Every adventure has an inauspicious beginning. Mine started with an email telling me my flight was delayed by an hour. What followed was a full day of scrambling just to get to the start of the John Muir Trail.
The original plan was simple: fly into Seattle, get picked up by my friend Paul, and drive down to Merced, California. Simple plans rarely survive contact with airline schedules. I ended up rerouting through Portland, landing around midnight, and climbing into Paul’s car somewhere close to 1 a.m. He had made fantastic time to come get me. We drove south through the night.
Day 1: Getting to Yosemite
We pulled into Merced around 11:30 in the morning and discovered we had just missed the YARTS bus that runs up into Yosemite. The next one was not until 5:30 p.m., which left us with several hours to reorganize gear, eat something, and rest.
The YARTS eventually wound us up over the mountains and deposited us in Yosemite Valley around 7 in the evening. What should have been a straightforward walk to the Backpackers Campground turned into a longer search than either of us expected, burning through more of the remaining daylight than we had hoped. We set up the tents, locked our food and scented gear in the bear box, and called it a night.
Day 2: Half Dome Day and a Long Walk to Nowhere
Up early, breakfast down, and then the day split in two directions. Paul headed out to hike Half Dome. My job was to secure our backcountry permit and hold down the camp until he got back.
Sitting outside the campground with coffee, I heard people yelling nearby, enough commotion that I assumed a bear was passing through. I never actually saw it. The John Muir Trail does not ease you in gently.
The plan for the afternoon was to meet up once Paul finished Half Dome and then hike a few miles out together before dark. What happened instead was a prolonged game of near-misses around the valley. We kept moving in slightly different directions, barely missing each other at every turn. By the time we finally reconnected back at the Backpackers Campground, the light was gone and the decision made itself. We stayed put for the night. Based on how many miles Paul had already put in that day, I think he was relieved.
Day 3: The John Muir Trail Gets Serious
This was the day the John Muir Trail introduced itself properly.
We broke camp early, ate quickly, and hit the trail. The first stretch was easy enough. Then the climb out of Yosemite Valley began. One hundred and one switchbacks. Several thousand feet of elevation gain compressed into just a few miles. By the time we reached the top I was out of water and very glad to find a stream exactly where I had planned to stop.
A group of hikers at the stream told me Paul had passed through about ten minutes ahead. He would meet me at Tenaya Lake a few miles further up. I ran my filter, ate some snacks while it worked, and then pushed on.
I caught up with Paul at Tenaya Lake and almost immediately started feeling wrong. It was a combination of things working against me at once: not enough calories, not enough water, and the altitude. This was my first time hiking at elevation in the Sierra Nevada and my body had opinions about it. We kept moving, drinking more, eating more, hoping the feeling would level off. It did, eventually, but my energy never fully came back. The rest of the day became a mental exercise in keeping one foot in front of the other.
The views made it easier. I cannot fully describe what the Sierra Nevada backcountry looks like on a clear day. Photos get close but they do not actually get there. We pushed on through terrain that felt like it went on forever, beautiful and relentless in equal measure.
We stopped just outside the Yosemite boundary to top off our water, then crossed back into the backcountry looking for a place to camp. We had expected some kind of signage marking designated sites. There was none. We found the first flat, debris-free piece of ground we could locate, a broad rock outcrop with a long view, and made camp there. Dinner, tent, sleep. I was done.
Somewhere in the middle of the night I woke up, climbed out of the tent, and stood there in the dark for a moment. On a whim I clicked off my headlamp and looked up. The sky was completely clear and packed with stars, more than I had ever seen in one place. Standing there in the Yosemite backcountry at whatever hour it was, looking up at all of that, was one of those moments that resets your sense of scale. We are very small on this little blue rock.
I crawled back into the tent and was asleep before I could think another thought.
Days 4 and 5 are up next. Continue reading here.
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