Got done with all the getting ready to hike and finally began hiking.
Slept decently until 5am at the hostel despite the presence of a sick roommate who alternated between loud snoring and even louder trips to the bathroom. Earplugs are an essential item in my travel kit.
Had cajun omelet, hash browns and biscuit at the Alabama Hills Cafe, which has been around at least since the 60s and met up with Chuck, my ride to the trailhead.
Our first stop was at the Forest Service office, where a small mob of permit seekers awaited the 8am door opening. It took an hour for my number to be called but I got official permission to hike over Cottonwood Pass and on to Yosemite.
Just like everyone else I have talked to, none of the rangers had heard of the Theodore Solomons Trail. It remains a secret known only to hikers who love mystery and suffering.
We then picked up a hang glider pilot, dropped him off at the launch site (he was planning to fly to Bishop or beyond), and then finally arrived at Horseshoe Meadows, ready to hike.
At the Horseshoe Meadows TH
There are no signs for the TST. It is strictly a construct of existing trails which already have their own names. But it still is a real hike and I began to really hike it.
My fears of excess lingering snow proved unfounded, at least for the Cottonwood Pass Trail, which is snow free. The view of the Great Western Divide from the pass showed only moderate snow, so maybe I am late enough to avoid snow slogs even in this heavy snow year.
Looking west from Cottonwood Pass
River crossings might be another story. I talked with some westbound hikers who reported waist deep crossings and their buddy who ronked his knee on one and had to bail.
I descended from the pass and entered the Siberian plateau country stretching from the crest to the Kern River.
The soil here is granite sand which supports little but bristlecone pines on the slopes and sagebrush and lupine in the meadows. The result is a lot of well-drained openness. It also makes for slow hiking, as walking the trail surface is pretty much like walking the beach, a few inches down for every step forward.
The open sandy forest of the Siberian Plateau
Although the crowd at the permit office was fairly diverse, everyone in Siberia is white and male so far. This is a big roadless area and lacks the star power of Mt Whitney and the JMT just to the north.
The main attraction here is not sandy forests but Golden Trout, the world’s most beautiful fish. I am camped by Golden Trout Creek but must admit I did not fish, despite every intention of doing so. That sand wore out my legs and once I sat down (and had a few sips of whiskey) I lost all motivation to get up again. But the fish will still be there tomorrow.