Trip 1: The King's / Kern divide, out of Onion Valley / Independence

Trip 1, Day 0, 9:00pm. Alabama Hills.
      It's July 22, 2004. I've finished four years of teaching at Idyllwild Arts and have signed up for a fifth. It's about midsummer as the school calculates it. I was in Idyllwild almost two weeks after the end of school, then went up to a photoshop workshop in Lee Vining with Charles Cramer. Mom & Dad met me there, then we spent a few days at the Tioga Pass Resort before coming across the park to Glacier Point, then across the valley to San Francisco and Amy's. Stayed at Amy's longer than planned due to a major repair on the '96 Subaru; over $2000 and almost a week's time. Extra running, sleeping, and ethnic food.
      Camping in the Alabama hills; I'll get a permit tomorrow. The sun is long down and the twin silhouettes of the granite tors and the Sierras stand black and dark grey against the midnight blue sky. Venus is lowing on the horizon and the moon is slightly behind her, 1/3 full. I don't know if it's waxing or waning. I'll hope for clouds in the morning, but I doubt I'll get them.
      A smooth drive. It already feels like a long time ago, distanced, although it was only 1 1/2 hours. I think my head's already on trail, or already off trail... A little apprehensive, a little excited, more than a little aware that -- yet again -- what I'm about to do is not "normal", not even amongst most hikers. Felt that psychological distance strongly while having pizza in town.
      This is only my 7th night out this summer. I feel like I'm behind.

Day 1, 6:15pm. Kearsarge Lakes.
      Over the pass today. A late start, 11:45am. Breakfast in Lone Pine, picked up a permit -- thankfully not for Mount Whitney -- stored food at the barbershop (?!), drove up to the trailhead, repacked. Heavy. 10 days of food, camera gear... oof. I've got the Mamiya 645e with 80mm and 55mm, CF tripod and acratech head; 14 rolls of 120. That gives me a little over 20 shots per day. We'll see if it's enough. Thinking about it now, I should have switched to 220.
      Slow going with all of the weight. I'm guessing 65-68 pounds or so. I don't want to know the exact number -- what would be the point? It still hurts but it's doable; I'm here. Felt OK up to ~11,000' where the altitude got noticeable. Kearsarge might be one of the easier passes on the east side. It starts fairly high, has places to get water, and doesn't have any really steep sections. Got an e-mail from AMKD right before leaving; have to reply when I'm back in civilization. I think this is the 4th time I've done this pass. 3 times solo and once with Eileen in the fall of '95. Too late in the fall, actually (late October?) -- damn cold overnight. Woke up from the cold several times, much ice in the water bottles the next morning. I wonder what she'd think of that trip now.
      A deer just walked by me, within 20m. I was quiet but not extraordinarily so; it looked straight at me and continued past. Habituated.
      I feel like I should be saying something more inspired, more profound. Am I habituated? Desensitized? Or is it just that I'm tired from a heavy pack and the highlight so far has been washing up and lizarding in the sun to dry off? I should be more patient. Strange that the strong majority of my backpacking trips have been solo... Maybe I should try a group trip to find out what other people think about. This trip should be interesting, though; after 4-5 days will I just want to leave? Will I reach some sort of connection? See things differently? Hate oatmeal? Will I be sad to be leaving, the next time I'm here, or ready to go?
      6:50; time to prowl for photographs. The mosquitoes are biting, the fish are jumping, and the shadows are getting blue.

Day 2, 8:50pm. East Lake.
      Tough day today. My shoulders and feet were just whimpering. Began at 10,9 at Kearsarge Lakes. Cross-country to Bullfrog Lake then south and down the Muir trail to Bubbs Creek. West and down the Bubbs Cr. trail to Junction Meadow (the northern one) at 8,1 then up the East cr. trail to East Lake at 9,4 (1300' gain in 2.3 miles). The descents were what really hurt, though. The climb was tiring but not as painful. Had planned to go 2 miles farther and 600' higher to Lake Reflection, but just couldn't do it. Got to East Lake at 5:00pm and had to drop the pack. Large group (10-12) of a UCSB envi. stud. field course. I'm jealous. Both of the instructors and of the students, but more of the students, really.
      Some good light and excellent clouds. Should be some keepers of classic Sierra stuff. Secor is correct that this is a beautiful trail & lake. Tough, but beautiful. Many cascades -- almost constant, stunning views down-valley, lots of wildflowers out. If you ignore the fact that the trailhead would be road's end in King's Canyon, maybe a good conditioning hike for Mom before Whitney? 5 days out, though...
      A fat pot of couscous, 3 cups cooked, for dinner, even after ramen at 5:45. Fuel! With TVP (unnoticeable), canola, parmesan, soy "bacon bits", evap. milk, and Knorr cheddar pasta sauce mix. Filling, hearty, not approved by Alice Waters.
      Will either do a very short day up to Lake Refl. with afternoon day exploring, or try Mt. Brewer. Need to take some time off from the full pack.
      Wooded campsite. Much darker, even though the moon is waxing. So neat to see the curve of the moon's shadow, realize that it's the oblique view of a plane intersecting a sphere, and thing about the geometry of the solar system. Very cool. The Perseids are in ~2 weeks.

