THE SHOW MUST GO ON

DAY 2 - August 9, 2010:
Parting of the Ways

We woke before dawn. Jim was up first, with the coffee, as he had been for the week up in Tuolumne. I got up to answer an urgent call of nature, which required going some distance away for a few minutes. On my return, Jim had a cup of coffee for me, and something to tell me. He'd decided he wasn't going to be physically up to the trip, so he and Dustin weren't going to continue. The day before had pushed him beyond what he considered his safe zone, and he, probably rightly, figured that it would be bound to happen again, and he couldn't take the chance of losing his health.

He was right. It was my obsession to do this trail, not his. I felt guilty for having sold him on going, but he said no, he'd come in knowing he might not be able to do it and that it was better to recognize it now than later. It would have been great to have the company of an old friend, but it was not to be. Would it have been different if I'd not pushed to go on past Deer Creek last night? Or talked about pushing for Lake Virginia tonight? Maybe I hadn't been paying enough attention.

This was going to take time to sink in, but for the moment we had to make arrangements. Anniell and I decided we'd go on together for some time, hopefully until her two other hiking club friends caught up with us, at the Muir Trail Ranch resupply point. So we just took care of business, broke camp, saddled ourselves with the packs, and parted ways.

I was out of water because of the snafu with the map marking a non-existent stream. Not good, as it was a hot and dry day, and it looked to be awhile before water. Anniell's "Atlas," which had gotten us into that mess in the first place, showed no water along this stretch for some miles. Fortunately, it was wrong again. In about another mile we came to a bend where a stream of that sweet Sierra water, trickling down from an unknown snow melt somewhere above bubbled up, creating pools just deep enough to fill my water bottle.

After a few refreshing minutes, we again pushed onward and upward. Always a steady up, we were heading for the really high country now. I didn't feel as fresh as I had the day before, but it wasn't making much difference at this point. The trail, as noted in Jim's guide book, got rougher, turning from pumice to granite, much rockier, not so much fun to walk on. But the scenery started getting better.

We eventually reached the Duck Lake Trail junction, where a path splits off from the JMT to go over Duck Pass and back to Mammoth. Once we crossed the creek there, the trail started going seriously up, in rocky switchbacks, more like what I'd been used to in the Tuolumne high country. But suddenly things were a lot harder. We were over 10,000 feet now, and I was breathing hard. Started wondering how it would be doing this day in, day out. I started falling into a pattern of taking lots of rests. The old heart would be pumping, I'd be panting, and when it got uncomfortable, then would be time to find a nice flat granite rock where I could sit with the pack weight supported behind me. In the old days I didn't often do this, but I figured I'd give myself a break, hey, I'm kind of old now, I guess, anyhow, that's what the numbers say. Plus it gave me plenty of great opportunities to sit, contemplate, and enjoy the view. And I was generally getting to the top of these uphills about the same speed as Anniell anyway, so it worked out.

There were two of those steep uphills today: up from the junction before the descent to Purple Lake, and up from Purple Lake to Lake Virginia. Somehow I didn't have yesterday's energy, and they were tough slogs. But, as they always say, it's beautiful up there. And, dammit, that's true in spades. These lakes were the prettiest sights we'd seen yet, but I knew they were only a little taste of what was to come.

At the outlet of Purple Lake was a group of maybe 20 Sierra Club backpackers, on a three day loop trip, going out the next day at McGee Pass. They were finishing up a long break, and started up the 500-foot climb on the other side of the creek to Lake Virginia. Quite a variety of hikers. The ones out front really frisky, practically bounding up. Bringing up the rear were some really slow folks, aged about 45 to 60, I'd say, some of whom looked as if they'd rather be anywhere else. So far I didn't feel that way. I was thinking of Nietsche's "was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich stärker" (If it doesn't kill me, it makes me stronger), and so put heart into it, no matter how slowly I was moving. But wondering why I didn't have yesterday's energy. Anyhow I got a head start on Anniell, who was still eating lunch. I think that if today had a lesson for me—beyond the lessons I was still trying to work out about Jim and Dustin leaving—it was about pacing myself. I started developing a more comfortable system for hiking uphill.

There was a trail maintenance crew about halfway up. "Hey, almost there!" they shouted, "hard part's over!"

And not too late in the afternoon, though later than I'd have liked, we got to the promised land, Lake Virginia. The original trail plan had called for camping at Purple Lake. We got 2 miles further on. Not too shabby. And this lake was gorgeous. The Sierra is so full of variety, the same themes played out in innumerable ways.

The mosquitoes were pretty bad, but no where nearly as bad as on my Tuolumne warm-up loops, where there were times I'd breathe in and get a throatful of bugs. Those pesky little bastardesses have a very short season, and I could tell it was closing down. I'd brought along a mosquito head and body net, but so far hadn't had to use it on this trip. Anniell, on the other hand, was using hers.

Dog-tired, after a quick dinner, I hit the sack and was out by the time it was dark. Looking forward to the freshness of a new day, which would at least have some downhill at the beginning. On to Tully Hole, and Selden Pass.

Next entry: Where the hell is the pass, anyhow?