Blog - Page 5 of 20 - Marking The Miles

AT Journals: Things I Learned On My Appalachian Trail Shakedown Hike

I recently went on a four-day shakedown hike on the Appalachian Trail. The purpose was to test gear, understand what works and what doesn’t, and figure out which unnecessary items to leave at home. I’ve day hiked a lot and have done a few shorter backpacking trips, but over the years I’ve been switching out gear and doing everything I can to lighten the load on my back. Including food and 1L of water, total weight was 24 lbs., which is considered lightweight. Aside from fine tuning the items in my pack, there was a lot to learn mentally, emotionally, and nutritionally.

These are some personal observations that might be helpful when planning a section hike or a backpacking trip. They do not include basics of backpacking, such as not wearing cotton clothing, etc.

MENTAL, EMOTIONAL, MISCELLANY

I never thought I’d be into listening to music out in the woods, but it turns out I am. This makes sense since I listen to music on my training hikes, but in the wilderness?! When hiking in the Smokies I’m usually on high alert for wildlife, so I don’t think I’d feel as comfortable with earbuds there. This also wouldn’t make sense for areas where mountain lions roam. However, on this particular trip, music helped me power through Georgia’s mountains on the AT. Must update the playlist!
Seeing the first white blaze of the AT on Springer Mountain was an emotional moment, a sign that the dream is starting to become a reality, even through section hiking.
I need sleep at night so I can function the next day. Shelters are great in the rain because gear doesn’t have to be set up and then taken down wet. However, there are a lot of snorers out there, and I haven’t found an earplug yet that will block out the sound of a chainsaw snore reverberating over shelter floorboards.
Georgia never goes around the mountain, only up and over.
The kindness and generosity of strangers is truly touching. A former thru hiker hiked up and over Blood Mountain one night in the worst weather to bring fresh fruit and candy to us before setting back out in the wind and rain. The shuttle driver at the end of my hike wouldn’t let me pay him because he said he enjoyed helping hikers out. Why are people so incredibly kind and generous to a bunch of vagabonds who decide to walk in the woods for a while? I will never understand this, but I am moved by it.
Over the past few years, I’ve started to become more comfortable with not wearing makeup, but there is still insecurity about showing my untouched face. I have dark marks, circles under my eyes, the olive skin just looks so dull and brown some days, a myriad of imperfections I could nitpick all day long. It’s not easy to let go of these things when meeting new people and hoping they don’t see an ugly mess before them. Part of being outdoors is learning to fully embrace our natural selves in all our humanity. In daily life, we cover up the blemishes, cover up the smells, fix the hair just so, and endlessly worry about our appearance to others. In the woods, everyone stinks and looks just as they are. While it’s still hard for me, I am learning to let go here.
I had to keep reminding myself that I could do this. As silly as it sounds, when you’re out there feeling tired, facing another big climb, sometimes a dip into the well of inner strength is required. Repeating a phrase that will get you up the next incline, or help ignore that throbbing blister, is a good way to keep your mind from going to a negative place.
Negativity accomplishes nothing and is pointless in every way. It’s going to rain. Your body is going to ache in ways you never thought it could. Mud will get all over everything. Coldness will creep under your skin. Food will taste gross or not fill you up. Your hair will look like pelicans have been nesting there for years. Gear will fail. You will be tired beyond belief. But you know what?! The sun is going to come out again to warm up the earth and you. You will get to town and have a wonderfully filling meal. A shower will make you feel like a new person. The views will be spectacularly soul refreshing. You are living your best life without having to sit at a desk everyday. These memories will last forever. You will find inner strength you didn’t know you had. You will make new friends who understand this experience better than anyone else in your life can. You will reclaim your spirit and see God in new ways.
If you want an extra dose of strength before setting out on a journey, read books by hikers you admire who’ve done these trails before. Jennifer Pharr Davis, Heather Anderson, Liz Thomas, Cheryl Strayed, Bill Bryson, David Miller, Gary Sizer, Ben Montgomery, Zach Davis…there are SO MANY. Knowing that others have been in the same place, experiencing the same range of emotions while powering through, can be inspiring and motivating.

