Day 51-Evolution Creek

Mile

The rock outcropping was surprisingly comfortable, but I was pretty cold.  Around 3:30 I put on my rain jacket and then felt warm.  I slept with my hat over my eyes and peeked out when I hard movement from Opus.  It was seven o'clock and we had decided the night before to sleep in and get up slowly.  I made oatmeal and hot chocolate before packing up (usually I eat a cold breakfast once I'm packed and ready to hike).  It was a nice leisurely start to the day.

We left camp at 8:30 and hiked down.  I could get really used to not having to hike up something first thing in the morning-although it's harder to warm up when going downhill.  The trail was following Evolution Creek down to where we would eventually ford the creek.

There were miles of walking next to the creek.  Sometimes the creek was thundering next to the three of us (Buster had hiked ahead) and sometimes it slowed and looked lazy as it drifted through a meadow.  This was supposed to be one of the two hardest fords, but based on the low snow year and the Southbounds' info, the ford didn't sound like a problem at all.

And it wasn't:  I zipped off my pant legs, put my phone and camera in a Ziploc, and with my hiking shoes on and hipbelt unbuckled I waded into the water.  It wasn't even really cold-usually its cold enough to numb feet before reaching the far side.  At its deepest it wasn't even knee deep.  After crossing I left my pack on shore and went back in to rinse off a little.

Mosquitoes were bad on the banks so we quickly left the area in search of a mosquito-free place to have lunch.  We found a place ten minutes up the trail next to the creek where it thundered over some falls.  It wasn't a good place for talking, but it was a pleasant place to eat at.  I hoped my shoes and socks would dry while I ate-I started to miss the dry desert when it became clear I was going to have wet feet.

By three p.m. my feet where hurting from being wet all afternoon.  It was really hot-I had never imagined the Sierra's to be hot before, but they've been hot nearly every day.  It was a strenght sucking heat that made me want to stop and hide in the shade for the rest of the afternoon.  We stopped briefly for a snack and shoe off break.  My feet were pasty white and waterlogged.  Twenty minutes without shoes on did wonders for them.

After break we had five miles left to our day-most of them up.  It felt like we were stopping on every switchback and making no progress.  I was minutes behind the guys-within sight, but not stepping on Opus' heels-so I didn't understand why we kept stopping.  It really started to bother me, and then we were at the top.  We grabbed some water, had a snack while watching three deer eat their dinner, and then went on two miles.

I was just starting to feel done with the day when we reached our campsite.  It was the largest flat spot that wasn't a meadow that I've seen out here.  It was sandy and had about a thousand anthills. We set up our sleeping areas (I cowboyed; the guys were in tents) near the back of the flat area where the ground was covered in pine needles and not anthills.

Day 50- Muir Pass

mile 819 to mile 843
We left camp around 6:30 when it was about 36 degrees out.  Somehow I ended up leading the way-except Nightingale left about a half hour before us.  I hadn't been going for ten minutes when I slipped on a rock while trying to step over a small stream.  I went down hard breaking my fall with my forearm and shin.  I dipped one foot in the water and once I was down I focused on not dipping anything else.  I struggled up without any grace and told Portrait and Opus that the rock was slippery.  They asked if I was okay and I told them I was, and I was, but my arm and shin smarted pretty good.

After I felt like my confidence was shaken, but I kept the lead, but went a bit slower.  There's something about being the lead person that I typically don't like.  I usually feel rushed; almost like I'm being pushed by the people behind me, but I know it's only me doing the pushing.

The trail followed a raging creek down towards the valley.  It's been some of the prettiest trail I've seen on the hike so far.  The trail hugged the canyon walls-it was the type of trail where you don't want to slip.  It also had some wonderful switchbacks that made the descent easy on the knees-at least for me.  It was also so nice not to be starting the day on a huge uphill like we've been doing the past couple days.  It was a little hard to get warm though.  We were all waiting for the sun to touch us, and it finally did after nearly three miles.

