A ford by any other name is not the same. June 26.

It would be unnatural for any hiker to not worry about crossing the
many creeks in the High Sierras. Happy JO's greatest fear was reaching
an impassable ford in the middle of the wilderness, or attempting a
dangerous one with bad outcomes. With high snow this year and rising
temperatures, the chance of a forced turnaround was high.

After our 5pm ascent of Mather Pass the temperture was 82 degrees. As
we prepared dinner around 8pm, an avalanche rocked the opposite side
of the canyon. Things were warming up quickly and we were literally
watching it happen.

The next day we set up to climb Muir Pass, a long gradual ascent to
just under 12,000ft, infamous for its miles and miles of posthole-
perfect snow. The afternoon was incredibly warm, making snow travel
painfully difficult. We decided to camp at 11,200ft, just 2.5 miles
from the pass, and ascend at 4:30am when the snow would be crunchy
under our microspikes.

At 3:30 we all felt the drizzle coming down on our tents and we knew
that we had made the wrong decision. It had been too warm for the snow
to harden, and it would surely cave under our feet like sloppy 7-11
slushies. The morning climb and descent through 8 miles of snow was a
mind-numbing slog, nevertheless we would soon be jarred to attention
on our arrival at the infamous Evolution Creek crossing.

Winding through the long deep valley from Muir Pass -- Evolution
Valley-- is the notorious Evolution Creek, shin deep on dry years but
a raging whitewater canyon on wet years. I had never seen powerful
rivers like these before, so the best comparison I knew was the
significantly tamer brand at Six Flags, which at this point I will
note that I also found scary.

We approached the bank of Evolution at 3pm and walked upstream about
25 yards. After finding a location that balanced a reasonable depth
with a slower current, we got into formation by linking arms and
facing upstream: kamikaze Kern to lead, then me, Happy JO, Cubby and
Boston to anchor the lineup.

First step in and the water hit my thighs. By the halfway point, it
was at my rib cage. Because Cubby and I were shorter, our packs hit
the water and created huge drag on the lineup. I tried to keep my feet
on the bottom but I could barely stand. We were all screaming orders
at one another: Go! Stop! Wait! You're on my foot! I can't make it!

Cubby clung for her life on Happy JO's arm, and Boston onto Cubby's.
Meanwhile I was secretly enthralled by the action, despite having
little control over my body in the vicious current. We made it across
after about twenty minutes of slow, steady, but never effortless,
movement.

We were soaked and dazed, yet Happy JO was able to guide the next
group across about one hour later as Team Zero dried out clothes and
cooked dinner. We videoed the other group's ford, and I plan to post
it as soon as I can.

Cubby was nervous about the upcoming Bear Creek ford, and so she led a
firestorm to get as many miles in as possible that night. We walked
until 8:45pm in order to access Bear by mid-morning. (the later in
the day, the more melting snow in the creeks) Ultimately we found an
alternate route across Bear's three branches upstream and lost two
hours to avoid the main crossing, but it was worth it.

The worst was over and we would soon be emerging from the Sierras
unscathed. Photo above is at the bridge (thank you!) at the Middle
Fork Kings River: Sticky, Happy JO, Kern, Cubby and Boston. Mile 870
and getting antsy!