On pilgrimage: The John Muir Trail (Part 8)

After Anita suddenly left the trail, due to her episode with "Anti-Chub-Rub", described in Part 7, I headed off alone into a storm.  In three days I would reunite with Anita and at that point I'd once again access showers and fresh food.  In the meantime, I had three days of survival ahead of me from Reds Meadow Ranch to Tuolomne Meadows in majestic Yosemite.

The storm got gradually worse.  What started as ominous clouds turned into sprinkles which turned into pellets which turned into hail.

The storm confronting me as I left Anita and started hiking alone

At the same time, I was getting more and more emotional.  There's nothing as bonding as spending over two weeks with the person you love in the middle of nowhere.  My partner was suddenly, shockingly gone.  I started to think about why she had gone out here in the first place.  Prior to this, she'd backpacked for three days - an arduous trek to the top of Mt. Whitney with my father, brother-in-law, and I.  She hadn't trained and the journey up the mountain was tortuous.  I was literally thinking up emergency evacuation plans as we lumbered on and on, being passed on our second day by hikers doing it in one day.  Of all the overnighters, we were the last group to the top.  It took so long to get up there we ran out of water and had to melt snow in our bottles on the way down.  This three day hike, while ultimately a successful summit, should have convinced Anita never to do it again.  Yet she agreed to a three week hike with seven "Whitney's" scattered along the way!  Why would she agree to this?

I realized at that point how much my fiancé loved me.  She knew how important the trek was for me, and she didn't want to miss out on it.  She wanted it to be a shared memory.  She willingly tortured her body to share an experience with me.  Upon realizing this, I wept harder than the rain pounding me. I spent the entire hike that day crying - really crying.  It felt great.  It was such a violent release.  I knew that my partner would do anything for me.

A cold, sad hike

I hurried past lakes as the rain pelted me.  It was freezing.  I wanted to keep warm by moving and moving, so I hiked a long, long way.  That night I had dehydrated salmon - a freeze-dried meal Anita and I were saving for a victorious day.  I thought about her way back to San Jose and what she would say to her Mom and friends.  When I crawled into the tent, prepared for a freezing night, I thought about how Anita was in a bed with blankets.  Then the snow fell.

I woke up to a wintry scene.  I got up, packed everything, and just hit the trail without eating.  It was too cold to sit around.  After hiking a couple miles, the sun was coming out and it was obvious the storm had passed.  I found a sunny spot to cook my breakfast, and admired Ansel Adams Wilderness.

The morning I woke up

I passed by immense lakes, including Thousand Island Lake - one I was anticipating the whole trip after hearing about it from hikers.  It was outstanding.

Thousand Island Lake

Garnet Lake, another masterpiece

Today I would make it over two passes: Island Pass and Donahue Pass.  To my surprise, unlike any other pass on the trail, I didn't even know when I was over Island Pass.  It was so gradual and easy!  Anita would have loved Island Pass.  Donahue Pass, located at the end of a long trek, was not so easy.  It switchbacked continuously and never seemed to stop.  The top marks the border of Yosemite, so while I was mentally and physically fatigued at the peak, I was very satisfied about summiting.

Donahue Pass, finally in Yosemite

Excited to be in Yosemite but exhausted from a very long trip (Anita wasn't there any more to slow me down!), I camped just over the pass, at an entirely too high elevation (I was above 10,000 feet).  The night was, of course, freezing - one of the coldest on the trip.  Still, I anticipated my great reunion with Anita the following day.

My last morning on the John Muir Trail

Having topped Donahue Pass and camped just on the other side, my last day was all downhill.  I descended steeply into Tuolomne Meadows and once down there, casually and comfortably walked the last leg of my trail (the JMT really ends at Yosemite Valley, so I was cutting it short, as Anita and I had planned all along).  I contemplated the valley as I reminisced over the last three weeks.

First of all - the world is an awesomely beautiful and immense place.

Second of all - you don't need much food.  Out here I ate a small fraction of what I eat in civilization, and I worked out ten times as much.  I felt great.  That was a big shock to me.

Third of all (and probably most important) - you have to do these things, and you have to bring the people you love with you.  Life is such a treasure, and if you are in the privileged situation to experience it, you should not lose that opportunity.  The opportunities many of us have in this country are incredible, and they shouldn't be wasted with materialistic obsessions: attempts to hoard stuff or money or accumulate some kind of public recognition.  We all need to think about our future: our personal future, the future of our family, the future of our community, the future of our world.  We need to invest in ways to make that future secure and hopeful.  I'm not advocating against any sort of social responsibility.  I'm just saying, take time every now and then (more often than not) to experience and love the world, even if it might not make, say, economic sense.  I've found that the most important moments of my life were results of going against the grain - by taking the uncomfortable journey, by quitting your job and going, by not heeding the advice 90% of people give you.  In my experience, if most everyone is telling you no (whether explicitly or not), you should deeply consider saying yes.

Tuolomne Meadows, Yosemite