Day 3, 8:30pm. East Lake, again.
      "Off" day. Attempted Mt. Brewer. Came up ~300' shy of the summit via the east ridge route. About eight hours of pretty continuous hiking. Secor rates it a class 2. Needed to sleep afterwards and took a short nap. Better after nap, dinner. In a black (or at least dark grey) mood after missing the summit by so little. Got up to ~13.2 of a 13,580' peak: 3 x 333' = 1,000' so 300' is ~1/(3x13.5) or ~1/40 of the way shy. 1/40 = ~2.5%? Still, hard to take. Dangerous (subjectively) and rough going at the top; huge talus blocks on a steep slope. Found myself thinking "what am I doing here?" too many times to continue. I think if I'd had a partner or team, maybe I'd've kept going and made it, but I just don't like taking too many chances while soloing. The risks aren't any greater, but the consequences certainly are. The margin of error is just that much thinner.
      So 3800' of ascent and descent, off trail, stiffer than class 1 (a couple of tricky / airy sections), at least 5mi RT, 8 hours hiking. Does it count as a day off or not? Feet hurt. Wonderful to be able to hike with just the daypack, though.
      Although I'm far out of practice, there were interesting geo features most of the way up. Felsic granitic composition, pinkish. Many veins, from aplitic to megacrystic. Glacial features all over the place; Brewer might still have a permanent snowfield. One chunk of talc/tuff embedded in granitics. Huge views from the top; interesting to note what looked like roof pendants and horizontal contacts. I used to be so fond of the Sierras because they appeared to be so monolithic, all light-colored granite, but that's obviously not the case. Mt. Whitney visible to the SE in the distance.
      Made cornbread mix for dinner, oil, "bacon". Good. Used a second separate bowl and tucked a hat over it for 5min. Worked pretty well but use slightly less water next time. Oh, and TVP, again unnoticeable. Does that stuff just evaporate, or what?
      Looking back, too ambitious for my own good (like the Cathedral Range last August). First major backpack of the summer (longest ever) and you bring the MF kit with full tripod? Try a wilderness peak at 13,560' solo? At least don't be so hard on yourself that you're finding it difficult. Plan to go only 2mi tomorrow up to Lake Reflection; rest up before attempting to cross into the Lake South America basin. Also, I'm finding the woods/creeks/meadows unexpectedly pleasant.
      Mule deer this morning. Watched for a while. One, close to camp, browsing through the corn lilies. Although she came quite near the UCSB group, I don't think any of them saw her. Strange to be so close to other people while simultaneously having very different experiences and interactions with the wilderness.

Day 4, 4:30pm. Lake Reflection.
      Basically a day off today. More of one than yesterday, anyway. Brought the full pack up to Lake Reflection, only 2mi farther up the "trail". Route, maybe. Not even a use trail in places. But Secor calls it "one of the most beautiful lakes in the High Sierra" in an uncommon editorial comment on his part. So I had to come up here, if I could. In truth, that comment probably cemented the idea for this loop. It is beautiful; a stunning set of peaks surround the lake and some come right down basically to the water's edge. I imagine the Alps look like this -- peaks headed straight to heaven, ridges sharper than a nun's rebuke.
      Late start, ~10:00am. Got here 11:30 or 11:45. Lunch of tuna with sunflower seeds and curry and uncooked ramen as crackers. Tastier than it sounds. Second lunch of Thai soup at ~4:00pm. Poked around a little bit, but basically napping, recovering, and resting up before tomorrow, which might be the hardest of the trip.
      Washed up a bit. Didn't want to do too much as I don't know if the soap is biodegradable, but was just feeling too grimy not to do a little. Thought of rhetorically asking "why am I not at a resort/spa running and cycling and mountain biking with long hot showers and a pool?" when I realized I could basically have that in Idyllwild if I had a better shower. Done, then. Resolved: to get a new shower head that doesn't feel like I'm being dribbled upon. It goes on the September to-do list.
      Feeling pretty good. If I can make the pass tomorrow, I know I'll be able to do the rest of the trip.
      Four ducks today. Three at East Lake this morning and one this afternoon. Arnica, paintbrush, shooting stars, corn lilies, and many others. And innumerable mosquitoes.
      Wind is making the water look disconcertingly like it's flowing upstream, rather than downhill. I guess the surface of it is, at that.

