Mile 1006 to 1017 Sonora Pass.

Today we were aiming to get to Sonora Pass. The end of the Sierra and supposedly the end of the hardest rivers and passes. While we have loved the snow covered mountains and beautiful high passes, we were ready to have dry feet and not deal with swollen raging rivers.

We let our meadow camp and headed back into the forest and it’s patches of snow. Up and down, up and down we went sometimes following frozen footprints and sometimes making our own path as we took a serpentine route below the pines. The forest was silent and absent of bird calls. An ominous sign in the gray of the morning twilight.

Over a snow bridge and up a hill we trekked. The mountains were different today, a volcanic black instead of their normal gray. The snow stood out starkly and the newly formed crust of ice shone  with a cold sheen.

We entered a basin full of snow and our footsteps made crunching sounds, but we left no footprints. Like interlopers who do not belong, we made a straight line for the pass taking the most direct route. As the incline increased our footing became uncertain on the icy slope. Digging our trekking poles in, our feet scrambled to find purchase. Above us a black dot slowly disappeared over the pass.

As we gained ground, we curled to the right and started a slow traverse across the slope. We aimed for the notch in the ridge. Foot into frozen footprint we marched. An expansive view of the Sierra unfolded to our right.

 As we gained the pass, we too a long look back across the 300 miles that we had come. Memories of Mt. Whitney, Mather Pass, and countless river crossings played across the backs of our eyelids as we closed our eyes and turned our backs. We are here to move forward not look back.

The trail curved along the ridge and danced back and further between peaks of volcanic rock. A lake sat below us to the left and forested foothills expanded to the horizon on the right.

We sat on a boulder as we waited for Fun Dip to come down trail. 20, 30, 40 mintues and no Fun Dip. Two hikers pass, but they haven’t seen her. Then we see something moving slowly down the path. Up she comes as Vipr yells, “no, stay on trail!” “I got lost! And I’m having a break!” retorts a flustered and red faced Fun Dip. “Lost? There was only one trail except at a clearly marked junction…” we all think. We move on leaving Fun Dip to her break.
Soon we come around a bend and see a road below. Civilization. But there is one final obstacle ahead of us. A steep snow slope of rotten slushy snow we must descend.

Pockets of rocks lie in wait for those unlucky enough to fall. For a final time we click into crampons and pull out our ice axes. A lone hiker is headed across the slope as we begin our traverse, and we catch up to him quickly.

 He is putting in steps, but they are angled downward instead of solid platforms for others to follow. Left foot, right foot I follow in his footprints. I look up and the road is almost close enough for me to hear the cars driving by. Left foot, right foot I follow in his footprints. I can’t believe we are almost done. The mountain passes, the raging rivers, and the group breakup, all challenges we faced and overcame together. Left foot, right foot slipping, no purchase, body momentarily weightless and then crashing down to earth. Sliding down the mountain now with snow scrapping my knees. The road and the end of the Sierra was so close. My right hand comes up and digs the pick into the soft snow. My left hand pulls on the shaft. Leverage. The pick bites and I slow to a stop. I kick my left and right foot into the slope. Safe. My first fall on my last pass. The Sierra wasn’t going down without a fight, but at least it didn’t get the last laugh.

We plunge step down half the slope and then glissade once the runout is clear of rocks. When we come out to the road, someone calls out, “when was the last time you got trail magic?”