"Mile... Mile and a Half"

This documentary was just a wee teaser when we started thinking about including the John Muir Trail in our summer-long honeymoon in 2012. I had never heard of this 220-mile stretch of God's Country, named for John Muir. I had never heard of John Muir. I had never considered hiking that far. But the images these artists captured on their 25-day hike amazed me. This was a real, attainable experience. These views were not fiction.

Ben and I just watched the full documentary, now available for renting and purchasing on iTunes. You should watch it. The memories I've lived through the past few weeks spent recounting my trail journal were amplified by the sights I was able to relive with this documentary. The year we hiked, there was no snow. At all. So that's a major difference from their experience (i.e. we had trails to follow on the passes).

Life changing.

Journal pages, no. 14

July 22, 2012 | Day 14 | 14.2 mi: 

Sleeping at the trail crest of Whitney. Three in the tent w/ Ben & Alex - Dustin sleeping outside. Ranger Ron (gave seven us shelter from a hail storm in his one-room cabin, which was decorated with mementos people illegally leave atop Mt. Whitney). Hail / down pour (the only bad weather we experienced in two weeks). Tarp / tent city (between storms, we hiked to Guitar Lake at the base of Whitney. There, a tent city had been erected by hikers of all kinds. We sat under a tarp with new friends and couple more strangers, eating the last of Alex & Dustin's food so they could join us in hiking with as little as humanly possible. Refried beans and spicy sausage were a bad choice).

*problems with photos, will update*

 1. Early in the day, while the sky was still clear-ish, we hiked across this amazing plain. We WILL camp there the next time we hike the JMT. || 2. The view from Ranger Ron's doorway. Ranger Ron's wife is also a ranger stationed about 8 miles from him. The meet up on their days off. Living the dream. || 3. Once the hail stopped, we high-tailed it to Guitar Lake, where it started pouring rain again. We sat under this tarp with Dustin (pictured) and Alex. || 4. The obscured view of Mt. Whitney's peak after the rain stopped. The clouds hovered thickly all night. || 5. After we were sure the rain was done, we hiked up to Trail Crest, from which point it is up to the summit or down to the parking lot at Whitney Portal. This was truly the beginning of the end and I took my time on the switchbacks, stopping to gawk at this amazing sunset over endless mountains that we would say goodbye to in the morning. I thought it looked like Mt. Doom. Now I just miss it like crazy. 

Day 15 has no entry and none of its own pictures, so I'm going to end here. Because of a lightning storm that lasted all night and kept Whitney's summit obscured, we opted to hike the 8 miles down rather than pursue those last 1,500 vertical feet to the highest point in the lower-48. We made this decision around 3 a.m., after not sleeping at all. Three people in a two-man tent will do that. By 3:30-ish we were descending the 99 switchbacks as seas of headlamps moved toward us - hikers coming from Whitney Portal to attempt the summit. Some starting the hike we just finished. We got down several hours later - longer than it should have taken - because downhill exacerbated my knee / achilles issues and we were delirious. Still, we finished the JMT before noon - probably around 10. We waved down a hitch for our friends Alex & Dustin who found renewed energy in the possibility of hopping a bus to LA and flying home to Seattle early. We were sad to part so suddenly. We learned they made it all the way home that day. It made us laugh, imagining them sitting trail filthy on a plane out of Los Angeles. We caught a different ride down to Lone Pine, a small town that sits between Death Valley and Mt. Whitney. We ate McDonald's. And Subway. And a pizza. And smoothies. We lost time in our hotel room as we drifted in and out of sleep. I showered twice and tried to rinse my clothes because we had no others to put on. I hiked for 14 days in one set of clothes, and I still own them and wear them today. Finally, my ankles swelled until they blended with my calves, and they remained swollen for about two weeks. I likely had tendonitis. Why they didn't swell after I laid down each night on trail, I'll never know, but that would have forced us to get off, so I'll take is as a miracle. A day and a half after we got off the trail, our friends from Redding, CA drove to Lone Pine to pick us up and take us to our car in Yosemite. We slept in our cars for a few hours then ate breakfast looking out at Half Dome - the same view we saw the day we started our hike. Full circle. 

