Hannibal's Pacific Crest Trail Chronicle

What a difference a week makes...from sweltering desert heat to the cool alpine meadows of the Sierra. From water being scarce to crossing (some thigh-high) swollen-from-snow-melt creeks several times a day. I am thrilled to be here and have been anticipating this as a, maybe THE, highlight of the hike. But first...

I want to thank Beeman, Bob and Glen, fellow PCT hikers, for your comments on the blog, and Beeman for your link to the pictures. It was certainly a pleasure to share a piece of the trail with each of you. And speaking of pictures, since I have not been able to upload pictures to the blog I'll mention this: At the conclusion of my journey I'll burn a CD of pics and mail it to anyone interested. More on this later.

Next order of business...I received an invitation to a retirement party I will regrettably be unable to attend. Friends Shirley and Gordon are retiring from the Army Reserve and Air National Guard, respectively, after a combined 40+ years of outstanding service. An amazing accomplishment. It was an honor to be able to serve with and learn from each of them. And learn much I did, about military life, character and leadership. It is because of selfless citizen-soldiers like Shirley and Gordon that we are blessed with the freedom we enjoy and celebrate, in particular, this week every year. You both have my congratulations and thanks.

As far as the trail goes, I am somewhat at a loss...because I can not possibly describe the natural beauty all around me, all the time, and do it justice. I will try. For the past week I have been living above 10k feet. Most of the time I have been above treeline, with marvelous views, eye-popping views of verdant valleys. Towering peaks still holding onto much snow. Deer, marmots, hawks...a profusion of wildlife I did not see in the desert. To be sure there is much wildlife in the desert, but it tended because of the heat, to be nocturnal and unseen. I have traversed snow fields on my way up to cross high mountain passes. Vast meadows. No roads. Perfect wilderness. I have been swimming in trout-filled lakes. The Sierra is a water world. My sneakers have rarely been completely dry, and unlike the 5 or 6 liters of water carried at a time in the desert, now I need not carry any. Now, when I am thirsty, I walk half-a-mile or less to a creek, and drink clean crisp water I have done a considerable amount of backpacking but have never been on a trail so gorgeous as this. And the best part: I have another 150 miles of High Sierra to go. And Yosemite.

On July 4th I ascended the trail to the summit of Mt. Whitney, the highest peak in the contiguous 48 states. Just short of 15k feet. Not on the PCT, it was a side trip, but one I was not going to pass up. I almost didn't make it.

There was hail earlier in the day and thunderstorms. I hunkered down several miles below the summit, below the safety of the treeline hoping the weather would clear. Mid-afternoon, when the hail and rain stopped I started up. I was not sure even a mile from the summit whether I would make it. There were still threatening clouds on the peak and nearby ridges with occasional lightening strikes. Just as I was weighing whether to turn around, the wind picked up and started clearing out the clouds. I saw my chance. By the time I covered the remaining distance to the top, the front had blown off and I was treated to a fantastic sunset. I made the descent back to my campsite in the dark, only getting there after 10:30, ending what had been an exceedingly long, tiring, rewarding day. 17 hours from the time I woke to the time I crawled exhausted into my bag. More than 31 miles covered, and several thousand feet of elevation gain. My entry in the trail register at the summit: "A very happy Independence Day, indeed!"

Thank you for the birthday wishes.