It’s always interesting to wake up to a campsite without knowing what your surrounding is going to look like. Given the beauty of the past couple days, and since I pitched my tent close to the lake, I expected a lovely scenery. I was not disappointed. Because of bear-alert, I no longer can keep my cold-soaked oatmeal in my tent overnight, so this means a morning expedition to either my bear-can or the bear-box. I was happy to get back, comfy in my warm sleeping bag again after grabbing my food. Yesterday I’d hiked almost 1.5 hour longer than the others, so I was in no rush to head out fast, and really took my time with breaking up camp. Hauling my heavy pack up Kearsarge Pass yesterday had left a strain on my back and neck, so I took some vitamin I and walked along the lakeside as I was brushing my teeth.
When I hiked out around 0820, I was going at the most leisurely pace possible. I was enjoying the views, and during every water- or snack break I really took my time. I found a nice boulder in an open area, climbed on it and just look around, soaking up the beautiful mountain views surrounding me on all sides.
The Sierras wouldn’t be called the High Sierras if there was not be another climb scheduled for today. There’s always another pass or mountain… The trail would lead over Glenn Pass. The power-stride of yesterday afternoon had left its mark, and it was slow going. Through a narrow valley the trail weaved along some very pristine sapphire blue mountain lakes, with the sound of a babbling brook ever close by.
I was real pleased to have my music downloaded to my phone, and was enjoying the songs of my off-line playlists. It was during the climb up the pass, that a specific piece of music that holds significant meaning to me sounded through my earphones, and I was hit with a strong wave of emotion. It was a mix between sadness and gratefulness and it filled me up completely. I let it be, and paused to sit and write down the meaning these feelings held to me:
“Today a wave of awe and profound gratitude washed over me. It is no secret that I have been searching for the right path to walk the past years. I thank myself for never stopping the search, for continuing the pursuit, because I do believe, like all others, I too deserve good things. I feel at home here, and feel this place fills me up and grounds me. I don’t believe it coincidence I am out here right now, I was drawn towards it, as if it became clear that after all this time, there was literally but one path left for me to walk. Tears of happiness rolling down my face, embracing this beautiful world, as it hugs and embraces me. Completely by myself, but never alone, I feel the goodness of his world carry me forward.”
So that was that.
For approximately 170 miles, the John Muir Trail (JMT), overlaps with the PCT. When meeting hikers along the way, the question is usually asked which trail one is hiking. Because Mt. Whitney lies about at the end of the JMT, we often talk about summit strategies with North-bound hikers. JMT-, PCT-, day-, or section-hikers, generally everybody is in a good mood, and in awe of the marvelous mountain ranges.
I arrived at Glenn Pass and enjoyed the views on the other side. Time to start reducing my pack-weight by munching down some calories. The next few days there was no way I was going to be hungry, I brought so much food. More hikers arrived at the top and there was a good vibe going, chatting about the trails in the area and our hiking experiences.
When descending into the valley, the real fun began. We dropped into a valley with a string of absolutely gorgeous interconnected lakes, trapped within the grey walls of the surrounding rocks. Every corner revealed more beauty and we couldn’t wait to get down there and have a long break.
There were plenty of small islands in the lakes, and I challenged Photo-op (half-joking) to swim together to one nearest to us. At the time, the sun was out, and it seemed like something worth considering. During our lunch though, some grey clouds rolled in and we actually had the first rain on the PCT so far (day 57, well done California). It was nothing more than a few drops, but the clouds were blocking the sun, resulting in a noticeable temperature drop. We abandoned the swimming idea, repeating that with the sun out it could actually be enjoyable. We chatted with other hikers passing us, and really took our time for lunch, enjoying that the our planned decrease in daily mileage gave us more time to relax.
Have you ever had a fleeting thought or feeling appear to you, just for you to know that you have to act on it immediately, because otherwise it might fade, or your mind will come up with reasons not to? In that moment, despite the weather, I strongly felt that I had to make the earlier discussed crossing swim to the nearby island anyway. Without giving myself time to back out of it now, I quickly collected my warm clothing, and started scrambling down to the lakeside closest to the island. Leaving the others in behind in surprise.
The water was freezing cold, and I felt it beat the air out of my lungs. I swam fast to the island, got out of the water and climbed to the top of the boulders. I waved to my buddies and decided I’d better make it back as soon as possible, because the longer I’d wait there, the more I’d be dreading getting back into the pool of ice-water. When I reached the shore, I quickly dried myself and put on lots of warm clothing and my wool beanie to warm up again. It was invigorating, but also a heavy shock to my system. I felt pretty exhausted afterwards. I was happy to get hiking again to warm up some more.
The layering really helped, and when the sun broke through the clouds again I felt fairly confident that I’d no longer had to fear for hypothermia. The trail led us past many different lakes, and over many stream crossings. The last bit of today’s hike was tiring but enjoyable because the landscape was so beautiful. As if walking through a National Geographic documentary.
We’ve set up camp in a dense forest, unfortunately without a bear-box. Time to get creative; I had to hang my extra food which didn’t fit in my bear-canister, into a tree. After several attempts I managed to successfully throw my rock-with-rope-attached over a thick branch, far away from the trunk. Hopefully now bears won’t be able to pinch it. I pulled up my food-bag, and tied the other end to the trunk of a different tree. It was already dark, so I will snap a picture of it tomorrow. It’s 2200 now, time for bed.
The stars lean down to kiss you,
and I lie awake and miss you
Poor me a heavy dose of atmosphere
Cause I’ll doze of safe and soundly
But I’ll miss your arms around me
I’d send a postcard to you Dear,
Cause I wish you were here…
I’ll watch the night turn dark-blue
But it’s not the same without you,
Because it takes two to whisper quietly
The silence isn’t so bad,
Till I look at my hands and feel sad,
Cause the spaces between my fingers
are right where yours fit perfectly
I’ll find repose in new ways
Though I haven’t slept in two days
Cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone
But drenched in Vanilla Twilight,
I’ll sit on the front-porch all night
Waist-deep in thought because
when I think of you,
I don’t feel so alone…
Vanilla Twilight – Owl City
