It was déjà vu as I walked along the paved road towards the Kennedy Meadows
Campground and beyond to the bridge that crossed over the Kern River.
This was as far as I ventured last year when I set out to walk to I-80
over Donner Pass – 450 miles distance. A year had passed and I had walked
seven hundred miles getting to this point; was I any better prepared now than I
was last year?
Certainly my legs were stronger, and they would carry me
anywhere I wanted to go, but the pack was just as heavy, and I still had to
stop and rest, but maybe not as often as last August. All told, I’d like to
think that I was in better shape and in better condition than during last
year’s attempt.
The trail
followed alongside the Kern River, and numerous campsites and swimming holes
abounded. It was way tempting to want to stop and play in the water, but
Canada called. Eventually the river turned to the right and headed
through meadowlands, only to reappear six miles later, where a steel-arched
bridge spanned the shallow waters of the river. In the summer, the Kern
was slow moving and shallow and a bridge would normally not be necessary, but
that would all change when the snow melted and the river became a raging
torrent, making a crossing extremely difficult and dangerous. The Forest
Service built this bridge in 1986.
Sitting
on the grass next to the river, was Bree and her sister, Jessica, the two
sisters from Montana who had their resupply packages pilfered. As it was
lunchtime, I asked if I might join them, to which they readily agree. In
conversation, they acknowledged that the contents of their resupply packages
were looted, and although an inconvenience, they said they were still able to
find resupplies at both trail towns Lone Pine and Ridgecrest
.
My lunch
this day would be a prepackaged tuna fish sandwich mix, spread on a ten-inch
tortilla shell, plus a handful of Mother’s brand animal cookies, and some
Frito-Lay chips. After washing my legs and feet in the river, I pushed
on, saying good-bye to the girls. They were resting in the grass, cooking
their meal, and reading from tablets. In a few miles, they will pass me,
so they can afford to relax.
This
section of the PCT was noted for its wide-open spaces created by numerous
meadowlands. Before the day was over with, I would pass Beck, Clover,
Brush and Monache Meadows, with Monache Meadows being the largest meadow in the
Sierras. The trail hugged the hillsides to the east, giving me an
expansive view of the meadowlands to the west. I saw structures that
appeared to be cabins with corrals and multiple four-wheel-drive roads that
crisscrossed the meadows.
The guidebook said that Jeeps first entered
these meadowlands in 1949, but that horse and buggy carriages were here long
before that. (Schifrin, pg. 277) The most
prominent peak in the vicinity of the trail and meadows was Olancha Peak that I
encountered at about mile 720. The peak is 12,123 feet, and for young
bucks that are peak bagging, it’s only a 1,550-foot climb to the top.
My goal
for the next few days of hiking was Crabtree Meadows – the gateway to Mount
Whitney, the highest peak in the lower forty-eight states, with a height of
14,491 feet. I had sufficient food in my bear vault for seven days of
travel, which would get me to my next resupply point at Independence,
California – eighty-five miles distance. And although I had the food to
go longer, I hoped to be in Independence in five days, which meant I needed to
average seventeen miles per day.
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