Distance: 12 miles: From South Fork Kings River to Woods Creek
Once again, I couldn’t bring myself to crawl out of my sleeping bag until 6:00 a.m. The lingering fatigue made my morning preparations painfully slow in the biting cold, and as a result, my departure was delayed until 9:30 a.m.
Calculating my remaining rations and days since leaving MTR (Muir Trail Ranch), I realized a hard truth: from today onward, I had to cover a minimum of 12 miles every single day. Over the next three days, including tomorrow, I absolutely had to reach Guitar Lake—the final base camp before pushing for the summit of Mount Whitney.
Today’s itinerary brought yet another formidable challenge: conquering Pinchot Pass (12,090 ft / 3,685 m).
The physical climb itself didn’t feel quite as brutal as yesterday’s “Mother Pass”—a mountain I felt I had crossed at the cost of my own life. However, the sheer trauma of yesterday’s exhausting struggle remained deeply etched into my mind and body. Halfway up the mountain, a sudden, overwhelming wave of reluctance washed over me.
“Can I really endure and walk the entire remaining distance?”
Blindsided by accumulated fatigue, a fleeting but powerful cloud of doubt and weakness crossed my mind.
When I finally stood at the edge of my limits upon the pass, the vista opening up before me was breathtaking—just as spectacular as every pass before. Yet, the relentless, freezing winds howling across the summit were unforgiving. I hastily snapped a few photos and immediately began my descent.
Dropping down from the pass, I re-entered the deep, sheltered forests of the Sierra and followed along the continuous flow of Woods Creek. I ultimately decided to set up camp tonight right beside this mountain stream.
As I settled into camp and unbuckled my harness, I noticed something that brought a wave of relief: today was the first day my pack felt noticeably lighter.
Thinking back to when I left MTR, my pack had registered a staggering, shocking weight of 47 pounds (approx. 21 kg). The excess food that wouldn’t fit inside and had to be awkwardly crammed into my bear bag was finally gone. Today, for the first time, every single remaining ration fit cleanly and perfectly inside my bear canister.
Knowing that the agonizing stress of morning packing would now be drastically reduced provided an immense mental cushion for the final leg of this journey.
If everything goes according to plan, only four days remain of this epic 21-day journey.
My body is undeniably approaching its absolute physical limit, and the continuous, freezing nights have tested my mental fortitude. Yet, sitting here in the quiet evening woods, I find myself thinking deeply that all of this—the pain, the cold, the doubt—is exactly what makes this a grand adventure in the High Sierra.
Accepting both the hardship and my own moments of weakness, I renewed my silent vow to the forest tonight: I am going to live and enjoy every single remaining moment of this journey to the absolute fullest.
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