Thanks, Minnesota

In December, we took a trip home, and it was short but perfect.

Thanks, Minnesota.

White-space adventuring

Life is quiet right now. Quiet, not silent. I wake up remembering the fog that settled between the mountains on our drive through Missoula, Montana, aching for the views and the sky and the rock from the summer. I've devoured countless books since we've returned - fiction and nonfiction - as I use up excess time in my day and meditate on what it means to tell good, true stories. What does it mean to soak up life so that along the way - not just in the end - there are beautiful, dangerous, inspiring stories to tell? I'm taking lessons from the white space of our summer.

Remember the days after the biggest adventure of your life.
The day we got off the John Muir Trail was a blur of trail-friends catching buses, finding lodging, eating, and sleeping. The days that followed were filled with friends who gave generously of their time, gas money, and pantry contents. I didn't take a single picture in Redding, California because I was too dang tired, but our good friends Seth (pictured) and his sister Hannah are champions. He flew to Minnesota for our wedding; he and Hannah drove 10 hours to pick us up at Mt. Whitney only to turn around and drive 10 hours back. On Hannah's birthday. With endless enthusiasm. They listened to our stories, sympathized with our limps, let us lounge, and introduced us to one of our new favorite comedies.

Admire people who, in essence, live the way you want to live. 
Take our brother and sister, Aaron and Lisa. They live in a dream-like treehouse on the Oregon coast, nestled in the the trees half a mile from the ocean. For the week we were there, we felt so free. And that's the way they live, it seems. Active, engaged, laughter-filled.

Turn oddly normal things into oddly big deals

Still in Oregon... why not cut Ben's hair on the deck facing the ocean before grilling homemade pizza while listening to a jazz singer we've never heard of?

Choose memory-making activities over mind-numbing habits

After Oregon, we visited my parents in North Dakota. They had been wanting to try kayaking, so we ventured out onto the Missouri river instead of planning our usual movie marathon. Of course we still watched movies and we ate good food, but we also made this great memory that involved several hours out in the sun.

From big adventure to quiet afternoon of hand fishing, this is how we want life to look.

Ponderings

It's been a month since we got off the John Muir Trail. Since then, we've spent time with family, seen the ocean, visited a bustling city, arrived back at home, and started a job. There's been some time to reflect in the time that has passed because of the number of times we've told the stories, but there's so much to think about - to write about - it's tough to pick a place and dwell. How about a list!

On whether hiking is for me... It is. In our culture, it's hard to live simply. I read blogs about it by people using macbooks, iphones, and tablets. But I will give up anything to make my pack lighter. I've already written about the challenge. It provides intrigue. The views? Obviously an incentive. There's so much to learn about the art of packing light - of balancing need and want. It's the kind of tension I want in my life always because it's the attitude that will let me seek simplicity that goes beyond fad DIY home decor and knick-knacks. In my head I have Ben shaking his head: "Go without." It's not like I crave deprivation, but I do prefer it to over-consumption on most days.

On learning to trust the leader... Like all our adventures this summer, physical challenge requires a certain level of dependence. Ben proved in every way that he is far superior in skill and intuition in situations like the ones we encountered. I'm not very practiced at shutting up and taking orders, but it saved some blood when the mosquitos started attacking us and Ben told me to run (for roughly five miles). It kept me moving when I wanted to stop. It potentially saved our lives when he kept us from hiking to the tippy-top of Mt. Whitney during a lightning storm. Or, and this happened so often it was sad, trusting his eyes to keep me on the blasted trail.

On small critters... Ever seen a marmot? Or a pika? Or a ground squirrel whose tail is bigger than his body? I heard every twitch they made in the bushes next to the trail. Each time we spotted one it was like it was the first time we'd seen them. I'd like to live in the mountains so I can have them for pets without taking them out of the wild. Besides the critters, we stood within arms' reach of deer, including a buck who stood right in the middle of the trail in the light of the sunrise and later a doe, her yearling and her fawn grazing - we spooked the fawn and watched it hop away. We saw horses packing in supplies and llamas learning to do the same. A rattlesnake. And a bear knocked around our bear vaults the first night on the trail, but it was too dark to see him.

On the people... They're stories. A wellspring of stories. We expected to encounter more people than we did. Actually, we expected to encounter more people we could hike alongside than we did. We met many hikers, but most were hiking the opposite direction. Some stopped to talk - like Thomas, who was hiking the PCT for the third time and told us about a trail he's hiked in Israel. There was Bill from Hawaii who hiked the JMT for the second time, 40 or so years after his first time and reminded us to slow down and enjoy the matchless views. He had a thing for birds. And, finally, there was Ranger Rob, who shared his cabin with seven of us JMTers during a hail storm. His wife is also a ranger.

On sleeping on the ground for 15 nights straight... Don't skimp on the sleeping pad. And pack sleeping pills.

