Tags
#bucketlist, #california, #camp, #camping, #goallist, #goals, #hike, #hikerchick, #Mountwhitney, #MtWhitney, #summit
The next four miles to Trail Camp weren’t bad. The smoke had cleared, the scenery rivaled Yosemite, and I chugged along happily sipping water from the bladder in my backpack. The more water I drank, the lighter my pack became, so I was very motivated to drink lots of water!
We were surrounded by huge mountains of granite on each side with our goal in front of us. We balanced on large rocks to cross streams and climbed giant steps of stone as we ascended the mountain and the greenery fell behind us.
Reaching Trail Camp, which is basically a lot of stone sandwiched between two small lakes, we stopped to filter water and refill our supply before the last stretch of maybe five miles that had no water source.
The world up here looked like a moonscape. It was all rock and dust with a few patches of snow. We pulled out our windbreakers or light jackets as our sweat began to cool. As we sat, a brave marmot, who was obviously used to humans feeding him, approached us. That was the first marmot I’d ever seen, and they look like beavers with a fluffy tail.
We started to eat lunch, and that’s when my headache kicked in. It was a headache only on the left side of my head, and it was mild. A guy in the group, who had also taken Diamox ahead of time, complained of the same headache. I pushed my concern to the side and pulled the heavy, water-filled backpack onto my back, ready to continue on.
Rested and replenished, we started up the 99 switchbacks. I’m not sure if there are actually 99, but that’s what someone called them, and it certainly felt like 99 switchbacks. Again, snow-melt streams crossed our path as we climbed back and forth, back and forth for hours. Reaching the top, we looked down to see Trail Camp and, below that, heavy smoke moving into the area where we had left our tents. I felt a need to rush because not only did I not want to be hiking in the dark, but, if the smoke was too heavy to sleep on the mountain, I had to pack everything up, stuff it into the backpack, and get out before dark. I wanted to stop taking breaks and move my hiking pace to a trot to avoid the Chupacabra that I was sure lurked in the dark shadows of the forest below.
Reaching the spires at the top of the switchbacks, we now had a view of Sequoia National Park and, someone said, King’s Canyon. I was relieved to see there was less smoke on this side of the mountain, and I removed the N95 mask I’d worn up the switchbacks to protect myself from irreparable smoke damage to my lungs.
The trail along the back side of the mountain wasn’t steep, but there were many large, granite rocks that lay across our trail, providing uneven footing. Many spots had a steep drop-off, but the beautiful views of jagged mountains and clean lakes below were rewarding.
When we started the trail on the back side of the mountain, the sign said it was only 1.9 miles to the summit. Woot! I was practically there! What were a mere 1.9 miles? Well, as it turned out, these were the longest two miles of my life! It just went on and on. One person passed us and told us it would be another 45 minutes. An hour later, someone passed us and told us it would be another 30 minutes. I started to feel as if this would never end.
As we neared the summit, about a mile out, my headache increased, and I felt pain behind my eyeballs. I remembered my doctor warning me of brain swelling at high altitudes. Brain swelling or not, I’d just hiked the toughest 11 miles of my life, and I was not going to quit. I had to push through because I knew, if I didn’t, I would always wonder if I could have completed the hike and would want to come back and try again. I remembered my Charlie Brown, coffin-sized tent and pushed forward, determined not to come back.
At about this same 11-mile mark, one of the members of our group became horribly ill from altitude sickness and vomited. They couldn’t make it. They stopped, climbed onto a large rock, and said they’d wait for us to summit and come back. I felt a little panic and a sense of urgency. We were both on Diamox, we’d both gotten a light headache at Trail Camp, and I worried I’d be next in line to toss my trail mix if I didn’t get this done and get down to a safer elevation STAT.
Leaving our friend behind, we pushed on, walking through endless fields of granite boulders. Taking a turn at the last quarter mile, we went up and up and up until we rounded a corner and saw a small, stone building at the top. We had arrived! Woot!
The thing about this adventure is that I’d never doubted that I could make the long hike. I’d trained for it with running, weightlifting, and elevation hikes. I was ready. As we looked down at the smoke now moving into Trail Camp, the most challenging part of this adventure, for me, was going to be the camping. My stomach tightened nervously, and my head and eyeballs throbbed in the high elevation. We took our photos, signed in, and then I couldn’t wait to get the bleep out of there before I had the same altitude sickness as our friend.
After replenishing our water supply at Trail Camp, we continued our descent another four miles to camp. The setting sun reflecting off the smoke cast an eerie, pink glow on the mountains as we moved quickly in an attempt to avoid being caught in the dark; but we weren’t that lucky. The last 1.25 hours were in complete darkness, and I mindlessly followed the fastest person in the group as I fell into second place behind him.
The forests around us were very quiet except for a wolf or coyote howl, which didn’t do much for my morale.
“Have we overshot the campsite?” the guy in front of me asked, stopping his brisk pace.
The second guy pulled out his phone and opened the Alltrails App. “Nope, but we’re close. Another five minutes.”
“Five minutes” turned into a lot more minutes as we slipped over rocks in streams and walked on, not able to see into the dark forest around us. I was thinking about my tent and rolling into it, exhausted; but then I rethought that. We’d left everything unzipped so marmots or bears or whatever would not chew through the tent to get to our stuff. Right then and there, I decided I would be emptying the contents of my tent and giving everything a good shake in case a snake or something else had squiggled in.
As we neared our campsite, I could hear the roar of the waterfall nearby and the gurgle of the stream we crossed before entering our home not-so-sweet home. Now came the tough part. Now, I was going to have to put on my big-girl pants and do this outdoor thing. There would be no complaints, not a peep. I would just somehow squeeze into my Charlie Brown, coffin-sized tent and drift away to Dream Land, right? Unfortunately, I wasn’t that lucky.
Join me soon for Climbing Out Of My Comfort Zone – Part 4!
The Tunnels is available on Amazon in e-book, paperback, and audiobook formats!
Daterella's Adventures In Dating 