Day 86: Mile 975.8 - 993.3
And I am Laying here today in my tent, in Naught but my Skivvies, because it was Hot and it is still Hot. And this time, instead of Mosquitos occupying the space between tent-and-fly, there are instead Flies--black ones, gleefully rubbing their Hands together (or are those their Feet?), and making booph-booph Sounds as they rattle against the Rain-Fly.
How do they get in that interstitial space in the first place, and how come they can't ever seem to get out?
Both of my rain fly flaps are Open, because right now I'm here Alone, and I'm waiting for the Others to Arrive. This is the place we elected in the morning, when I had Left: Falls Creek, about 17.6 miles away. I had left Early--or rather, Earlier--around 7:30am, just as everyone else started breaking Fast. But our camp had been Absolutely Beautiful--at the top of Seavey Pass by a mountain Lake, with scattered Conifers and the mountain peaks Right There, all reflected in the Still Water as the sun began to Colorize the far slopes from Blue-Gray to White-Orange--a Magnificent Sight and as I haded out I pointed to the East and said, I want to see *that*!, in Explanation.
And that would be the Last Time I saw anybody: I would be by Myself pretty much the whole day. Only saw a handful of hikers but going the Other Way. I know that Before me should be Lux and Kahleesi (who are Pushing to Tahoe to meet family), and behind should be AC/DC, Outlast, Dylan, and Uno, so evidently I spent the day Between Bubbles. But this is still strange: usually I at least see Lux and Kahleesi as they are Leaving some prime breakpoint, or Dylan catches up around Midday. But today: Nothing. And I had *waited*, too, near Wilmer Lake I stopped at a Creek Crossing for lunch for over an Hour, and saw absolutely Nobody. As my camp is food trail in the woods and might be Missed, I have placed my bear canister near the trail in hopes the ones Behind might see it. But I do not know that they remain Behind. Perhaps they Passed me at some point, unbeknownst to me. Which would be fine--I'm used to being Behind myself--so long as nothing has Gone Wrong.
So today I was by Myself the whole day. Similar to yesterday, it was an Up and Down day, although the hills were Lessened, and there were more Flat Portions. Still some Technical downhills, and still some Persistence uphills, but the land is becoming more Mellow. I admit that much of the day is a Blur, the heat and the mileage made me Concentrate on the trail and hiking, and there was less Looking-About and less Figuring-out-Where-I-am. Instead more Follow-the-Trail. But I did note that we continue to pass by these Granite mountains, and they continue to be Spectacular. On our first day out from Tuolumne Meadows, he had commented that he had thought all the amazing granite structures were in Yosemite Valley, but evidently he had been wrong, for it seems they were all throughout the park. And he wasn't wrong. In this section, the granite has often been carved by glacier, its slopes smooth and shiny, almost marbled, with swirls of color--black and orange against the white--and even striations where you can see the layering of the millenia. Stare at the slopes some more and you'll start to see all the little nooks and crannies, the small shelves and hidden recesses, all now populated with singular trees that somehow manage to work their way up the mountain. I've always maintained that one of the great things of the Grand Canyon is that as you look at the cliff walls, you keep seeing more and more detail, keep finding more and more features you hadn't noticed, and these granite cliffs give that same impression (albeit in not quite so overwhelming a fashion as the Canyon). And the trail continues to walk through these seemingly forgotten canyons, with the mountains so close in all the time, the slopes right there.
This is an amazing section, one that doesn't amaze and wow you with incredible sights like coming over Forester, or like the view of Shadow Lake, or like Thousand Island Lakes. This section isn't about jaw-dropping views. Instead, it's about the Other Places, the places that are out there that people don't much see, don't much experience, but once you see them and start to get to know them, you find they have depth, and you realize you want to know them better. This section is definitely worth hiking with more time and a more relaxed pace--something to keep in mind for when I come out here again. But unfortunately, the sense of urgency is palpable now, especially as Kennedy Meadows North--and the nominal end of the Sierras--approaches. From here, the miles should be getting longer, I should be getting 20+ a day. And ideally that comes naturally--the terrain smoothing out, the elevation dropping, my legs that much stronger--but until it happens and I see, it's intimidating: big numbers that loom so large and scary. I can probably do it--I was getting 20+ miles a day at the end of the desert before the Sierras. But at what physical cost? And can I sustain it from here all the way to Canada? Seems impossible.
But, as I felt while walking today, there's nothing to do but walk. Today, being alone, being in the heat, climbing, felt very much like going back to Saturday: I felt very much like I was back on a day-hike. No pressure--nobody coming up behind, nobody to catch up ahead--just taking it slow up these exposed slopes, step-by-slow-step, and knowing that--eventually--I'll get there, and being content with that. I can't go faster, I can't push harder, those things don't really do anything. All I can do is go at the pace my body is ready to go at now, and trust that that speed is enough to get me to the end of the day. Whether it's enough to get me to Canada is another issue, but for today at least, just day-hiking: the end-of-the-day, this 17.6 mile mark, is all I need to hit.
And that was the hike. A lot of alone time, a lot of photography (actually broke out the tripod again--no subjects otherwise!), a lot of going back to Saturday. Oh, and physically today I felt better than yesterday. Make no mistake, I'm plenty tired: there's a reason I'm laying down on my sleeping pad even though I know it'll be painful to get back up (the ribs!). But whereas yesterday I had started near empty and proceeded on fumes, today I at least started with a little something in the tank and only now is it hitting empty. And this feels much better; almost gives a feeling of accomplishment. "I left it all out on the pitch", as they say in sports-ball, and there's something satisfying in that.
Some notes:
-- Campsite > Kerrick Creek > Wilmer Lake > Falls Creek > Campsite
-- It seems the 3 Advil regimen works!: slept pretty well last night. And even managed to roll over onto my *right* side, that is, onto my injured side! Ok, yeah, it hurt like the dickens to do, but I could do it and *breathe*, and that's a huge improvement. On the lung front, managed to sneeze today and, yeah, it hurt, but again, I could *breathe* afterward (whereas in the past, after a sneeze I wouldn't be able to breathe for a few seconds), so that's an improvement. And I managed to blow my nose on trail, which again hurt, but was doable and was such a relief! So overall, things are getting better. Only issue now is the right arm: the muscles there seem to be getting worse, with a lot of soreness now behind the shoulder blade. But I still suspect this is similar to the start of the trail when the right shoulder had problems too; those took a few weeks to go away, and I'm still hopeful this latest round of shoulder ailments will go the same way.
-- Since I was so focused on walking today, and on miles, here's the plan. At the start of the day, it was 40 miles to Sonora Pass. There's a shuttle that runs between Sonora Pass and Kennedy Meadows North: it leaves from Sonora Pass at 10:30am and 2:30pm. I want to grab the 10:30am one. I did 17 miles today. If I do 17 miles again tomorrow, that'll leave me with 6 miles to do the day-after-tomorrow, and 6 miles I feel I can do before 10:30am. It'll be a tough squeeze, and it'll be a long few days, but I think it's doable. And I want to see if I can make 17 miles a day in the Sierras: if I can and if I can sustainably, then there's hope that 20+ miles a day post-Sierras is realistic.
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