Day 4, 9:00pm. Lake Reflection.
      Moonshadows make me happy.

Day 5, 3:20pm. Summit of Harrison Pass.
      ~12,750'. Hoo-ah! Tough. Definitely a slog up the final ~400' gain; a steep chute and totally loose -- as in grus and dirt. Try to stay at the edge of one of the ribs; climbing the rock is easier. But oh my lord and blessed goddess above me! Tough, beautiful, amazing. Rewarding. Mythic. Asgardian...
      Lake South America Basin is spread out below me, with an easy but quad-busting descent before me. Now that I know it can be done, it would be easier to go the opposite direction.

Day 6, 7:15am. Summit of Harrison Pass.
      It is damn cold at 12,750' waiting for the sun to rise.
     Ice on one of the creeklets this morning.

Day 6 (retrospective). Below Lake South America.
      (am writing this the morning of day 7, so the combined entries may make me sound suspiciously prescient. You'll just have to take my word for it.)
      Very short morning with the full pack, 1-1.5 hours. From Harrison pass to the shoulder west of Lake South America. Relaxed, tried to re-hydrate and get oriented to the new topography. Took the daypack and headed out to circumnavigate the basin below Lake South America -- the headwaters (I think) of the Kern river. Secor's right; the southern approached to all three passes -- Milly's foot, Lucy's foot, Harrison -- are easy, nothing like the northern faces. Gary said he hasn't been up here. Something he needs to rectify. Right at timberline, with hundreds of tarns dotting the landscape. I counted fourteen of them that I went past or around in an hour of hiking. Some are large, some small; almost all are rock-bound on at least one side: "A wild lake, black rock bound..." --Poe, The Lake. Many are already dry, some with no sign of drainage. Lots of tundra, bogs, spongy grass. The grasses and wildflowers look past prime, as if late summer has already arrived. I suspect that's more a function of water and snowmelt than temperature (after the mountaineer's route on Whitney earlier this summer, mid-June, it looks like this was a low snow year. But I though I'd heard otherwise. Perhaps an unusually warm spring and early melt?) Erratics everywhere. Granite, water, and sky -- and not much else.
      Had lunch at a far lake below Mt. Jordan. Lake level about 11,5'. Extremely pleasant, but changes quickly to right cool with a cloud and a breeze. Ready to be warm after this morning. Hiked back more below timberline to retrieve pack. Moving slowly/gingerly by the end. Even with a Clif bar and water, was moving with the exaggerated caution of someone overly tired when I had the full pack on, coming down to the night's campsite. I think it's that I didn't plan the daily calories properly -- dinners are fine, even a bit large, and breakfasts are OK; I'm just not taking in enough while hiking. 6-7 hours today (6, really), mostly w/o pack but still... and all at 11k or higher. I'm getting cold more easily, too. When the sun goes down behind the local ridgeline, it gets cold in the shade fast. Sometimes I feel like a small moving radiator, ingesting food in a vain attempt to heat up empty space.
      That said, after ramen at 6:30pm I felt great and hoofed it up to Lake S. America for sunset light. Drastic change in energy and mood. Many people camped at the lake, including a number of fishermen. Good light on Gregory's monument at the very end.
      [Here's where it looks like I'm editing after the fact. No lie -- I thought this to myself while hiking with the pack down to the night's campsite, before ramen.] I feel like this trip is going to push me hard, abuse me a little bit, and then drop an epiphany on me.

