I've been out in the woods — As you can imagine its been a challenge to find and sit down in a place long enough to upload photos. I was too restless to wait on slow signals. As a result I've got a couple thousand miles of thoughts and photos to reflect on. I made it to Canada, and now I'm back in civilization, with all the internet. So here's a trip down memory lane, 1,600 miles back, in the land of ice and snow, where postholing meant your feet sank thigh deep into the snow.
If you found yourself in a snow field mid day this would happen each and every step. It was best to get an early start up and over the snowy Sierra passes before the sun softened the firm icy crust.
Wish I had brought my fishing pole. The water was so clear you could see the fish taunt you at the bottom.
Fresh snow melt water rushed over the smooth stone.
Thankfully other hikers had forged ahead making navigation through these high elevation canyons easy.
This is the view from the top of Muir Pass. The route up here was covered in knee deep snow. Many hikers before me had all taken different routes up. I constantly had to check my maps and my coordinates to stay on track. I was told that there was a few 'false summits' on the way up. These were quite disheartening, especially after fighting my way up through the deep soft snow.
Muir Hut marked the top, built by the Sierra Club for hikers caught in inclimate weather. I only stayed here a few moment. The people before me had left the door open and some opportunistic marmots met me at the door.
They just wanted my nuts.
This little guy tried to get out through the window — I don't think he understood why this wasn't happening.
I met up with zee french several miles after the pass. We hiked together down into yet another pristine canyon.
Here I take an opportunity to dry out my tent and soak up some warming sun.
National Park deer do not care about humans at all. I awoke this morning to find a family of them milling around my campsite. Even as I got out of my tent and got changed this guy stuck around to lick my hiking pole handle.
As the sun got higher in the laky the light crept lower down the mountain side.
Its hard not to be in this land. I'm glad I had this stitched on the back of my sack. It let approaching hikers know not to be negative nancys. I mean really, ain't nobody got time for that.
900 miles done — 1750 to go.