CLOTHING

I didn’t need the extra pair of waterproof gaiters “just in case.” The small gaiters I had worked great over my trail runners and were fine, even in wet weather.
Merino wool is an awesome fabric with magical powers that will keep you both cool and warm at the same time. I wore merino socks, leggings, shirt, and hat.
Bringing the Patagonia Nanopuff jacket was a smart move over a down puffy due to all the rain and humidity. I think my down jacket would have gotten wet and been a sopping cold mess.
Backpacking in trail runners is not the same as day hiking in trail runners. The extra weight really does make a difference and I need wider, more cushioned shoes.
I brought 5 pairs of socks, which is considered totally excessive by backpacking standards, but I used every single pair and will do this again. Two pairs of merino liner socks, two pairs of Darn Tough hiker socks, one pair of waterproof socks for rainy days.
Need to purchase a merino wool t-shirt for summer hiking.
Need to get a lightweight shirt I can keep clean and wear on town days so I don’t smell as bad.
While hiking, it will seem like you can’t make up your mind about how warm or cold you are. You will shed layers like it’s 90 degrees in winter. You will add layers like it’s the arctic in July. You will do this all day long.
My hands were freezing at some point every single day and the pair of gloves I brought ended up getting wet and being useless. Shell mitts kept me dry, but not warm, even when used with gloves, without gloves, and with wool socks on my hands. I tried everything and my hands froze. Next time I’m bringing the shell mitts, a pair of merino liner gloves, and a pair of warm mittens for camp that will remain in my pack until camp. Also, in winter, Hand Warmers will be a staple in my kit from now on.
Not a piece of clothing, but having an umbrella in the rain and wind made the bad weather tolerable and kept me protected from the elements. I lashed it to my pack with bungees so I could still use trekking poles. It was worth every bit of the 7 oz it weighs.

FOOD

The things you think you’ll want to eat on the trail when planning your meals at home, will actually not be things you want to eat on the trail.
I don’t drink caffeine, so I never made coffee in the morning, but having a cup of tea at night was the perfect end to each day.
Pre-packaged freeze dried and dehydrated meals are expensive and not all of them taste good. Before I head out on my next trip, I plan to dehydrate a bunch of meals at home (chili, spaghetti, fruit, veggies to add to ramen) to save money and weight.
Tortillas are really heavy. They weigh a ton, but they have 26 carbs each and work a lot better than bread. My lunch was a packet of buffalo chicken on a tortilla, and while this worked for a few days, I can see it getting old really fast. Jury is out on whether I’ll go the tortilla route next time.
If you cook in your pot, you will need to clean the pot, and the last thing I want to do at the end of the day is wash dishes or drink swill. Rehydrating in Ziploc freezer bags worked really well thanks to a homemade coozy made from an old windshield protector.
Must bring more fruit snacks!!! I craved these like crazy and hadn’t brought any with me. Gummy bears are great too, but fruit snacks, mmmm.
I could barely stomach breakfast. I’d lost my appetite a bit, so eating in the morning was the hardest thing even though I knew I needed to start with some energy. Peanut butter crackers ended up being palatable, but I was pretty jealous of the guy eating warm ramen for breakfast.

NAVIGATION

I don’t know how to use a compass yet, and I know this is shameful. I’m planning to learn. I need to learn. Get on it already!
Guthook app was amazing! I could see how far I had to go to the next water source or shelter, elevation profiles, photos of viewpoints. Really incredible resource to have handy.
AWOL’s Appalachian Trail Guide is my preferred guide over the smaller Data Book. I ordered the loose leaf version and kept the page for each day in a Ziploc in my pocket. When planning miles or where to camp each night, this is the easiest way to see what lies ahead.

Perhaps the most important takeaway from this hike, as with most hikes where I go solo, is to not let fear get in the way of doing the things your heart wants to do. There will always be reasons not to go. The timing will never be perfect. And for some of us, the butterflies will beat their wings relentlessly every time we decide to set out on our own.

Fear might always be present, but it should never be the loudest voice in the room.

