CROSSROADS

DAY 8 - August 15, 2010: Beam me outa here

Chalk it up to age? Inflated expectations? Eating badly? Psyched myself out? Last night ate one of those “Mountain House” freeze-dried dinners. Teriyaki chicken sounded good to a guiltily confirmed carnivore like me, but this stuff tasted terrible. I was losing my appetite, nothing much from the bear canister tasted good, and I was wondering how much nutrition I was actually getting. Anyhow I went to bed early and set the alarm for 4:45, planning to get out before the sun. This would be my first day of solo hiking, and the trek up to Evolution Valley marked the point where 3 years ago my first attempt at the JMT fell apart. Didn’t actually sleep that much this night, spent much of it talking to myself, saying today would be different from the last time. Woke up feeling a little shaky, a little nervous.

Whatever it was, today was one of those damn days when not much goes the way you’d had in mind, even though getting off reasonably early, 6:45 AM, and I guess the first couple of hours were pretty routine. Felt good to be out on the trail as the sun was rising. It was quiet. Saw a doe with two very cute fawns, but couldn’t get a picture because they were just too skittish. Making a good pace, but then, it was a very gradual uphill, and mornings are always easier. Took a planned break after 3.3 miles, at the Piute Pass turnoff, where the JMT entered Kings Canyon, where it would stay for many a day. Took a nice long break and filled up with some of that delicious Sierra water cascading down Piute Creek.

It wasn’t till after the break that my pack seemed heavier than it had before. Well, of course it was, since it had just been filled with twelve days of food. But it shouldn’t have felt that much heavier, should it? Up from Piute Creek the trail was getting steeper, too, and rougher. Constantly having to look at the feet, and some tricky places where the angled rocky surfaces were dusted with sand. Not really steep, but a steady grind upwards, and I started the pattern of short breaks again. Pretty solitary at this point, hardly anyone on the trail.

Having been here before, I knew the trail bridged the San Joaquin river and then back again at the Goddard Canyon cutoff before switching back and forth in earnest in switchbacks up the steep climb to Evolution. Scenery in this section, compared to what’s up over the ridge, is a bit monotonous. Took a nice long break after the second bridge, felt pretty sure I’d get my second wind.

Putting on the pack again at the bottom of the switchbacks, I felt a wave of fatigue. Where did that come from? I started counting switchbacks as I went up, taking short breaks after ten, then after five more, then five more. When I’d done this stretch three years ago I hadn’t needed to stop at all, but suddenly I was dog-tired. The food couldn’t be weighing that much. I sat down for my third or fourth break, and suddenly, wow! My pupils must have dilated, everything turned white, I felt tremendously dizzy, and had to fight to keep consciousness. What was this? Couldn’t remember feeling anything like this. Altitude? Only about 9200 feet, I’d crossed two 11,000 foot passes with no problem. Should be used to this by now. I sat there long enough that couple of groups of hikers passed. I put on a normal face, acting as if everything was fine.

But whatever the reason, I was more than a little freaked out. I was thinking that maybe I wasn’t cut out for all this after all. Was I physically in serious trouble? Was that a mild heart attack or something? Had I just had a little stroke? Shouldn’t take a chance on that, right? And on and on. In the end, decided, hell, I was almost all the way up to Evolution Valley, it was still early in the day, I’d just plod on slowly and carefully, watch myself, get up to my goal of McClure Meadow, one of the most beautiful spots in the universe, set up camp, take stock of myself, get a good dinner and a good rest, and see how I felt the next day. Fair enough.

After reaching the valley, there was a deep stream to ford. This had been the place, three years ago, where water had come pouring in through the soles and I’d realized my boots were ruined. This time I just marched through, I was wearing trail runners. They got soaked, but I had another pair of shoes, and not that far to go this afternoon. Actually the cool water felt good.

McClure Meadow was not much more than a mile away by this time, but it felt like several miles, I had to keep stopping. When I finally got there I felt physically beaten down. Reminded me of how I’d felt during my bout with dengue fever last January.
Had my choice of a lot of beautiful spots to camp, picked the nicest I saw, and, with some difficulty, set up camp. Tired, yes, but not too tired to take a few shots of this amazing scenery. Cooked up a big, big dinner, wolfed it down, got to bed even earlier than usual, falling asleep musing on just what the hell had happened that afternoon. But already I was leaning towards pushing up and over Muir Pass tomorrow.

Next Entry: To be or not to be . . .