Day 7, 9:10am. Below Lake South America.
      Wow. Where do I begin? Woke up this morning at 4:30 from an unusually vivid and powerful dream with elements of fantasy/SF personal and epic combat, LOTR/ Fionivar final battle. The end of the dream found me armed with two magic daggers (similar to Kay's dwarven dagger -- which could kill anyone but, unless done with love would also kill the wielder; if done with love, the wielder would still die but could make a gift of his or her soul), confronted by a variety of alluring but also threatening figures. Yeesh. I didn't even think I had dreams like that. Under mounting pressure, fear, and confusion, the dream eventually shifted to where I had to choose two protagonists to challenge death; one of the people I chose was Marshall Hawkins, the jazz instructor at Idyllwild...
      Woke up an felt strongly that the end of the dream, at least, was an allegory that art has at its foundation the (creative) struggle against death; that trying to imitate another artist is useless, and that the real struggle, the truest struggle, is to find your own work. [ed: It's important to note here that earlier in the summer , after the class with Charles Cramer, I stopped in the Ansel Adams gallery in Yosemite Valley and looked at a lot of other photographer's work. It's hard to see someone else have good gallery representation when you feel your work is just as good, but it's even more depressing when someone you've never heard of before has work up that's recognizably "better" than your own...] Am I competing with other photographers? (considering the end of the dream, do I want to drop photography and try to pick up the trombone again with Marshall?) Looking back on a body of work, which pieces are Hespenheide trying to be Galen Rowell, which pieces are Hespenheide trying to be Claude Fiddler, which pieces are Hespenheide trying to be Charles Cramer? What constitutes a genuine "Hespenheide", something that I saw for what it was, for its own beauty, and had the grace to be there, to recognize it, and to press the shutter?
      Couldn't get back to sleep. Stayed awake until the 5:30 alarm went off. Thoughts ranged from homeschool physics labs to the similarity between good pedagogical technique, good photographs, and Occam's razor -- in two otherwise equal cases, go with the simpler. Thought about Andy Goldsworthy to David Hockney, Hillary to Michelle to Nathan to Rick to Amy and Mom and Dad; thought about how phenomenally privileged and lucky I've been not only to be so supported, but also to have met such incredible people throughout my life. I wish I could remember everything that went through my head; I have to hope that it's all still up there in somewhere or I will despair at having had it and lost it. More: thoughts on finding art that resonates; sharing art and why I would give away work to Breanna, Jena, Sarah, and Elliot; the cost of art... is art a luxury item? It seems to function as such from an economist's point of view. What does that say about economists, or our society in general? Thoughts on the search for identity and the struggle of self-determination, amongst both teenagers and adults, too...
      Felt like I was halfway between insanity and being touched by God and remember thinking that there wasn't a knife's edge difference between the two. With that recognition, I almost voiced aloud the thought that it was all more than I could take; it was all too much in the hyper-reality of the nadir of the morning when dawn seems farther away than the final skyglow of the previous night. Just at that moment, when I was thinking that it might all be too much, a shooting star flared across the sky, trailing a glow behind it about as long as a handspan at full arm's length. It was too much. You couldn't have scripted it better. You wouldn't have scripted it better, because it would strain credulity, but there it was. It I weren't so literal and perception-bound, I would suspect some kind of divine intervention, if I could believe in such things.
      It comes down to this: the beauty and the tragedy of life is that it is too much. Too much for one person to handle or do alone. You can't see everything, do everything, or know everything, as much as you want to or would like to try. You can't make the same decision twice. The inherent beauty of this is that you'll never run out of possibilities or pursuits; boredom is self-imposed. The tragedy, of course, is that any one individual will never personally experience everything life has to offer. But if we are lucky, if we are extraordinarily blessed, we may be graced with the opportunity to meet others who are as passionate as we are and, in knowing and sharing with them, may touch some spark of what they've experienced.
      But why, why do I have such a hard time keeping this in practice?
      Lastly: I desperately need to tell Mom, Dad, and Amy that I love them, would not trade them for anyone, and that I feel absolutely blessed to be related to them. I weep just writing this; why is it so hard?

