Evolution Creek to Wanda Lake

Day 8

My feet hurt.  Yesterday after the second long, hot, rocky downhill path I had to stop and put some moleskin on the balls of both my feet in hopes of preventing a blister. Too thin soles on my shoes and too many long, hot rocky trails have combined to leave my feet tender. I have three different kinds of socks with me that I can choose from for the appropriate terrain.  I haven’t always chosen so well.  Today it is hard to even want to put socks and shoes on.  But we hope to make Muir Pass today, and that means there are 15.9 miles and 3,525 feet of climb ahead of us. We also have to cross Evolution Creek today, which, in snowy years, has been a treacherous ford.  So, mustering some courage and a protein bar, I got up off the ground, donned my pack, and marched on. 

We had climbed up next to this cascading waterfall for about two miles before we had to ford, so I was really ready.  I knew that as the water crashed down, I had to continue climbing up.  We could hear the water the entire way, but couldn’t always see it, so when we got to a good spot for a view, I clambered over some rocks to take a peek. Mark was nervous about me getting too close to the edge, but I finally got a good look.  Soon after that the ground leveled out, and the crashing falls became a wide, swiftly moving creek. The Evolution Creek crossing was cold and a little tricky, but not treacherous.  All of my senses were alert as I carefully picked my way over and around wet, slippery rocks and moved against the current of water.  My skin prickled with goose bumps and my jerky movements tossed my braids from side to side.  The sound of the water crashing below was still in my ears and my eyes darted quickly from one big boulder to the next.  This was living!! I was ready to do it again.

Reflections Along Evolution Creek

I wish i were a drop of water

cascading o'er the falls

Slipping, dropping, sliding

down the towering rock walls

But i am just a hiker

Plodding up the hill

Breathless and foot weary

A part of nature, still.

The grasses sprout, then wither

Their beauty surely fades

flow'rs bloom just a short season

in a myriad of shades

My growth is just as certain

Be it measure off in miles

And the lessons that i'm learning

when i pause a little while

Even rocks don't last forever

The weather makes them yield

and their stony bits are scattered

along some sandy field

I'm a privilaged sojourner

passing through these granite halls

My time fleeting as the water

crashing down the rocky walls.

The adrenaline rush soon passed and we were back to the monotony of climbing.  Even in a beautiful landscape like this, with wildflowers dancing in the breeze and a creek burbling nearby, climbing can get old, fast.  I worked on a poem to while the hours away, and, as I worked on it, I also had to memorize it because I knew Mark wouldn’t want to stop for me to write it down. The morning’s hard work and high adrenaline moments had taken a toll on us, so by the time we reached Evolution Lake we were ready for a nice long break.  We both stretched out on the moss and heather-covered bank of the lake and were soon snoozing in the sun.  Usually when we get to a lake I want to dive right in, or at least soak my feet, but now that my feet are so tender and covered with blister protection, I don’t want to bother them.  Sun bathing, though, is not nearly refreshing as lake bathing, so when it was time to move on I was moving pretty slowly.  I ran a piece of thread through my blister to help it drain, stuck a band aid on it, pulled my dirty socks back on and resumed the march. 

As we passed the PCT and JMT North Bounders, the weekend hikers and the day hikers out from Muir Ranch, I began to long for the type of hike where you hike leisurely, just a few miles a day, from lake to lake-taking in the scenery, playing in the mountain streams, fishing and cooking.  I wonder, though, after training ourselves to walk so many miles a day,if we could relax enough to really lay back and enjoy it, or if we would get antsy and need to move on.  But it sounds wonderful.  We’ve been out one week and although I still love it and my senses still tingle when I hear a certain bird call or see Columbine or a Marmot, my body is getting tired. 

We made it to Wanda Lake, just three miles short of our Muir Pass goal.  The lake is glacier fed, though in this dry year the glaciers just look like little snow patches resting on the slopes of the mountain.  There are little to no trees up here- most years this whole area is still coated in snow by now. We found a place to camp between a large outcropping of rock, and even though it was really still too early to make camp, we decided to rest up for a while and tackle the ascent in the morning.  From here we could clearly see the pass and the little stone hut perched on top of it, so we had a chance to really get our minds around the climb.  It didn’t really look nearly as hard as much of what we had already done.  I used the loathsome bear can to haul water out of the lake, and set to washing socks, shirts and hankies.  It made a pretty good wash tub, I must say.  My plan was to let some more water warm in the container, then jump in the lake, soap myself up good (maintaining the required 200 feet from the water’s edge) and pour the warmed water over me.  Sounded good.  But the wind picked up, the clouds came in and my courage dwindled.  I ended up just taking a “sponge” bath with a wash-rag and a little soap. My hair would have to wait for another day. 

The marmots scurried and waddled about, checking out our drying laundry and our packs.  They don’t seem the least bit afraid of humans, nor do they seem to think we are the chuck wagon, coming in to augment their natural diet, which tells me that hikers have been conscientious about their approach to them, and that makes me happy. We snuggled down in our bags in a chill wind, and I decided I was not going to be warm enough through the night if I was already this cold.  I put on another layer of clothing and snuggled closer to my husband.  Still shivering.  We quickly erected the tent, which warmed us just in the flurry of activity, and when we settled back down I was much warmer.  I wouldn’t be able to watch the moon rise from inside the tent, but guess what? I wasn’t awake long enough anyway.