Reliving this adventure has renewed my spirit. Thanks for reading. Currently I sit in a coffee shop, fighting back the few tears that make me feel so alive. Sometimes I get caught up in my day - my week. I get excited about potential job promotions and chances to fulfill my dreams as a writer. I make plans with friends to eat pizza and watch movies. But today I'm wearing a suit coat over a flannel shirt and I wish I was hiking with Ben - he's hiking right now. I would take a hail storm with a smile. When I strip everything away, I realize that circumstances have little to do with happiness. Jobs do not bring purpose. Life is purposeful because I was made for it - whatever it brings on any given day. I was made to feel lonely in a crowded coffee shop and like a social butterfly in a cabin of strangers in the middle of nowhere. Life is full of so many different opportunities that add up to a crazy adventure. Today I'll alphabetize and shelf books at Half Price. I'll interview a source for my first freelance story that has a publication it will call home. And when I close my eyes, I'll see that sunset over Guitar Lake that made me realize, even then, when all I wanted was a burger and a bed, that as soon as I was full and healthy, I would miss this trail. I miss that trail. I wish I was there. I'm glad that I'm here. I would not be who or where I am today without these 14 days. 

Peace.

*This is day 14 of 14, recounting our experience hiking the John Muir Trail by posting the contents of my recently rediscovered trail journal. We hiked the trail in July 2012, and it changed my life. Catch up by reading the JMT journal pages nos. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Journal pages, no. 13

July 21, 2012 | Day 13 | 20 miles:

We hiked over Glenn and Forester passes today. In total, we've hiked about 192 miles - 200 if you add the few miles we tacked on by starting at Glacier Point. Whoa. I really didn't know I could do this. Ben said something interesting today about waiting until I can motivate myself. I know I am relying fully on God for strength (mental, physical), but he's still right. I'm not relying on Ben because he gave me several chances to get out. Yet he's wrong because it is paramount that he believe I can do this. He's not dragging me, but he's not hiking all of this for me, either. I get to wash my hands in 2 days (ahem...with real soap and hot water instead of cold water and hand sanitizer). Tomorrow we hike to the base of Whitney with two guys we're camping next to - both go to school in Seattle, but one was born in Arden Hills, MN. Small world. Whiteny Portal the next afternoon ---> Lone Pine for tons of good food and a motel room. Unbelievable that we've come this far and we're finishing strong. A guy said today that we picked a hard trail for our first time in the Sierras. Perfect.

*problems with photos; will update*

1. We hiked Glenn Pass first thing in the morning, joining a few others. The top of the pass was a narrow spine with few places to sit and soak it in. Just after starting the descent of this pass, we met some hikers out for a few days (on their last day) who gave us a bunch of their food. Thanks, gents. || 2. We hiked to Forester Pass. This is a lake just below the pass. We're hiking up to 13,000 feet here, so everything is rock with little bits of green shrubs. || 3 - 4. We reached the pass in time for clouds to settle in, bringing our first bit of bad weather: a hail storm. We were pelted with little pebble-sized hail as we descended. || 5. We managed a few minutes at the top of Forester to take a break, as usual. Ben was pooped. That's the sleeping pad someone gave him at the resort we stopped at a few days back.

This is day 13 of 14, recounting our experience hiking the John Muir Trail by posting the contents of my recently rediscovered trail journal. We hiked the trail in July 2012, and it changed my life. Catch up by reading the JMT journal pages nos. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Journal pages, no. 12

July 20, 2012 | Day 12 | 24 miles: 

Pinchot - Check. Only Glenn & Forrester passes left - then Whitney. We keep dreaming about food as we hike. We're pretty much down to just dinners left, so we need a miracle. Food or the Lord's energy, either way we're done in just a couple of days. Got my period today - was praying against that (ladies, here's what I use. And I couldn't recommend it more, though it does take getting used to. I figure, if you're already not showering for 14 days, you kinda have to get over stuff like this). 

*problems with photos; will update*

1. A cool bridge || 2. Our camp site at Ray Lakes, just below Glen Pass || 3. Leaving Ray Lakes the next morning 

This is day 12 of 14, recounting our experience hiking the John Muir Trail by posting the contents of my recently rediscovered trail journal. We hiked the trail in July 2012, and it changed my life. Catch up by reading the JMT journal pages nos. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Journal pages, no. 11

*problems with photos; will update*

1. Looking back from the Golden Staircase on the way to Mather Pass. We hiked that entire thing on this day - Muir Pass to Mather Pass through a forest. This is the day we met a PCT hiker from Vail who told great stories, including one about a man who scared a grizzly with his trekking poles. || 2. Filling water at the meadow after the Golden Staircase, which is exactly what it sounds like: giant stairs made from rocks that went on F O R E V E R. || 3. Lots of lovely wildflowers along the trail. || 4. Looking ahead from Mather Pass. We camped near one of those visible lakes - in the shadow. The terrain felt like the moon. Not that I've been to the moon. But we slept just below 12,100 ft (the elevation of Mather Pass), so obviously there was little vegetation. 

