June 9: Kennedy Meadows

Clouds hung overhead all morning as we made our way along these last fifteen burnt miles leading up to the Kennedy Meadows General Store.

Our tent accumulated a great deal of condensation overnight -- something that hasn't happend in weeks -- so getting up and around was slow and uncomfortable. It is easy to get grumpy and nit-picky when a town stop is close by. We have a week off the trail up and coming, so the regular trail rigors start to strain us even more it seems.

We ambled along the South Fork Kern River for most of the morning, heading north, alternately hugging the river's bank and meandering out into the sagebrush-carpeted valley floor along its side. To our backs, south and west, the Domeland Wilderness stood stark and jagged, the snow-capped granite boulders and sheer verticle faces, a rock climber's dreamscape.

We arrived at the Kennedy Meadows General Store at 1:30, both of us feeling spent. Eliza had a headache for much of the morning. I was flushed and pink, my eyes strained by the odd light dispersing down and around the low clouds. Shamu's Trainer and Barnyard had arrived just in front of us and were relaxing on the porch along with Thomas, whom we had met briefly last week. We sat ourselved down and within half an hour the clouds broke and sent a light drizzle down over the forest around us. What luck, we all laughed, to be sitting safe and cozy up on this porch as the first rains in months start hitting the ground. The owners shook their heads disapprovingly out the front windows at the grey, troubled sky -- this was highly irregular weather.

Throughout the afternoon, hikers rolled in and joined us there on the porch, everyone a bit surprised by the suddenly sodden skies. A group of locals, older gentlemen convened as well and started in on their daily afternoon session of porch sitting and beer drinking at around 3. By late afternoon there were nearly a dozen hikers there, and all-in-all over twenty people spread out over the grounds immediately surrounding the store. A festive air hung around the place.

Meadow Mary and her wolfish Husky, Sam, showed up at some point. She is a trail angel of sorts -- a trail-side massage therapist and first-aid administrator, an herbalist and wholistic naturalist -- mostly, however, she is mobile trail support for her husband: hiker, Billy Goat. Billy Goat is one of these guys who hikes the PCT every year, an around-the-worlder, someone who's hiked on trail more than 26,000 miles, enough to have circumnavigated the entire globe at the equator. This year, he's decided to change things up just like everyone else and is currently up in Oregon. Meadow Mary cackles that she TOLD him that it would be too snowy up there as well, but no, he wouldn't listen. There's snow everywhere right now, what's everyone's big hurry?! And she breaks into her incredible, grating laugh, mouth wide open, self satisfied, impervious to the numbed gazes of all her onlookers.

A few of us piled into her little mobile home and headed down to the local grub joint, The Grumpy Bear, three miles down the road, only to discover it had closed early for the evening -- no explanation needed up in these mountains . . .

So we returned to the store and Mary cooked up a big pot of hiker stew for any and all. Al, the owner of the General Store took down orders for an impromptu $5 cheeseburger, baked bean, potato salad meal, complete with a bowl of ice cream for dessert. Hikers were in and out of the scene, leaving intermittently for a $2 outdoor shower or set up their tarps and tents around the property. The actual Kennedy Meadows campground is another few miles up the trail but the store owners gave us all the go-ahead to stay right where we were. Most years, the store feeds and accomodates hundreds of hikers, up to 50 at a time for a period of almost two weeks. This year, things are quiet up in this neck of the woods. Most people have already flipped up north, from Walker pass 100 miles back or elsewhere. Thomas who has been here for a few days, waiting for someone to try the Sierras with, says that he hasn't seen more than a few people at a time come through. We were glad to be here for the big party, at least.

We set up our tent in the back row of the outdoor amphitheatre back behind the store. It is a nice space comprised of logs laid out for bench style seating in front of a white washed ply-wood "screen" upon which is shown a weekly Saturday night movie and before which is held a Sunday morning church service.

Tomorrow we are climbing up into the first miles of mountains in the High Sierra. We will push on for 42 miles to Trail Pass where we plan to descend to Lone Pine. The trail crosses up over 10,000 ft numerous times between here and there. We've got our fingers crossed hoping for no snow . . .