/appalachian-trail-ga/

/10415-2/

AT Journals: Approach Trail To Hogpen Gap, Georgia

This past weekend I had a couple of days off and was planning to go to the Smokies for a short backpacking trip. The weather put a wrench in my plans with rain in the forecast everyday, so I made the last minute decision to head to Amicalola Falls and start section hiking the Appalachian Trail instead. Later this year, I have a 9-day section planned, but I figured if I start now, I could get farther north when I go then. I stressed over my gear, added things, eliminated things, weighed my pack 18 times, and finally decided that it was as good as it could get at 24 pounds, including food and water. Moment of truth…

The morning I drove to Amicalola I felt physically sick. My nerves were completely shot and I was gagging on a protein bar I forced myself to eat because I knew I’d need the energy. So much of me was worried I’d fail at this. Maybe I couldn’t make it up the hills. Maybe this dream wasn’t meant to be a reality for me. What if my body completely gave out on me? What if the other hikers weren’t friendly? So many insecurities and fears swirled in my mind. All my previous hiking experience didn’t seem to matter because I’ve held the AT on a pedestal in my heart. This is the trail that means the most to me. If I can’t do this, am I really a hiker? (The answer to this question is yes, by the way)

THE APPROACH TRAIL

When I got to Amicalola Falls Visitor Center, I registered and paid $5 to park my car for a few days. I was told to drive up a dirt road by the kiosk where there would be “really obvious” parking. I drove up the dirt road, saw some parking signs that couldn’t possibly be right, so I kept going up this crazy steep incline, freaked out, turned around, went back down, couldn’t see a trailhead, didn’t know what to do, turned around, drove up again, came back, WHERE THE HELL IS THE TRAIL?! I finally flagged down a man who was testing the water that day. He didn’t work for the park, but directed me toward the vague parking area and said that if I just walk through the woods toward the visitor center, I’ll hit the trail. Uh, ok. I was looking for the famous arch that signals the beginning of the Approach Trail, but there was no arch, there wasn’t even a trail to get to the trail. So I pulled up Guthook and headed into the woods until I came to a trail and turned right. Rather an anticlimactic way to start. What I didn’t realize was that I was on the East Ridge Trail, the original approach trail to the AT, but not the present day one that includes a ton of stairs up to the falls.

Immediately the trail headed uphill. The threat of rain was weighing heavily on everything, and before I knew it, I’d hiked up into the mist that would be a constant companion for the rest of the day. The familiarity of hiking in clouds surrounded me, taking my mind back to the Great Smoky Mountains, wondering how hard the rivers there were raging right now. I decided to put some music in my ears as the uphill slog continued. The second I heard the first song of my hiking playlist, something changed for me. I looked down at my feet as they navigated the roots, rocks, and mud, and felt…at home. This was familiar. When I reached the Amicalola Falls parking area, I couldn’t see anything. Visibility was as low as it could possibly be and I could barely make out a brown sign signalling the continuation of the Approach Trail.

As the day wore on, I played mental games with myself. Maybe this trail sucked so much because I’d already heard it sucked so much, and my mind had already made up its mind about it. Is it me, or does it look like a tornado tore through these woods and made a big old mess of them? I hate the fact that these 8.8 miles don’t count toward the AT! Why on earth don’t they just add these on so people don’t feel like they’re wasting all this energy before they actually start the AT?!

SPRINGER MOUNTAIN

Everything in me was focused on Springer. I just needed to get to Springer. The plaque, the register, the first white blaze marking the start of the AT…these were the motivation that got me up every crummy hill on the Approach. Finally, the mountain laurel cleared and I could see large boulders and I knew I’d made it. Two men were already there, one older who had just flew in from Maine and forgotten a bunch of things, the other younger and carrying a full sized guitar in a case. I signed the register, talked with them a bit, took a few pictures and waited for them to head on. As soon as they were gone, I sat next to the plaque with the hiker and the first white blaze and cried. The gratitude I felt at being in this spot after dreaming about it for so many years was overwhelming. I’ve hiked small bits and pieces of the AT, but to be starting at the beginning and wrapping my head around a goal was very meaningful. A few more moments and it was time to move on.

STOVER CREEK SHELTER

The start of the AT presented a visible change in the way the trail looked. More rhododendron, laurel…green. My stop for the night would be Stover Creek Shelter. As I skipped over the streams and heard the rain pounding on my umbrella, happiness filled me. The shelter materialized through the fog and I could see several people already there eating dinner. Several guys had set up tarps outside the shelter and one other woman and I would have the entire place to ourselves. Perfect! We talked a bit, but all of us were tired after the Approach, so we ate, set up gear, and fell into bed around 7 pm.

