I was late, like the white rabbit, for a very important date. Peggy was waiting for me at Sonora Pass and I had miscalculated the distance and difficulty of the trail. The night before I had found this lovely little campsite on the edge of a creek that I couldn’t resist. Later, as large ashes began falling on my tent, I began to question the wisdom of my decision. The 97,000 acre Ferguson fire near Yosemite and the 229,000 acre Carr fire near Redding that had been filling the skies with lung-choking smoke for the past month were now contained. Another fire was lurking out there— close by somewhere — and it was suggesting that I get on down the trail.
My goal, I decided, would to be get up at four and on the trail by five. But sleep had been as elusive as my knowledge about the fire. My eyes had popped open around 6:30. There would be no early start. The good news was that the smoke had partially cleared. All that remained of my previous night’s threat was a thin layer of ash. By 8:00 I was fed, watered, packed and raring to go. I figured the 1000-foot, three-mile drop into the East Fork of the Carson River would fly by. I figured wrong. The last part of the trail was steep and narrow over loose rock. It was not the type of trail that one flies over, at least not at 75 . I was ever so glad that I hadn’t tackled it the evening before when I was tired.
It was with relief that I began hoofing up the Carson River. While I had a 2500 foot climb ahead of me up to 10,000 feet, the first part of the trail was relatively gentle. I was making good time when a small root hiding out in the shade caught the toe of my boot and I went crashing down. This wasn’t one of those stumbles where you catch yourself, or at least slow your fall. It was a nose crunching, glass breaking fall. Thankfully, I bounce well. Lying there face down in the dirt, I reached up and touched my nose. It was solid and not spurting blood, although my finger came away bloody. Even my glasses had survived without a scratch. I picked myself up, shook the shock out of my head, and babied the scratch on my nose.
Right about then a through-hiker came hurrying by, going in my direction, moving out. We said hi as he disappeared down the trail. A thought passed my mind. “Can I ask a favor,” I called out to his disappearing back. He stopped immediately and walked back.
“My wife Peggy is waiting for me at Sonora Pass, I explained, “and I am running a couple of hours behind time. I know she will be worried. Could you carry a message for me?” I figured he would be there by mid-afternoon.
“Sure,” had been his response. I provided the details and we introduced ourselves using our trail names. “I’m Bone from Portland,” he told me. I imagined a small squeak in my pack and yanked Sierra Bone out. I made the introductions. “Bone meet Bone,” I said. Naturally there had to be a photo of Bone with Bone.
Relieved that Peggy would get the word that I was alive and well, I continued my journey and started the slow, steep climb out of the river canyon. I spotted a couple near the top who were off the trail eating a snack. One called out, “You must be Wanderer,” she said. “Your wife is worried about you.” Of course. Turns out Camilla and Bastien were from Leon, France and Peggy had met them while they were waiting for resupply at Sonora Pass. She had fed them scones loaded down with peanut butter. Peggy, Camilla explained, was concerned because the parking lot closed at five and she would have to move. Bastien chipped in that he didn’t think I would get there in time.
I wasn’t concerned. I had two hours and it was only four miles. Still, I moved out and made it in a little over an hour. Bone was waiting with Peggy when I arrived. She had offered our van to charge his phone. He was enjoying a beer. While Peggy got me one, Bone and I discussed the wind we had encountered up on the mountainside. He had put his pack down and barely caught it as the wind had pushed it down the narrow trail toward the edge. My pack was fine but the wind had almost sent me tumbling off the cliff. We estimated that there were gusts between 50 and 60 miles per hour. I’d had to lean in toward the mountain to keep my balance.
The wind was having another impact as well, pushing a fire up the mountain. As we watched, a small plume of smoke had grown to cover half of the sky. It was the Donnell fire that had dropped ashes on my camp the night before. It was frightening to think of being out on the trail facing a fire pushed by 60-mile an hour winds. An hour after we left, the Sonora Pass road was closed. The next day, the PCT was closed between Ebbetts Pass and Sonora Pass, the trail I had just hiked.
The following photos are taken along the Pacific Crest Trail between Ebbetts Pass and Sonora Pass traveling south.
NEXT POST: You met the large mutant vehicle animals of Burning Man in my last post, now it is time to meet the small mutant vehicle animals.