Just after that the four of us stopped for seconded breakfast.  I gave up lead spot to Portrait and fell to second-a spot I usually like.  We were expecting mostly flat trail that wouldn't require much thought.  We did get the flat, but also a tangle of downed trees.  We had to pay attention while going over, under, and around the two dozen or so downed trees in about a mile.  It made for a tiring easy section.

Near the end of the blow down section we saw our first person in over a day.  We peppered him with questions about the fords and passes to come.  He said we looked good for being nearly a third of the way done.  I don't know what it means to look good out here.  I feel dirty and hungry and I'm starting to swim in my pants-I'm not sure when they went from snug to baggy, but they did.  He probably meant we all looked happy.

We stopped near the start of our climb for another snack break.  While eating we met some more JMT hikers. It was nice to see some people again, and to get information on Muir Pass.

The climb up to Muir Pass was a long slow one at first.  Muir was supposed to have the most snow on it according to Opus and the handful of JMT southbounders.  At first it was like the other passes with alpine lakes that were as clear and as blue as a pool, and streams that turned into waterfalls.  It seemed to have more lakes than the other passes-it was truly beautiful. There was one section where the trail was going up with switchbacks near a large waterfall that was so clean the water was tinged blue.  About halfway up, before the snow, I declared Muir Pass to be my favorite pass.

At one stream crossing I was tanking up on ice cold water when the four of us spotted someone hiking towards us.  We speculated about who it was while watching him cross the creek.  It was Buster a hiker that I met around Idyllwild (but I he didn't seem familiar).  We chatted for a minute, then Buster and Portrait took the lead (and quickly went out of sight) with Opus, me, and Nightingale following.

The trail started to climb a little more steeply-even as it passed more lakes.  About an hour after we gained Buster Nightingale made camp at one of the last clumps of trees.  We left her, hoping she'd meet up with other hikers in the morning to do the pass with.  I'm hoping she'll catch up before Mammoth.

After leaving Nightingale, Opus and I caught up with the other two for snack and to plan out the rest of the day.  We'd figured we'd make the pass around 5:30, eat dinner at the top, and leave when the snow was firmer and hike to one of the lakes where Opus thought there would be camping.  There was nothing we could do about the soft snow on the way up-short of calling it a day-so we tried to ready ourselves for some postholing.

The snow wasn't that bad. It was soft, but we seemed to stay on top most of the time.  The snow patches also weren't very large and they didn't feel dangerous.   On the way up I think we got off track once, and that was only for a minute.

I had read in my guidebook that Muir had a lot of false summits so I was really surprised when I saw the little stone hut. I had prepared myself for thinking I was there and not being at the top, but I never felt that way.
The hut was adorable.  It was made of stone, perfectly round, and had a door and a window.  It looked like a hobbit would live there.  The four of us set our cameras to self timer and posed in front of the hut.  I don't think we stopped laughing for the 20 seconds we had four cameras blinking and beeping at us.

We ate dinner inside. I had a double helping of chili-I felt I earned it with the snow hiking (and more snow to come).  It was surprisingly nice weather up there.  Usually I get cold really quick, but even with wet feet I was fine with just my jacket on.  We did think about camping out in the hut-knowing all the while that it wasn't a good idea.
Just before seven we started down with the hope of finding somewhere to camp near one of the lakes in a couple miles.  It seemed like we misplaced the trail a little more often as we hiked down.  I'd say we were never lost, but we did stop to look around for the trail-it really helped having four pairs of eyes. 
The sun turned the stone peaks orange as it started to set.  I don't. Think I've seen anything like it before-it felt like a magical place.

I had stopped for a pit stop and by the time I caught up Opus and Buster where at the lake we were planning on staying at.  They still had their packs on when Portrait and I walked over-clearly a bad sign.  It was wet, rocky, and cold on the lake shore.  It looked like a miserable place to camp.  We decided, even though Opus and I were beat, to hike on.

Headlamps came out, mittens went on, and on we went.  I hiked while scanning for a flat space for four.  We had hiked over twenty miles and had no destination in mind anymore-not my favorite way to hike.  We hiked to a small wooden sign that simply said trail with an arrow pointing at stepping stones going across the lake.  There were about twenty rocks crossing the lake and they set my nerves on edge while crossing them. I felt too tired for such things, but I made it across without a problem.