The next morning everyone packed up and headed out at different times. I used the privy, got myself situated, unpacked and repacked my food bag, made sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind, and set off into the mist. The hemlock forests and thick rhododendrons were a welcome sight after the brown of the Approach Trail. Streams were heavy with rain and flowed freely. Bridges provided safe passage.

The morning brightened up as the miles wore on and soon enough the sun was shining! There is nothing more glorious than a sunny day following a really tough one in the rain. Trees were silhouetted by deep blue sky and dark mountain curves could be seen in the distance as clouds made their way across. This was the first day I became conscious of the mountains beneath my feet. When I hike in the Smokies, there is usually the goal of a particular mountaintop or location, and a steady 3,000 foot climb to get there. In Georgia, the distance between a starting point and an endpoint is filled with the ascent and descent of every mountain in between. Some refer to the trail as a roller coaster or PUDs (pointless ups and downs). Yes.

If there is a “gap” on the map, this means you will climb a mountain, then descend into the gap, then climb another mountain out of the gap. This is your new normal. Climbing each mountain will mean you go up until you think you can’t possibly go any higher, then you round a bend and the trail continues skyward. Music was my saving grace in these moments. There are plenty who think that listening to music takes away from the experience of being in nature. I disagree. I can experience it with both, and need the extra ounce of motivation to keep my pace moving quickly.

GOOCH MOUNTAIN SHELTER

The destination for the second day was Gooch Mountain Shelter, a spacious, double platform shelter with many tent sites surrounding it. When I arrived there were already quite a few people. Several had claimed spots in the shelter and I immediately decided to tent camp. I needed the privacy and wanted to have my own space away from everyone. Talk around the picnic table turned to the weather, gear, where folks were from. I was the only section hiker. Part of me felt like I didn’t deserve to be there as much as those who were thru hiking, and I had to constantly fight this feeling. I was hiking faster and farther than some of these folks, and my gear was fine-tuned and lightweight. I was prepared. I deserve to be here as much as anyone else. I belong. I belong. I belong.

That night I could hear the rain in my tent and knew this would mean packing up wet gear in the morning, but having my own space was worth its weight in gold. Introverting is a necessity. I learned later that a couple of snorers kept the rest of the shelter awake that night, and I was thankful for the sleep I was able to get. In the morning, I choked down some peanut butter crackers before packing up my tent with freezing hands that soon turned red and painful before going numb. The rain was still coming down softly, so I lashed the umbrella to my backpack, wore my rain kilt and rain jacket, and set out looking like a homeless bag lady.

HIKING TO WOODS HOLE SHELTER

The goal today was the Woods Hole Shelter. The wind from the east was FIERCE, constantly blowing, trees creaking against each other, rain driving sideways at times. My pace was quick and I adjusted the umbrella to shield myself from the wind, raising and lowering it on the uphill/downhill, shifting it to the side when the wind picked up. The vision of a shelter where I could get warm burned in my brain and drove me on. I thought about resilience and how days like this only make a person stronger. Staying positive in the middle of miserable conditions only helps a body press on. Negativity accomplishes nothing in moments like this. I was not alone out there. Evidence of bears searching for late winter snacks were evident on logs throughout the forest.

I stopped beneath some giant boulders to eat lunch, hoping they would shield me from the gusts. Sitting in the middle of the woods completely alone, while wind and rain whip madly about was a new concept for me. Every time I stopped the cold immediately began to creep into my bones. Moving was the only way to stay warm. I quickly ate as much as I could, jumped back up, and was claimed again by the air’s strength.

A small sign saying “SHELTER” emerged from the fog and I nearly ran the .4 miles to the tiny structure that would be my home for the night. Two men from the previous night were already there and we were talking about the cold and rain that were supposed to get worse. Another hiker arrived and decided to set up a tent, then another, then two more. Five of us would sleep on the platform of the shelter and one would sleep on the picnic table, also inside. The wind continued howling and everyone worked to string up tarps over the openings to shield us from the elements and provide warmth.

TRAIL MAGIC!

