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Day 3:
South of Sallie Keyes Lakes to Muir Trail Ranch to Florence Lake, 9.1
miles Water had
condensed and frozen on my bear canister during the night. This made me
feel a bit better about feeling cold during the night although it did
little to ease the discomfort associated with putting on my wet shoes
and socks. Indeed, it was with great sadness that I removed my warm and
dry sleep socks and put on my limp, wet, and cold day socks sporting a
fresh hole in the toe. I started down the switchbacks leading to the
Muir Trail Ranch without my knee braces, as I could not locate them.
Specifically for this trip I had bought them and found them quite
supportive during extended sections of downhill trail, but now they were
gone, probably on a rock near the Lake Edison ferry.
People pay about $700 a week to
stay at the ranch so backpackers are tolerated but not welcome. You can
ship food to yourself and pick it up at the ranch for a hefty fee and
buy some DEET at the store but otherwise you are not welcome. They
slowly warmed to me after I mentioned that I might like to take my wife
to the ranch. When I reached the ranch it was sunny and beautiful, as it
usually is in the Sierra’s in August. However, they told of another
storm sitting off San Diego and the poor weather of the last 2 weeks
might continue. If my mind was not made up by then it was now. I was
going out at Lake Florence. But before
leaving the area I ought to enjoy the natural hot springs - after all, I
was no longer on a schedule. Leaving my pack on the shore of river I
stepped in to the fast moving water wearing my shoes, underwear, shirt,
hat and trekking poles. A few minutes later I was back where I started,
less one pole. How it happened I couldn’t say; suffice it to say that
the water was running very fast and I had entered the river at a very
poor location. Moving downstream 20 feet would have made all of the
difference, but this is a mistake you make when traveling alone. It must
have been very comical watching the screwball in the river, barely able
to stand against the current while watching one of his poles float down
the river. After that
little fiasco I headed for Lake Florence with haste. It was still sunny
and the trail was beautiful albeit slightly hard to follow since many
branches seem to have been established. About the time that I figured I
was due to arrive at the lake I came across a family of 4 walking in the
opposite direction. A good sign until the dad asked me how much further
until the ferry. I noted that we were in a canyon and the trail went in
a west-east direction and I was headed west. He mumbled something about
having a compass buried in his pack and asked to see mine while his
early teenage kids whined. He verified the direction that is 90 degrees
counter clockwise of north and we all set off together. At the junction
it was easy to see how they missed the turnoff, the sign was just a
piece of paper only visible from my direction. Indeed, that very day a
new sign was put up.
While
walking out I asked about my chances of getting to Fresno once off of
the ferry, for I had no idea what kind of facilities existed on the
other side of Lake Florence. I was taken aback to hear that there was
only a parking lot and 3 hour drive in between. They were kind enough to
offer me a ride but only the following day as they were camping nearby
and just on a day hike. Upon reaching the lake I located the two-way radio/phone as described to me by someone at the Muir Trail Ranch. The ferry operates every 2 hours but the size of the boat they bring depends on the number of passengers. Following the detailed instructions I called over and told them that 5 of us plus one dog wanted a ride on the 2 PM ferry. The dad had to remind me that I couldn’t communicate simultaneously with the women on the other end. Despite this, I couldn’t help saying “yes” and “uh-huh” while the women gave additional instructions.
From the phone booth we followed the yellow brick road (bricks painted yellow spaced every 50 feet) to get to the designated ferry spot. Once again I went in the water, dried out my tent, had some food, and tried to get a ride into Fresno. By nature I am a quiet person so this is not a task I particularly enjoy. However, I know that it is good for me to get out of my comfort zone every once in a while. Indeed, I felt the same way when visiting New York City while still in college. Then, on my last day during the winter visit, I asked people if I could borrow their ice skates and eventually someone let me go around the pond, despite having never skated on ice before.
Most people had room, if not for their huge packs which took up the room normally to be occupied by a backseat passenger. On maybe the 5th attempt I got lucky. Richard was a massive man, at least 6’-6” tall with two dogs and big truck. I later found that he was a chiropractor from San Clemente and quite the active fellow, partaking in triathlons during the summer, mountain rescues in the winter, with lots of backpacking and climbing trips in between. We chatted for the 3-hour trip into Fresno and upon arriving in the smog ridden and muggy central coast city I filled up his gas tank while he got directions to the greyhound station. Within 15 minutes of being dropped off I had a ticket and was on the 5:45 PM bus to Oakland where Emily picked me up around 9:00 PM. |
