11,056 foot Donohue Pass welcomes hikers to the Sierra's eastern side. Photo by Jess Brown

As I looked at the black smear of water trails on the face of the Moraine Dome, the thought occurred to me that I was much too tired to be on the first day of a 65-mile hike through remote, wild country. My pack dug into my shoulders, and I could already hear whimpering from the welts forming on my back. There was no question about it: my pack was ridiculously overloaded.

It didn't have to be. Sure, Jess and I would need plenty of food over the next eight days in Yosemite's backcountry and the Ansel Adams Wilderness, especially since all the stores and restaurants in the area had shut down for the season the week before. But we'd cached a hearty supply of grub at Tuolumne Meadows, roughly the half-way point between Yosemite Valley and the ski-resort haven of Mammoth Lakes, our destination on the east side of the Sierra Nevada. So it wasn't food weight I was shouldering.

The reason I was coming in heavy had more to do with the time of year: the week in which September would fade into October, when lows in the high country would start dipping into the teens at night. In the days leading up to our departure for this min-trek, I'd tracked the weather closely, and burned up the phone line chatting with friends who lived in the shadow of the Sierra's east side.

There'd already been snow -- one surprisingly staunch storm had blown in early -- and the stranglehold of the California summer had begun to lose its grip, even in the foothills where I lived on the western slope. A friend who'd hiked into Fish Creek, south of Mammoth the week before, reported "lots of snow." Another, who lived north of there off U.S. 395, had stern advice: "Bring a down jacket. I had a friend out there last week without one, and he froze his ass off."

While I'd looked forward to this hike for a long time as the bookend to a magical summer kayaking and falling in love on the South Fork of the American River, getting caught in a Sierra storm at over 10,000 feet wasn't my idea of fun. We'd be stepping over 11,056 foot Donohue Pass on our way to the east side, and I loathed the idea of being wet and shivering in Yosemite's high country for eight days.

So I'd brought every piece of warm, waterproof gear I had. This included my Gor-Tex snow pants, my Columbia mountaineering shell, toe-warmers, fleece hat, snowboarding gloves, a bevy of thick, wool and fleece socks, and of course, the recommended down jacket.

Which, with the back of my neck damp and the sweat stinging my eyes on this late afternoon, seemed like ludicrous overkill. At least I was prepared, I thought, as I felt every ounce of gear pound deeper into the grooves in my back.

Mount Davis over Thousand Island Lake at the junction of the John Muir and Pacific Crest Trails. Photo by Jess Brown

It had been a long day, and now, as it approached 6 o'clock, we were on the trail late. As we passed the shriveled streaks of the Bunnell Cascade, high above us and to the left of the Merced River, I knew we'd need to find camp soon. But in the middle of this burned out low-lands we were traversing now, I didn't know where.

The hiking now wasn't too bad, relatively flat and firm, which was a welcome change from the nearly 2,000 feet in elevation we'd gained already with our first-day packs. Jess was letting me know how she felt -- and it wasn't good -- as we started climbing again, the Merced River getting pinched into a small gorge to our right.

Looking at the terrain ahead of us, with another huge dome looming in the distance, I frantically scanned the horizon for a camp. We were only climbing now, getting farther away from the river, and thus, our only good chance of water for cooking and camping, but I didn't see a flat spot anywhere. But then it hit me: a beautiful, barely wide enough slab of flat rock, perched 100 feet above the river with reasonable access to the water below.

Looking back at Jess, I pointed and we silently nodded at one another: After 13 hours of shuttling, packing, hiking and climbing, we'd reached camp at last. I collapsed onto the rocks and started a dinner of dehydrated turkey stroganoff, watching Jess set up our tent. I knew there was no place I'd rather be. We were in the wilderness, a good seven miles from the trailhead, resting our bones, with nothing but eight days of mountains and adventure in front of us. We could finally relax.

Which wasn't how the day started.

The alarm on my cell phone woke us at 5:30 a.m. We were in the back of my truck, camped in a grove we had found toward 2 a.m. off the Mammoth Scenic Loop, tucked in from U.S. 395. It had taken us five hours to drive there from the Gold Country. The temperature had dropped into the teens again, and the little sleep I got was blotchy, pocked with woken moments from the dead spots in my down bag.

Fortunately, I knew, we would get some respite soon from the slam-and-go scheduled we'd put ourselves on. By 7 o'clock, we'd be on a cozy YARTS bus, heading out of Mammoth, where we'd leave my truck, while someone else did the driving up and over Tioga Pass. The bus would then plunge us down into Yosemite Valley to the start of our hike from Yosemite Valley to Mammoth, along parts of the John Muir and Pacific Crest Trails.

Too Easy Not To

That bus is one of the best things about this hike (besides the hand-of-God scenery, of course). Because of the way this hike weaves its way east out of Yosemite Valley and then north toward Tuolumne Meadows before bow-legging back to the south to jump out of the Park and over the Sierra Crest at Donohue Pass before heading toward Mammoth, its logistics are ga-ga simple. All you have to do is park at one end, and then catch the bus back to the Valley either at the beginning or end of your hike.

Grub to Go

It gets better. Not only can you catch a ride on bus, but once you start planning this hike, you'll notice the too-easy-not-to option of caching your food at one of the bear-proof boxes in Tuolumne Meadows, conveniently located near the halfway point of the trip. That means you won't be tramping half of your chow up the 4,000 foot ascent as you climb from the Valley floor to the Meadows, probably the steepest part of the hike.

To make it even easier, if you drive to Mammoth first, you don't have to enter the Park to cache your food beforehand, because the YARTS bus stops in Tuolumne on its way to the Valley. Jess and I made sure we were ready to hop off the bus at the Tuolumne Meadows Wilderness Center, where we threw our labeled, second-half food bags into one of the bins before dashing back to our seats for the rest of the ride. Our friendly driver Tim, and his dog Duke, who rode along with us, were only too happy to oblige.

We paid $15 each for our one-way tickets, and we were able to pay the bus driver when we hopped on at Mammoth Mountain Lodge, the first of several stops the once-a-day bus makes in Mammoth before heading toward Yosemite. It runs June through September, with daily service during the peak season, and weekend service in the spring and fall. Call YARTS, or Yosemite Area Regional Transportation System, at 1-877-989-2787, or check out schedules on the Web at www.yarts.com. During the busier summer months, you'll also want to make confirm availability with them beforehand, as some buses do fill up.

Get a Permit

While you’re at it, make sure to contact Yosemite at (209)372-0740 or online at www.nps.gov/yose/wilderness/permits.htm to get a wilderness permit, which can be reserved for $5 and is a must-have for all overnight backpackers in the Park. Give yourself plenty of lead-time, though. Yosemite's a popular place, and permits go quick. Even if you don't have a reservation, though, you can get walk-in permits the day of your hike. Just make sure to get to one of the Wilderness Centers early; permits go on a first come, first served basis. Oh, and sorry Duke, no dogs allowed on the trails.

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