DAY 24: Guitar Lake to Mt. Whitney

I laugh a little bit to myself as I write this, for I am doing so from the comfort of my private toilet at home. I'm not using the toilet, rather, I'm just sitting on it, as it's one of the many luxuries we have missed while on the trail.  What missing toilets says about the quality of hobby we engage in is not for me to judge.  I will leave that to those with pristine butt cheeks that haven't been ravaged by mosquitos.  But nevertheless the fact that I'm writing our last day's account from the comfort of my own home still hasn't sunk in.  You mean I don't have to spend 5 minutes making myself lightheaded by blowing up my bed?  I can eat as many double doubles as I want?  You mean I don't have to carry around used toilet paper anymore?  At this point, I can only assume I actually fell off Mt. Whitney, died, and went to heaven.

But is it heaven?  Is heaven the place where hordes of people litter beaches, where passersby on the sidewalk don't give two shits about talking about the weather with you, or where your heart shrivels with anxiety at the prospect of finding an apartment 5 weeks before school starts? Alas, this is real life, and despite the clutter, distractions, and stressors that muddy all of our lives, I am blessed to return safely to the comforting arms of family and friends that mitigate all of that noise.  I cannot express how simultaneously happy and sad I am to be home.  

For me there is no distinction between last night and today, as I didn't get a wink of sleep.  Between the abnormally warm night, the hefty wind flapping our tent, and the excitement for our summit day, the quest for sleep was lost from the start.  Maddie managed to sneak in a couple of hours, but at 2:17, sensing my restlessness, she turned to look at me.  We were either going to postpone our 2:30 alarm for 2 hours to try to get some sleep or get up now.  We decided to just get up and go.  Packing up was quick and efficient, and we were walking by 3, donning pretty much all of our layers to protect us from the chilly night.  

Lit up and ready to roll

Summit Day Selfie

Headlamps gleaming, illuminating only the footpath ahead of us, we walked briskly toward the switchbacks to the trail crest junction.  It was 2000 feet of clbing and 4.9 miles to the junction, but it was fairly easy walking, and the cold propelled us upward.  The stars were beautiful, though it was so dark you could barely make out the silhouettes of the surrounding ridges.  Now, I like heights as much as the next guy...if that guy happens to hate roller coasters and tightly shut his eyes upon takeoff and landing I'm airplanes...so the darkness was probably a good way of preventing me from being able to see all the way down the ridge when I turned my headlamp that way.  All I could see were the occasional glints of other hikers starting to break down their camps.  We got to the junction at 5 and quickly set about consolidating Maddie's warm stuff, water, and snacks into my bag so she wouldn't have to carry anything to the summit.

Sunrise

With 1.9 miles and about 1000 feet to go, we began our final ascent.  Through gaps in the pinnacles, we would catch glimpses of the vivid red line glowing incandescent on the eastern horizon.  The sunrise was becoming more beautiful by the second, and soon enough, the mountains and lakes surrounding Kern Canyon were glowing gently and we could turn off our headlamps.  The trail to the top was not without snow, and we made sure to be very careful along the gravelly trudge to the top.  These last 1.9 miles were a grunt, forcing us both to slow down due to nausea.  There were at least 5 times I nearly lost my oatmeal breakfast, a decision I'm sure has ruined oatmeal for the discernible future. 

Wakey wakey!

It was 6:15 when we summited (our summit attempt was probably the fastest we have walked the entire trip, by the way).  Just as we approached the shelter on the summit and we had expected all of our joy would erupt in a river of tears and hugs...the cold set in.  There were 5 people already there, shivering and burrowing themselves in their sleeping bags, but we opted to visit the shelter, where I had us do jumping jacks and run in place to keep warm before huddling together in Maddie's sleeping bag.  When we achieved a not-so-miserable degree of comfort, we ventured back outside and Maddie parked it on a rock overlooking the Owens Valley, as I handed her my hand warmers.  Meanwhile, I set about taking pictures and fetching her phone to call our parents from the top.  I let John know we were on schedule and shooting to be down by 3pm, and it was so wonderful hearing their voices!  I tried calling my brother, but I think he screened my call...too early for him I guess!  Although we could only briefly soak in our accomplishment, it felt indescribable to be done with the JMT.  We looked at each other proudly, hugging each other out of love and a need to stay warm.  It was so special, like I said, indescribable.  Finally, shivering from the bitter cold for too long, we shoved off down the mountain close to 8.  We must have been among the first 10 people up there, and we signed the trail register as we left.  Even though the John Muir Trail officially ends on top of Whitney, we still had about 11 miles to the portal where John would await our arrival.  

