Lost in Space - Chapter 5
Kennedy Meadows South (mi 703) to Mammoth Lakes (mi 904)
Sections G & H
This section was eventful from the start. Within a few miles we met two hikers that were celebrating the 50th anniversary of their PCT thru-hike in 1975. Before their attempt at 19 years old, there had just been 38 documented completions of the trail and their stories matched that degree of pioneering. Shortly thereafter, we entered Sequoia National Park and the trees did not disappoint. Some twice as thick as I am tall, they ranged from a few hundred to a few thousand years old.
As we got ready for bed on the first night we noticed a strange stream of smoke coming from the sky and we watched what we later learned was SpaceX’s Falcon 9 launching 26 Starlink devices from the nearby Vandenberg Space Force Base. Cool in some ways and detracting from our isolation in others we were just glad it wasn’t a missile.
Our run-ins with aircraft weren’t done yet. As we summited Cottonwood Pass (11,140’) and looked out on the high desert floor below two military fighter jets zoomed by just a couple hundred feet above. A former military aircraft engineer identified them as a Marine Corp Harrier jet and a Naval F-16 respectively.
After just a couple of days above 7,000 feet we found ourselves at the base of Mt. Whitney. While not technically on the PCT, the 16 mile side quest is among the trail’s highlights. Our alarms went off at midnight and we started walking by 1, 7.5 miles and 4,000 feet of elevation between us and the sunrise at the top of the country. The first thing I noticed as we began was the extraordinary sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight and that revealed the most stars I’ve ever seen. The Milky Way was more visible than normal and what is usually just a single strand of atomic matter became two parallel to one another in an almost rainbow-like formation across the sky. The mountains, all black with the features on their faces invisible were lined by a silver haze that outlined their rigidity.
I made it to within a mile of the peak with just my sun hoodie and hiking pants, but the winds picked up in a way that I could no longer ignore and plunged the temperature into the teens. An orange light started to appear upon the eastern horizon around 4:30 as we rounded the final corners. Once on top, we were greeted by our friend Nacho, who had to come in front of us and I gave Mo a big hug absolutely astonished by what I was seeing. I couldn’t hold back tears as hundreds of peaks began to glow on the horizon. We stayed on top for more than 4 hours, most of them in our sleeping bags tucked away from the wind. Before going down we realized that with nothing around to block us we actually had cell service and I was able to Facetime both of my parents to share the view and the moment with them.
The views didn’t deteriorate much at all as we continued through the range. At low elevations streams and rivers wound through lush meadows that appeared like perfectly manicured golf courses from above. As we rose and the tree line was met the soft sand and dirt turned to stone and the trail became everything from pebbles to boulders. Over the coming days we would summit Forester (13,700’) and Kearsarge (11,709’) passes.
Once over Kearsarge we made our way to the town of Bishop. Much to my surprise it was not a mountain town but instead in the high-desert, more reminiscent of our previous stops. We stayed at the iconic Hostel California which was seemingly frozen in time 40 years ago. It was an old Victorian home painted a random assortment of pastels and boasted a common room with thousands of VHS tapes. The host, a fellow Miami native, also happened to be a classically trained artist. That evening we watched the original Blade Runner as he hosted a portraiture class in the room next door, a PCT hiker serving as the group’s muse. The next morning I passed a fellow hiker donning none other than a Divvy Homes t-shirt, clearly left behind by an engineer and now utilized as loaner clothing for those doing laundry. Talk about a small world!
Getting back to trail was more trouble than we’d bargained for as we needed to go 50 miles south and then another 25 west where there’s nothing but the trailhead. But 3 1/2 hours and 3 separate rides later we made it with plenty of time to hike out before sunset. As we went back up the pass that evening we experienced our first snow on trail!
The days that followed were among the most difficult to date. The compounding effects of more than 10 days of hiking without taking a full one off and each requiring we climb a new pass or two miles in the air took its toll. Over 5 days we covered Glen (10,544’), Pinchot (12,090’), Mather (12,068’), Muir (11,955’), Piute (11,417’), Selden (10,800’), and Silver (10,781’) passes. At the top there was often 2-5 miles of snowpack to trudge through using crampons and ice axes (for those that carried them, I decided to forgo the additional weight). After each summit the trail would go down 3-4 thousand feet before starting back up again.