We came to a rock out cropping overlooking a lake with a small grassy area.  We looked at the area, looked at each other, and decided it was the spot we were looking for.  It was windless and felt not too cold.  Opus set up his tent on the grass while everyone else decided to cowboy camp on the rock outcropping.

Day 49- Pinchot Pass

Mile 802 to mile 819

This morning I woke up with the foot end of my tent collapsed.  I lifted up the fabric to find my trekking pole that was supposed to be holding up that end of my tent. Oddly it was a good four feet away from my tent. I know I was camped on a slope, but I don't think I kicked the pole away in the night.  I changed and packed what I could in my sad little tent and got up. It took my a minute to see that most of the handle of my trekking pole had been chewed off-including the strap.  The others came to look and speculate on what ate my trekking pole.  It was a very sad day for my trekking pole.  It felt gross all day-it was awhile before I took off my mitten because I didn't want to touch it.  I think in Mammoth I'll wrap what's left of the handle in fabric tape-no more mixing up my left and right pole.

It didn't seem like my morning-I wasn't feeling it.  I was hungry so soon after breakfast as I followed the trail up to Pinchot Pass.  Even after snacking I still felt low on energy.  While climbing I was actually thinking I can't wait to get out of the Sierra's.  I'm having a hard time enjoying them while feeling so run down and out of breath.  I was thinking the altitude was only getting to me in the low 10,000's, but I think even the mid 9,000's is too high for me.  I went to bed tired and woke still tired and I'm guessing altitude is playing a part.
And then I was on top of Pinchot Pass with the sun warm on my face, a snack in hand, and a view for miles and I forgot about how tired I've been.  To describe the view will make it sound just like the other passes, and they do have a lot in common.  I remember hearing people take about the sameness of the desert, but the Sierra's have a sameness to me.  Granted they have a magnificent beauty to them that was lacking in the desert.

The trail went gently down from the pass with hardly any snow to navigate and no need for snow aides.  I think there was more talk about this being the Golden Year-an idea that feels like a jinx to me.  We also talked about how we haven't seen any other PCT thru-hikers in over a day.  We may be the only ones left-it's hard to tell right now.

It feels like the stream crossings are getting bigger.  The two big ones are coming up in a day or so, and so far I don't feel like I've gotten any ford practice.  Besides dipping my feet in the water at lunch I haven't gotten my feet wet on any Sierra stream crossing yet.  Our lunch spot by the river was nice. It was hard to imagine such a wonderful spot a few short weeks ago when we were in the desert.

During lunch we realized we were setting ourselves up for a hard day tomorrow.  We are going to hit one of the harder passes at the end of the day tomorrow and that's when the snow, and there will most likely be snow, will be at its softest and hardest to walk through.  There wasn't much we could do about the timing.
Shortly after lunch the trail started the long climb up to Mather's Pass.  We stopped for a snack break, and Portrait checked his GPS and told us we still had two miles to the top, but the pass seemed like it was right there.  Of course the GPS was right:  the trail swung away around some lakes than switchbacked slowly up the ridge line.  I wish I was hiking this section without the extra gear (and lack of oxygen) and then it would feel so easy.  And I'd like just once to be the first one to the top, but that's not going to happen, and I'm mostly okay with that.

Snack was had on the top and we talked about the next few days and what mileage would be best.  It's hard because its all speculations and maybes.  But we did shorten the mileage for today and we could see our camping area from the pass.

There was very little snow on the north side-I think we cut a few switchbacks and walked through a couple patches of snow.  The guide calls the descent a knee jarring one, but I didn't find it that bad.  It helped that the day was nearing its end.  Opus remembered some camping from his JMT hike last summer.  At first it felt like he might have remembered wrong when we got to the treed area.  I imagine it's not easy having three people rely on you memories, but his turned out to be spot on.