July 19, 2012 | Day 11 | 23 miles:  

Made it to Mather Pass today after really wanting to get off the trail this morning. Eight blisters total on my left foot. Haven't counted my right. Both my achilles. My left knee at the day's start. But I want to finish - Ben & I both know that. So, so thankful for an active God. This is truly a test of my endurance and will mean big things for our marriage. "I may be weak, but your Spirit's strong in me."

On enduring something I was really, really bad at:

I've mentioned a couple of times that I considered getting off the trail in the middle of it. It was hard and I was not great at it. In the end, I'm proud of the way I fought pain and frustration, continuing on until the bitter end. But I wish my attitude had been better (so does Ben). I realize now, looking back, that I had never been bad at anything before, and that was the real struggle. I'm no golden child, but, up to this point, I'd managed 22 years of coasting through tasks and experiences many others muddled through. I got a job in journalism as a freshman and was promoted every year. I graduated high school with great grades I didn't really work for, and even with a full time job during college, I pulled off Cs or better in every class. I played varsity soccer when I wanted to.

These are random samples, but you get the point. Hiking was so, so different than anything I had ever experienced because I have life really easy. The tasks weren't easy, but for some reason I was pre-determined to excel at a rate that made me average at most things. This feels like bragging, but I actually think anyone who had to struggle is probably a better, more interesting person now. Any time, I encountered resistance, I side-stepped the issue. Friends. Personal problems. New skills. I never learned an instrument because I didn't practice, satisfied to skate by, fumbling for notes and melodies and theory that I was lucky enough to understand but not willing to put in the work to apply. I took the shortest, fastest, most direct route out of trouble every time. Guess what? You can't do that when you're 110 miles into a 210 mile trail and your only ride is waiting for you 100 miles and six days down the way.

For the first time ever I was challenged to admit I was failing at something and choose to keep going - to muddle through. Do you know what that's like? I hope so because it feels difficult to explain - and arrogant to admit. I was not prepared to come face to face with inadequacy. In the end, I did not give up, and that is a huge accomplishment. It wasn't because I coasted through, like everything else in life. I worked really hard. I fought a lot of demons that berated me and laughed at me. So when I say I hiked 220 miles and you think "Whoa, I could never do that," I encourage you to ask if you want to. If you want to, you can do it. You just might have the same problem I did. You'll have a more meaningful experience in the long run if you have to constantly tell yourself you want to be there. In the end, I was not a pro hiker, but I learned - first of all, I learned something that I had to consider and apply rather than memorize and regurgitate. I learned that I want to hike because it will take practice, and I want to spend my time doing something that surprises, challenges, excites, and humbles me. Being bad at something is truly the first step toward being good at something.





This is day11 of 14, recounting our experience hiking the John Muir Trail by posting the contents of my recently rediscovered trail journal. We hiked the trail in July 2012, and it changed my life. Catch up by reading the JMT journal pages nos. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Journal pages, no. 10

July 18, 2012, Day 10 - 19 miles: 

We plan to be out in four days. Sleeping in a shelter at Muir Pass. Met a guy from Fargo (grew up there). Took all day to reach the pass. Storm tomorrow? Can't decide to pray for or against - for if it let's us sleep in. Against if it's midday. The hike to this pass was seriously beautiful. Met a bunch of southbounders - two college girls, an art teacher from Alaska. Strength, please.

#favorite_day

1. We knew we would be uphill all day, hiking to Muir Pass, but from morning til evening, the sights were beautiful. This waterfall was the beginning. || 2. This was the first stream we had to walk through. Freezing! On the other side, we met the Alaskan art teacher. || 3. Muir Pass seemed in sight for a long time - especially once we got up to this alpine area. We still had several miles to go. || 4. A lovely stone crossing & Ben scouting the map. || 5. Another panorama of the area. Have I mentioned Muir Pass was our favorite? || 6. The hut we slept in (though you're not supposed to). Just. Wow. || 7. An inside view of the hut - no working fireplace, though I have no idea where you would get wood, if it did work. We slept on the benches.

Journal pages, no. 9

July 17, 2012 - Day 9 - 23.5 miles:

*problems with photos; will update*

1. Meadows like this added so much contrast to the experience. Hiking from forests and meadows to treeless alpine areas was striking. || 2. Pano right before reach Selden Pass || 3. Someone had the 100th mile marked at Selden Pass. It was about right, as far as we could tell. I can't even explain how amazing that felt. || 4. Heart Lake panorama - it's really shaped like a heart! A beautiful sight right after hiking down from Selden Pass.