Day 7, 9:30pm. Shoulder/plateau below Forester Pass.
      Got on trail about 11:00am, over and out of S. Am. basin. Hiking on trail; got to the junction with the John Muir Trail (JMT) by 1:00. Indecisive about whether to go over Forester Pass or not. Made a hot lunch of 2 cups rice and cheddar-cheese pasta sauce mix with the intent of an easy day, but...
      Decided to see where I could get to, even with an overly-heavy lunch. Trail miles go so much more quickly... made good time on the JMT below Shepherd Pass -- a "low", wide, open tundra/periglacial saddle below Mt. Tyndall (14,018'). To be honest, I didn't find it very pretty the first time I saw it. The Bighorn Plateau was lower and to the south, with Mount Whitney visible in the farther distance. With time, the aesthetics grew on me. Still, definitely not something I expected to see in California. Mongolia, maybe.
      Took a little under 3 hours from the junction between the JMT and the South America trail to crest the pass. Amazing trail, just switchbacking straight up the side of a face/notch between Gregory's Monument and Junction Peak. Quite smooth in most places. Phenomenal views to the south, especially of the highest basin with its aqua-emerald lakes. Views like mountaineering, but for normal people. The top of the pass is 13,2'. Just as barren, desolate, and lunar to the north except for distant Bubbs Creek far below. More people. Scout group of 8-10 from Oceanside, 2 JMT hikers at the pass, one solo woman in her sixties (?) carrying half her weight in 20-year-old gear and wearing flip-flops at 13k'. Lessons in humility come from the oddest places.
      Descended about 1500' from the pass to a finger/promontory above the highest reaches of Bubbs Creek. Views of Gregory's Monument, East Vidette, the East Spur, the south side of the Kearsarge pinnacles and beyond, University Peak, and Junction Mountain. Camped amidst granite drumlins; erratics everywhere. Pictures don't do it justice. Really needed a roundshot (a 360( panoramic camera) or massive digital stitching.
      Dinner of instant refrieds, rice, parmesan shavings, cinnamon, garlic. Excellent. Works well to wrap the bowl to keep it warm 5-10min while rehydrating. Draped the sleeping bag over my legs to keep warm, which helped a lot. Why didn't I remember that earlier? Packed too much dinner food, will have quite a bit left over. Otherwise, nearly excellent packing. Have used almost everything (except 1st aid, thankfully) at least once. Just should have brought the down vest and the 150mm lens.
      Some beautiful, delicate blue-purple skyglow after dusk tonight.
      Last night's (this morning's?) thoughts are hard to hold on to, like Charles DeLint's descriptions of ordinary people encountering the faerie. You wonder if it's real, it starts to feel like it happened to someone else or in a dream, but you can't stop thinking about it, even with increasing distance.
      Just now, at ~10:00pm, a party -- looks like three headlamps -- are descending the pass. Why now? After a brief flicker of resenting the possibility that they may stop here, I hope everything is OK. If coming over this late was intentional, why not use the light of the nearly-full moon? Hope they know what they're doing.

Day 8, 9:00am. Below Forester Pass.
      Frost on the sleeping bag this morning. Starting to smell. Beautiful light on upper Bubbs Creek, below University Peak. Short day to Golden Bear Lake and Center Basin.
      Interesting "sheathed" dike on the Center Basin ridge north of Forester Pass. Looks like a mafic exterior and felsic interior. Intriguing intrusive history. Have a 35mm slide or two. Ask Rick? How phenomenal would this be for a senior thesis! Can't argue with the location...

Day 8, 3:30pm. Golden Bear Lake, Center Basin.
      Descended Forester Pass headed north on the Muir Trail. Long views down upper Bubbs Creek. Particularly beautiful up near the top, in the no-man's land between the alpine and timberline. Some nice clusters of lupine. Most of what I've seen is already past peak and is drooping or wilting. Thought about doing a book, "The John Muir Trail: Heart of the Sierra". Pictorial/guide/commentary. Section-hike with larger camera equipment, through-hike once with digital? Wonder how large an audience there might be for it.
      Turned east off the JMT above Vidette Meadows to head into Center Basin. In contrast to the smoothly graded John Muir backcountry superhighway, a lot rougher trail. Not many switchbacks; steeper on average than Forester. Got up to the first lake, washed up, ate a bit, and napped. Headed on later to Golden Bear Lake. It's just on the edge of timberline. About 1/4 of the perimeter of the lake has dwarf pines and flag trees -- not quite krumholz, but close. The rest is the open steppe and tundra that has been so common on this trip. Beautiful. Another possibility for a book: "The Upper Basins: High and Wild above timberline in the Sierras". But would anyone be interested? Many people see them as a place to get through, a place to stop hiking because the trail ends. I don't usually find many people camped in them, or even hiking through them. Climbers see it as an approach; many backpackers seem to prefer the shelter (at least psychological) of trees. When we hiked Miter Basin and Sky-Blue Lake, I remember Susie asking if I didn't think it was threatening.
      In a way, I do. But that's part of the reason I like this country -- it's honest. Open like the desert or the high plains, like Wyoming or the Scottish Highlands or Mongolia; you can instinctively sense that you need to be on your guard. This country won't restrict you, but it doesn't welcome you, either. It offers neither animosity nor welcome, but indifference. And yet, something about its mixture of hard-won life and open but harsh spaces makes me feel like my soul is pulled out by the barren rocks and moss, expanding to fill the bowl of the sky in front of me. What joy you find here is something you earn on its terms, not freely given to just anyone who wanders through. And that's something that resonates with a deeply-rooted part of my personality, somehow.

