We woke to the sounds of wind blowing and batted at the sides of our tent to release snow. Unfortunately that action also released drops of condensation that went spattering all over our sleeping bags and faces. Our feet had been a little cold during the night, and we eventually realized that it was because we had neglected to completely zip up the entrance between our tent and our vestibule. A mild, very light sprinkling of snow that had blown in from our vestibule lay at our feet.
I rose while it was still dark, so I could jump into the last shower of the weekend, finish packing, and hustle off to breakfast. At 9am, we were supposed to meet Ned and the rest of the group at Motel 6, a little further south and en route to our trailhead at Echo Lake. Despite our excitement, we had slept pretty well, what with DD’s white noise app helping to drown out the sounds of the start-and-stop air conditioner/ heat regulator.
I chose the Holiday Inn Express in part of their free breakfast, which included hot options. So it was convenient for us to sort of roll out of our rooms and to the breakfast bar area without much ado. At 7:30am, it was grey and cloudy, and sputteringly drizzly, but no snow, yet.
Leading up to this particular weekend, we had been watching the weather like hawks. Forecasts had shown a rather large storm moving into the general NorCal area and we were a bit worried.
DD had signed us up for a 3-day Snow Basics course with Ned Tibbits’ Mountain Education organization late last year. DD’s got goals of hiking the PCT, or at least parts of it sometime in 2017 and wanted to be prepared to encounter and deal with snow conditions – in particular learning about self arrest during an accidental slip-and-fall down icy slopes, or even if a purposeful glissade goes horribly wrong. We’d probably be able to use similar techniques if El Nino proves true to form and we get an unusually high snow year when we venture on the John Muir Trail this summer (although this seems pretty unlikely due to our late July start date).
Eighteen Miles. Eighteen Miles! I should have figured it out on my own, when DD said that we’d be thru-hiking 28 miles, and completing only 10 in the first day. But I was stunned and demoralized on Day 1 and couldn’t comprehend another day that was longer and possibly as difficult as the first. I’ve run 18 miles in the past, but on relatively flat terrain or in San Francisco where hills were not as prolonged or steep, and certainly not while carrying a full 20+ pound backpack.
DD assured me that today’s route would be easier, that the inclines were not as steep, and there might be points on the trail (such as the Sunol Visitor Center, 10 miles in) where we could cut it short, if we really were exhausted. That cheered me up a bit.
It had been a while since DD and I did a proper backpacking trip. It was my first since the West Coast Trail last year; Danny’s first since his solo Yosemite hike.
However, Danny had already hiked a segment of this path earlier in the year, the 12-mile out-and-back to Murietta Falls with Jared and Justin, the one with ~4000 in elevation gain just in 6 miles. This was the hike that tweaked his back again and made him realize that in order for him to hike the John Muir Trail this summer, he had better start taking care of his body properly stat.
I didn’t go along on that hike and stated at the time that I wished I did. At the time, and up until I actually stepped foot on the Ohlone Wilderness Trail, I had absolutely *no* idea of what I was asking for.
