Tumanguya
As up follows down, so a good day follows a bad day and vice versa.
The morning of Forester Pass I woke at 3 AM with a headache and feeling tired all over. It was a cold night, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I had camped that night with a solo woman of about my age named Puddles who I met for the first time after all these miles. We were both equally grateful to see each other and camp together. We had each been spending a little more time hiking and camping solo than we wanted to, and it felt like a wonderful partnership had begun. We set off together in the morning to climb the highest pass on the Pacific Crest Trail, Forester Pass at 13,200 feet in elevation. We took it slowly and stopped for breaks, food and photos often. The landscape was harsh and rocky, a rugged kind of beauty. We made the pass together and celebrated and then slowly made our way down the other side.
By 3 o’clock in the afternoon and 14 miles, I was beat, lethargic, and my prospects of climbing Mt. Whitney the next day seemed slim, not only because I was feeling so badly but also because of the ominous dark clouds, wind and threatening rain that was blowing in across the high mountains and seemed to be hovering over Whitney. We camped early, four miles before my intended base camp for a morning ascent. As we ate dinner together, I felt myself giving up my aspirations to summit the highest point in the lower 48 states. A sadness was growing inside me. If I did not hike Mount Whitney, the highest point of my journey would now be behind me. Walking right past Mount Whitney without even trying to hike up it seemed like a decision I might come to regret, but the temptation to stay with Puddles was strong, and she was not going to attempt it. We said good night having planned the next day as an 18 mile a day. I had temporarily forgotten all about Mount Whitney. As I snuggled down in my sleeping bag, the memory of what I was supposed to be doing the next day came flooding back to me. I could feel the anticipatory regret if I didn’t at least give it a try. I had always pictured Mount Whitney being part of my PCT journey as side quest. This feeling of indecision, being torn by two choices, is a familiar one to me so I realized I’ll do what I always do. I’ll decide at the last minute based on my gut feeling.
I slept better than average that night and woke up feeling pretty energized and excited about Whitney, but still torn about leaving Puddles. I let her know my plan and was out of camp by 6:15 am. The four miles I hadn’t hiked the night before went by quite quickly in the refreshing early morning. I set up my tent at the ‘base camp’ and in it I placed my sleeping bag, pad, bear canister, and sleeping bag liner, eliminating probably 15 pounds from my pack, and set off on the trail labeled “Mount Whitney 7.5 miles”.
The Mount Whitney Trail is all above 10,000 feet, a heavily traveled granite masterpiece. It is quite a trail building miracle as it switchbacks up the side of the mountain and then the ridge to the summit. In some places, there is a several thousand foot drop off on either side of the trail, and yet at no time does the trail feel unsafe. It is wide enough for two people to pass each other with ease. There are no trees or plants of any kind and no topsoil, and therefore hikers are asked to collect and carry out their own poop in a “wag bag”. This prospect can be distressing to some hikers. Thankfully, I already wagged this morning, so I won’t have to worry about it.
The Shoshone name for this mountain is Tumanguya, meaning Guardian Spirit. I love its meaning, and it feels important to remember and appreciate that this mountain was named and identified long before the white explorer Josiah Whitney “discovered” it and had it named after him.
After another 2 1/2 miles, I made it to Guitar Lake where I met Indy, a woman also hiking alone and headed for the peak. We hit it off immediately and hiked together the rest of the day talking nonstop. She told me a story of love and loss that was beautiful, tragic and resonant as our bodies surged up the mountain. The weather was moody and cells of turbulent rain clouds could be seen in the distance with streaks of sunlight peeking through. We had a tiny bit of rain which quickly turned to snow, but none of it lasted for more than 20 minutes at a time. I was surprised how many other people were climbing the mountain this day especially considering the weather. We greeted everyone enthusiastically and got to the summit at 12:30, just in time for a burst of warm sunshine. At 14,505 feet overlooking the entire Sierra Nevada range, I felt unbelievably excellent with no symptoms from the altitude whatsoever, grateful that I had been acclimating for the last three weeks. We spent about an hour, enjoying the summit, admiring the 360 degree views and taking photos.
The hike down was a fast romp, and the weather was deteriorating into more of a steady rain. I made it back to my tent to find several other PCT hikers camping there in anticipation of their climb the next day. I was feeling so happy and satisfied, and still fairly euphoric that it was hard to settle down into sleep. I will not soon forget this glorious day in the Sierra‘s or my amazing hiking partner, Indy. It was truly a highlight of my PCT.
A few times in my life, I have experienced a mountain climb that goes so smoothly it feels easy. I am not sure what makes all the stars align for this magic to happen, but when my spirits are high, my leg are strong, my energy is good, it makes for a special day indeed. It is a rare gift and one that I am grateful for.
I expect tomorrow to be a harder day.