Today we thought: What if we finished by Saturday? It's Tuesday. We have a lot of hard passes ahead of us, but we both felt great today and passed the 100 mile mark. The lakes after Seldon [sic] Pass were incredible. We're still feeling good, but my knee feels stiff. Please, Lord, be my joints.

This is day 9 of 14, recounting our experience hiking the John Muir Trail by posting the contents of my recently rediscovered trail journal. We hiked the trail in July 2012, and it changed my life. Catch up by reading the JMT journal pages nos. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 7 | 8

Journal pages, no. 8

July 16, 2012, Day 8 - 1.4 miles:  

We caught the ferry to Vermillion Valley Resort (VVR). A great group of weekend backpackers paid for our one-way $11 ferry ride (we realized after they ate breakfast and left). The lunch was incredible. A man gave Ben his sleeping pad. We met 3 other southbounders - 2 of them stayed the night (Noah's Arc and Ice Man). Amble On hiked back to the trailhead with us. He's 70 y.o. Trail Magic Monday!

*problems with photos; will update*

Cleaning up after dinner, waiting for the next morning's ferry to VVR.

On food:

As we approached this hike, the food situation baffled us. We had done plenty of personal research on thru-hiking, so we understood the concept of restocks and food packages, but on other trails, particularly, the Appalachian Trail, restocking options often come with towns with grocery stores, so planning food for your entire trip isn't necessary. The JMT is very isolated because access to most nearby towns requires a hefty hike out of the Sierras via a mountain pass. Also, because it's bear country, every hiker is required to carry a bear-proof container of some kind for food and other smellables. The exception is Mammoth Lakes, a mountain town with easy access because of Devil's Postpile National Monument, which sits on or near the trail. For a few bucks, hikers can take a bus into Mammoth, where food and gear stores abound. For us, Mammoth was Day 5 of the hike. 

A short hike from there is Vermillion Valley Resort, which is a resort on a lake that runs on generators and caters to hikers and fishermen. They drive three hours to the next viable town / city to buy supplies each week. They have a corner store-style market that has some useful essentials for hikers, but you're at the mercy of what they think you'll want or need. They also have food barrels where hikers can unload unwanted or unnecessary food they were carrying. The barrels' contents are up for grabs to anyone coming in looking for food. We didn't plan to stop at VVR, but because of Ben's sleeping pad, we made a detour. We had restocked in Mammoth, but decided to check through the bins and replenish once again while we had access to a store. Our mission was a sleeping pad, which they didn't carry. We were blessed by serious trail magic as we encountered a man who was eager to help us in any way he could find, which happened to include gifting a foam sleeping pad to Ben. It would never make the go-lite list, but he could sleep, and we could continue our trek. Our plan A was to find a hitch to take us three hours to the nearest gear shop and another to take us three hours back to the trail. 

Another couple of days from VVR, we passed the Muir Trail Ranch. This place holds your resupply bucket in exchange for $55 when you get there. The effort they put into bringing in your resupply (via USPS in a 5 gallon bucket) is commendable and probably worth the money, but also sucks. The ranch is also considered the halfway point on the trail, so by deciding to pass it and it's high-priced luxuries by, we were committing to make the rest of the hike with what we had in our bear vaults. If you click the link, you'll see that the ones we packed (on the left) are half the size of those we saw carried by everyone else. So by skipping the ranch, we were committed to hauling it.

We experienced great things with our food choices, though. Not the food, per say... altitude and strenuous activity tends to mess with an appetite. The entire trip, we survived on cheese, crackers, gorp, snickers, starbursts, jolly ranchers, tortillas, and peanut butter. For dinner, we always cooked. We shared Pasta Sides or the random freeze-dried meal. My favorite was mashed potatoes and stuffing. We never ate enough, but we survived. Ben learned to pay attention to his intake because he would suddenly crash and require an immediate sugar burst. We dreamed about fast food like crazy, memorizing our orders for when we finished the trail. We reminisced about MN State Fair food with a guy we met from Minnesota.

