Monday morning, August 1990; Crescent Meadow – Bearpaw Meadow
Much of the first day’s hike was a gentle uphill, 11.3 miles from Crescent Meadow in the Giant Forest of Sequoia National Park to Bearpaw Meadow, which is just back from a steep 1400’ drop to the floor of the Kaweah River Valley. We spent little time in the Giant Forest itself, saying goodbye to my Uncle Paul, who’d driven us from Sacramento the night before to drop us here, leaving the big sequoias for which the park is named behind almost immediately. I spent the day getting used to the feel of my pack, adjusting it tighter as the day wore on to shift the weight more from shoulders to hips, where it belonged, despite the initial discomfort of the tight fit around my waist.
We carried about 100 pounds between us, and I looked forward to eating the packs lighter. Our Pop-Tarts were first to go, before they had much of a chance to crumble, as they inevitably do after more than one day in a backpack. The weather was clear, the Kaweah peaks in the background getting closer as we wound our way toward them. We passed several lower-altitude domes on the other side of our broad valley as we gained nearly 1000’ of altitude, seeing them from all angles as we went.
The difference in perspective was fascinating, and I marveled at how different they could look from behind, when they sometimes seemed so simple in structure from the front. When the ground was flatter, the trail was firmly packed soil through sun-dappled forest. Where the slope of the valley wall was steeper, the trail was forced around and over massive, grey-tan, rough-edged granite boulders full in the bright sun. The trail builders had even cut rough steps through the granite where there was no way around it.
At the end of the day, the trail lost 400’ and gained 600’ back within less than a mile, our first sore test of climbs to come. Dad had trouble with the final stretch to the campsite and accepted my help in taking his pack for the last quarter mile. This was supposed to be an easy day.
For dinner we made the last of our relatively fresh food. I’d brought olive oil, basil, parmesan, and tortellini, and once we’d picked some sunflower seeds out of our gorp to stand in for pine nuts and mixed it all together in the dark, we made pesto, calling it sunflower seed and mosquito pesto for the large number of mosquitos now flying all around us and presumably into our food.
Backpacking With Family 