The summit shelter

Keeping warm

Maddie, the amorphous sleeping bag monster, spotted atop Mt. Whitney

Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose

Guitar Lake looking quite...guitarish

We passed some of our friends as we descended, and it was nice to bid them goodbye once more.  At the junction I quickly reassembled our packs, and we took off down trail crest toward the infamous 99 switchbacks.  It was pretty speedy walking, but we were now encountering more people than we had seen since Yosemite.  The shocking part of our descent that would characterize most of the day's hiking was not the sheer number of people, but how rude most of them were.  On the way down, we noticed several WAG bags (the bags you have to crap in while in the Mt. Whitney zone) left by the trail side, and there were countless hikers barreling past without feigning any attempt of trail etiquette.  These were minor annoyances on the scheme of things, however, as we descended through the otherwise beautiful mountain scenery.  The most troublesome part of the day was actually the trail itself, as the granite was slick and the trail was incredibly rocky and uneven.  

Trail Crest

Down we go

Snack break

Looking up toward Whitney on our break

Some jerk's used WAG bag...yeah, pack it out people

Yet not even the unpleasant footpath could dampen our enthusiasm for finishing out strong.  We cruised down, only taking one sizeable 15 minute bathroom/snack break to appreciate our last afternoon as smelly semi-homeless people.  From there, we felt like a pair of hungry hamsters chasing a carrot. No matter how fast we walked, the valley below didn't seem to be getting any closer.  We kept up the pace, though, and finally entered our last mile of trail. At that point we were nearly giddy, almost to the point of drooling at the though of lemonade and fresh fruit, our only requests from John.  Just as enticing was the prospect of not having to drink water like a gerbil anymore, as sucking on the sawyer mini squeeze filter, while practical, small, and lightweight, is infuriating when you really just want to guzzle a bunch of water.  See my post on our day getting into Reds Meadow for a picture of what suckling on that trickle of water looks like.  Absolutely maddening.

Almost done!

One of our final crossings

As we rounded the last switchback down to the parking lot, I saw him. Sitting there in his comfy chair, holding a sign that said in big bold letter: HARRIS.  It was unbelievable.  We both just started laughing and uttering expressions of unbridled joy at seeing John.  A seasoned backpacker and outdoorsmen, John knew exactly what this moment feels like, and ever the brave soul, he embraced our wretchedly stinky bodies in a hug.  He then led us to the car, and with the suspensefully slow rise of he trunk, revealed what I think of now as the cooler of dreams.  Apricots, plums, bananas, broccoli, baby carrots, naked juice and lemonade.  THINGS THAT GO CRUNCH WHEN YOU BITE INTO THEM! 

Goodbye wilderness!

After changing into CLEAN CLOTHES, we immediately broke into sporadic conversation about our trip as we got in the car and headed down the road.  Being in a car felt like going warp speed, it was so weird watching the scenery whiz by so quickly.  Even more disorienting was our stop for gas, where upon entering the convenience store to pay, I was shocked by the buzz of activity and and cornucopia of food and beverage offerings.  What is this place?  Honestly, it was one of the weirdest experiences of my life.

Our savior

Maddie meets civilization

Finally in clean clothes...that instantly became dirty upon gracing our bodies

With the gas tank full, we set out to make our stomachs equally so, aiming for the In-n-Out in Lancaster.  For weeks Maddie had declared her order in advance: two burgers, two fries, a coke, and a shake.  I am proud to say that she followed through on her promise, although she just replaced the shake with a second coke.  Meanwhile, I ordered two hamburgers and fries and devoured all of it.  Just before leaving, though, I found myself not quite as full as I'd hoped, so for good measure, I returned to the counter and ordered a double double with grilled onions and extra everything. Now that is a meal befitting of two people who just hiked the JMT.  

This isn't even all of the food...

Letting someone else do the cooking tonight #PlacesMyPotGoes

From there, we made our merry way home, enjoying lively conversation and talking about our trip.  John was so incredibly nice in coming to get us, and we had a blast riding home with him. Thanks again, John!  