Soon we noticed another hiker, someone unfamiliar, heading down the trail toward us. He’d climbed up and over Blood Mountain from the difficult side and had come to bring fresh fruit and candy. A former thru-hiker from 2018, trail name Dine and Dash, played a beautiful song on ukulele while we ate dinner and tried to keep warm. I’ve heard many stories of trail magic, but have never experienced it myself. The fact that another hiker would come out in this weather just to bring smiles and fruit to those who’d just gotten on trail really touched my heart. After we’d asked him lots of questions about his thru hike, he went back into the weather to head home for the night. I keep thinking about him, feeling thankful that we met. I don’t think I’ll ever forget his kindness. Something as simple as an apple and a song can turn a hard day into a blessed one.

BLOOD MOUNTAIN

The night was cold and I didn’t sleep very much as the rain pounded on the tin roof of the shelter. We all woke up at the same time and frantically packed our gear, wanting to get moving before the cold set into our bones. When we stepped out from behind the tarps, blue sky appeared and pink clouds were sitting atop peaks that we could see through the trees. It was going to be a clear day!!! We’d get views on Blood Mountain!

The highest peak on the GA section of the AT did not end up having the worst climb. My muscles were tired, but imagining the views from the top kept me going. They did not disappoint!

NEELS GAP – MOUNTAIN CROSSINGS

Leaving the mountain was hard. I wanted to stay and enjoy the hard-earned vistas, but Neels Gap was calling. The Mountain Crossings outfitter store sits right on the AT and is a welcome stop for hikers who want a shower, resupply, or gear upgrades. They make a ton of money helping hikers trade out heavy gear and offer a free pack shakedown to help eliminate unnecessary items. The day we were there the showers weren’t working, so those who had been planning to stay there decided to head on. I bought a t-shirt, a sticker, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

Neels Gap also has the distinction of being the spot where one third of thru hikers quit. The fact that I’d made it here and was planning to continue felt SO AMAZING. Another milestone. Another reminder that maybe I’m stronger than I think I am sometimes. Even though today was my last day on trail for this section, I was continuing on another 7.1 miles to Hogpen Gap where I would meet a shuttle driver who would take me back to my car at Amicalola. The climb out of Neels Gap seemed to go on forever, but food and candy was giving me the extra boost needed to get to the top.

TO HOGPEN GAP

Once again, thankful the sun was shining! This ended up being a gorgeous section of trail, traversing ridge lines, providing views through the trees of mountains on all sides. There are several places to stop and take pictures or camp along the way. I’d set a time to meet my driver and felt compelled to press on as quickly as I could, stopping briefly to breathe and absorb the beauty of each view before dashing on.

There are still several climbs along the way here, but in the last 1.5 miles when I started descending, I was sure I was heading into Hogpen Gap. As I neared the bottom of a very steep hill, I looked ahead to see a white blaze on the other side of a small parking lot nestled below another enormous hill directly in front of me. SHIT! You have to be kidding me!!! I was dying. I couldn’t believe this. I’d been hiking as quickly as I could, thinking I was close to the end, but here I was faced with another ridiculous climb. I swore, ate some more candy and started telling myself, “I can do this. I can DO this!” Well, I don’t know if it was in my head or not, but the climb out of Whitley Gap felt like the hardest one I’d done in the four days I’d been out so far. There are a ton of switchbacks that keep going until you think you’re going to die. I had to stop at the end of every one, breathe, and force myself to continue. So close to the end. SO CLOSE! UGH!! Don’t let anyone tell you this is isn’t hard. As awesome as it is to be out in the woods, walking along the AT, it is so hard at some points.

Finally, I made it to the top, raced along the summit, and navigated the descent as nimbly as possible until I could see the parking lot where my driver was waiting. Seeing him there, knowing I’d accomplished the goal of this first section, brought so much happiness. This is only the beginning.

When we got back to Amicalola Falls, the man who drove me kindly offered to take some pictures by the beginning of the other Approach since I’d missed it when I started. He really was the sweetest man, and I loved talking with him on the ride back.

When we were done I headed up to the top of the falls to take in the view that was obscured by fog a few days before. Magnificent. If so much beauty exists at the start, what must the rest of the way be like?

