After a failed attempt to coordinate a ride from Yosemite to San Francisco at Tuolumne Meadows I kept trekking onward. My plan was to stop in SF and visit friends and suck up some civilization. Luckily my friends lady Laura was working the summer near Sonora Pass doing wildlife surveying and her man, Andrew, was going to come up from the city to visit.
I couldn't wait to see my friends and to drink a few brews so I cruised over these mountains and down the pass. The snow was melting quickly and only a few large patches of crusty slush remained.
Right in the middle of this picture you can see Chinese Rock trucking on through this big ol' snow field just before Sonora Pass. This encapsulates vastness and the isolation that you can feel at times — when you're in the middle of nowhere.
I ran into two squirly teenagers on the trail. Shaggy and smelly, they had skis strapped to their backs and were hungry for some snow. I stopped and told them that they were awesome but they shouldn't get their hopes up — all the snow I passed was pretty gross. They just said "slushy, crusty... We ski it all" and happily carried on their slog.
I got to the road and started walking down the twisty road towards Kennedy Meadow North. I wasn't having any luck grabbing a hitch and told my friends I was just going to walk down the road Til they passed me.
Well low and behold the squirly teenagers drive by and tell me to hop in the bed of their truck. What a ride — the road was steep and windy. I kept peeking my head up to check the passing cars even though they told me to "stay low."
Luck was on my side as we arrived at Kennedy Meadows just as my friends did. They didn't know I was there. They stopped on a whim guided by curiosity.
Look at these guys... Great looking group if you ask me.
Andrew in his element. I'm lucky to have friends like these.
This guy has the right idea, floating calmly around sipping on a cold one. Judging by the straw hat I imagine his nose was covered in zinc oxide and his sunglasses were attached with a strap around his neck. Also — flippers.
I passed a fair number of these wilderness signs on my journey. I wish they would write how and when they got there on the back. "Lugged in by Gary and his mule, June 1996"
Scars in the sky. I was complaining to Andrew about the airplane noise and chemtrail pollution. He said I sounded like a tin hat wearing crazy person paranoid that the government was purposely laying down those trails to control my mind and the weather.
::: Shakes fist :::
After a great visit in San Francisco I returned to a rather isolated section of the trail. This tree alone in the scree conveys that solitude.
Dream hoose and half moon.... Might need a few windows.