We made it home around 9pm and dropped Maddie off, before he took me home to see my parents.  Oh my, was it great to see them and hug them.  My dad has been following our progress along our planned itinerary very closely and has arguably been our number one fan.  Meanwhile, I could see the worry and anxiety fade from my mom's face, making us both very happy.  I told them some things abou the trip, agreeing to talk more in the coming days when I have pictures uploaded and it's not so late at night.  

Nothing says home like family and a bowl of cereal

One of oh so many empty bags of this most addicting and delicious of trail snacks.  

And coming full circle, here I sit in my bathroom of all places, reflecting on what has probably been the most amazing 3 and a half weeks of my life.  I showered until the water was no longer brown. My skin, though several shades lighter, still harbors a light brown hue in the creass of my hands.  I extracted enough ear wax to construct a buff of myself for the Madame Tussaud's wax museum.  I brushed my teeth with an electric tooth brush.  I slipped on clean cotton pajamas.  I discovered I lost ten pounds, coming in at a meager 126.  I pounded several bowls of cereal and some of the Krave Jerky I could not get enough of.  I brushed my teeth again. I drank two liters of water.  I looked at myself in the mirror.

And now, except for the hairy face that I am preserving for my brother's amusement when he comes home tomorrow, I am "normal" again.  I'm sure the feelings will trickle in, my disgust with traffic, my disillusionment when someone flips me off in the car for the first time, my ecstasy when I have my first taste of Mexican and Thai food.  But also the melting pot of emotions, those triumphant and nostalgic, that are bound to define our journey.  For the millionth time, I cannot thank our friends and family enough.  Thank you to those intrepid hikers who have inspired me each and every step of the way to forge new memories and embark on new adventures (Margaux, Twinkle, Carrot, the list goes on—click on those links if you would like to read about some truly epic thru-hiking adventures Margaux conquered the Appalachian Trail, and Twinkle and Carrot have shared their Pacific Crest Trail experiences in great detail).  And thank you to the amazingly friendly people at Krave Jerky for sending me a sample of their unbelievably delicious Turkey Jerky, undoubtedly my most prized foodstuff on the trail.  But most importantly, I cannot thank Maddie enough for being such an amazing hiking partner, blog editor, and girlfriend. The highs were high (like seriously, 14,500 feet high) and the lows were low (it got realllyyyyy smelly in that tent sometimes you guys), but we saw it through together.  I could not have asked for anyone better to enjoy the adventure of a lifetime with.

Hopefully my blog doesn't go back to being another idle, boring waste of internet space.  I'll continue to post my music when I feel creative or recipes when I feel simultaneously creative and hungry.  I've toyed with the idea of blogging about stuff through dental school, but I'm not sure that life commands a very large audience.  I fear at that point reading my blog would feel just as much like pulling teeth as it would be about pulling teeth.  So until the next big adventure, from my toilet to yours (let's be honest, everyone putzes around on their phones on the ivory throne), I thank you for reading, and I hope you have enjoyed following our journey!

DAY 23: Tyndall Creek to Guitar Lake

I woke up this morning (after some delightful food dream of which I can't recall the details) to Maddie gently shaking me awake at 7:30.  Apparently Dave had called us up to have some breakfast with them.  So with few mosquitos, no condensation in our tent, and a warm night from me actually wainf enough, we quickly scampered up the hill to join them.  Sure enough, as I nibbled on my oatmeal, they produced a veritable feast of eggs, bacon, blueberry frickin pancakes, hashbrowns, and bagels with cream cheese and honey (an excelllent combination courtesy of Collin).  Although we felt tremendously guilty accepting the nibbles of delicious food because we had literally nothing to offer in return, we were very grateful and enjoyed them while we all talked.  It feels so great to be socializing with people, as weird as that sounds.  The isolation is absolutely amazing out here, devoid of distractions and time wasting, but having a fun group to enjoy it all with is wonderful.  Down the hill, however, was a group of 15 noisy kids making their way to Whitney as well.  Not to sound like a curmudgeon, but 15 is just too much to handle.  I'm all for socializing, but that size group sort of dampens the vibe of isolation that we are used to enjoying.  Of course it's nothing I can really rag on them for, except for that I wish we were not hiking concurrently with such a large group.  It's not a big deal though, we're all trying to enjoy the same things.