But with each switchback and every short break to catch our breath we were rewarded with what are undoubtedly the most striking views I have ever experienced. There may have been other places as captivatingly beautiful or unique but the combination of the elements was surreal. In one area you have the ruggedness of the Scottish Highlands, the serenity of the Swiss Alps, and the grandeur of the Canadian Rockies, and water the color of the Amalfi Coast. Most importantly you experience all of this without any trace of human influence and generally without another person visible for miles.
One thing this section was not short on was water. Snow that had melted hours (or even minutes) earlier gushed down every crease it could find. While this made it difficult to keep our feet dry it meant we were past the long water carries of the desert. No longer relying on standing water we had to scoop for hydration and with years of New Orleans’ tap water in my system, I stopped filtering altogether and would just stick my water bottle into the flowing streams whenever thirsty. Often the rivers were too deep or strong to cross via tree branch or rock jump and we would take off our shoes and trudge through the rapids.
It is difficult to describe the serenity of the valley floor. Unlike the mental image I have always had of linear mountain ranges, we were completely surrounded by peaks, merely moving between alpine bowls with each mountain pass. At the bottom deer, coyote, pika, chipmunk, and other animals would come within feet of us as they went about their days. Sleeping in was never an option (no matter how cold), as birds from finches to eagles greeted one another. The sun would alter your perspective of any vista as it rose and fell each day, highlighting areas that would have otherwise gone unnoticed amongst all the beauty.
The final two days were filled with unexpected visits from friends, both old and new. First, we ran into our host from Tehachapi, Abel, while he hiked a portion of the John Muir Trail southbound. Then, as we came into Mammoth Lakes I learned that my old roommates Max and Kristen would also be there with their dog Mila. It was amazing to catch up with them, hear about how all of our friends are doing, and reminisce on some of the best times of the last 5 years.
The last two weeks were among the most beautiful, memorable, and enjoyable of my entire life. As sad as I am to have them behind me, I cannot wait for Yosemite National Park before the Sierra’s end in Lake Tahoe.
By the Numbers
Hiker Profile
Dylan “Raw Dog” Donovan, 31, grew up outside of Detroit, Michigan but has spent the past 10 years in the southwestern suburbs of Chicago. We originally met towards the beginning of the trek when he was hiking with a group much faster than ours and we lost touch for almost a month. But after a week off trail for his best friend’s wedding, we were reunited in Kennedy Meadows. A lifelong fan of the outdoors, with more than 30 National Parks under his belt, Dylan had been dreaming of the PCT for years. Last summer he made the decision to quit the job he’d held for the past decade to hike the trail, consulting (but really informing) his partner of 3 1/2 years of his plans. “She gave the perfect amount of pushback” he recalls. “Not wanting to spend so much time apart but eventually understanding how important it was to me.”
At 5’10” with blue eyes, blonde hair, pale skin, and a trim build, the two of us could be mistaken for brothers. He dons steampunk glasses and a Detroit Tigers baseball cap along with a full suite of high-quality technical gear collected over the years. Possessing all of the Midwestern charm and politeness that you’d expect, Dylan is a pleasure to be around, thanking others for even their most benign contributions. He’s among the minority that doesn’t listen to any media on the trail, preferring the sounds of nature as companions. Dylan is among the most academic and cultured people I’ve had the opportunity to spend time with. He is educated on everything from science to fine dining and is an avid reader, often referencing works from Socrates to Jared Diamond. I must say it’s also nice to hike with someone older than 23 who isn’t flat broke.
Dylan got his trail name shortly after returning from his time off on what was supposed to be a 25 mile day. But 17 in, he was informed of a hiker party taking place another 17 miles ahead at Walker Pass. So starting at 2, he hiked the remainder of the way, practically running at times to complete 34 miles by 8. Unfortunately, the party was winding down: there were no hot dogs left and the vibe was fairly muted. That didn’t stop him though, he found hot dogs sitting in the ice chest and at that point hungry and having been fanaticized about them all day decided to go in cold. The party’s host, equal parts disgusted and impressed, stopped him after two dogs and offered to cook the rest. But by that point it was too late, Raw Dog was born.