We are camped among some trees with a creek within hearing distance, a lake down in the valley below, and granite monsters surrounding us.  It's about as peaceful a place as I could hope for.  We arrived early, around 5:30, had dinner in the sun (my dinner was totally first rate:  gnocchi with spinach, bacon bits, olive oil, and pesto sauce), then went to our separate areas to journal and sleep.  I'm cowboy camped with my belongings close by in case anything wants to use my stuff as a chew toy again.  It should be a lovely night followed by a downhill (!) and more views.

Day 48- Glen Pass

Matlock Lake (Off PCT) to mile 802

I woke up early-the sun comes up early these days-and got ready to leave camp.  I was second out after Nightingale.  We both stopped at the water source to drink a half liter-trying to start the day off right.
The climb to the pass felt long, but we did find Opus at the top.  On the way down we talked a little about how to be a better group, but we didn't come up with any changes.

We took a different trail back to the PCT, so I missed .7 miles.  That doesn't bother me in the least.  I hiked 14 bonus miles, so I think I've made up for the missing .7 miles. The PCT doesn't seem to have the same attitude about side trails as the AT which is great.  As long as I'm not hitching up parts of the trail I'm happy.
It took a long time to get back to the PCT.  I think we stopped for two snack breaks after the pass.  It was nice to get back on the trail north and start up the second pass of the day.

The trail up Glen Pass was a lot like the other passes so far.  The three passes so far have had really nice trail with fancy stone work and the alpine lakes and so many little streams.  So much water-I think some of it should move to the desert.  It was nice to grab my bottle, fill it, and drink.  I still can't drink, breath, and walk, so this new method is working pretty well.

We had snack at the top of the pass.  There was a bit more of a breeze than on Forester, but still really pleasant.  From the top we could see that the trail went through a snow field on its way down.  Opus announced he was going to wear his spikes, and Nightingale and I both said we were going to copy him.  We put them on at the edge of the snow. Opus and I also took out our ice axes and he gave me a mini lesson before Nightingale and I followed his tracks-Portrait was already off the snow field.

I think it was a good first use of the ax for me.  The steps felt solid in the snow, and the snow was the perfect firmness.  It seemed helpful to get the feel of the ax in a mostly safe setting.  It was a short patch so before long everything was stowed away.  We cut a switchback to avoid another patch of snow shortly after and near the bottom of the main climb there was a third patch.  The last one I did a quick glissade-like sledding without the sled-to get to the bottom.  It was either sit and slide down the snow or posthole, and it seemed rocky a foot below the snow.  Sliding down felt safer and it was a lot of fun.

We stopped for lunch on the bank of one of the Rae Lakes.  Like a lot of the lakes here the water was clear, deep, and an almost fake looking blue.  It was a wonderful lunch spot, until the wind picked up and forced us to walk onwards around the lakes.

The trail kept going down from Glen Pass after lunch.  There are more stream crossing than a few days ago.  I haven't gotten my feet wet yet, but the trail hasn't come to the big fords yet.  At mile 800 there was a suspension bridge over a river-it really got to swaying when I was halfway across.  I stopped to let it calm down before crossing to the other side.  We had snack once everybody was across.

We lingered longer than usual-it was time to go up again.  We wanted to get a few miles of the up out of the way so we'd be closer to the next pass for the morning.  The trail followed a huge river-its thunder drowned out most other sound. It was beautiful to look at and listen to.  Near our campsite the river tumbled over some high falls. I was almost too tired to really appreciate the falls, but they really were lovely.

Camp is next to the same river.  We were supposed to eat and then keep going, but we bagged it.  I was the only one who said I didn't want to go any further, but nobody augured that we should press on.  We did about 20 miles, but we don't know for sure because we don't have the mileage for our bonus miles.   Tiring day regardless.

Day 47- Bonus Mile Day

In the town of Independence

Day 46-Forester Pass

Wallace Creek campsite mile 770 to Bullfrog Pond Junction mile 790

Last night while writing I stopped to warm up my hands and ended up falling asleep at 7:30.  I woke an hour later and just turned off my phone and went back to sleep.  I was awake for an hour at 4 and it was so nice to not worry about missing sleep or getting up early.  I think I earned a late start day after yesterday.