After breakfast, they headed out while we packed up.  We then got out our water shoes for a stream crossing. Boy was I not expecting the water to be so damn cold.  I'm talking ice bath make your feet throb cold.  I crossed and then went back to get Maddie's backpack for her because ever since her tumble at Baxter Creek, she has felt understandably uneasy about crossings.  Little did we know that this would be the first of three such crossings today, which is exactly three more than we would have liked.  

Hiking up from Tyndall Creek

Bighorn Plateau

But not even frigid water fordings could ruin this amazing day. For starters, today comprises about 6% of the 15-20% of the trail that we have actually deemed pleasant to walk on.  The grade was good for the most part on the smooth footpath, and the weather was phenomenal.  We blew through miles today, stopping occasionally to cross streams or chat with Dave and Collin.  I listened to a lot of Tina Fey's book, and did a lot of thinkinf and reflecting.  Backpacking is the ultimate exercise in living in the present moment for me.  Although I could, as I'm sure many do, focus intently on the destination (Whitney), I prefer to revel in the minutia of every day living (chores, the views, etc.).  Sure some of it's tedious at times, and there's even quite a bit of pain along the way, but it's one of those activities that's rewarding before, during, and after the experience.  Before, you get excited planning the trip; during, you get spectacular vistas and time to yourself to be at peace; and after, you look back and day, "woah, I did that!"  And it's not always deep and reflective thought that fill the time.  In fact, to the contrary, many of my thoughts are random, stupid, or a combination. Today, for instance, I thought a funny series of animated music videos could be made using the president's cabinet as the members of a boy band called One Directive, with Obama as the lead soloist (for those who didn't catch it, this reference is mocking the real boy band, One Direction).  Stupid, but it made me laugh nonetheless.

Onward to Whitney

Toward the end of our day though, Maddie's feel began to act up in a big way, probably because I forgot to tighten it for her this morning.  So with our progress slowed to a trudge, she pushed through and we got to Guitar Lake around 4:30.  We immediately set about erecting the tent and cooking mac and cheese, our final dinner on the trail (whaaaaaat?!?)!  It was sensational.  Followed by a Nutella on tortillas, trail mix, and a raisin walnut Whenever Bar.  Calories = warmth, I've discovered.  With stomachs full, we sat and soaked in our last gorgeous night on the John Muir Trail.  I can't believe it's actually coming to an end.  I can't believe I've successfully blogged every day about it.  But I can believe we made it.  It's been one of the toughest challenges either of us has ever faced (again, this has been one of the wettest, most turbulent weather months in many people's recollection), but we've hung in there, motivated by the rewarding scenery, our sense of purpose, and each other.  We're not at the summit yet, so I'll lay off on the premature celebration and emotional significance of it all until my next post.  But for now, I'll leave it at how special these 23 days and 23 nights have been.  

Getting closer

Finally at Guitar Lake

Guitar Lake!

Maddie, so exhausted from dealing with her Achilles and the food coma that had overtaken her, went to bed, while I went down to bid farewell to our new friends.  As we will be getting up (hopefully) several hours earlier than them, we may not see them tomorrow, and I wanted them to know what a pleasure it was hanging out with them.  With goodbyes exchanged, I headed back to our green tent and finished our chores and setting up for tomorrow.  The tentative plan is to sleep in our hiking stuff so we can just stuff our things and bolt in the morning.  We want to get down to the portal as early as possibly to prevent John from having to sit around for too long.  I'll let you all know how it ends up tomorrow!  

Our last sunset

Until then, an extra early goodnight and thanks for reading!  

Enjoying our second to last day on the trail!

DAY 22: Bubbs Creek to Tyndall Creek

As part of our training for this trip, we would frequently take a short 300 foot climb up a Aliso Peak in South Laguna.  I mean, in retrospect, it hardly feels like training, but it's a beautiful hike that, at a good pace, can make for a decent workout.  As with most things in life, it helps to break down seemingly insurmountable tasks into more manageable parts.  Such is the case when we climb.  Today, we were set to climb 2700 unrelenting feet up the top of Forester Pass, our final pass before taking on Whitney.  At 13,100 feet, this is this highest either of us has ever been, and at the beginning of the day, it was just a matter of focusing on how many Aliso Peaks we were going to climb.  For some reason, thinking of 2700 feet becomes less daunting when we refer to it in our heads as 9 jaunts up Aliso Peak.

Starting with a careful log crossing...

