June 27th
Still feeling more tired from “town” than from trail, we sleep in and get a later start than expected.
We are past the range of dayhikers now, entering the northern portion of Yosemite, which is transected by a series of canyons. The hiking is almost as difficult as the John Muir trail through the high Sierras, although somewhat less spectacular. Instead of hiking over passes we enter and climb out of canyons. Seldom above tree line we have very few panoramic views and catch occasional glimpses of peaks.
We see several more deer throughout the day and they are increasingly more afraid of humans. Fewer backpackers venture here and we are back in a “bubble” between thru-hikers: we see absolutely no one all day long, glad to have found this possible still in a national park in June. The afternoon thunderstorms come up again, closer to us. This time we find ourselves pulling out the Tyvek groundsheet to cover ourselves. We are pinned down on the far side of a pass, but unable to enter a large open meadow because of the threat from lightening. After almost 2 weeks of dodging afternoon storms, we finally get hit by rain, the second real rain of the trip, and garbanzo bean size hail. We huddle under the Tyvek for over an hour waiting for it to clear.
The rain seems to bring out the Mosquitoes. I must have killed thousands of them this afternoon and still they kept coming. This leads me to wonder – if every hiker killed thousands each day the mossie population should dwindle. On the other hand, if just one mossie escapes with a full load of blood and gives birth then there are a million progeny to swat at. So in the end do hikers might lead to a population increase.
Overall it was a difficult day of hiking with lots of steep climbs up followed by knee jarring downs. We camped next to a pond about half mile before Seavy Pass.
The skies have cleared and the stars come out to play. The light from the nearly full moon shines through the thin tent walls like a spotlight. We are serenaded to sleep by a chorus of frogs croaking about bellies full of delightful mossies.