/appalachian-trail-shakedown/

/10415-2/

Healed By Nature: Hiking Bear Lake To Fern Lake In Rocky Mountain National Park

I’m sitting here in my campsite, a fire crackling faintly in the background. The site is situated across from a meadow and the stars are putting on quite a show. When I lay down on my picnic table, the satellites make continual arcs across the sky as I try to identify the constellations I learned while in Yosemite just a couple of weeks ago. Understanding the night sky makes the world feel so much smaller, like we’re all living in a big terrarium, seeing the same stars. This earth is the thing that unites us. We all live here in this one place, flung to the farthest ends, waging our wars, struggling for peace, looking for meaning in the vastness of this universe held within God’s thimble. Elk are bugling in the adjacent meadow, a reminder that life persists, continues, goes round and round each season. I feel overwhelmingly lucky to be here in this moment. It is impossible to sit here in the middle of so much wonder and not be awed to the core.

I was nervous about this trip at first, butterflies creating a storm in my subconscious. This is my first solo camping/hiking trip out of state. Traveling alone is exhilarating, empowering, lonely, and joyful. Today I went on a hike from Bear Lake all the way back to my campsite in Moraine Park, more than 11 miles over mountains, between passes, beside cerulean alpine lakes, and through meadows where elk danced and sang. The first stop I made was below a grouping of pines where birds were noisily active, so much so that I wanted to sit and be in the midst of their motion. The second I landed myself on a rock, a family of 5 dusky grouse came meandering by, tutting softy to one another just a few feet from where I sat. I could barely breathe. My heart was about to burst from happiness as I watched their hefty mottled brown and white bodies pick their way through the undergrowth, enjoying the day’s first meal. As I continued to sit, a hawk came through in a deadly dive, only to swoop aloft once again just enough to show me the beautiful markings under his wings and breast. As things quieted, I reluctantly set on my way through a forest filled with the scent of pines readying themselves for the weight of snow on their boughs.

There are several boulder fields along the trail and pika were scurrying in and out among the rocks squeaking excitedly to one another as they gathered grasses tinged with the colors of fall for their winter’s store. I also began passing the people I’d be leap frogging with all day. The nice thing about hiking trails in the national parks is that a camaraderie is built, even for a day. Everyone I passed was friendly and we all began to settle into the rhythm of stepping aside for one another.

The highlight of this trail is the lakes dotted here and there beneath the ever waning glaciers. Lake Helene has tucked herself away just far enough that if you aren’t keenly looking for the unmarked trail that leads her way, you’ll miss it. There is also a stunning vista to the right of the trail, unmarked as well, that goes to the top of some boulders. A sprawling view of Odessa Lake and Lake Helene lie below. Sometimes those little side trails are worth the curiosity of a short jaunt.

Her waters are shallow, but I desperately want to know the stories Helene holds. There is so much peace here in spite of the wind that seems to blow continually, rippling the surface just enough to cause an urgent lapping sound. Small dark-eyed juncos are busy catching insects at the water’s edge.

Once past Lake Helene, it’s all downhill to Odessa Lake through a dynamic landscape where each turn reveals a new glimpse of what’s to come.

The last time I hiked to Odessa’s shore, I could barely stand upright in the biting wind and snow. Today I spent some time soaking up the sunshine beside the brook that meanders away from the lake.

No sooner had I set down my pack when an American Dipper came sauntering by, half hopping, half floating in the current’s sway. I saw a dipper the last time I was here and I can’t help but wonder if it’s the same bird and this is its daily routine, patrolling this stream like a playful army sergeant.

The art of stopping and sitting for a minute proved to be a gift throughout this trip, not just on this trail. On more than one occasion when I stopped to rest, animals would come by. Delight is truly the best word that can be used to describe the feeling one gets when a creature hardly anyone ever sees graces you with its presence. When I hike alone, I tend to speed along as quickly as I can, while taking frequent breaks. Honing the skill of observation requires a willingness to sit, which is not always easy for me, but settling into stillness gives nature a chance to rest in our presence and find ease in walking by.

Odessa Lake lay in all her glory, serene, sparkling, and perfectly secluded in this protected place.

Last time I stood on the edge of the shore leaning into the wind, being pelted with sharp snowflakes. Today the vibe is more relaxed. A slight breeze blows as the water laps the shore.

Onto Fern Lake! As I approached the boulder field that leads down to the shore, a small cacophony of juncos flitted in and out, playing at the border of the woods and the rocks. Fern Lake was a popular destination and I left the lunchers and fly fishers to keep pace on the trail until I reached the waterfall that would serve as my lunch spot for the day.