On our way up to Forester

Alas, no amount of mind game trickery could diminish the imposing ascent.  We got a late start on account of the opportunity to finally dry out our stuff fully in the sun, but once we started, it was a suffer fest.  Despite good chunks of the trail having become a shallow river just deep enough to drench a boot if you're not careful, the grade was mostly pleasant and the scenery spectacular.  With a fresh pillowy layer or snow draped over the surrounding peaks, the landscape seems altogether new and invigorating to behold.  As we slowly marched through our chilly alpine environs, we finally were able to make out the top of the pass.  Despite having become acclimated to the elevation over the past month, these heights did induce a bit more fatigue than I would have liked.  In fact, Collin from the Redlands group was experiencing some pretty bad altitude sickness, and I'm not surprised, as we were all feeling the effects.  He was a champ though, and made it up and over with us.  

The never ending climb

800 or so feet to go!

Stopping to admire the view

Still...climbing...

Just a tad too chilly for a swim...

Snow snow snow snow snow!

Finally at the top facing north

Facing south

Arriving at the top felt like probably the greatest accomplishment thus far.  Getting up there in less than 3 and a half hours made us feel strong and confident in our decision to continue hiking. As a cherry on top, we were able to contact our parents with Maddie's phone after numerous attempts.  Not surprisingly, my mom admits she's "on pins and needles" every day while my dad traces our every move vicariously at home.  Hearing her voice definitely makes me excited to return home with the wealth of stories and experiences we have garnered out here.

With a brief lunch atop the cold, windy pass, we talked with the our Redlands friends until we decided to depart down the seemingly treacherous south side.  It was a jarring descent at first, but once down a thousand feet, it became a very pleasant stroll down toward Tyndall Creek.  The both of us experienced what Maddie has aptly called "reverse altitude sickness," the strange phenomenon of becoming slightly sick coming down from altitude.  Not sure why we both felt this, and I look forward to looking it up when I get home, but it made the initial descent slower and more frustrating.

The descent to Tyndall Creek

We leapfrogged with the Redlands folks, enjoying Dave's riddles and their company, until we came to Tyndall Creek, where the lot of us decided to spend the night so as to postpone crossing the creek until tomorrow. Wet, cold feet before bed is the WORST.  Well, one of the worst, behind having to take a dump on exposed switchbacks and choking down an inedible meal.  

Leaving the pass(t) behind us

At camp, we were invited up to their group to enjoy some raspberry crumble.  To say we were ecstatic and grateful is an understatement.  It was absolutely delicious and Terry even let me sit in his crazy creek chair, one pf the few times I've been able to lean back in a sitting position for 3 weeks!  It's amazing how at home we will remark about a chair or bench being uncomfortable or angler oddly, but out here we settle for the pointiest, most tilted rock to rest our rumps and we think, "ahhh luxury!"  Honestly, the crumble blew my mind, but even more enjoyable was the communal feeling of sharing a meal and reveling in their company.  They're truly a fun and interesting group, and we are very happy that we are on the same hiking schedule as them through the end of the trip.  We also felt guilty that whereas their bear cans bestowed decadent desserts, asparagus, and apples, ours could only reciprocate with trail mix and other less than satisfying foods.  At least we were able to provide one of them with much needed band aids for her blisters.  It doesn't quite compare to crumble, but it's all we've got!

So with our bellies full, our minds comforted with the company of others, and my toes getting way too cold, we headed off to bed. And now I am here falling asleep next to the best hiking partner I could ask for on our penultimate night out here.  Baja Fish Taco, I'm comin' for ya!  G'night everyone!

Forester Pass in the bag! Next stop: Mt. Whitney!

DAY 21: Rae Lakes to Beyond Upper Vidette Meadow

Let's just say I woke up today a little bit...dehydrated.  In our off day yesterday, between being stuck inside and doing all of our chores, I forgot to drink much water at all, something I rarely do back at home, let alone the day before climbing over a pass.  When we got up around 6:30, to make up in some tiny way for Matt's disappointing lakeside getaway, I made him coffee and brought it to him for his gentle wake up.  First class service all the way.  We cooked oatmeal and made tea, a seldom performed morning operation of our stove, but it was nice and rewarding.  A thick mass of cloud was closing in on the lakes as we packed up, and we watched as others departed, some for their last day on the trail, others to get as close to Forester Pass as possible while the precipitation was at bay.  With a night of no rain, we managed to get most of our stuff so that it wasn't dripping wet, but it was still unwearable considering the cold.  We hiked in our sleep stuff to start, until we got warm and sweaty enough to withstand our frigidly cold hiking clothes.

