I hiked Mt. Baden Powell, on the Pacific Crest Trail, today. I drove from Wrightwood to the trail-head off of Hwy 2, which is closed just beyond the parking lot. From there it is four pretty tough miles up a series of switchbacks to the summit. I didn't make it as far as the summit, this time. the trail is still blocked by snow above 9,000 feet.
I began encountering drifts in the shade about half-way up. Above 8,000 ft I had to cross some pretty treacherous icy drifts. After the 8,800 ft marker the trail was as much snow and ice as dirt. I slipped and fell several times. Clumsy me. Just beyond the 9,060 ft marker the trail disappeared completely under a mounded drift. No previous hiker had left footprints attempting to cross the drift. A confused cow-heard of prints went directly UP the face at that point. I tried it, got about thirty feet with no sign of a trail ANYWHERE. Slipped and SLID -wheee!- several times, ending up with a soggy, muddy bottom.
At that point the rational, fifty-four-year-old side of my brain reminded me that I was thus far ALONE at 9,000+ feet. I started back down.
Good trip down. I met six hikers coming up after me. Four of them--two men, two women--were serious, seasoned, officially geared-up PCT hikers. They were daunted but undeterred by my gloomy trail report. The other two hikers were girls in their twenties. Now, picture this. I and the others are kitted up with backpacks, hand-held GPSs, water, hiking poles, sweaters, hats and coats. These two are traipsing up in shorts and t-tops, carrying bottles of water and bags of chips in their hands.
Ahh, to be twenty again.
It's good to know that stupidity is not wasted on the young. They're making good use of it.
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