July 17, 2016 Mile 878.7-891.8 (+1.5) 14.6 miles The ferry leaves at 9, which seems like no big deal when we wake at 6:30. Lindsey and I start our packing. The most difficult part is trying to fit our food resupply into our bear canisters, but everything seems confusing and impossible. On my own in the wild, I can break camp in 15 minutes. Put me in a civilized space, and the exact same task can spread into an hour or more. My brain feels like someone has shaken me awake from a deep sleep and asked me to do theoretical physics. Really, the problem is choices. In the wild, my choices have been whittled down to a linear series of steps, all of which are laid out before me in a confined location (my tent). In a hotel room or here in this tent cabin, I have food outside in the bear box, my gear is spread around the room haphazardly, and I have to make decisions about what to do first (or whether I should even be starting before I go to use the restroom). I am flummoxed: how did I ever get anything accomplished in civilized life? At 7:15 we are still a long ways from packed up, but yesterday’s long wait at the restaurant taught us that we’ll need plenty of time for breakfast if we’re going to make the ferry, so the four of us walk down. If it’s possible, there are at least twice as many people as yesterday. We get on the list and wait nervously outside the restaurant. Nobody will tell us how long the wait is. It's starting to look hopeless. Brian and Susie continue to wait while Lindsey and I go back up to the tent cabin to finish packing. At 8 we finish packing and head back down. We’re finally seated at 8:15. We tell the person who seats us that we need to make the ferry. 45 minutes until it leaves. We sit and watch everything going on around us. It feels like we don't have time to start a conversation of our own. At 8:30 the waitress comes by. “Sorry for the wait, folks. We've been up all night serving food to the hotshot crews.” “No problem,” I say. I didn’t realize, but I think that's a pretty cool thing that they’re doing. “We’re trying to make the ferry. Do you think we’ll be able to make it?” “It'll be tight, but I can let the cook know.” We take the risk and order. Hikers, like armies, travel on their stomachs. Our food arrives at 8:40, and Lindsey and I race to finish, stuffing massive chunks of french toast and omelettes into our mouths, slurping syrup and guzzling coffee. We hug Brian and Susie goodbye, then check out with the front desk while Brian and Susie are still finishing their food. Our total bill with VVR is close to $300! I had heard it was easy to rack up a bill here. No time to think about it now, though. I pay. We run up the hill, grab our packs, and reach the ferry at 8:58. We made it. Our minds are still racing, our bodies are primed for fast action, but now there’s nothing to do but stand and wait. A few other backpackers hurry down. They’re officially late now, but the ferry isn’t even docked yet. Eventually we all file onto the boat, leaning our backpacks one against the other in a line along the side. The ferry ride takes about an hour. The air is clear; perhaps they’ve made progress on that fire. The helicopters are still dunking their buckets in the lake, though, so it’s not out yet. It’s a nice way to look at the landscape, from the water like this. At the end of the lake, we all step off and mill around aimlessly for a bit, adjusting our packs, like we're not sure what we're supposed to do now. Finally a few hikers peel off and head up the trail. Lindsey and I follow. We climb toward Silver Pass with an aggressive stride. Lindsey has her trail legs under her now and we are cruising. It makes me proud We hit the top of the pass before lunch, then stop at Squaw lake to eat (they really need to rename that). We dip down to Fish Creek, cross over a bridge, then climb up to Tully Hole, a little meadow surrounded on all sides by steep walls. Some switchbacks and a small climb bring us up further to a small boulder field near Lake Virginia. “We stopped for a thunder storm here,” I tell Lindsey. She already knows what I'm talking about, because I’ve been talking about it all week. I mean when I did the JMT. “Oh,” she says. “I think we set up our tents right there, and Brian G set up over there.” I gesture to two spots about 10 meters from one another. Brian G is a different Brian than the one I hiked the JMT with. We met him on the JMT and kept in touch afterward. Lindsey and I have gone hiking with him a few times, so she’s not particularly surprised at what I say next. In fact, she’s probably heard this story before. “We lay in our tents listening to the thunder echo around us, feeling like the world was gonna end, and played classical name-that-tune.” If you hadn't figured it out by now, I am a huge nerd. “Oh,” Lindsey says. “Cool.” I can tell she is very impressed by my amazingly interesting story. At the head of Virginia lake is a group of five hikers. I’m not sure if they're all part of the same group or just camping together, but Lindsey and I are tired and planning to camp here too. We ask them if they’ve seen any other sites nearby. They direct us toward a copse of trees to the east where one of them saw a site. It turns out to be one of the best sites around. There is a rock wall windbreak (which comes in handy later when the wind picks up a lot), and the trees are on all sides except toward the lake, giving us both privacy and a view.
We get water at the lake and join the group for dinner. They’re friendly and not all part of the same group as it turns out. All of them are southbound JMT hikers. When we return to the tent, we discover that the zipper is breaking. We are able to get it together enough to keep out the mosquitoes, though, and sink off to sleep.
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Nick is a teacher, writer, and amateur adventurer. Archives
June 2020
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