We had a sunshine breakfast party-the sun wasn't on any of our campsites, but it was shinning strong on the meadow.  It made for a great place to stand around and eat. The bear canister is really starting to feel light.  I packed a good sized food bag for the day so I won't have to get in and out of the canister much.

I was last out of camp today even though I was first up this morning. About a mile past camp after a short uphill climb there was the coolest campsite with a magnificent view.  It would have been an awesome place to camp-except it would have been freezing (my water bottles froze last night anyway).

Besides not being able to breath very well the hiking seemed very ordinary to me this morning, but I guess with my first high mountain pass ahead of me and the highest point on the trail meadows aren't as interesting.  I am getting tired of not being able to breath.  I can't take a drink from my water reservoir's hose without feeling like I've just tried to hold my breath while hiking. It's making me feel really unfit and it's hard having everyone pass me and not being able to keep up. I've just been telling myself I am fit, and things will get better.

The few miles before the climb up Forester was dotted with high alpine lakes.  The water was was clear and inviting-even with snow on the banks and ice on the surface of some of the lakes. I didn't go for a swim, but a couple of guys did.  They spent a long while warming up in the sun.

At the base of Forester my group stopped for a break (I was the last one there) to eat and prepare for the conditions at the top of the pass.  Opus, who has done this section, warned us that the pass funnels wind. I put my rain jacket, mittens, and hat within easy reach-I've learned a few things since Whitney.  I put on more sun screen and was ready to climb the .8 to the highest point on the PCT.

About every third switchback I stopped to breath under the pretense of checking out the view.  The climb was very gentle, or would have been at 6,000 feet instead of 12,000 and climbing.  The view was worth stopping to stare at; although the smoke from the past few days was clinging to the far ridges.

It was also cool to look up and see Opus, Graywolf, and Heesoo higher up on the pass.  When I reached the snow patch Heesoo was wearing his spikes, ice ax in hand, climbing up the snow shoot.  Looking at him Spiderman style on the snow made me nervous, but he came back down without going too high.  The snow didn't even touch the trail so I went on pass and strolled to the top.

There was hardly a breeze.  It was sunny and warm at the top.  I told the others I'd stay put for a few days.  Forester's really made up for the botched Whitney climb.  We all posed for pictures and took a few group photos.  I had a quick snack while Opus, Graywolf, and Heesoo started down.  Portrait and I started down soon after.

Highest point on the PCT

We had watched the others navigate the few snow fields and pretty much followed in their footsteps.  I was grateful to be able to go down with no real obstacles :  I had gotten a head ache at the top and wanted thicker air to breath.  The breathing got better as I passed more alpine lakes on the way down, but the head ache was stubborn.  My ears kept popping on the way down.

The walk to the valley was beautiful and we walked past the lakes as a group-a nice treat.   The trail followed little steams that gathered other streams and cascaded down to the valley as waterfalls.  Close to the bottom we stopped in the sun next to a stream for a snack break.

The trail kept going down and I was feeling better and better.  A few miles after our last break we stopped again at a campsite for another break.  I was seriously considering stopping for the night-the trail climbed back up to 10,000 feet.  I thought I'd like camping lower. The group probably would have stayed with me if I had made my case for stopping, but to stay lower meant two extra miles into town the next day so I hiked on.

The trail went up fast.  Within moments of starting the climb I was gasping.  It felt much harder than climbing Forester.  At every switchback I hoped the climb for the day would end, and finally it did.  We had dinner two miles after our last break-and somehow (wonderful hiker hunger) we were all hungry.  We ate, then moved on about five more minutes-we thought we had further to go or we would have stayed where we ate.
The four of us just barely fit at the trail junction.  We plan to leave tomorrow at 7 to hike the 7 off trail miles to Independence.

Day 45- Moon Drenched

Upper Crabtree Meadow at mile 766 to Wallace Creek campsite mile 770

"Castle, wake up."

