Elevation: 3500 feet (roughest of estimates)
I might be the only person in history to go up Mt. Whitney for the SOLE PURPOSE of getting cell reception. I mean, you want to talk about an out of the way, overcrowded side trip! I love people--in fact, some of the best moments of my lonesome journey so far have been chatting briefly with the cheeriest and most encouraging of people. Those moments inevitably end up being highlights of the day. Otherwise, it's a constant nuisance of having to pull off the side of the trail to let so many people pass and each time have to take an ear bud out only to hear the person mutter a thank you. Don't get me wrong, a majority of people I run into are just peachy, it just becomes a bit cumbersome after awhile. I'm sure part of this frustration stems from the fact that the direction I'm going has much fewer people going my direction, so the chances of finding someone going my way, my pace are somewhat slim. Cough-Liam come back-cough.
Anyway, it's been a long and emotional day, yet again. I woke up at 3am, went back to sleep, then again at 4, and finally at 5 I decided to call it and got packing as fast as I could. I felt nostalgic watching all of the headlamps flicker on the switchbacks in the distance, remember my own sunrise ascent last year. Albeit most of these people were gonna just miss the sunrise from what I could tell, it was still exciting to watch.
While it wasn't cold when I packed up, the moment I started climbing toward Guitar Lake it became frigidly cold. The early morning had squelched my appetite, a disconcerting theme that has been the source of much frustration, given the thought and care that went into selecting and planning my daily rations. So I continued not to break that morning's fast, and pushed onward up the switchbacks. There was enough of an early morning dawn glow that I didn't need a headlamp, and this new ascent gave me ample opportunities for pictures I didn't get to take last year in the dark of night.
I wanted to get up there before 9, but I felt horrendous on the climb. I wouldn't necessarily attribute it to altitude, but rather a general sense of fatigue that has overtaken me. On my ascent, I started chanting three words to help me visualize overcoming this and future obstacles on the trail. I didn't put a great deal of thought into this, as they just sort of came to me, and I'm sure to some, the corny factor will be enough to make you puke. Nevertheless, it helped me. The words were Resilience, Perseverance, and Toughness. After repeating them for a while I felt stronger, and I began choosing one of them to repeat for whatever situation I found myself in. For example, if the backpack was rubbing my hips raw, I'd say 'Toughness' to reflect that no physical hardship could break me. If I was getting fatigued and sloppy with my footing, I'd say 'perseverance' in an effort to regain my focus. You get the idea.
When I got to Trail Crest, I couldn't feel my fingers, but thankfully I had packed everything so all I would have to do was remove the top part of my bag and strap it to my waist to continue on to the first gap between the pinnacles. As soon as I turned my phone off of airplane mode; I was flooded with messages and I was relieved to find out Liam was alive and well; and that it was only the altitude that had stymied his trip's inaugural day.
I proceeded to call Maddie and my immediate family, and Jorge who had left a lovely message for me, reminding me to look out for glimpses of John out of the corner of my eye. Oh how I miss them. This time last year I was calling John to confirm our pickup time and, per his casual manner, assured me that whatever time we got down was fine with him because he'd brought a good book. I stayed up there as long as my frigid, shivering body would allow before turning back. Having summited last year, I didn't really feel the insatiable need to cover every inch of trail this time around. The emotional and physical tolls right now even have me considering exiting at Kearsarge on Saturday and getting driven to Muir Trail Ranch on Tuesday...we'll see how the next couple of days go.
Coming down from Whitney was not terribly exciting, as I was tired, undernourished, and just desperate to have a rest day I know is not on the horizon yet. The other thing that got me moving pretty fast was the desire not to have to carry a used WAG bag around with me everywhere I go. You see, from Crabtree to Whitney and out the portal on the east side, you are within the "Whitney zone" and are required to use such a waste receptacle to do your business. And I'm not going to dance around it here, when you need to go, you need to go. Those exiting the portal are only condemned to stinking up their packs with their own excrement for a matter of hours. Just imagine--or don't if you are within a half hour either side of meal time--how impressively wretched my pack would smell. As if sweaty and dirty unwashed man wasn't rosy enough a combo to agitate the most dulled olfactory palates. It was a race against the clock--my body clock--and I'm happy to report I won. I'm not sure this scenario even has a winner, so much as a not-loser, but that's just semantics.
I am going to be honest, the next 3.4 miles to Wallace Creek were brutal, which probably explains me being in bed by 5:45pm today. I just can't imagine how going to keep this up. It's getting more and more difficult to choke down any of my food, and the schedule just gets worse until MTR. One thing I learned today is that lack of sleep is not the way to go and getting an early start doesn't necessarily result in bigger miles if you're too tired to function. I'm going to sleep in as late as I can tomorrow, probably around 8, and hope for better results.
On my way into Wallace Creek campground, I met two guys, trail names Ned and the Radmiral, and they were really friendly. It got me thinking that camping with people might not be a bad idea, so I'm going to give it a go. I did the usual, making some dinner, though true to the reviews, this Good To-Go meal was not as stellar as the first. It was still quite good, but it rehydrated a little weird to a level of off-putting that my delicate appetite just wasn't stoked about. It was a true force-feeding type of day. I'm not so much dreaming of a particular meal at home, as I am the feeling of not being repulsed by all food in general. I can't tell you how depressing that is when eating and exercising are supposed to go hand in hand. Instead it's like hand in wood chipper. They are just not meshing right now.
Overall, despite the physical and mental hurdles today, the rewardof talking to loved ones made it all worth it. Until tomorrow, and Forester Pass!
No comments:
Post a Comment