Sorry, I got sidetracked - we experienced great things because of our food. No. 1, we learned to embrace trade-offs. We chose to hike light, and we owned that choice. No. 2, we made friends with people who offered us some of their food. No. 3, we learned that when you have the space to fill, you'll fill it, even with crappy food you'll never want to eat. And it will go bad. More than once, we were offered food by people who were dying to give it away to lighten their packs. One of them gave us moldy cheese. Another gave us a gallon-size bag of granola. These were people out there for four days, max, carrying more food than we carried at any given point in our 14-day trip. No. 4, we received tons of compliments on the size of our packs, including from a ranger who wondered if we could possibly have bear-proof containers at all. While hiking, it's our goal to go without. It made us more thankful for kindness, friendship, and food. It gave us something to laugh about. It made for great memories. We focused on what we were doing - hiking sunrise to sunset - and we loved it. We also learned that "food is fuel" is not our mantra. We love delicious food. At home, that's fresh cooked with fresh ingredients. On trail, it's fat and sugar in any form we can get it. It's interesting to see the difference access and privilege make in meal planning.




Catch up: read the JMT journal pages nos. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 7

Journal pages, no. 7

July 15, 2012, Day 7 - 16.4 miles:

Ben's air mattress popped, so we planned to get to the Vermillion Resort tonight to find him a new one. We missed the ferry by 5 mins. So now we wait til the morning. But it gave us some time to map out the last 100 miles and explore this little beach / lake area. The rock & sand feel great on my feet. We built a fire and don't have to wake up at 6. It's been a very relaxing day - and still 16 mi. Productive! Thank the Lord for sand that will make a mattress-less sleep a little less painful. "And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." James 1:4

*problems with photos; will update*

1. Good morning hike around a lake. || 2. This is a rock chair. || 3. On top of Silver Pass. || 4/5/6. Dinner, water, bonfire on a beach, watching the sun set and waiting for the the morning ferry to VR.

Journal pages, no. [6]

July 14, 2012, Day 6 - 14.5 miles: 

Rest day (no. 5) was necessary and perfect. We restocked food, ate Subway & Dominoes, and found new shoes @ Footloose. Kevin (?) helped me - found out my shoes were too small! He's a real foot guy, just like I prayed for. My feet are still sore and blistered, but at least they aren't getting worse. Appetite improved today. We started around noon and got into camp 6.5 hours later. Moved more quickly for longer stretches.

Of course, today is entry no. 5, but it was day 6 of our trip, so it's less confusing if the title matches the day, am I right? No pictures from this day, I guess not, according to my file dates. But you can check out days 1, 2, 3, & 4. Lots of pictures there.

Journal pages, no. 4

1. Just crossed Island Pass, our second pass of the trail (and of the day). || 2. A neat bridge + proof that "all down hill" doesn't exist. Hike up, up, up; gasp at the view of a mountain and a lake; hike down, down, down.

July 12, 2012, Day 4 - 22 miles: 

More blisters - shoes too small? Rest day tomorrow in Mammoth IF we hiked 22 miles today. Mosquitoes chased us last 5 miles. We literally ran. Trail magic: air mattress, shared space (& tent!) from Jim & Jan (and Jan). Unbelievable kindness. 

The journal entry is remarkably short, and the pictures few, about this day. It was a big day: my first 20-miler. Halfway through I could not believe we still had so far to go, but we had set a goal to spend the next day off-trail restocking food and saving my feet from the ridiculous blisters I was getting. My biggest regret is not taking a picture of our Trail Angels. Jim & Jan are loyal Californians who recognized my delirium and our lack of camping space, fed us, gave us bug spray, and let us sleep in their extra tent rather than set up ours in the dark. Angels. But I'm very timid when it comes to asking someone to take their picture. Still, we'll never forget them. And, again, the ridiculously hard time of hiking ALL DAY was more than worth it in the end.


If you're interested, you can read my journal from days 1, 2, & 3.

Journal pages, no. 3

1. First sighting of Donahue Pass || 2. After climbing up out of the meadow, we came to this stream, which gets its water from the lake we would hike to that night - also visible in picture 5. || 3. A panorama of that area. The sight was shocking after spending all the earlier miles in forests and meadows. We were really gaining altitude. || 4. Ben filled his water bottle here - no filter necessary. || 5. A panorama of our campsite that night. || 6. This lake was just below our campsite - crystal clear and freezing cold. We captured it in the morning light before starting out on day four.

