Sunday, July 24, 2016

July 22 - Donner Pass, Yummmm!


Once again another climb to start the day. At least it was cool and breezy. Once the climb was done it was time to walk the narrow ridges. The wind was so cold blew so hard that I donned my long sleeve sweater, jacket, and gloves. At times I had to take off my hat and clutch it in my hand, even though it was tied on, lest it fly away like the ravens. I imagined a short ugly man trolling the bottom of the lee-side cliff collecting articles of clothing, mostly hats, and selling them at the swap meet. "Can I get $45 for this gently used Tilley?"


The ridges finally led down to another ski area at Highway 40 and Donner Pass where I rested for a few minutes before walking the four miles to Interstate 80, also at Donner Pass. The path led under the freeway and to a side trail to the rest stop. I made lunch on the picnic table and answered nice inquiries from passerby. Then it was off to climb yet another pass to reach my camping area near the Sierra Club's Peter Grubb Hut. 


Frankly I think I could have thought of a better name for the hut. Really!Peter Grubb was at Donner Pass? Was he dinner? Or just invited for dinner? Or maybe the last hiker or skier to come in for the night was dinner. I can hear Peter now, "Here comes grub through the front door. About time. I was getting a little hungry for some fresh meat."  


Joking aside, the hut was pretty magnificent. It was really neat to see that the main entrance was on the second floor. Same with the outhouse. When I entered, George had a fire going and his stuff spread out in the main downstairs room. The hut was pretty rustic, but has to be cozy in the middle of a snowy winter. One of the side rooms had long benches made of a single hewn log. 


I decided that the mosquitoes and mice inside the hut were not for me so I proceeded a short way down the trail to camp with the mosquitoes and flies, but not inside my tent. Yay!


Walking ridges in the am. 

Under I-80. 


Peter Grubb Hut. No one was for dinner when I got there. 

Two story outhouse. 


Picture in winter. 

Stocked for winter. 

The way around. 


George. He was hanging there because he was tired after spending a day trying to find his way back from a remote area. 


Another view. 























Hikingsolo

1 comment:

  1. I feel that wind is the worst element because it does something to me that I have yet to capture in words. It is like it penetrates my soul. It gets in between everything and stirs up emotions, causes clenching and leaves me spent. I wonder if you will come home more tolerant and able to shrug things off.

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