"Is it clear, Opus?" I ask, no drowsiness in my voice as the cold shocks me awake.

"Yeah."

I hear Opus move away, calling the names of the others.  I look at my watch:  2:07 a.m.  My alarm either didn't go off or I slept through it.  Doesn't matter which; I'm up now and I need to hurry.

I pack my bag with cold fingers and stow it in my pack.  I start some drops for my water, checking the time, and already ten minutes have slipped past me.  With reluctance I change from my warmed up sleeping clothes into my hiking clothes.  They are cold against my skin and I put my jacket back on.  I know they'll warm up quickly, but that hardly matters at 2:30 in the morning.

After five minutes the drops for my water have only blushed yellow-usually by now the drops have turned a neon yellow.  I dump them into my bottle anyway and give the bottle a good shake.

I know the others are waiting for me as I cram the last of my belongings in my half empty pack.   At 2:45, with Opus in the lead, we leave camp.  We walk mostly silently-no body has said good morning, but it is.
The moon is so bright only Opus has on his headlamp.  The rest of us navigate the silver shadows without extra light.  I only think about switching mine on a few times: crossing a creek on a pile of logs, a few patches of pine shadows, and then I do turn it on when the trail vanishes out from under me.

Opus and I look up on a smooth plane of granite while Portrait and Heesoo look near a muddy stream.  They find the trail under a couple inches of water.  I cross onto dry trail without getting my feet wet.

The forest opens around us as we come to one of the first alpine lakes. The moon's reflection shimmies across the wind swept surface.  On the far side of Timberline Lake Mount Whitney looms and we all stop to stare.

As we passed the lake the wind starts to pick up.  We stop to add layers.  I pull out my rain jacket and slip into it and zip it up.  I quickly fish out a Cliff bar only to find upon my first bite that it is nearly frozen.  While I carefully chew, Portrait asks if anyone has an extra layer.  I hand him my insulated jacket--which he puts on inside out.  The others swing their packs onto their backs and I stow my Cliff bar in my cargo pocket to warm up.

I take the lead from Opus, setting a slower pace to avoid sweat which will only make us colder as the wind rushes around us.   My hands are cold in their mittens, but so far I'm feeling good as I climb. The trail is well graded and the beauty of the path almost reviles the view of the full moon over Guitar Lake which is framed by cliffs draped in snow.  I can not imagine the time and energy that went into the stone work surrounding the trail.  After being involved with the Appalachian Trail the past few years I've come to appreciate how much work goes into a simple footpath, but at this elevation and with the cold pressing against my bare face, I can only marvel at the stone walls fortifying the tread-way.  I want to stop and take pictures of the stone walls, but I don't think my camera will do the trail builders' master piece justice.  And I'm not sure my fingers could manage tiny buttons.

I stop near a boulder taller than I am that offers the four of us some shelter from the wind.  I grab my Cliff bar and take a bite.  "I don't think I'm generating any heat," I say around a mouthful of still hard Cliff bar.  I grab my water hose for a drink to help wash down the solid lump of food--the hose is frozen. 

"Try mine," Portrait says, turning to the side so I can grab one of his water bottles.  With mittened hands I struggle with the orange cap, but can't budge it.  "I think its frozen shut," but I don't mention how weak my hands feel as I hand the bottle back.  Portrait tries, but it doesn't matter that he can't open it either:  the water is solid inside.  I shrug--guess I'm not thirsty anyway.

Heesoo checks his altimeter hanging from his pack strap.  "Sixteen degrees," he says.

We all look at each other each thinking it is colder than we expected.  I start hiking again--I won't get any warmer standing by a rock.  But I don't warm up while hiking.  I can't even warm a Cliff bar enough to eat it without risking my teeth my fingers don't stand a chance at staying warm. 

There's a bright star hovering just above the ridge that I have been keeping an eye on and it seemed to loose some of its twinkle while we were stopped.  Dawn isn't far away. "We're not going to make it in time," floats through my mind as insubstantial as the cloud formed by my every breath.  I saw nothing to the others.  There is nothing we can do about the lightening of the sky--and I certainly can't hike any faster.  My breath is ragged and I can hear the heavy breathing of the others behind me.

