Day 30: Tuolumne Meadows to Glen Aulin

From PCT mile 937.2 to 952.3 Total: 15.1 miles 8/6

On the 30th day of my PCT Sierra Section trek I hiked down Lyell Canyon on the PCT-JMT to Tuolumne Meadows, where I left the JMT behind, then continued north along the Tuolumne River to the Glen Aulin High Sierra Camp, and decided to hike a few more miles uphill toward Cold Canyon.

Now that I was back on a fifteen mile-per-day schedule, I realized that I really needed to make the most of every day, so I made sure to wake up at 4am with the alarm on my phone.  I cooked breakfast in the dark, and packed up all my gear.  By the time I was ready to hike, at 5:30am, I still needed my headlamp under the trees, but there was a tiny bit of light in the eastern sky.  I only needed enough to take photos, and my phone is pretty good at low-light photography.

I started hiking, leaving Ireland Creek bubbling behind me, and immediately arrived at the Ireland Creek Trail junction.  This is the furthest north that hikers were allowed to camp along the trail, as the main backpacker campground in Tuolumne Meadows was still closed for an upgrade.  For the second year in a row.  The next spot that I could legally camp was in Glen Aulin, about eleven miles away.  Luckily, I was planning to hike even further.

The air was cool in Lyell Canyon that morning as I hiked the mellow trail.  It went downhill as fast as a slowly meandering river, which isn’t very steep at all.  This made my morning hike extra easy.  The last time I was here with Vicki, back in 2010, there was frost on the meadow grasses, but not today.  There was steam rising off the Lyell Fork of the Tuolumne River, however, which was quite interesting to see.

At one point the river neared the trail, so I put down my pack and got out my Tenkara Fly Rod.  I carefully lifted my feet, doing a slow high-step through the tall wet grasses to keep my shoes dry, and made my way to a likely fishing spot on an outward curve of the river.  Well, I cast and re-cast that fly, and nothing whatsoever happened.  Not even a hit.  And I didn’t see any fish, either.  So much for that.  I high-stepped back and put my pack on.  It was time to get moving!

A couple of miles later, the sun rose above the eastern side of the canyon.  The dew began to dry in the grasses, and the sun felt good, as I was a bit chilled, even hiking at speed.  Soon I arrived at the Rafferty Creek Trail.  The creek itself was almost dry, about the same as it was back in 2010.  I guess there isn’t a lot of snowpack up above for this creek, unlike the Tuolumne, which had a melting glacier as a source.

After five miles of hiking, the trail turned right and crossed the Tuolumne on two stout footbridges.  The river had worn down the underlying granite slabs in an interesting way, and there were deep pools nearby.  I saw a trout or two hanging out in the still, crystal-clear water.  Well, this was surely time for a break!  I ate a bit of snack and prepared my fly rod yet again.  And, once more, the fish avoided my fly completely.  I realized form their behavior that other fishermen had been here.  It’s like they knew it was a fake!  Aggravating but true.

A short hike further and I was at the Lyell Canyon Trailhead.  This is where I parked my car on the last (semi-aborted) section, when I was hoping to get 200 miles to Yosemite from Cottonwood Pass.  I was still happy that I changed the plan, but in a way I also wished I still had my car here, rather than 200 more miles north at Donner Pass where it was parked right now.  After that, I crossed another footbridge.  This one was over the Dana Fork of the Tuolumne River.  I didn’t bother fishing in it this time.  Maybe someday.

By this time, I could hear truck traffic on Tioga Pass Road, and I knew that there was cell signal.  I called Vicki and spoke to her for a while.  I also got a text from Metal Tim, my hiking partner through Evolution Valley, stating that he and the Little Engine were currently hiking in Yosemite (elsewhere) but wanted to meet up with me at Sonora Pass in the near future.  When was I going to get there?  I texted back that if all went well, I would be there in five days, on August 11th.  Then I repeated this text using my Garmin InReach, just in case they were out in the backcountry with no cell signal.  Hmmm, I thought.  Seeing them again really beat the heck out of hiking solo.  They wanted to hike from Sonora Pass to Ebbetts Pass, which was only two nights and thirty-odd miles, but it was also thirty miles hiking with company, which beats solo trekking 200 miles any day of the week.  I was pretty stoked at this news.

Oh well.  I hiked on, and soon met up with the road to the lodge and the Wilderness Permit Office.

