At 5:30 am on the morning of my 67th day on the trail, I awoke to the sound of what I assumed was rain. I decided to go back to sleep and let it pass. When I heard WeeBee packing up camp, I figured it must be safe, so I awkwardly stumble-hobble-Quasimodo-crawled out of my tent, as I do every morning. Turns out, it hadn't rained, but snowed! Not enough to accumulate, but enough to wake me up.
While I was eating my Poptart and Nutella breakfast, it began to sprinkle snow again. I ran to bring all my things under the large pine tree which I'd been leaning against. I packed up in record time and quickly made a pack cover out of a large white compactor bag to keep my pack dry. I also threw on my beige rainsuit (all my clothes are either beige or pink, they are all hideous).
We then hit the trail. Now, I had been under the impression that after we were out of the high Sierra, the hiking would be easy. However, instead of gradually climbing up north-south valleys and then switchbacking to the top of a pass and repeating the same in reverse once a day, we were suddenly crossing east-west valleys, going straight up and down these admittedly smaller mountains, three or four times a day. This was exhausting, but doable.
As we descended into our first valley of the day, the snow turned to rain. It drizzled all day. I felt like I was hiking in the Hoh Rainforest back home. Except that I KNEW I was in California, where it never rains. We hiked 18 miles with only two ten minute breaks, and those we took standing. It was a little rough.
By the time we reached Wilmer Lake at 4:00. we were completely soaked and frozen. My hands looked like a shriveled science experiment, tan on the back, and fish-belly white and folded like a brain on the palms and fingertips. It was not one of my cuter moments. I threw up my tent and crawled inside, shouting a "Good night!" to WeeBee. I read, inhaled about 1500 calories and finally went to sleep at about 7:00.
At about midnight, I awoke from a dream, at which point, I realized that my feet were wet. Sure enough, as the nigh progressed, I realized that I should have seam sealed my tent as there were puddles at my head and feet. I spent the night huddled on my half length sleeping pad island.
The next morning, when I awoke from my fitful and careful sleep, it was still raining. About ten feet down the trail, well there was no trail. It had turned into a small river. I navigated that and continued. There was a dip in the trail near the lake, which meant that the trail was under two feet of water. What a way to start the day, I thought.
A quarter mile farther north, I ran into WeeBee, looking concerned. Behind her was a river. A river with no log across it. A swollen river that was raging upstream and deep downstream. We ended up crossing together, arm in arm. We survived, although the river was up to our hoo-hahs. It was the bath that I didn't get in Tuolumne Meadows.
The rest of the day was characterized by flooded trails and wet feet. We survived and thankfully the rain stopped just before me made camp so that we
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