"Anyone else want to lead?" I ask, having to pause halfway through the question to take two deep breaths.

The others decline.  "I can hardly catch my breath as it is," Opus says and I plod upwards.

The wind blows with more of a bite on every other switchback.  With the wind blowing more on my back I think things are going well and then a few steps, a pivot, and the cold is so fierce my cold lips burn with each hot exhale.  "I'm not going to make it," an inner voice whispers while I face into the wind, but she quiets when the wind is at my back and I finally start to feel like I'm getting somewhere.  There seems to be less ridge above me and below me I see other alpine lakes that I have no names for, but they are stunning in their frozen beauty. 

I stop at another somewhat sheltered place.  I eat the last few bites of my Cliff bar.  I'm not sure what is fueling my ascent, but any other day on this hike I would have eaten multiple times in the hours that had passed since I crawled out of my warm sleeping bag.

Heesoo again checks his altimeter, not for the temperature this time.  "We're three miles from the saddle."  He has his hood on and thick gloves.  He looks warm and hasn't complained once.  "We're not going to make it in time" says that nasty little voice again while the others work out the remaining elevation gain and miles to go and how long we have.  One look at the sky and my fading star is all I need to know, but I don't need to see the sun rise from the top--just after will still look nice.

We continue--no one else will take the lead so I go first after pushing myself away from the rock I was leaning against with my hands.  My hands have enough strength in them to loosely hold onto my trekking poles.  My feet don't feel like they are flexing as I step--it seems like my gait has turned into a shuffle.  I am cold, from my nose that won't stop running, to my fingers that have gone ridged, even my legs as they propel me forward. "You're not going to make it."

I turn my back to the wind.  I don't know where the trail crest the ridge, but I think I will have the wind at my back when I make it to that point.  My step is a little less of a shuffle with my back to the wind.  "It's light out; we've missed it," I say to Portrait over my shoulder.

"It's dawn," he corrects.  I don't think I can manage to look at my watch under my mittens and the cuff of my rain jacket.  It doesn't matter if it's dawn or just before we've missed it.  "Doesn't matter anyway; you're not going to make it."

"I'm not going to make it?"  I try to think of what mountain I've hiked in the past that I haven't made it to the top of.  Has there been any?  I think about the rain on Mount Katahdin and the snow in the Smokie mountains which left my boots frozen solid around my feet.  And I think about climbs that turn back from their summits.

I stop again bringing the others to a stand still.  "Stopping again?  You're not going to make it." The wind has stripped away my strength.  I look at the others, but I feel like I'm looking at them through a glaze.

 I have a base layer shirt and leggings in my pack but they might as well be back in my tent.  My fingers can't work the clasps on my pack and even if they could I would have to strip to put the close fitting clothing on. 

Heesoo and Portrait go around me--Heesoo taking the lead.  I start moving again slowly with Opus behind me.  "How are you doing?" Opus asks.

"I don't know," I say.  "See?  Not going to make it.  Just say it."  But I don't want to say it.  I don't want it to be true.  I've thought about climbing Mount Whitney for since I had heard of it.  I've thought about it for two years, probably longer.  The highest point in the lower 48 just a seventeen mile round trip from the PCT.  Seventeen miles isn't even a full day of hiking.  With over 700 miles of trail stretching behind me to Mexico seventeen miles is just a blip on the map.  Just seventeen miles.

"Their at the lightening strike warning sign," Opus says.  I can see the other two about a tenth of a mile ahead.  "I will hike there," a small goal.

I try to hike faster, and if I do, it doesn't matter.  "Not going to make it," floats through my mind again in a choppy fragmented way--even negativity has gotten too cold.  "Won't get any better any higher.  Wind will be worse."  The wind will be worse.  It will be colder.  It's not going to get any better any higher.

The lightning strike sign is in a pocket of trail protected from the wind.  "I think I should go down, Opus," I say.  "I'm not doing well."