On mountain passes: 

Day 3 meant hiking our first mountain pass - this one, Donahue Pass, led us out of Yosemite and into Inyo National Forest. The thought made my stomach hurt, which led to two lost hiking hours beside a creek (a seriously beautiful creek that I do not have pictures of), debating whether I had the guts to keep going. I remember telling Ben, Maybe this is how we'll grow as a couple, by failing at something, and forgiving me for it. He was devastated, but I couldn't shake the gnawing emptiness in my stomach. At this point, my appetite was non-existent during the day. Fear, maybe? Survival instincts? Anyway, I looked at Donahue Pass on the map and really wondered if I was going to make it. If we crossed over that first pass, I was committed to 12 more. I knew that. I had only hiked one mountain before, Longs Peak, and it kicked my butt. Was I committing two weeks to feeling like that every day? I had to ask the question, and, really, I had to find the answer for myself. The truth was mixed, but we can wait for those sorts of details... for now, here's Day 3 of my trail journal. If you haven't already, you can read Days 1 & 2 and see their associated photos. The introduction to this little trip down memory lane is available on Day 1.

July 11, 2012, Day 3 - 14 miles: 

We hiked 5 miles. We almost turned around (seriously - almost. On the trail.) We didn't. I'm sleeping on top of a mountain - the sun is setting orange over the surrounding mountains. Seriously? Fourth & 99. So thankful. So in love.

Journal pages, no. 2

July 10, 2012, Day 2 - 17.5 miles 

We're at the T[uolumne] Meadows. My feet kill, but only one blister, so I think they'll acclimate. We hiked 17.5 miles today. It was a rough start. The uphills still hurt a lot, but it's mostly my breathing. I think I'm still getting used to the weight of my pack. And my feet ached. But Ben stayed behind me to keep me motivated. And we got to the meadow. Were directed to the cafe by rangers on horses, ate a lovely burger, and talked for awhile to a Santa Barbara couple that has hiked the JMT. They had awesome stories about their homemade equipment. This afternoon, we met Bill. Bill reminded us to take the time to really enjoy this hike - "God's country." He was finishing a southbound (this is wrong...he was northbound) thru hike for a reunion. He hiked it 40 years earlier. He was on his last 14 miles when we met him. He looked so happy. Cool people today. P.S. Bear vaults work!

John Muir Trail revisited - Last summer, Ben and I thru-hiked the JMT in California. A recent rediscovery of my trail journal has led to a daily update from the journal with associated pictures from the hike. Read day 1.

Journal pages, no. 1

Revisiting the John Muir Trail

It feels like I talk about this trip a lot, but it changed my life in innumerable ways. Conversations with strangers that lasted only a few minutes lifted my spirits and inspired me to realize how much I want to write about regular people. It was there that I really started to see stories everywhere. After we hiked that 220-mile trail through California's Sierra Nevada, I knew I wanted to go after this whole "highly physical" thing. Some people try things and hate them, but I'm not one of those people, and this was not something I hated and walked away from. I've never learned so much from a single experience, not even in 12 months of steering the Daily or four years of college. 

Friends have taken beautiful trips lately, and I've loved seeing their pictures and reactions. The more people who will do all this, the better. It's one of our goals in writing about our adventures. I cannot claim to have inspired anyone, but at least I can relate. The JMT has been on my mind for this reason. Coincidentally, I was using an old journal the other day, and I came across the pages I used to document our 14 days in the wilderness. They're short and to the point. I wrote them each night, after re-reading Scripture about perseverance and weakness. That's key, because it kept my entries - my memories from the day - positive. So when I look back, I can't complain.

I have a habit of processing too quickly. I lose information, overlook what I mean to hold on to, and forget great pictures in an effort to include variety. Because we have nothing else to blog about right now; my camera has been stolen and no new pictures will be coming any time soon except by my phone;  my need to write has increased recently; and there are plenty of images I haven't seen in the 17 months since we got off the trail, I'm going to continue to dwell on this. Additionally, we have started planning our next big hike, which will be another thru-hike after Ben finishes his Masters. This trip created the foundation for bigger dreams.

Editorial note: I didn't cut out anything because I think anyone (women especially because I found few honest female accounts) who wants to try mega backcountry hiking should see at least one realistic picture. When I was prepping for this hike, every search yielded gear and trail info, but no personal info. So I've included the starvation (which happens to most people), the start of my period on trail, and the desperate prayers I prayed while figuring all this out as I went. We already had decided our time frame, wanting to hike high-mileage days. Obviously, that's not for everyone. We also didn't bring any other means of entertainment, so we hiked from sun up to sun down. You cover a lot of miles when you do that. If you really have to ask why anyone would subject him/herself to this - I mean ask in that "this is irrational and you're an idiot" voice - than you'll never get it and you shouldn't hike like this. Onward.

