach a bail out point if I hiked another 58 miles. The guidebook described several more river fords ahead, along with several miles of deep canyons to climb up and down. My southbound friend Sisyphus reported snow conditions ahead in the next 58 miles. I had 4 1/2 days food, not an issue. The key question....what would happen to my foot if I hiked another 58 miles in wet conditions vs. hiking back 16 miles. I studied all the data, weighed the possibilities, and struggled with what it would mean to turn back.
After agonizing over this for about an hour, I decided to turn back. I also decided that it may not be possible to complete the PCT and to call it a thru-hike this year. And that's not a reason to quit. So I resolved to get back to Portland, get the foot healed to the point it can withstand miles of wet hiking, and to get back out and hike as many miles as my body will let me. And then I decided it might still be possible to complete the trail this year if I can get completely healed...after all, I was about to do a 20 mile day in poor condition relative to the shape I had been in prior to the infection. What if....I get completely healed...and can do 30 mile days in Oregon and Washington when the trail flattens out and there's no snow to deal with?
So down I went, traversing the switchbacks I had worked so hard to climb up just an hour before. Just before reaching the bottom of the climb I looked up and saw Razz and his two hiking partners stopped on the trail taking a break. As I approached, they asked me why I was hiking toward them instead of the same direction. I gave them an update on my foot and they agreed that it made sense to turn around to give it more time to heal. Then they asked me if I had seen the hiker at the yellow tarp tent when I hiked by. I told them that I hadn't , that it was around 10 am when I passed and there was no movement in his campsite.
Razz explained that the guy was in bad shape, apparently with a rash and a swollen face with his eyes swollen shut due to some type of allergic reaction. He went on to say that they had talked with him just minutes ago and he told them he had written a note and left it on the trail saying that he needed help. The two south bound thru-hikers I had said hello to while on the north bound climb to the pass were carrying the note to rangers and were going to get him help. From Razz's comments, it didn't sound like the hiker was in immediate danger, but that he did need medical attention and couldn't hike out to get help.
When I returned to the canyon floor, I crossed the first river on the fallen tree again. When I reached the second river, I looked harder to find a place to cross without getting wet and walked upstream a couple tenths of a mile where I found a series of rocks to cross....with lots of whitewater and the potential for a bad outcome if I slipped jumping across the deepest fastest part of the crossing. I went for it, and made it across without any water getting on my feet.
After the second river ford I quickly approached the section of the trail where the sick hiker still had his yellow tarp tent setup next to the trail. From the angle of the approach I could see directly into his tarp tent and could see that he was laying on top of his sleeping bag with just a pair of shorts on and was sleeping. I thought about whether or not I should stop to check on him. I thought some more about the report I had just heard from Razz about his condition and the fact that there were two hikers ahead who were going to get him help. I made a quick decision while hiking past his campsite to leave and to not get involved in trying to help him. I thought about my Wilderness First Aid certification training, knowing that I didn't have any obligation to treat him. Then I thought about the fact that the protocol is that if I began treatment, I would have to stay with the patient until more professionally qualified personnel arrived on the scene. And given the fact that I had my own injury to deal with and that I might need medical assistance myself if I stayed in the park for two or three days with this guy and my infection returned, I decided to keep hiking back toward Tuolomne Meadows.
As I hiked back up the 500 foot steep climb out of the canyon, I wrestled with my decision not to stop to aid the sick hiker. I kept thinking about all of the possibilities and couldn't let go of the thoughts about whether or not I had made a good decision to bypass him and not offer treatment. I thought about the fact that I had very limited first aid equipment. But I did have an epi-pin with me and if he went into anaphylactic shock, I could treat that with the epinephrine, and I also could have been taking vital signs and recording all of the relevant information on his condition as well as changes in vitals so that when the paramedics arrived I could give them the run down.
Tormented, I kept hiking. Three miles later I encountered Whuppin Stick, who was getting an afternoon start out of Tuolomne Meadows to resume his north bound hike. He, like Razz, had a quizzical look on his face when he saw me. I explained the foot situation to him and he too agreed it made good sense to hike back to Tuolomne rather than go forward. Then I talked at length with him about the sick hiker situation. He already knew about it from his encounter with the two south bound hikers ahead of me and reiterated that they were going to summon the rangers for professional help. That gave me some relief but there was still a nagging question in my mind about the amount of time it would take to get the hiker some help and self doubt that I made a good decision not offering to help. Whuppin Stick said he would check on him when he got to the canyon, where he had planned on eating dinner before climbing up to the pass where I had turned around.
I kept hiking and finally got some peace while passing back through the beautiful open meadow and deep wooded terrain. With only three miles to go I knew the 20 mile day was about to come to a close and my body was certainly ready for that. I was hungry and fatigued and my shin splints were screaming as I began descending that last three miles back to Glen Aulin camping area. I reached the camping area around 6:15 pm and promptly stopped at the river to get three liters of water for dinner and rehydration. Then I hiked through the crowded camping area all the way to the back sites before I finally found an available campsite. I asked campers along the way if they had seen the ranger in camp and the consensus was that he passed through at 4:30 pm but no one had seen him since. I really wanted to locate him to report about the sick hiker.
So I decided I would claim my campsite then try to locate the ranger. As I was setting up, a helicopter appeared on the horizon. It came right to the Glen Aulin camp. I watched it intently as it made a low circular sweep three times around the camping area. It then straightened out and made a direct beeline toward the direction from which I had hiked today. I felt a great sense of relief, knowing that it was on its way to pluck the sick hiker up on a litter to get him out of the wilderness and to a hospital. I made dinner and relaxed in the late evening sunshine. Then I gathered up all food and smellables and hiked them down to the bear boxes provided at the front of the camping area.
It was now a little before 8 pm and the mosquitoes were beginning to show up with numbers. The helicopter returned over the camping area, circled once, then flew away out of the park. I felt better because I figured the hiker had been attended to and was in that helicopter on his way out of the park. I crawled into the tarp tent and immediately knew I was too tired to journal the events of the day. So I cleaned up my foot and crawled in the bag for the night.
Everything was going well and I was sleeping soundly when about 9:30 pm I awoke to the sound of male voices. At first I thought it might be related to the hiker situation. Then, as I listened, I realized it was four men who were sitting up on the rock cliff just 20 feet away from me. They were star gazing and one of them apparently had a strong pair of binoculars or a small telescope. The man with the telescope was explaining to the rest of them that satellites fly higher in the atmosphere than airplanes. Well, duh, any adult male in the U.S. would probably know that. I was irritated that they were so close and making so much noise. So I turned on my headlamp so they could see how close they were. Nothing changed. So I yelled out, asking them to keep it down. No response. The one man kept chattering about how he was an expert on stars and the sky. I decided they wouldn't stay long and it was best to just try to go back to sleep rather than get out and confront them. My instincts were right, about 10 minutes later one of the men claimed he was getting cold and wanted to return to his tent. I chuckled in amusement as they tried to find their way back to their tents, which were just a few yards down from mine. I could tell by their comments that they were almost lost and couldn't remember the way back.
Once they were out of earshot I peacefully returned to a good night's sleep! What a day!
Today's weather: Sunny. Low: 50 High: 85 Today's mileage: 0.0 (Actually, 20.4, but none of it will count since I'll return to the starting point and will have to hike it again at some point). Cumulative mileage: 877.2 (same as it was before I returned to the trail)