He nods.  "Do you want me to come with you?"

I don't need him to.  I can go down.  I can think about the valley floor where it will be warm.  I can let gravity help me down the trail.  I can go fast going down.   "I'll be okay alone."  I nod to show commitment as he studies me.

"Alright, I'm going to keep going.  We say good-bye, but as he turns to leave I remember I need at least one photo of me on Whitney.

"Take my picture before you go?"  I pull my camera out of my pocket with two stiff hands.  To my surprise its already turned on.  I hand it over and with more dexterity than I could muster Opus takes a couple of photos.  The moon is behind me, they sky near behind the ridges is pink and blue above them.  I pocket the camera and look out over the valley as Opus walks away.

Then I follow him up.  "I thought we agreed on down?"

We did, but I want to see it.  There's just 1.9 miles left to the top.  "But what happen to it won't get any better any higher?"  The view will get better.

I see Portrait--jogging--down the trail to me.  I stop in front of him.

"Take your jacket back," he says while unzipping it.

"My jacket?  How'd we forget our jacket?"

I look at my hands--their stiff grasp around my trekking poles.  They haven't moved since I put my camera back in my pocket.  "I can't."


"Don't you dare tell him to keep it," the voice floats through my mind.  "You might have a chance at the top with it on."

I don't tell him to keep it.  I want it desperately, but I don't have to fumble with my pack's buckles to know that I my hands won't do the work I need them to.  "I can't," I say again.

"I'll help you," he says while shucking his pack easily.  He releases my sternum strap and hip belt with ease and lowers my pack to the frozen ground.  He unzips my insulated jacket and pulls his arms from the sleeves.  He holds it out and I slid my hands down the sleeves one mitten covered hand at a time.  I watch as he fits the zipper together and smoothly zips the jacket to my chin.  "Helpless as a child and still you continue up?"

My leg starts to jitter madly as Portrait picks up my pack.  I look at my leg--direct eye contact seems to help too cold limbs obey thought process, but there is no stopping the jittery dance of shivers coursing up my leg.  "I can't stop it," I say.  Portrait pulls his sleeping bag from his pack and drapes it around his shoulders like a shawl. 

"Time to go?"

Time to go down.  "I'm going down."

"You'll be okay?"

"Yeah, will you?"  He doesn't look good.  He looks about as cold as I feel, but his hands still work.  He doesn't need anyone to buckle his pack for him. 

So I go down.

I stop at the lightning strike sign again to crouch behind the rocks with my hands between my thighs for warm, but they find none.  I stay for a moment least I change my mind again.

As I hike down I feel as if I'm going more than twice as fast as I went up.  And yet I'm still cold through.  The sun is fully up on the other side of the ridge, but it will be awhile yet before it shines on the trail I'm following.  I stop again to huddle behind some rocks and try to warm my hands.  They are too cold to cram into my pockets--my hipbelt is in the way.

Guitar Lake becomes discernible again and suddenly I see Greywolf moving up the trail towards me.  "How was the sunrise?"  I am stuck by how normal he looks through my cold glaze.  "I could follow him to the top."

I shake my head.  "I had to turn back at the lightning strike sign.  I was freezing cold," is what I want to say, but not what I manage. I can see by his face that maybe I'm worse off than I thought. 

"I'm sorry," he says and offers me some water.  I take it when I see that it isn't frozen.  My hands are still frozen though. 

"I can't," I say, handing it back.  He uncaps it for me and I take a small sip suddenly not thirsty any more. 

More hikers are coming up behind him and as I look at them I want to go back up.  To fall in line and make it to the top.  "And still be helpless?  You couldn't form a real sentence or open a bottle."

I continue down to the valley, pass the lakes and the hikers while thinking about warm drinks and sunshine and knowing that I made the right choice to hike down.

Things I learned climbing Mount Whitney for sunrise:
Don't hike up without a base layer on
Eat something before hiking and eat fatty food while hiking
Don't give up your insulated jacket
Protect your water from freezing