Tags
#bucketlist, #camp, #camping, #goals, #hike, #hikerchick, #hiking, #Mountwhitney, #MtWhitney, #roughingit, #tent
When we got to camp, all I wanted to do was go to sleep after only having 3.5 hours of sleep the night before; but my more experienced hiker friends strongly advised me to eat a meal, or I would not feel well the next day.
I was thinking of a protein bar for dinner when I saw the other campers pulling the most amazing things out of their backpacks. There were propane cookers and multiple heavy pots and pans. There was a second large bear can, bowls, silverware, and even camp chairs! It was like they were pulling things out of Mary Poppins’ satchel! I next expected them to pull out a floor lamp! I wondered how they could not only have room for all of these nonessentials, but how did they carry the extra weight? I was in awe! I did not have one inch of extra room in my pack and, even if I did, I know I couldn’t haul one more item.
After we all had a hot dinner, it was 8:30 and bedtime. Scary time. Everything scented had to go into the bear cans, and that turned out to be a huge problem because I’d brought along three times the amount of food I actually needed. The worst of it came when I had a Tupperware container of sliced apples that would not fit. I panicked because I didn’t want bears or whatever else was out there to smell my apples and come running.
“How about I throw them waaaaay into the woods and rinse out the container in the stream?” I offered, willing to sacrifice my apples for our safety.
“You’re not supposed to do that,” advised the most serious hiker.
“I’d only feel comfortable if you stowed the container somewhere waaaaay over there, towards the stream,” said another hiker.
I envisioned my Tupperware container of apples taking out the entire group of campers when a bear came looking for more. This was terrible! Would I have to fall asleep clutching my Tupperware container underneath me as shadows of bears and Bigfoot – Bigfeet circled my tent? I can see the headlines now: “Camping group brought down by a Tupperware container.”
Taking their advice, I donned my headlamp and stowed the container of apples far away, near the stream. Maybe the Chupacabra would know how to open Tupperware containers. Maybe they would stop at the stream and not come looking for more. Maybe they would view it as an appetizer.
After thoroughly shaking out every last thing in my tent, I moved it all back in, put on my fleece jacket, ski hat and mittens, and crawled through the tiny opening into the half-collapsed Charlie Brown tent. I not-so-easily got into the sleeping bag and zipped it up as high as it would go. Then I zipped up the rain flap zipper followed by the tent zipper. “Ah, sweet rest with nothing on my back,” I thought.
I closed my eyes as my mind continued to spin. I heard hiker after hiker pass by our camp. They sounded so close to us. Headlamp after headlamp illuminated my tiny excuse for a tent all night long. I practiced my shadow figures. Shape of a chicken, barking dog, you name it. As I listened to the footsteps in the sand, they seemed close enough to be going through our backpacks that were leaned against a large log. I wondered if it was a bear or Bigfoot out there going through our stuff. I sniffed the air because they say you can smell bears and Bigfoot – Bigfeet from a distance. I smelled nothing. I listened for growls of joy as the bears found my Tupperware container and gobbled the apples. The last time I looked at my phone, it was 11 p.m. before I fell asleep.
At midnight, the seven liters of water I’d consumed that day woke me up. Remembering where I was, I panicked as I fumbled to unzip the tent and then the rain flap. So many zippers when you’re in an emergency situation! I struggled to get out of the sleeping bag in my coffin-sized tent. I couldn’t. Darn it! I stuck my head out of the tent and crawled out in my sleeping bag on my elbows, Marine style, into the dark, bear-filled night. Frantically unzipping my sleeping bag, I pulled on my boots, dug out my headlamp, and headed for the bushes. Stupid bladder.
When I finally got myself situated back into the sleeping bag and inside the tent, I couldn’t go back to sleep. My mind was spinning again. Was that sound a bear? How about now? Could I hear something eating apples? Was someone right next to my tent? I lifted my head to look out the sunken window but saw nothing. I flopped down again, attempting to sleep but not finding success.
