July 7, 2016 Mile 1062.9-1076.8 13.1 Miles A light chill greets me in the morning and I am out before Badmash is stirring. I set my legs pumping, up out of the forest and into the sepia filter of morning sunlight on the mule ears and wildflowers. I wonder what it is that keeps these hills bereft of tree cover. Is it the soil, which seems sandier than usual? If so, why is this soil sandy? I find myself wishing I understood more about geology and botany. The trail just keeps cutting up and up this slope. Two large lakes are far below, so far that it seems I’m looking down at them from an airplane. A white van travels a dirt road along the rim, creeping along like it’s preparing a drive-by. Whatever sound it makes is swallowed up by the vast distance between us. A small powerboat is similarly silent. I feel like a voyeur, watching people from above like this. I stop for breakfast by a shallow lake. A thru hiker I met yesterday, a real chato, stops and wants to tell me about himself. He has a rolled ankle, but he never gives up, he just struggles through the pain. He’s going to hike so many miles today. He also tells me about what’s coming up on the trail (oh, have you hiked this section before? No, he just read it on the map, but he knows). In the three times we’ve passed each other on trail, I don’t think he has so much as asked my name. He leaves, and I decide that I’m going to start calling his archetype Redbeards. They start out as undistinguished brown-haired kids, but with the discovery that their facial hair grows in red, they realize that they must be incredibly special. Filled with new self-confidence, their every thought is imbued with magical importance, and they have to share it with the world. They can do handstands, which is something you learn about them because they feel the need to do them at every social gathering. They probably play a gourd drum. They have been to Burning Man, and it changed their life. I start to wonder why his type rankles me so much. I hike up over a pass and enter the world of the dayhikers. A chain of lakes stairsteps down toward the road, and it seems that people are everywhere. Some birders tell me that they just heard a very rare bird by one of the lakes. I have nothing to do with this information, so I just thank them and continue down until I reach Carson Pass. Once again, there is trail magic, provided by the docents at the Carson Pass Visitor Center. I am feeling spoiled. Indeed, I start to wonder if all this trail magic is starting to take something away from the experience. It is wonderful, all these generous people providing free food and drinks to hungry and thirsty hikers, but I consider whether perhaps the hunger and thirst are part of the point (as it turns out, there will be plenty of opportunities for me to experience both) After a root beer, gardettos, and applesauce, I make my way to the parking lot across the street to wait for my in-laws to pick me up and drive me down to meet my wife. I’m only waiting for fifteen minutes before they arrive. The windows come down as soon as I get in, despite the heat. They don’t tell me that I stink. They don’t have to.
I am a strange mix of emotions on the drive down to Bishop. A keen sense of loss as I drive away from the “bubble” of hikers, knowing that I am going to be far behind the pack when I rejoin the trail. Excitement that I get to spend the next week with my wife and that I get to revisit the most spectacular parts of the Sierra. Fear that she will hike too slow. A craving for civilization and its myriad pleasures. We get to the Bishop Lake Lodge at 6 and chat until 9, at which point I can’t keep my eyes open any longer and climb into the bottom of a pair of bunk beds. Tomorrow, I get to see my wife. Tomorrow, I get to see my wife.
3 Comments
kb
6/16/2019 01:57:39 pm
Hasn't asked your name? Try introducing yourself. You sure you don't have any aspects that annoy other hikers? Don't impart wisdom you don't actually have? Aren't you special...
Reply
Nick
6/16/2019 03:52:01 pm
Yeah, I’m judgmental at times, and I’m sure I can be annoying to others. Nonetheless, this guy was a narcissist through and through, and I’m recording my impressions and thoughts at the time.
Reply
kb
6/17/2019 05:23:24 pm
I reacted poorly to your post, probably more annoying and judgmental than you. Please think twice before you speak ill of others on the trail - in this too-public forum. That person you spoke of may cross paths with you again: What will you say to him when he notes that he has read your post (hoping here that you are not head down in a tree well at the time)?. Perhaps his family will read your post, and he has been dealing with issues you know absolutely nothing about. Say more about your adventures, and less about other people you don't much care for. Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
Author
Nick is a teacher, writer, and amateur adventurer. Archives
June 2020
Categories |