August 13, 2017 – My big hike

The view looking back as daylight was breaking on the morning we hiked to the top.

This morning I was looking out the kitchen window in my dear friend Steff’s house – gazing upon the mountains of the Eastern Sierra that are visible just west of where she lives in Big Pine, CA.  I spent the morning cooking:  eggplant, peppers and basil from her garden with tomatoes, garlic, onions and olive oil in a baked veggie thing. And I made a chicken Bolognese for dinner tonight.  Long simmered Bolognese on egg pasta is one of my favorite comfort foods.  I’m cooking because this is how I connect with myself and it helps sort things out, which I need to do today because I’ve just had a big week. A really big week.

Last Sunday Steff, her friend Valerie and I rode up to Horseshoe Meadows to camp out at 10,000 feet – so I could begin to acclimate for my trip to hike to the top of Mount Whitney – which at 14,508 feet above sea level is the highest point in the lower 48 states.  The inspiration to do this came at Easter when I realized that I’ve been living most of this life, in this body, uncertain of just how strong and safe I really was.  It may be because of how sick I was as an infant, but I’ve always functioned so as to maximize my safety because I feared that I’d not be strong enough – or that I’d even not survive.  I told myself that since I never experienced childbirth I didn’t have the opportunity for that quintessential test of my female body and mind, so I wanted to do something else that would stretch me and have me, as I said know my strength instead of fear my weakness.

I shared all this at the Easter breakfast table and said I was thinking about training to run a marathon.  My sister-in-law Vernona’s mom, Linda said, “oh, running is so hard on your joints, why don’t you hike Mount Whitney?”   My response was:  “I love to hike to the top of things – that’s a great idea.”  That afternoon I found the Sierra Mountain Center on the internet and the following Wednesday I signed up for their women-only trip to hike to Mount Whitney via Cottonwood in August.

I started hiking as much as I could at home, but had no clue if I was doing enough to be in shape for this trip. It involves a total of 60 miles and a total gain (and loss) in elevation of 11,700 feet – over six days.  Joe, Bo and I spent the week before last with his family in Tahoe where I hiked as much as I could. One day I went on my own up to the Squaw Valley resort and hiked from the valley floor up to the top of Squaw Peak – 2,663 feet – in only three hours.  This gave me enough confidence that I likely was in good enough shape to calm myself a little – but I still had no idea how I’d do at such high elevation –  we’d be above 10,000 feet nearly the whole time – nor how I’d hold up with sustained exertion over the six days.

I considered cancelling the trip several times in the last month, including on Monday morning just before heading out.  (Thank you Steff for not letting me!)  I was so anxious – as all the fears that had been inside me all these years were activated by just the idea of attempting something like this.  And these fears were at a fever pitch that morning.   Regardless, I went to meet the other six hikers and the two amazing women who were our guides and set out.  The first two days were relatively easy – five miles with a 1,500 foot ascent and then ten miles, almost all downhill.  We camped the five nights each in a different location: next to three different lakes, near a stream and by one of the lush mountain meadows we passed through.

Here I am, the morning we started, pretty freaked out – and 3 days later at the top of Mt. Whitney.

The days were full, requiring taking down tents, packing our gear and then setting tents back up and unpacking again, all on either end of long days hiking.  On day four we woke at 4am so we could begin the 3,000 foot climb.  We started not long after 5:00 – from Guitar Lake to the summit of Whitney – along the backside trail.  We made it to the top at 11:00, blown by a chilly wind and under a cloudless blue sky.  I was elated.  I was there – no place higher in 48 states – not only that but I felt fine.  No headaches, no nausea, no dizziness.  I was clear-headed and able to take it all in.  I signed the register and took photos and celebrated with my fellow hikers.

Standing next to one of the “windows” on the upper trail. Stunning views – I just couldn’t look straight down!

Hiking to the top was a challenge for sure – sourcing the energy to keep putting one foot in front of the other, as well as the freaky-steep drop offs in places were scary!  But the hardest part came the next day.  Despite all the exertion I didn’t sleep well all week.  It may have been the high elevation or that I wasn’t quite warm enough for the chilly nights, but for whatever reason it felt like I spent more hours awake than asleep inside my sleeping bag.  Though I focused on resting my body and mind as much as I could so I could keep going, there’s nothing that replaces actual sleep.

The lack sleep caught up with me on Friday.  On a break in the middle of the afternoon I had to go find a rock to sit on, turn away from the group and have a good cry.  There weren’t really words for what was behind my tears; they felt more like a release than a plea.  I was just so… incredibly… done.  I was running on fumes to get to the camp for our last night.

I’m so grateful for my tent-mate, Heidi – just after we arrived she encouraged me to join her, along with our guides Barb and Lauren for a plunge into Rock Creek Lake.  I told myself I was going to have the whole experience of this hike – so I stripped down to my jog-bra and undies and sloshed through the marsh in bare feet.  All it took was a suggestion from Lauren to just do it – without deliberating I dove in.   Holy cow! !t was freaking cold!  And I found it’s impossible to be tired in icy water! Everything tingled and I completely forgot my exhaustion.  All perked up, I helped cook our last dinner.

The journey that started at Eastertime and ended yesterday afternoon when we arrived back at the pack station has so challenged me.  It has been really, really hard.  But this is exactly what I signed up for.  I wanted to know my strength, which meant that my strength had to be tested.  There’s more I want to share about this, so my next post will include just what I found so hard about it, what made it worth it and what I’m taking with me as I’ve come down from the mountain.

‘Til then – with my love,

Cara