Wandering through Time and Place 
Beautiful pictures and glad to see Bone went along. He needs the adventure too. Take care, you’ll.
Well thanks for commenting, Ann! Bone often mentions you with fondness. 🙂 –Curt
It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that an old bone has had more adventures than I’ve had!!
He’s had more adventures that I have, G! 🙂
Now THAT really has to be hard to deal with!
🙂
Less weird than Burning Man but just as wonderful. And Bone met Bone — how fitting!
I think Bone was delighted to meet a fellow traveler, AC. 🙂 Thanks. –Curt
I love that Bone on Bone shot. Most of the time, hearing that phrase denotes something bad, but not in this case. It occurred to me that I’ve learned more from your blog than I might be conscious of. When I looked at the photo of all that loose rock, I thought “scree” before I read “scree.” Yea for me!
Yea for you, Linda! I was glad I didn’t have to walk through the scree. I’ve done a fair amount of that over the years when traveling cross country. It’s always a challenge. –Curt
Is it true that people who try walking on it and fall tend to screem?
The picture of the large cow really did it for me. What a large cow. She looked ready to unpack her calf. You can tell by the look in her face. ” Please, leave me be!”
Wasn’t she a beaut, Gerard. And I suspect you were right on the calf. She looked like twins to me. –Curt
Curt I have to say I felt anxious reading your post. Ashes falling on your tent. Hills to climb. Face first crashes. Good on you and glad I am reading it now. Scary to think how fast a fire can move. Truly.
It could get exciting out there once in a while, Sue. 🙂 –Curt
You had some pretty close encounters on this portion of the trail. I just bet Peggy was concerned. Glad you made it through the smoke & fall & scree. What great adventures you have had.
Always make for good stories and memories, Gunta. I could have done without the smoke, however. –Curt
Curt, I’m glad you’re safe after the trip and high winds! Yeah, Bone got to meet his namesake and it’s heartening to hear how friendly everyone is along the trail! Peggy is lovely giving out refreshments and help along the way as well. The photos are stunning as always and as for the cattle, they’d terrify me … I would just utter a quiet squeak of farewell … no drawn out chat! 😀
Laughing, Annika. Nothing scary about those cows. Bulls can get a little feisty. I suspect if you hassled a cow’s calf she might come after you. One night when Peggy was with me, a herd came into our camp and didn’t show any likelihood of leaving, which would have been okay except for there bells. I growled like a bear from our tent and we could still hear the cows disappearing into the distance ten minutes later. 🙂 Peggy got lots of brownie points! –Curt
Wow that was quite an adventure – glad you are okay. That rocky area looks like a bit of a nightmare. Glad you and Peggy got reunited before parking lot closed. I must say that photo of the first cow —- that’s a BIG cow!!!
The rocky aree was more fun that nightmare, at least for me. Now, maybe on a misty day when all you can see are vague outlines… 🙂 I think that cow must have had a pair of twins ready to be born. I loved how it pulled back one ear when I was talking to it. –Curt
Just promise me you will be careful if you go back there in your 90s!
Laughing!
All of Your photos are interesting. To me seeing: Boulder Mountain, was extremely interesting. Far beyond the Arctic Circle, there are similar boulders. 🙂
I can say that it was not easy to hike there – slowly – slowly.
Scree slopes can be found worldwide, Sartenada. Fortunately, the trail went around this one! 🙂 Thanks. –Curt
That scree sloop looked of treacherous footwork. Hopefully, you didn’t encounter too many of those. But with views like that, I can see why you do it anyway.
The trail skipped the slope, Dave. It’s kind of like the freeway of trails except for the lack of water. –Curt
I like the photos of all the rocks and yes the steps laid out by admirable crews. Mayans reincarnated?.
I find the sculpture like twisting tree trunks, roots and and burls so inspiring.
I love the line “scones loaded down with peanut butter” somehow that says it all when it comes to needing energy and re fueling.
So glad you have the company of Bone.
Mayans and Incas! I am always amazed and appreciative. You and me both on the sculptures, Arati. I am pretty sure that you and your artist’s eye would be capturing some of the same photos. There is now way a long distance hiker can match calories in with calories out. I pigged out between segments. But there was more: I think that the French couple had fallen in love with peanut butter! And finally, Bone is always up for a trip. 🙂 –Curt