Day 9, 9:20am. Golden Bear Lake, Center Basin.
      It's disturbing and yet in a detached way fascinating to note the degree of my mood swings as a function of food. I don't think I'm getting quite enough calories. Dinners are full and breakfasts are adequate; it's the lunches and mid-day snacks that aren't working. Since I'm cooking dinner after sunset photography (and dusk/twilight) I'm getting cold easily -- more strongly and quickly than I should. Also, although I'm able to push through it, it leaves me tired in the mid- to late-afternoon. Well, it was an experiment to try to carry less food weight on a longer backpack, and in one sense the experiment was a success -- I now know one option that doesn't work. I'll have to shift back to what I know is functional for shorter trips: add more protein and fats during the day.
      Heard coyotes yowling last night for the first time this trip: "Coyotes howl, just to break the silence/The sun comes up, just to break the cold" --Kasey Chambers.
      Surprisingly, this is the longest period of time that I haven't seen anyone else this trip. I've had no solo days yet (and won't today, not on the JMT or through Kearsarge), but I may yet get a 24-hour period without seeing anyone, from noon yesterday to noon today. Of course, there are always the myriad of planes you can see and hear overhead.
      Just the sound of the wind is a physical presence here.

Day 9, 9:30pm. Heart Lake (east of Kearsarge Pass).
      Psychologically, I'm out. I'm not, functionally, but it feels like it. Came out of Center Basin, continued north on the JMT along Bubbs Creek. Numerous hikers headed south -- does it make a difference that it's a Saturday today? Group of three girls had picked wild onions; I later sampled some to see if I could find them based on their description. Maybe; if so it's a sharper, harsher flavor than domestic leeks.
      But once I hit the junction back up to Kearsarge, the loop was complete. I had made it. Motored up to Bullfrog Lake in ~1 hour. Tried to relax there but headed on to Kearsarge lakes shortly. Napped on the granite promontory between lakes 3 and 4, made instant split pea soup for an early dinner. Decided to try to be on the pass for sunset and made it up in 31min (still with a ~45lb pack, thank you -- way overpacked on dinner food, leaving a 3/4 full bear canister). Made some shots. Note that the pass loses direct light about 15min before nominal sunset. Hiked down to Heart Lake by twilight, then headlamp.
      Enjoying hot chocolate with cinnamon, then to bed. Early start tomorrow and out; less than 4 miles to go.

Day 10, 10:30am. Totem Post Cafe, Lone Pine.
      Slept in because it looked like there wasn't any light on University Peak. A mistake, because the reason there was no direct light on the peak was that there were heavy clouds over the Inyos and the Owens Valley (!). It's been so long since I shot a sunrise or set directly into the sun that I didn't even get up to check. Maybe one shot with a yellow glow in the valley with backlit pines and lake in the foreground. Depressingly, I probably blew the exposure in my rush. I think I'll have others, but not with the glow. Large brightness range required grad ND filters, but mine have so many small scratches that they flare badly. Need to replace them.
      Oatmeal, packed up, hit the trail. A little under two hour out. Not in a hurry, but enjoying the sensation of moving well, finally with bearable weight in the pack. Like I said, though, 3/4 of a canister still full of food.
      Washed up, retrieved food from the trailhead lockers. Repacked the car to bring out 2 JMT hikers, Grant and Richie, who had to bail early; drove down to Lone Pine to return bear canister. 2nd breakfast of eggs, sausage, hash browns, biscuit. Aaahh.

Two days off in Bishop. Library, Mexican food, Thai (!), 1 run, "Bourne Supremacy". Galen's and Claude's galleries. Saw Sarah once.




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