Evolution Lake - Big Pete Meadow via Muir Pass

Does it get boring to receive the morning report? Sleep: meh. Condensation: Some. Mood: reasonable. Power breakfast of tortilla with almond butter and chocolate spread: holy macaroni. Those flimsy oatmeal packets ain’t got nothing! The 1000 calorie tortilla combo turns you into a Duracell rabbit on ecstasy. I was ready to run up Muir Pass, 65L backpack and all.

Traversing the high passes takes pretty much all day, especially one with such gentle slopes as Muir. There was never a point where we had to battle our way upwards, the easy gradient allowed for a smooth stride. Now the large snowfields started to appear, and I got a better idea of why everyone was concerned about slushiness on steep slopes. We carried neither micro spikes, crampons, or ice axes, but none of them would do you any good once the morning sun melts the snow crust away. We meandered along the glass-clear shores of Lake Wanda before the landscape turned to snow and scree.

At noon I heaved myself up the final slope and could embrace Muir Hut. Who needs summits when you have passes on a thru-hike? We were surrounded by barren moonscape in all directions, Himalayan craggy peaks jabbing at the sky. Clouds drifted around teasingly, but still the sun scorched us. I had a tiny square of caramel chocolate to celebrate, I felt like I was unwrapping a Wonka bar – the golden ticket all around me. The Texan students joined us along with a friendly girl, Carly, and her service dog Zia. Zia would give me several heart attacks that day. She delighted in throwing herself down the steepest snow slopes, I was convinced she would fall to her death on the rocks every time. I could have stayed at Muir Hut to bask in our accomplishment, but we decided it would be safer to descend as a group.

Navigating the south side of Muir was… wild. Without Guthooks maps we’d be fried, snow fields covered huge chunks of trail. We spent several minutes scouting the vast slopes for our precious path, sometimes finding it, sometimes not. There was no clear track, and we had to wing it several times over crusty patches – hearing the rush of rivers spookily beneath our feet. Muir’s south side is significantly steeper, and we inched our way around snow bridges, scrambled over rocks and glissaded down trying to not rake our butts on sharp rocks (“Nonono, Zia! Come back! ZIAAA!”).

I felt my pulse ringing in my ears crossing rivers where a slip would send you cascading into the valley below. The crossings could literally be perched on the edge of a drop. The landscape was so stunning and untamed, it was the wildest place I’ve ever hiked. Hours and hours went by in a tense adrenaline-fuelled focus. By the time we reached the bottom of LeConte Canyon, we’d descended a 1000 altitude metres. My legs buckled underneath me, I was as beat as on day 1 and 2.