I had also been wondering if I would be able to continue hiking fifteen miles per day in Northern Yosemite, over the infamous “Washboard” section of repeated ups and downs.  That’s when I decided to grab a bit of extra food.  I was hoping that the park had reopened the Tuolumne Meadows Grill and Store.  So I left the trail temporarily and crossed the river on the big Highway 120 Bridge.  Sadly, the grill and store were still closed.  They were rebuilding after it got damaged in the brutal Winter of 2023.  But the Post Office was operating out of a shipping container, and it was almost 9am, when they opened.  They had a Hiker Box that I could scrounge in for a bit of extra food.  The postmaster brought it out, and I grabbed a pack of ramen, a fruit bar, and a re-bagged 2-person meal of Mountain House Lasagna.  That would be enough.  I stuffed it into my bear can and hiked onward, back to the trail across the bridge.

I headed north on the paved road next to Lembert Dome, where the backpackers often park their cars.  There were many people either arriving or leaving on various treks in Yosemite.  Soon enough, I came to a locked gate and followed the dirt road toward Soda Springs.  There were numerous day-hikers along the way, and great views of Tuolumne Meadows.

I once walked past Soda Springs but didn’t really get to see it up close as the ground was too soggy.  This time it was different.  I entered the roofless log enclosure and saw the carbonated water bubbling up out of the ground.  The ground was stained red, like rust, all around the area.  The signs all said that the water was perfectly drinkable, and was “naturally carbonated” like seltzer water.  I declined this opportunity.  It didn’t have any fruit flavoring!

This was also the spot where the JMT continued its own way, toward Yosemite Valley and Happy Isles.  I’ve been down that trail, back in the 90’s, but only had film photos to prove it.  They are more trouble than digital ones when it comes to blog writing.  They don’t even have timestamps or geolocation data!  It’s amazing that anyone could function back in those primitive times.

So I turned to the north, and continued onward on the Pacific Crest Trail.  The JMT was like a Summer Fling, whereas the PCT was the Forever version of Love.  I entered the Yosemite Wilderness and didn’t look back.  You were fun, JMT, but it was time we moved on.

The trail went through the forest for a bit, and then the Tuolumne River meandered closer.  I decided to stop and eat my Pop-Tart lunch and do a bit of fly fishing once again.  My prototype PCT Sierra Trout Fishing Guide’s  sources claimed that there were Browns, Brookies, and Rainbows in this section of the river.  In fact, I saw a bunch of them jumping out into the air, but they always seemed to be located beyond the length of my fishing line.  Tenkara rods don’t cast far at all, so I was pretty much screwed.  I headed back to my pack and hiked onward.  At least the scenery wouldn’t disappoint!

I tried fishing yet again at another slow-flowing pool, with the same dismal result.  Oh well.  Since I wasn’t eating them anyway, it wasn’t that big a loss.  Along the way, I also met up with several trains of pack horses.  There were tourists heading north to the High Sierra camp, along with their gear and food, and there were mules running empty heading south.  This was the first year since the Covid-19 pandemic, back in 2020, that the High Sierra Camps were even operating.  Maybe they were making up for lost time.  If I ever get too old to hike, this seems like an (expensive) option for getting out into the wilderness.

I began to get views to the west, where the river dropped down into the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne.  Vicki and I visited that trail back in 2013.  There are five named waterfalls along this river, and two of them were right on the PCT.  The other three were down in the Grand Canyon.  If you are ever passing this way on the PCT, I urge you to take some time to day-hike three miles down that trail.  You won’t regret it!

I also crossed the river for the fourth time that day (if you count the roundtrip to the store) on two sturdy wooden bridges, that were twins of the two back in Lyell Canyon.

The river was mellow near the bridges, but immediately after that it dropped off steeply.  When that happens, the trail usually does the same thing.  River Rapids lead to Trail Rapids, so to speak.  And down the trail I went.

The next big excitement was checking out Tuolumne Falls.  It was quite a gusher.  I was really wishing that Vicki was there with me, as the two of us are Certified Waterfall Addicts.  The best I could do was take photos and videos, to show to her later.  There was definitely more water in the river this year, so it was a better display.  And sound!

The trail dropped about 500 feet in a relatively short distance.  In order to do it, it made switchbacks, of course.  But these were the Switchbacks From Hell.  They were made out of rounded granite stones, like old river rock, stacked along the slope to prevent trail erosion.  Countless iron High Sierra horseshoes had smoothed out any edges or grippability from these stones, and walking on them was hellacious.  Maybe the horses liked them; I don’t know.  But they were never made for the benefit of humans.  Back when this trail was built, gear was so heavy that the only people in the backcountry were on horseback.  I know, because when I was a teenager people still carried axes and cast iron frying pans!  And this was the beginning of the era of better gear for backpackers.  Hooray for modern technology!  And maybe the park will replace these slippery stones with proper, human-sized steps.

Down at the low point of today’s hike, I arrived at the second named waterfall:  Cascade Falls.  This one was directly adjacent to the High Sierra Camp, and is probably why they put the camp there originally.  I took some photos and videos, of course.  That’s what I do.