Trail Magic

This is the second in a series detailing our 220-mile, 15-day hike through the high sierras. To read more stories and see more pictures, click the logo.

Every once in a while, a stranger will do something nice for me. They may hold the door open, or pitch in a few cents if I'm short at the grocery store. I am always very grateful for these people because random kindness can be hard to come by in some places. When we were hiking the JMT, random kindness was everywhere. In the hiking community, this is called "Trail Magic" and the people that help you are "Trail Angels." The following tales are accounts of our Trail Angels and what they did for us.

Thousand Island Lake just before the "giants"

One particularly difficult day, we had 22 miles to cover over what is called Inyo National Forest. This is a land of giants and it was common to see trees that were over 10 ft in diameter. However, we couldn't fully enjoy their beauty because 1) they were knocked to the ground and 2) there were swarms of mosquitos attacking us (we learned later that a wind storm knocked these trees over last winter. 180mph winds!). This forced us to run the last 5 miles of the day in order to keep the pests from sucking all of our blood. After this endurance test, we walked in to Devil's Postpile National Monument to find a campsite only to find they were all taken. In our futile attempts to find some spare land to pitch a tent, we stumbled upon a man named Jim who asked what we were doing. After a short conversation, he offered his spare tent to us with a queen air mattress and we gladly accepted. He was there with his wife Jan and mother Jan who were some of the most talkative and easy-going people we met on our trip. They fed us dinner and kept us company that night and in the morning gave us some fruit and cereal. Their hospitality went a long way and allowed us to get a decent night's sleep. Thanks Jim, Jan, and Jan!

Out of the forest and up Mather Pass

The following day, we took a bus from Devil's Postpile to a town called Mammoth Lakes. We planned to restock our food and buy Taryn some new shoes (her shoes had fallen apart and given her 17 blisters). Mammoth is a ski town that caters to outdoor tourists so the choices for gear shops was a bit overwhelming. We randomly chose one called Footloose Sports hoping to find someone who could size Taryn up for a decent pair of shoes. The man who was working in the footwear department happened to be a retired pediatrist. He was able to fit Taryn with a great pair of shoes. What are the odds?!

Campsite on top of Donahue Pass

Me and my new sleeping pad "Big Blue"

The night we camped on top of Donahue Pass (day 3), my ultralight sleeping pad popped. This meant that I had to sleep on the ground, and for any hiker that is terrible news. I tried to power through but three days and nights of exhaustion were too much. We were forced to take a short detour to a place called Vermillion Valley Resort, which was a few miles off trail via boat ride. Our plan was to go there and try to hitchhike into the nearest town to replace my pad. Well, the nearest town was three hours away and the small cafe there did not sell any big ticket items like a pad. This was a make or break moment for me. I was either going to get a pad or we were going to quit only 75 miles into our journey. We had the day to think about it (the boat only runs twice a day) so we sat on a bench and talked with other hikers. There were a few random people there who had driven the long pilgrimage from Fresno to camp and one of them decided to strike up a conversation. He asked me what we were doing and how it was going. I quickly told him our situation and he replied "I will be right back." He returned a few minutes later with a large blue foam pad that he said was his spare hiking pad. I sat there in disbelief and thanked him profusely. He laughed and then offered Taryn and I steaks. The kindness was almost too much to handle.

 A perfect rock chair in the middle of nowhere. This was an exhausting day

The last 60 percent or so of our trip we hiked very quickly because we could not carry much food. Our average mileage was more than 20 and we even did a 25-mile day. In the High Sierra, this is no easy feat and by the end we were beyond tired. We had also gone several days without a decent conversation, so our morale suffered as well. On day 13 of our trip we were practically out of food and still had one big pass to cover, Forester. Once we got over this the rest of the way was easy but we were still out of food. That night we camped in a large group of people and immediately began talking to two guys who were hiking at about the same speed we were. After a long chat, we bonded with them and set out the next day as a group of four. This boosted morale beyond anything we had experienced up to this point and to top it off, they fed us a few meals! Their names were Alex and Dustin and I can't say enough about them. At the base of Mount Whitney, we were caught in a hail storm. Dustin pitched a tarp against a rock wall and seven or eigh of us hikers crammed ourselves under it. Despite the bad weather and obvious hunger, this was one of my favorite moments on the whole trail and everyone under the tarp had a huge smile on their faces. We were almost done! One more mountain to go! This company made all the difference in the world and helped Taryn and I to finish our journey.

The summit of Whitney was invisible because of the storm

These are just a few of the stories from the trail that I hope to remember for years. It was a far cry from modern living because we (hikers) were all dependent on each other to finish. When we needed something, it was there and when we didn't have any strength left, somehow we made it through. We thank all of our Trail Angels that we met on our trip.