TIME FOR A HOT BATH

DAY 19 - August 26, 2010: This is the end, my friend

Today enjoyed the lazy luxury of sleeping in . . . meaning didn’t get out of the tent till about 7:30 AM, later than ever! However, this was the most inhospitable place I had camped on the entire trip. Worse than Helen Lake. It was so freezing and windy that I stayed out just long enough to see other folks shivering while they broke camp in preparation for their own assaults on Whitney, then went back in the tent and waited another half-hour for the sun. I was done with all of that assaulting mountains stuff.

I suppose it felt good to be finished, but it was still freezing. And I wasn’t really finished, quite.

Didn’t have anything remotely appetizing in the food stash, no coffee or miso left, either, so I forwent boiling water and feasted on the remaining half of yesterday’s peanut butter sandwich, now nearly two days old. It was gonna be all downhill, only about five miles, figured I wouldn’t need all that much energy. And there would be hot food at the other end this time, whoopee.

The day felt oddly like any other, just throw on the pack and start slogging. I’d expected to feel a sense of completion, satisfaction, anticipation, you name it. Probably it was just that I was exhausted and fairly burnt-out. Tearing down the tent was hard, because the wind was gusting wildly. The day had started bright and clear, but was quickly clouding up. For nineteen days and nights I’d had great weather, no rain, only occasional cloudy skies, and heavy winds just the once, at Glen Pass. But yesterday I’d heard thunder when coming down from the summit, and by the time I’d walked a few hundred yards today, I was already hearing it today, early in the morning. Thunderstorms are no joke up there: every year people die in lightning strikes on Mt. Whitney. Signs everywhere warn you to avoid the summit if there is thunder. I wondered if the climbers today would make it up all the way.

The trail was rocky again, for the most part, so it wasn’t really fast going. After a bit I passed a couple of women going down and we talked for a bit. Turned out they were expecting a ride to be waiting at Whitney Portal to take them to Mammoth Lakes, 70 miles north. I couldn’t help but ask if they’d have room for me, since my car was at Mammoth and I still had not firm plans on how to get back there and had been hoping for a break like this. Amazingly, they said that would probably work. At that point I did indeed experience a sense of completion, relief, satisfaction, however tentative and mild. I’d thought I might need to camp another night, hitch out, and catch a bus up the next day. Hot bath! Warm bed! Oooooh! What nice peopleses, gollum gollum. Nancy and Mary.

The sky continued to cloud over. Right after passing the last really scenic section, a beautiful little lake, it actually began to rain. felt the cold rain on my arms for a while, it was pleasant. Then it began to come down hard, and I pulled on the poncho for the first time in the trip. It seemed the Great Spirit, having kept me comfortable in the sun for three weeks, was giving me a farewell cleansing, and closing the curtain on this wilderness journey. I sent back a big good-bye, full of gratitude. Thanks for the lessons, Big Guy. Or whatever you are. I’ll keep them in my heart for good and ever, promise. I mean that.

My new friends and I leapfrogged each other all the way to the parking lot, which came into view maddeningly long before we reached it. I happened to get there first, and saw a lone woman, looking rather lost, protected from the rain only by the scant eave of the public restroom. Needing shelter myself, I asked if there was room for two, and she said to come on in. Turned out she was Robie, the person waiting for Nancy and Mary, perfect! A few minutes later they turned up, and we all went to grab something to eat at the little café which the Park Service had had the foresight to put up there.

All this reminded me of coming home to the U.S. from the Peace Corps when I was 23, unimaginable conveniences. But eating this new food was strange. Had a burger and fries, and it was tasting something I’d never had before, almost not at all familiar. And my stomach had shrunk and couldn’t handle the whole thing. Mary had a beer, but I wasn’t ready for that. Had just a little sip of hers, but just really didn’t want a whole one. And I’m a beer drinker.

It turned out plans had changed, and they were only going as far as Bishop today, but Robie was willing to take me that far. This was fine with me: I could get a motel room and get to Mammoth the next morning on the bus. So we hopped in, headed north, and enjoyed each other’s company for the next couple of hours. But as we were coming into Bishop, Robie said she’d decided to drop the other ladies off and take me up the next 35 miles to Mammoth, that she had some business up there she could do. I wanted to refuse, half-heartedly tried, but couldn’t completely, the offer was just too honest and too nice. She must have seen how utterly wiped out I was and taken pity on me. Human nature certainly has its good sides. Thank you again, Robie!

So that’s the story of my John Muir Trail walkabout. I suppose I should add that I got to the car OK, and got two nights in a very comfortable but inexpensive motel which had wireless internet, and had a long hot bath and shower before catching up on e-mail and starting this blog . . . note the first entry is August 27, the day after we came down to Whitney Portal. Food was still tasting strange.

There is much more I could write. The lessons I learned up there were many and powerful, and I’ve only shared a few. There are a lot more stories in there, too, but I think this is enough for now. Probably too much, actually. I doubt that many folks will even read more than an entry or two of this blog, anyway. Thanks to those of you that have actually followed along with me for the journey, it makes it every so slightly less lonely and gives a shade more meaning to it, as well. It has actually taken me more days to chronicle the trip than to actually walk it, and in fact it feels as though I am just now finishing up, that it’s been going on for 2½ months now, ever since I first arrived in Tuolumne Meadows July 7 to get ready for the Big One until this moment, writing these words. It’s been a great adventure, and it will stay with me till the end of my days, but it’s time to move on now, and that’s a good thing. Can’t wait to see what’s around the next corner.


Note: Anniell and friends made it out OK a day later, I was relieved--see her comment below under "amill1."