July 9, 2012, Day 1 - 8 miles

Unexpectedly got a permit - left a day early from Glacier Point. Only hiked 8 miles. Ben mapped out between 13 and 16 each day, so I gotta find that inner strength pretty soon. 

"My grace is sufficient for you for my power is made perfect in your weakness." 

I am very weak. From here on, I know none of this is me.

King of California

"The most divinely inspired mountains..."

This was our second trip to the Sierras. Our first journey was to hike the JMT. This trip was about finishing what we started last year. On our last day on the JMT, we were barred from the summit of Mt Whitney by a lightning storm. We walked off the crest and down the mountain with our heads held high and spirits ready to rest. With over a year past since our JMT hike we felt our desire to stand on top of Whitney had laid dormant long enough. Only this time, we wanted to climb her east face.

The East Face as seen from Whitney Portal

Mt Whitney is a stunning mountain from any angle. Driving from Death Valley, we were fortunate enough to witness the sun steadily creeping over the back of the mountain. We wanted little more than to start our climb after coming from a retreat off Castleton Tower so we decided to get our permits and hike to the base.

It's hard to capture the full beauty of this valley

We were both acquainted with the area enough to know our way around the mountain and its foothills so we paid little attention to specific directions to the start of our climb. We assumed that our climb started from the base of the ridgeline that leads to the summit. Any glance at a map and a logical mind could have figured this out so we trudged on up the trail into the night. We reached the base of the ridgeline at around 10pm and made camp.

A view of Alabama Hills at dusk

A view of the big dipper with Whitney's spine in the background

I didn’t sleep much that night. I was too excited about the anticipation of standing on the summit. I tossed and turned until the sun started to come up. As I stepped out of the tent that morning the view reminded me of how much I love the Sierras. I was able to capture this panorama of our campsite.

 

We got an early start to our day knowing full well the importance of haste in attempting big climbs but in our morning duties we failed to fuel ourselves properly. My mind reverted to our previous year’s jaunt in the mountains but my body could not keep up. We had gone from Death Valley, below sea level, to 13,000 feet in only a few hours. After several hours of grueling talus and low fifth class approach we realized our heartbreaking mistake. We were over 12 miles off course and at the same time, only a valley away.

Resting at a water stop on our approach to Thor Peak

Our navigational error had spawned only 1 mile into our trek when we failed to take the correct trail that led up the east face drainage. This trail was unmarked and as we found out later, not talked about much in online climbing resources. By 10am we stood on the spine of Thor Peak, just one spire over from the east face of Whitney. We were so close but our goal was blocked by a 500 foot rappel and another talus ravine that would have forced us to leave behind gear. With no energy or will to leave our expensive friends behind, we once again decided to throw in the towel.

On our climb down Thor Peak, I said to Taryn “I’m disappointed in myself for jumping into this but if ever there was a place to be disappointed, this is it.” In all my excitement of reaching the summit, I neglected to look around me and take the beauty in. Now was the time.

We hiked down the mountain unwilling, at least then, to make the difficult trek up the correct east face drainage. We wanted food and our nose bleeds to go away. On our decent we talked with a ranger who informed us of the correct location of the east face drainage trail. He said that we were the second party he spoke with that day who made the same mistake we did (only they corrected their mistake sooner). He also informed us that we did what is called the “Pinnacle Ridge Traverse”. In our post trip research we learned this ridgeline seldom sees traffic due to its out-of-the-way location. I thought that was pretty cool! After good conversation and company we parted ways with our new ranger friend and went to the first McDonald’s we found. Junk food always tastes better after days at altitude

We decided to move our focus to the Lake Tahoe area near Sacramento where we planned to meet a friend in a few days. This gave us a chance to climb big rocks without the debilitating effects of altitude that takes time to adjust to. Much like the main character in the song “King of California” our ambitious plan crumbled when faced with reality. It seemed my brother’s adage about nature never failed us on this trip.

For when everything changes in an instant

I like to plan. Loosely. In three years of off-and-running adventures from weekend camping to 10-mile races, I realize Ben and I operate on our own schedule. So the principle of "flexibility" comes fairly naturally to me. It might have been programmed into me as the daughter of an up-and-coming officer of the Air Force, but however so, I'm a very fluid person.

Last summer as we embarked on our three-month honeymoon, we knew the big things we wanted to accomplish - the John Muir Trail, a visit to our family in Oregon, a hike up Longs Peak - but basically we planned it along the way. So it surprised me when Ben and I had our summer '13 Wyoming trip mapped out a couple of months in advance. We already knew we wanted to climb all the mountains in the Cirque of the Towers and several routes up the Grand Teton. It gave us plenty of time to complete our climbing rack and figure out what we need to know for our first taste of mountaineering.

