Southbound on the JMT September 2025

A good friend and I set out to walk the John Muir Trail SOBO this September, and found ourselves on a journey. Life altering, at least regarding certain factual matters. Such as the fact that I will never go over Mather Pass again. Twice is enough. Never!

Here is a record of sorts of our progress. It’s mostly an excuse to post pictures of the Sierra and my fellow pilgrims.

“This grand show is eternal,” as Muir said, and “See how willingly Nature poses herself on photographers’ plates. No earthy chemicals are as sensitive as those of the human soul. All that is required is exposure, and purity of material.” [John O’ the Mountains, 1872]

We launched from the trusty NPS Wilderness Permit office in Tuolumne Meadows, where I turned in a permit I had gotten to leave five days later, after my buddy Chris /Tugboat leapt on an opportunity that came up on the website and got a permit for us to leave on the 3rd (of September). We knew we were carrying too much but we correctly wanted an accurate toll of the damage, and asked if they had a scale and they did, but no hook to hang it on, so we had to awkwardly hold it in the air to get a reading. I was a little over 34 pounds; Chris was a little over 35. Too much. Tugboat cussed at that, half-joking, half-not. We both have an overpacking problem.

Regardless, we set out promptly at 10:30 on the trail up Lyell Canyon, and soon enough fell under its spell. Countless people have walked this trail for thousands of years, with little doubt — it’s so obviously the way south from Tuolumne Meadows that some today call it the John Muir Freeway.

Yet it still entices. One finds startling pictures without hardly trying, as so often seems to be the case with the Sierra.

[Space for graphic profile of the Lyell Canyon part of the JMT heading south out of Tuolumne Meadows and up towards Donohue Pass. ]

Suddenly the trail takes a turn upward and before long one ‘packer after another is panting as the trail switchbacks up a trail that’s increasingly rough, with lots of boulders to maneuver around. Those suffering people included Tugboat and me, Heavy Lit, and countless others, many of them faster than us. We were really hffing and puffing: the trail ascends a little less than a thousand feet, and plateaus briefly before resuming an ascent out of the valley below.

We found a perch to catch our breath and rest up for the final ascent of the day. Despite our late start, we had climbed switchbacking up out of the valley and we felt it. My heartrate was getting into the exhausting territory. “Really kicked my butt,” Tugboat said, before falling into a much-needed recovery nap. I was not fortunate enough to fully sleep, but boy I needed the rest, a break from climbing.

A half an hour later we found a lovely place about 200 feet from Lyell Creek. A designated spot, well below the trail, and private, but well above Lyell Creek, and hygienic. Perfect. Next morning we and at least a hundred others set out for Donohue Pass, leaving on our right, to the southwest, the remains of Lyell Glacier.

By lunch we were at the pass, at a moderate 11,000 feet, and quite heavily trafficked — including mule trains.

Now we were in the Sierra, with the mountains — such as Banner-Ritter — to prove it.

We camped that night at fabled Thousand-Island Lake, and happened to meet — to our good fortune — the folks who had hired the mule trains. They had a large party camped higher up on the hill, with a fabulous view of these great mountains. The fellow said he used to be a triathlete, and couldn’t carry a pack anymore, but he still loved the mountains, and they hired mule trains to go as a party, and bring a kayak, and kayaked around Thousand-Island Lake! And they gave us each a muffin! Did not expect trail magic well off the trail at the start of the High Sierra.

Come back soon for more JMT in 2025!