In a happy incident, I missed the hiker shuttle at the trailhead when I popped into the privy, so I decided to walk the remaining 2 miles to my campsite. I’m so glad I did. Sometimes being on foot provides a more fulfilling experience than the quicker way home. The meadows glowed golden in the breeze as birds of prey perched on dead branches to scour the happenings below. I heard the elk before I saw them. Huge bulls having a tame standoff, bugling to the multitude of females surrounding them. The meadows close at 5 pm, and since I still had a couple of hours, I walked in a bit, found a nice rock to perch on, and enjoyed the show. What a majestic display as they chased each other, slowly moving through the meadow, dipping down into the stream, and swishing through the grasses to the next hill.

I headed into town for a stroll past the shops, but I couldn’t wait to get back to the solitude of my campsite. Too many people, too much noise…get me out of there. Camping provides a nice seclusion from the tourist scene and I prefer this to a hotel any day. Yeah, my feet stink and the baby wipes only help so much. But, I have clean water, a bathroom nearby, and the whole Milky Way galaxy above my head with shooting stars streaking right through. Is there a better place to be in the world right now? I don’t know how sleep will be possible tonight knowing this is happening above me.

I am healed by wild places. Muscles that stiffen with daily stress are relaxed. My mind is open to actually hear what my heart is saying without being drowned out by work and home responsibilities, or the tempest that rages in the world right now. My anxiety has increased in many ways with the tenor of our country. I am always on alert, worried about what comes next. But out here, none of that exists. My phone doesn’t work except to take pictures, and my eyes are not strained from reading the news. Instead they feast upon a banquet of scenery that fills my soul with childish delight. This is where I belong. This is where I am most myself. And as I sit here at this table alone beneath the cosmos, I feel closer to God. I understand his presence here in ways I never understood it in the context of organized religion. Since I separated myself from the thing that calls itself the church today, my spiritual life has manifested outdoors beneath the Heavens. Maybe the stars that shoot across the sky are messages from loved ones lost. Maybe every dose of beauty is evidence of God’s love, his artistry, his perfect mercy that sees a weary heart and heals a piece of its brokenness with a visit from a bird.

A Hug From The Sky: Hiking Clouds Rest

Every time I’m in Yosemite, I can’t help but think about John Muir. His footprints are all over the wilderness that exists there. Part of me feels really conflicted about this because even though he gets much of the credit for the conservation of that land, it couldn’t have come about without devastating consequences for the Native Americans who lived there first. Their lives were destroyed, their homes stolen from them, their way of life shattered. I think as conscientious citizens and frequenters of public land, it’s up to us to keep their story alive and to remember their sacrifices as we tromp among mountains that were once home to vibrant tribes.

Our most recent trip took us to Tuolumne Meadows, nestled in the Sierras. The Native American meaning of Tuolumne is “people who dwell in stone houses.” Surrounded by mountains of granite with pine trees whose strong roots grip in every crack to keep them aloft, the season here is short and even in the summer, the smell of snow is on the air. In late August, the temps hover at 70 during the day and dip into the low 30s at night.

Life up here is quieter, shielded from the touristy bustle of the valley. There is one camp store, a small post office, and the Tuolumne Meadows Grill, all combined into a building constructed of canvas and plywood, a temporary setup for the hiking season. The picnic tables out front boast a ragamuffin crew, backpackers taking a pit stop along the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) and the John Muir Trail (JMT), scarfing down warm burgers and carb loaded fries before finishing with a big cup of soft serve ice cream. Ah, the simple pleasures of trail life!

The campground sits behind the store and is quite large. There are communal fire rings where rangers give talks on a whole variety of subjects (we really enjoyed learning about bats!). Bathrooms range throughout, but bring headlamps because none of the facilities have electricity. I’ve never been in such a quiet campground and it was absolutely lovely. Folks stay up here to hike, which means they want to sleep at night. We cooked on a backpacking stove and a camp stove, and warmed up by the fire at night before scurrying into our sleeping bags to try and stay warm. On the night it dipped down to 29, I was wearing most of my clothes and ended up cinching every part of my body into my bag so my face wouldn’t freeze off. There’s nothing like waking up on a frigid morning and sitting on an ice cold toilet seat!