His profession is fascinating. A food scientist by trade, he holds three degrees: an associate’s in Culinary Arts, a bachelor’s in Culinology, and a master’s in Food Process Engineering. The unique hybrid of chef and chemist has led him to become one of the country’s foremost experts on prepared meats. If you go to any of the nation’s fast-casual restaurants, he’s likely responsible for part of your meal. The rotisserie chicken at Subway, the KBBQ steak at Sweetgreen, the carne asada at Chipotle, and effectively the entire menu at Cava are his creations. But after 10 years of nothing but work he took a step back and realized he had stopped living but instead was just checking boxes and not necessarily ones he had consciously created for himself. He is taking this time to figure out if he’s really on the path that will provide the most fulfillment.
The importance of Dylan’s journey heightened just six months before he departed. His older sister, Sierra, had just gotten on the right path after years of battling addiction. She had secured a job at Trader Joes and moved out of her mother’s home into and apartment with her stand-up boyfriend. But within just two weeks she ingested cocaine that had been laced with fentanyl. A few hours later she stopped breathing; she was just 31 years old. The family was devastated. They had long known this was a possibility but it seemingly came out of nowhere given her recent improvement. After reflecting on how to best honor her while in the desert, Dylan returned to trail with a small vile of her ashes, intent on spreading them amongst the mountain range she was named after.
As we sat atop Mt. Whitney he slipped away for a moment. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, sitting on his knees, quivering, while overlooking the 10,000 foot drop. I immediately understood what was happening and moments later he released his sister’s remains back to the world. I met him halfway on his slow walk back and gave him the biggest hug I could, tears welling in our eyes, I told him what a beautifully special moment he had created. Just minutes before I was texting my own sister for her 19th birthday and became incredibly emotional putting myself in his shoes. But Dylan is strong and I can’t think of a more beautiful burial and memorial than for your brother to go on foot all this way and return you to your namesake.
(No) Shower Thoughts
Keeping Your Word
One of the more concerning trends I’ve seen in my lifetime is the degradation of our word. Over time, for a variety of social and technological reasons, it’s become commonplace to make commitments we don’t intend to keep, to disappear without notice, and to just ghost people altogether. I think it may be a symptom of our expanding world and the lack of community its created. It may also be the simplicity of sending a last second message that we convince ourselves absolves any wrongdoing. When people don’t know others in your world, the repercussions from such behavior are nonexistent. This is in stark contrast to when everyone knew when you had treated someone else poorly and it reflected on you in other parts of your life. But out here without the technology that we’ve all come to rely on and a small network of interconnected people, I’ve seen a return to those same values. Not to say everyone adheres to them, but it’s very clear early and obvious who people are and the character they put forth.
When I meet someone on trail, particularly someone I am hiking alongside, one of the first things I do is assess their trustworthiness. I do this not only as an assessment of their character but also for much more practical reasons. If someone tells me they plan on being somewhere by night’s end and they don’t show, I have to decide whether its an emergency requiring I go find them, eventually calling search & rescue, or merely another empty promise that’s gone unfulfilled. In a way that’s really not hyperbolic, the world’s assessment of your character could be the difference between life and death.
So I would encourage everyone to think about their own commitments as if there was no technological crutch or diffusion of the masses to bail them out. Whether it be in dating, business, or just a kindness to strangers, the stakes don’t have to be so high for us to extend the simple courtesy of honest communication. If we all began to treat each other with the respect that was once the default, the world we’re creating will be a much better place.
Much love always,
Connor
Useful Links
Conner! I was thrilled to see the route this time. I grew up spending a few weeks per year in Kennedy Meadows. We regularly would camp in the high desert, but would also go up to Kennedy Meadows where our next-door neighbor had 50 acres.
Truly stunning photos.
I was always an aviation fan and because of Edwards and other Airforce bases in the area, we would regularly see all manner of fighters, bombers, and transports, and even experimental planes.
The highlight of my day when I open my mail and Lost in Space pops up. Chapter 5 did not disappoint. The pictures were simply breathtaking. You look happy and healthy both of which are the most important when I see you in these amazing photos. I think this journal could be a best seller for sure 👍. Love and miss you. Keep going strong 💗💗