At 4 a.m., the smoke rolled in, and I pulled out my N95 mask that was getting a lot of use. When I got out of the tent around 6:30 a.m., I saw another hiker already sitting in one of the camp chairs.
“I only slept one hour last night,” I uttered my first complaint.
“Wasn’t your tent comfortable?” she asked.
I blinked at her and wondered if that was a trick question. I can’t even remember my reply. Did the words “tent” and “comfortable” even belong in the same sentence?
Needless to say, I had my camp site torn down and packed 1.5 hours before the other people in my group. I could not wait to get out of there and back to cell phone reception, fancy coffee, a comfy bed surrounded by solid walls, and a hot bath. I chomped on an apple slice that had survived the night and noticed there was not a single bear claw mark on my Tupperware container. I decided to wash it down with some trail mix. Minutes later, my stomach turned, and my eyes grew wide as the unthinkable happened: I was going to have to use a WAG bag. One of the other campers gave me quick instructions, and let’s just say I’m glad I sprung for the extra package of wipes instead of relying on the tiny square in the WAG package. Into the bushes I went to do the unspeakable.
Since the last four miles were downhill, I only put 1.5 liters of water in my pack instead of the full 3. Anything to lighten the load. I dreaded putting on the blasted backpack, but this was the tail end of the adventure. I could do this. I could get out of this wilderness and back to life as I knew it.
The Mary Poppins backpacks refilled, my N95 mask donned as the smoke grew heavier, we headed down the mountain. We balanced on logs and rocks to cross streams and took eerie photos of the pink sun that struggled to shine through the smoke.
When we got to the bottom, there was a hook to weigh our packs. I put my bag, devoid of most of the water now, on the hook and was shocked to see it was only 25 pounds! Maybe 28 with a full bladder and the food I’d eaten. Not the 65 pounds I’d been so sure I was turtling around.
Driving home was like driving through a snowstorm in Michigan because the smoky visibility was so poor. I heard on the news that the national forests were closing down at 5:00 p.m., so we had squeaked our adventure in just in time.
The next morning, after sleeping a blissful 9.5 hours, I awoke to screaming calf muscles and painful collarbones. I hobbled to the scale and saw I was down three pounds. I looked in the mirror and saw the large, purple marks beginning to form where the backpack straps had dug into my collarbones. My forearms had bruises on them, and my ribs were showing for the first time in a long time. I was walking like the character Fred Sanford.
That said, would I ever sleep outside again? Bleep no! Would I hike the mountain again if I started at 2:30 a.m. and did it in one day? Maybe. Adventures are kinda like childbirth. It takes you a while to forget the pain but, when you do, you’re ready for another round.
Admittedly, looking back, we made some mistakes. Even though we weren’t far away from him, we should have taken turns staying with our friend while the others summited. We were so worried about watching the skies for signs of a thunderstorm that we’d forgotten the “don’t leave your friend” rule. Hauling Tupperware was another mistake. Overpacking food was another mistake. Eating apples and trail mix was another mistake. Sleeping outside was an unforgettable mistake.
The good news is that I conquered my fear. It was painful and difficult, and I pushed my body and mind to their limits with very little sleep, but I did it. I’m even more pleased with my accomplishment when I remember that, less than nine months ago, I was lying in a hospital bed with most of my organs failing me, a swollen brain, and congestive heart failure. I’d worked hard to build myself back, and I’d succeeded. I’d climbed the highest peak in the contiguous U.S. I’d stepped waaaaay outside of my comfort zone and survived to be, hopefully, a better and stronger person because of it. Unlike my friend who seems afraid to step outside of their comfort zone and take a chance, at the end of my life, I won’t look back and wonder what could have been; I’ll have my answer.
May you all find your own adventures and not be afraid to pursue them.
Devil’s Elbow is now available in paperback, e-book, and audiobook!