THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND

DAY 15 - August 22, 2010: Wasted

Entering the third week of this hike. Exhausted from three high passes in a row, yesterday did 12 miles and 3500 feet up to get over Glen. Scenery is all the same, you’ve seen one mountain, one wildflower, one lake, you’ve seen ‘em all. One damn canyon after another, up, down, up, down, is all it is. I’m an old guy, remember. Am I a masochist? What am I doing this for? Plod, plod, plod. Straps pulling on the shoulders, OW! Sit down for a while, the granite rocks rub holes in my shorts. The food tastes like wet cardboard, I don’t even want to eat. Overkill, that’s what the Great Spirit is doing now. I miss home, I miss taking showers and sleeping on a bed. Hiking eight or nine hours a day? What’s the point? Anyhow two weeks is enough. More than enough. Right?

Great Spirit says “no.” Not enough. This time you’ve gotta actually do it, not just talk about it. Take it like a man, ya big sissy. The only way to get out is straight through the middle, on up ahead. Just follow the path. And remember (says the big bully) the path is more important than the destination. Live In The Moment (yeah, right, when my feet are getting pounded by sharp rocks), Be Here Now (uh huh, haven’t I heard that somewhere before?) And now I’ve got to get ready for . . . Forester Pass?

Going on about why I’m doing it, GS tells me I’m learning all sorts of important lessons, like patience, endurance, following through on plans, making do with what is, trusting the path, breathing right, and on and on, even includes not complaining. Says that’s why he/she/it gave me back my sense of smell, a kind of reward for getting this far. Says I’d better keep on doing it or he/she/it might get mad. And I wouldn’t want to see him/her/it mad, now, would I? You didn’t do this to show how tough you are or aren’t, says GS, you did it to toughen up. Now toughen up.

Anyhow, let’s leave me & GS to our back-and-forth, it’s not going away anytime soon, and get back to what happened today. Today was a short day, but kind of frustrating. Only hiked six miles, but at the end had a hard time finding a suitable place to stop and camp. Need to get over Forester Pass and as far as possible tomorrow. This is because I’ve just got to get out of here, and that’s the only way, ha ha, and if I don’t go far enough I’m going to run out of food and probably go crazy as well, crazier than I already am, that is.

From where I was it wasn’t far to Bubbs Creek, which tumbles and pools down from 13,180 foot Forester Pass, the climb I’ve been dreading for days. That smell of doug fir, remembered from my childhood, is in the air everywhere. The area near the Road’s End trail junction (yet another one!) is dominated by old growth forest, big trees with lots of open space beneath them, magical. Good I can still appreciate this. Actually the hike upwards is on a good trail, not rocky, not a very steep grade, as comfortable as uphill gets around here.

I meet a guy coming down who asks me what the hiking is like around Red’s Meadow/Mammoth, he’s heard there’s still snow up there (no, not to speak of). He says the trail is good, more or less like this, to the top of Forester. Good to hear, but I’m not believing it yet. I figure on going on up as high as I can by early afternoon, then finding a campsite as close to the pass as possible. Where the creek comes in from Center Point Basin there are all sorts of really nice campsites, and some even have bear lockers, which makes storing food a little more convenient even when you have a bear canister already.

But after I passed those great sites, I kept going, even though still exhausted from the day before, wanting to get higher up. Went up past the tall trees, almost to the edge of the timberline, and realized I couldn’t count on finding water up ahead, so I’d better take the first site where there was a hint of water, or I might have to go back for the night. Lucked out and found one high on the ridge above Bubbs and not too far from the trail, where there was a spring within walking distance. Set up camp and took a long nap. Simple pleasures mean so much up here: that sleep felt like a great luxury. Rose around dinner time, cooked, ate, went back to sleep for the night. Dreamless, I hope. . . stay away, Elvis and Benny . . . .



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