2006: John Muir Trail with Dana

Dana Notes from Pacific Coast Trail hike, 2006 (walked from Whitney Portal to Lake Tahoe)

05/06/06

Packed Food:

• Instant mashed potatoes

• Beef jerky

• Triscuits

• Energy bars (Cliff, Power bar, Balance)

• Tea (Good Earch, Chai)

• Coffee (Fresh ground)

• Hot chocolate

• Instant milk

• Nuts

• Peanut butter

• Freeze-dried fruits

• Oatmeal

• Jolly ranchers

• Cinnamon hard candies

• Canned tunafish

Mom, Dad and I left for Lone Pine (I drove).  The trip took around four hours.  Split up by a dinner at El Pollo Loco in Santa Clarita.  I had 2 burritos, chips, fries in an attempt to cram as many carbohydrates as possible into my system before our hike up Whitney the following morning.  Towards the end of the drive, the wind picked up, very strong.  We were scared conditions in the Sierras were going to be equally bad.  Arrived in Lone Pine (what an ironic name – there area many in and around the town), checked into the Dow Motel and spent the night (the motel is supposedly famous for housing western movies stars long ago).

06/07: Very tough hike starting from Whitney Portal.

• 55 pound pack

• met Russian guy – talked about Russian history and geography

• shoulders and waist hurt

• first lake – Lone Pine lake, swam naked.  Russian guy is there again.  

• Vow to swim in every lake along the trail.

• Too cold and tired to swim in next lake.

• Reach around 11,000 feet, altitude starts to get to Dad and me.

• Start counting steps, 20 or 30 then rest for 10 breaths

• Very, very tired

• Almost at the trail camp at 12,000 feet, decide to sleep by the trail by a nice rock

• Too nauseous to eat, go to sleep at 7, sleep until 8

06/08

• Felt sick in morning – no breakfast

• Hike to camp, meet guys from Orange County newspaper with video camera.  He wants to film us, total dweeb.

• Meet him again.

06/24: I am now hiking on my own.  I left the Swiss chalet in Mammoth lakes this morning with Mom and Dad, arriving to the ski area where but took me to the John Muir trail.  I bid both parents goodbye.  (Mom demanding an excessive amount of hugs, and just after I had settled in a bench near the bus stop, she ran from the car and hugged me again).  On boarding the bus, strangers, anxious tourists, it became fully clear that I was now on my own.  What began as an excited feeling of independence quickly changed to loneliness.  I spent the first 12 days on the trail with Dad, and the last 5 with Mom, but now I am solo.  I’m one of the PCT thru ? I have come across I am now a full-fledged ?.  I suppose it is exhilarating but still lonely.  People I come across now see me as a real mountain man, while before I ws just trekking with my parents, call it a family excursion.  Either I look older than I am or others, seeing that I am backpacking solo for several hundred miles, assume I am say 18 and have a young looking face.  It’s actually pretty cool, being looked upon as an adult, so although I have throughout the course of the day come to terms with my solo status, I received a shock, several miles into the hike that questions my ability to handle myself.  I went the wrong way south.  It’s not like I had missed a turnoff and going to, say, on a somewhat parallel to the JMT, I was simploy going in he opposite direction.  Wow, I remember thinking, this is all downhill, really easy.  Huh, funny that Devil’s Postpile is an my left, when it looked like ti was on the right from my map.  And finally, wait a second, I’m going downstream the San Juaquin River.  I swung off my pack, checked and yes, I has just hiked two miles south, and quite a big downhill.  I cursed the trail box then, like the wird person I am, apologized to it out loud, saying it ws my fault, I don’t understand why I do things like that: I will speak when no one is around and apologize to a hiking trail.  Whatever.

Well I don’t really feel like writing very much, in fact I have delayed use of this journal for, let’s say, 18 days now.  I am mentally very lazy, especially during the Summer months, and writing is one of those activities that requires more brain power than, say, walking, or pumping my water filter, reading is borderline, I enjoy it a lot, but still lots of thinking involved in extracting meaning from ink.  The only thing that finally got me to use one of the four pens I brought (I like pretending I will do things I know I won’t by way of packing physical objects) was guilt.  I know there are many interesting, enlightening thoughts and details I could be getting down, and I know I have plenty of free time to werite, while I will have none come September (Junior year, oh my god freak out)  (That’s my Cate student impression).  And I know that I if write regularly, my skills will improve which I would like them to because I’m better at writing than any other school topic.  Funny how we care more about the things we’re already good at.  So, after 2 weeks with a little nagging voice in the back of my head, telling me to write about the beautiful scenery and untainted wildlife, to write nature things like John Muir, I … “This is your Walden Pond”, it would say as I looked out on a scenic lake.  “Write about the marmots”, their curious manner and their cute beaver-like features.  “Write about how you want a pet marmot, one that will walk around the house and peer at visitors from around corners, standing on its back feet in an erect position.”  It’s ture, I want a pet marmot, and have spent long hiking hours envisioning what it would be like, but I don’t want to write about it.  That is where my nagging voice and I differ.  But, as is shown by the fact that I am writing this, the nagging voice has won.  He is persistent, I am weak.  Sometimes we get along, but often I curse him for voicing tough demands he does not have to carry out.  He’s a hypocrite!  You see, I view that ever-contradicting side of the mind as totally separate from myself.  We are like to beings, he an annoying puissant, and I a simple-minded good guy.

Anyways, I will continue to write for the rest of my trip, because it really isn’t that bad once you get going, and later in life I know I will cherish these entries.  I’ll have photos, but it will be interesting to know what I was thinking at the time.

I’m going to make dinner now, freeze-dried lasagne, and boy am I hungry.  The pint of cookies and cream ice cream with mixed-in Reese’s peanut butter cups that I consumed last night has carried me through until now.  It is 6:30, the birds are chirping, the fish swimming,  the wind blowing.  I am at a very beautiful sight, by the somewhat sandy shore of a creek.  The pines in the distance have an evening glow, the willows by the shore sway gently.  I vow to meditate every day for the rest of my trip, because it helps me to appreciate such beauty, in fact to appreciate life in general.  Lasagna awaits.