Mile 962 to 976.

I unzipped my rain fly to find a buck grazing near the river not 50 feet from my tent. The Matterhorn River snaked through the canyon floor and the pine trees stood by silently as morning mist hung in the air.  This little slice of wilderness is one of the most peceful and idyllic spots I have camped in on the PCT.

Then the memories of yesterday came back to me. The attempted crossings and the final one where I was one misstep from being swept away. I looked across the river and saw the rest of the group slowly stirring, and I started to pack up my things as well.

As I was finishing up, I turned around and saw Bedazzled heading for the river alone. “What is she doing?” I wondered. She paused at the bank for a second and then stepped in. My mouth dropped open. Is she mad? I thought all the girls were going to cross in a group. The water was up to her knee. She took another step. The water was still up to her knee. She is halfway. Now she is stepping up on the bank. My mouth continues to hang open. What a difference a day makes.

Not believing my own eyes, I walked down to the river. The river has dropped 2 1/2 to 3 feet in depth and receded at least four feet from my side of the bank. Incredible. I can’t believe the overnight temp and freezing of the snow had made such an appreciable difference. What good news! The others slowly come across one by one. The crossing had turned from the hardest one yet to one you don’t need to give any thought to.

As we turn our backs to the river and started up the flooded trail, we looked down and spotted three fish swimming down the trail. Cowboy said they looked like golden trout and we laughed. You never know what you will see on the trail.

After about 10 minutes, we happen upon Big Daddy just waking up in his tent. He had attempted to cross the river, but had turned back twice yesterday while I was there. I didn’t know what had happened to him because I had gone to scout upstream and when I returned he was gone. Well, on his third attempt, he reached the deep section before the opposite bank and instead of turning back, he lunged for the bank, missed, and was carried down stream for about six feet before he was pushed into part of the bank that was sticking out and grabbed on. He lost a trekking pole and his tobacco in the process. Compare that to Bedazzled’s crossing this morning and you can see how much a difference the time of day can make. Yesterday, the water was past the waist of Big Daddy who is 6’3″ and today it was only up to the knee of Bedazzled who is 5’8″.

The day was just getting started so we moved on. We had two passes to climb that day, Benson and Seavy. Benson turned out to be a nice gradual climb up with complete snow coverage on the way up. It was one of the more relaxed passes and we all lunched on top before heading down. The descent was riddled with navigational challenges, however, because the trail designer must have been drunk when he came up with the route. Instead of going down and switchbacking, we were taken on a wild goose chance with the trail taking a hard left and going up and over ridges in a very round about way to the valley floor. The snow patches obscuring the trail didn’t help.

When we reached the floor, we had to cross Piute Creek which was flowing strongly. It wasn’t too wide, however, and I crossed it easily. Beastie and I helped the girls across. I was the anchor holding on to a tree with one hand and Beastie’s hand with the other while he yanked them across, sometimes too strongly, when they came within reach.

We immediately started to climb up Seavy Pass after crossing Piute Creek. It was a beautiful pass with small alpine lakes and pine trees, something different from the usual snow fields, and we really enjoyed it. Shake Down was waiting for us up top and we ran into other members of the big group as we started to descend. It seems everyone had found a nice break spot up top.

The descent down was another story, however. It was a steep mess with snow patches, thick trees, and little visible trail. We slipped, slid, and did standing glissades as we slowly made our way down. It felt like we were walking through a mine field where any misstep could bring disaster. Bedazzled had a spectacular fall while she was attempting a long and steep standing glissade. Near the bottom of the glissade where it dipped before it started to flatten out, she went airborne and was laid out parallel to the ground in a full on superman position. She hit the snow face first and bounced a few feet in the air before landing again on her side and sliding halfway into a melted out tree well. It was amazing that she was unhurt and she stood up laughing.

We looked at the maps and saw that the trail went down and paralleled Rancheria Creek. We started heading down towards the river, but were confused because the slope was so steep and all we could see was a cliff and the large raging creek flowing right next to it.

We timidly descended to get a better look and for the second time that day, I thought the trail designer must have been drunk. The “trail” was a thin strip of land between a cliff and a raging river and it was, of course, under a steep snow slope. We all looked at each other with grim faces. We did not want to go down there because a slip and fall on the snow would send you into the river and that would be the end of you.

We looked at our maps for a better route, but no matter what there was a steep cliff  where we wanted to go. We started to descend gingerly on the snow testing each step. Not everyone was sold on the route and some hung back. There was a faint line of tracks below along the snow about 40 feet below us. We slowly started to make our way down towards them while moving along the river. We quickly came to a section that made those in front balk and it was terrifying. The snow next to the cliff had melted away and you could see straight down to the river below. The river was so swollen that it had over flown where the “trail” was and melted out the snow. What was left was what we dubbed “the spine.” It was a ridge of snow with water down to the left and right. We weren’t about to tempt fate anymore than we had and decided to go back to where the cliff was still a mix of soil and rock and try to climb up and around “the spine.”

Somehow, I ended up at the front of the line and I had to lead a scramble up the cliff and kick in steps down towards the set of footprints below. The process was slow and my already torn up trail runners definitely weren’t the tool of choice, but I made due. I aimed down for some trees that were poking out of the snow and made my way down. When I was within 6 feet, the slope was so steep that I did a controlled slide down to the trunk of the closest tree. Progress continued slowly but eventually I made it down to the set of footprints just 10 feet above the raging water. There seemed to be some difference in opinion on the best way to go and some people tried to take a high route by climbing along the cliff instead of the snow. When Bedazzled came down, she somehow got stuck in a gap between a dead tree and the snow slope. She was waving her hands and kicking her feet, but couldn’t dislodge herself until Vipr came down to help.

We walked along the footprints over the sketchiest piece of trail I’ve seen for about 15 minutes until the footsteps started to climb a less steep portion of the slope. Soon we were on dirt and among the trees. “I didn’t sign up for that” and “that was the stupidest thing I’ve done” were some of the common remarks of people as they made it to safer ground.

When people who took the high route started to come in about 15 minutes later, we heard that it was even sketchier and they ended up having to climb back down to the snow to get across.  All told, it took us 90 minutes to go .8 miles. The worst surprise of all, however, was that we weren’t even done with the river and snow. Unbeknownst to us, the trail curved back to the river and there was another sketch, though slightly less steep, section. When we finished that, we threw up camp at the first semi-flat spot and went to sleep.

This section has been the most physically and mentally challenging section. However, no one seems to talk about it. The rivers are swollen, the snow is rotten and patchy, and there is over 54,000 feet of elevation gain. We have nicknamed it “The Meat Grinder.”