After that, it was time for the final crossing of the Tuolumne River, on the big metal bridge.  It perched dramatically near the edge of a drop-off into the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne.  I took videos of crossing this masterpiece of engineering, as well.  Maybe I’m also a Bridge Addict.  It’s possible.

The next stop on my journey was the High Sierra Camp itself.  I was happy to cross Conness Creek on yet another sturdy bridge.  All of these bridges are strong enough for loaded horses.  I saw the sign that pointed backpackers to the left, where they were allowed to camp.  The guests camp in canvas platform tents, much like the ones in Curry Village in Yosemite Valley.  They have cots inside, and are quite rustic and comfy.  The campground also had a water faucet.  I decided to be lazy and fill all four liters of water at the faucet, as I would shortly be hiking three miles uphill into a well-known waterless section of the PCT.  The Far Out app said that there were still some stagnant, non-flowing pools of water that I could filter, if needed, but this sounded kind of nasty.  Tap water was already purified.  So I “cameled up” as the thru-hikers say when they do a big water carry.

I also took the opportunity to visit the hiker outhouse.  It was a fancy composting model, that separated the solids from the liquids.  The sign inside made it clear that the solids would biodegrade into soil quite rapidly were it not for the liquid portion, which poisoned the composting bacteria.  Nice!  I learned something new!  I learned that there was no need to pack out my toilet paper provided it was buried with poo and not pee.  If the horses could crap directly on the trail with impunity, surely I could do it in a properly dug cathole.  Live and learn.

On the way out of camp, wearing my very heavy backpack, I crossed back over Conness Creek on the bridge, then turned right to begin the final climb of the day.  It was about 900 feet of climbing over three miles or so.  This isn’t all that steep, PCT-wise, but it was also happening in the late afternoon, down near 8000 feet elevation, which meant for a very hot time in the sun.

Naturally, as soon as I started hiking I needed to drink some water, and when I tasted the stuff from the Glen Aulin water faucet, I nearly gagged.  It was ultra-chlorinated!  The water may have been potable, but the aftertaste was horrible.  I kept giving it a try as I hiked, hoping that I would get used to it, but it simply wasn’t gonna happen.  I looked down to the right, where the non-flowing creek was.  The bottom of the streambed consisted of smooth slabs of granite, scoured clean by Spring meltwater, and there were nice clear pools of water down there, just like the Far Out app said.  I took one last sip of nasty-water and plunge-stepped down the slope to the stream.  I stared at the pools of water.  I listened, and there was a tiny trickle of flow going on.  I even saw it flowing!  But just barely.  Water-Striders were skipping along the surface of the pools, happy as can be.

I made my decision.  I took off my backpack and pulled out every container of water that I had.  I dumped them all out, off to the side so as not to contaminate the lovely pools.  Then I tediously filtered a full gallon of water (rinsing out the containers first, of course) and looked down upon my handiwork.  I declared that it was good, as I tested a sip of unsullied Sierra Water.  Oh yes.  This had been a fine expenditure of time.

Renewed and refreshed, I hiked onward with new energy.  Like yesterday, I kept checking the Far Out app to see see how much further I had to go to reach the first campsite north of Glen Aulin.  The app is quite good at telling you precisely how endlessly far away your destination really is.  Once again, just like yesterday, I read the comments in the app and learned that there were good sites 0.1 miles closer to the main one.  I started looking as I got near, and soon I saw a few spots up above the trail.  I decided to put out the extra effort and climb up there.  And I was well rewarded!  There were fine views in two directions, one looking south toward Cathedral Peak and the other northeast toward Mount Conness.  Very nice.  I plopped down my backpack right there.

I was a Happy Camper at last.  I set up my tent and got everything ready.  I sat down on the air mattress and fired up the stove.  Before long, I had a cup of boiling water for my ramen noodles, and then the noodles were soaking.  I got out my Kindle and read for a while, then ate my dinner while reading.  I glanced out the door every so often.  At one point I heard voices, and thought I might get some neighbors, but they were only taking a break.  As they were heading south, I gave them a warming about the chlorine issues at Glen Aulin.  They thanked me and hiked on.

I mixed up some Gatorade to get my electrolytes back in line, then ate some Cheez-Its as a salty snack.  I even threw in a few Reese’s Pieces for dessert.  Then I updated my notes and texted Vicki and Metal Tim via InReach.  I hung out in the tent for a while just reading my book and watched as the shadows lengthened.  I was in Northern Yosemite now, and life was good.

 

For a topographic map of the hike see my CalTopo Page

For LOTS more photos of the trek see my Flickr Pages: Section H2 and Section I

 

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