Oh that fog

A "good" view to the top of the pass

The climb up the pass seemed to whiz by in retrospect.  Matt knew the route, giving us confidence when we were reaching the top, which was not visible through the cloud cover.  Visibility was actually contained to within several yards around us at times, making it difficult for my mind to reconcile how high I knew we actually were.  The pass was brutal for me.  Maddie and Matt seemed pretty sure-footed, but I was struggling with the same dizziness I have come to associate with dehydration.  The biting cold also made it particularly challenging, but we kept looking on the bright side (or, one might call it, less grey and gloomy side) that we weren't being drenched in the rain.  We still weren't sure whether we would exit with Matt, so we kept pushing that decision off until we got to his junction.

Second to last pass!

Feelin woozy, but in good spirits at the top

The pass was actually really cool when we made it, you could see just how sheer the drop off was on either side, but the thick clouds blocked any further sight down.  After snapping a couple photos, we continued down the pass, talking and laughing about all kinds of things.  On this stretch the sun made it's debut and Maddie and I felt glimmers of hope that we would be continuing on and em aunt even Matt would come for this one more day as well. 

Don't look down...or do.

Is that blue in the sky?

By the time we got to his junction over Kearsarge Pass, we had decided to tough it out, whatever the weather may bring.  Matt, however, confessed to being what he labeled himself as, a "mental midget," unable to bare being apart from his family and fiancé for another day.  I understand his decision completely, and we are more than envious that he gets to enjoy all those comforts we dream about sooner rather than later.  We are so incredibly grateful for his help and company.  Matt, one of my few faithful blog readers, thank you again!

The descent to Vidette Meadow

Maddie lookin' good on our way down

Not to start a thank you parade here, but it cannot be emphasized enough how much we appreciate the support of our family and friends along this journey.  The company of Kelly, Lauren, Liam, Anne, Tricia, and Matt has been so comforting, and John, we are so looking forward to seeing you!  Matt will be relaying a message of good tidings to our parents when he exits, so hopefully they haven't been worrying too much.

As Matt walked his separate way, our sadness was quickly replaced by cold, hard determination.  Let's finish this.  We walked pretty quickly, covering more miles than we had originally planned under the threatening sky above.  We made it to a campsite at around 10,500 feet, populated by the group from Redlands, and another friendly couple we've seen over the last couple weeks.  Apparently, as the Redlands group climbed over Glen Pass in the rain the day before to get to their resupply, they ran into a guy who had planted 11 blue moon beers atop the pass in 2011, and he was just now retrieving them, giving two of them to the Redlands group.  How crazy is that?!  Someone associated with the beer guy's group also told them that in his 25 years hiking in the sierras and doing the jmt several times, this is the wettest he has ever experienced.  Lucky us.  What doesn't kill you makes you stronger I guess. Or whatever doesn't kill you makes you never want to backpack again, in Maddie's case. Just kidding, we are still loving it and we have already talked about which sections we would love to hike again!

Bubbs Creek

So we camped somewhere along Bubbs Creek, and we decided it was just too chilly to cook, so we snacked instead.  Having just received their resupply, Collin and Dave from the big group even delighted us with freshly cooked asparagus and an apple!  Seriously I cannot express how much an asparagus spear changed the complexion of our frigid evening.  Not only that, but we had a good time talking with them.  Although we commiserated with our fellow hikers about the maddeningly muddy trail and the ubiquitousness of horse shit along it's entire length, we now found ourselves next to the pleasantly babbling creek, surrounded by a great austere mountain scale with a velvety fog draped over its peaks and saddles.  Sorry...that sounded a smidge out of a creative writing essay, but it gives you the idea because I didn't take many pictures.

As we watched snow settle on the adjacent mountains, a sporadic drizzle reaffirmed our decision not to cook. Instead, we chugged some water, got into bed, and are now ready to tackle our final pass tomorrow.  Given the weather forecast, our decision to carry on has us a little on edge, but we're glad to be doing everything in our power to complete our goal.  Also, hiking with our new friends has us more confident and energetic to continue.  With that, I'll say goodnight, and hopefully Maddie will get service over the pass tomorrow!  

Friends stuck in the clouds atop Glen Pass