In light of everything I've just said, we really should have seen this coming:

Last week several factors completely canceled our already-planned trip. A wedding, a can't-miss/can't-reschedule doctor's appointment, and the fact that there's too much snow to climb anything in that part of Wyoming...as far as we could tell.

We tried to quickly rethink and replan after the first two hit us, but the wedding called us to California and the doctor kept us in Minnesota an extra five days. The snow - the fatal blow - dashed any hope of three full weeks of climbing in true wilderness. I won't lie to you. We mourned. We grieved a good three days. We went through all the stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. And then we pulled out the map and calendar and planned a new and improved and awesome-in-different-ways trip to California!

We leave tomorrow and throughout the rest of June, we will climb in the desert of Utah, the mountains of California, and the peaks of Colorado (in that order). We'll stand by our friend in Redding, CA who stood by us when we were married last year. And we'll be back in time to pack a trailer and move to Kentucky.

Big and small, we all have plans that don't work out. It's the nature of being human. And so we, like all other aspects of nature, adapt. Breathe in. Breathe out. Change. Call it open-fists or a loose grip or whatever you may. You have to adapt to enjoy life. The way I see it, you can either plan, encounter unforeseeable road blocks, get mad, feel entitled, and do nothing. Or you can hold onto a big picture and let the details work out themselves. In my experience, the second has opened me up to a lot more thankfulness and a lot more life.

Because we couldn't leave as early as we planned for our adventure, we were able to stay a few extra days at my parents in Bismarck. On our way back to Minneapolis (the opposite direction we planned to go, but a necessary one for the doctor), we stopped at a friend's lake and spent quality time with quality people. And now instead of feeling rushed between work and graduation and our big move and this trip, we've had time to focus and pack for California. I'm honestly thrilled that I don't have to hold the master list of things to get done and details to consider. I'd go crazy. I almost went crazy just packing today:

I think it is fundamental to anyone adventurous, artistic, entrepreneurial, inventive, passionate, and ALIVE to embrace change with flair. Setbacks happen. Dreams morph as they become reality. If you don't feel resistance, you're not doing it right. Fight for the big picture and close your fists around the details that really matter. Let go of the rest. This isn't a passive "let go and let God" way of thinking. Flexibility is not fickleness. It's equal parts "don't take no for an answer" and "it is the LORD's purpose that prevails." If you really care about where you're headed in life, it'll hurt when plans are canceled and people bail and the winter lasts longer than usual. Grieve. And plan again. Then enjoy your adventure all the more because now you know you're not just there by chance.

And check back often for updates on our Summer '13 adventure!

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.

The journey requires a destination

It’s a widespread idea you’ve probably repeated once or twice: the journey is more important than the destination. It is on commercials, integrated into company’s missions, and even taught in some of my college classes. You may have heard “It is better to travel well than to arrive,” but I would like to say that I disagree.

On first glance, you may look at the pictures in this blog and think I’m backwards - that the journey is more important than destination. But having lived it, I would say you can’t have one without the other. Taryn and I had this conversation many times along our journey. 

There are many things I appreciate about our completion of the JMT. For one, it was humbling to see the sights that we did. One of the most common questions I get asked is “How were the sunsets?” and to tell you the truth, we only saw one the entire trip. I didn’t realize this until we were at 12- 13- and 14,000 ft, but you can’t see the horizon because of the other mountaintops. Considering how far we live from real mountains, we were okay with the trade-off. Besides the views, there were the people. We learned to appreciate a good conversation. There were days where we didn’t see many people and were often starved to just have a few words with someone. These are the things I remember the most, and I don’t know that I would have set them in my memory so fully if I hadn’t experienced the finality of reaching Mt. Whitney.

Maybe that’s the difference between traveling and wandering. I think goals and ends are important to trips because that is when ideas and memories take a full hold in our minds. Traveling is not complete without a destination - an end. There needs to be a time and place to recollect and to gather yourself for the next adventure. 

It’s important to let memories sink in and for me the only way that happens is through rest. It feels so good to have hiked so far. We finished it!




This is the final post in our blogging series reflecting on the John Muir Trail. We hiked the entire 220-mile trail in July 2012 - it took us 15 days. We met new people, experienced difficulty, and took a lot of pictures. To read the entire series, just click the image.

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.