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.
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.
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.
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!
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