At some point last night the storm stopped. I woke this morning to a clear sky and two inches of crusted snow on the ground. Of course, the cold front wasn't done. There were no longer any clouds to trap warm air, and I would guess that this morning was the coldest yet, including the morning after Glenn Pass. I literally had to stay in bed an extra hour just to let the sun come up. Even then, my hands ached just being out, and I spent most of the day hiking in my long underwear top and fleece.
I set out through a frozen landscape, pausing only long enough to snap a photo of Thousand Island Lake, where I had camped. I spent the morning climbing Island Pass, then Donahue Pass. Along the way I could see that a number of animals had been active during the storm. I followed deer, rabbit, coyote, and some small rodent, as they crossed the trail. Soon I was chugging up Donahue Pass, and I began to notice that the cold of the morning had frozen little snow melt streams that crossed the path. As the trail gained elevation there were more and more streams that ran along the trail itself. With a mile left to go to the top of the pass, I would say 70% of the trail was ice. This made the going slow and treacherous. One wrong step and you'd be ice skating. I tried my best to go off trail or find ice free footings, but time and again I slipped and spent a few brief moments trying not to go crashing to the ground. Finally I made the pass (pictured: me trying not to slide on icy ground, and the view looking south). Incidentally, I made a mistake yesterday when I guesstimated the pass at 10,800 feet. It is actually just over 11,000. My hands were freezing by the time I got to the top, so I stuck them in my pockets and headed down. That's when I hit a patch of ice hidden under a dusting of snow. With my hands tied up there was no way to keep my balance. Fortunately my pack took most of the blow, though I did knock my left wrist and elbow on a rock. The elbow was fine but the wrist was bleeding pretty badly.
I got down to a lower elevation, out of the snow, and stopped for lunch. My wrist had stopped bleeding and I found it was a small but somewhat deep gash. I finally had the opportunity to use one of my new bandages, courtesy of the Hendersons' resupply (pictured). After lunch I cruised about 10 miles down Lyell Canyon, which is essentially beautiful meadow the whole way, alongside a meandering stream of turquoise and emerald. That led me to Tuolumne Meadows, where I ran into another hiker named "Cloud Walker," or something like that. I always find it weird when I introduce myself by my real name and I get something like "Mystic Donkey Fart" in return. I like trail names for certain reasons, but some people are a bit fanatical. Anyway, he headed into Tuolumne to hit the post office and I headed on along the trail. He left me with the remark "I'll probably catch up to you." It was said like "I'm fast and you're slow, so I'll be seeing you soon." I don't much care if Mystic Donkey Fart catches up to be honest.
The next 6 miles took me along Tuolumne Meadows (pictured) and along the Tuolumne River. The river drops as it heads toward Yosemite Valley, creating some amazing waterfalls that throw of multiple rainbows (sorry, I was too tired to take a picture). This area is also abundant in wildlife, and I saw more than a dozen deer as well as a coyote. The trail then turns north along Cold Canyon, where I am now camped. And in case you were wondering, it's cold. So altogether for the day I made 29 miles and roughly 2000 feet gained. Not bad considering my pack is still heavy with food.