Our first hike of the trip was a 15 mile roundtrip trek to Clouds Rest. We started from the Tenaya Lake trailhead and had no problem finding a parking place early morning. There are bear lockers available so that any scented items can be left outside the car. The trail descriptions mention a 1,000 foot elevation increase during the second mile and from there on it gets easier. While this is partially true, the trail does continue to ascend over the remaining miles, including the climb to the actual peak. We stopped quite frequently along the way to let our lungs adjust to the elevation. Read that as, “we desperately sucked air every 14 steps because it was really hard to breathe up there!”

There was a serene alpine pond that we passed where a chorus frog was prepping for the evening symphony.

As you get higher, the views start to open up and you can actually see Clouds Rest through the trees. At that point all you can think, is that it still seems kind of high and you thought you were done will all this uphill stuff. But you gasp some more air and press on…

Just before the final climb begins, there is a stunning overlook to the right of the trail. Views take the eye all the way back to Tenaya Lake, which brings the full impact of how far your feet can carry you in a few hours. The canyon yawned beneath us as we looked down at birds flying past. The Sierras seem fake, as though you can reach out a hand and merely crumple the backdrop. But this is no illusion. These mountains stretch for 250 miles towering to heights over 14,000 feet. Clouds rest sits at 9,931′.

The upper trail description on Yosemite Hikes was quite amusing:

The top of Clouds Rest is a narrow ridge with a long, sheer dropoff on the north side (the side you can see from the Tioga Road). The dropoff to the south is less extreme, but it wouldn’t require special talent to wind up just as thoroughly and symmetrically dead by falling off that side. It’s best to visit Clouds Rest sober and during dry weather.

That said, the route over the ridge is more manageable and less dangerous than Half Dome’s cable route. If you’re slow and careful, you shouldn’t feel like you’re a freak gust of wind or a momentary lapse of concentration away from the bottom of Tenaya Canyon. And the very top of the peak opens up again to around fifty feet wide, which will feel like the Great Plains after the underpants-imperiling knife edge you’ve just crossed to get there.

Since we were sober and the weather was dry enough to parch a tortoise, we continued to the peak, and what a stunning peak it is.

It sounds silly to say I felt like I was on top of the world, but honestly, it’s hard not to feel that way when everything else is below you. There was a raven up there who would occasionally rest on a rock and then just walk off into thin air only to rise back up on a wind current. That bird must have a very refreshed soul.

Many hikers were up there resting on the peak. Some were headed over to Half Dome, others were headed to the valley, and some had even walked all the way up from the valley. The guys who had walked up were from Europe and sat around munching dry ramen, so we decided they were on another level athletically and probably skipped all over the Alps for fun on rainy days.

What I never realized before is that you can continue down to Half Dome from this point. I always thought Clouds Rest was a peak that just ended, but it keeps going. Personally if I were ever going to hike Half Dome, I’d start from Tenaya Lake and go this way instead of climbing up from the Valley. Less people, better views, and less elevation gain that way. The hike would be longer, but what a way to approach Half Dome! Clouds Rest has a higher vantage point than Half Dome, so we could actually look over and see climbers on the cables through our binoculars.

There is never enough time in places like this. How does one take in the vastness of a view? Is it possible for our brains to even comprehend what we are seeing? I could have stayed up there all day, taken a nap, soaked up the sunshine, had a chat with the raven…but we had a 7.5 mile downhill jaunt back to the car.

As soon as we finished climbing off the ridge, we stepped off onto the trail and noticed a large bird on the right side. I got so excited! It was a grouse, a sooty grouse to be precise. And not only was she standing there in all her glory, owning that piece of real estate, but she had a baby the size of a little teenage chicken with her! I’ve always wanted to see a grouse and she did not disappoint. Her feathers were gorgeous with mottled browns and golds. At one point I knelt down to get a better (lousy) picture of her on my phone and the little one just walked right next to me. (Inward squeal!) There is nothing more beautiful than seeing these creatures utterly at home in their habitat. A reminder that we are the visitors passing through.

While the hike down was not as hard as the climb up, our joints took an absolute beating. Even though it felt like we went uphill the whole way there, we definitely had plenty of uphill on the way “down.” The switchbacks felt longer and the farther we descended it seemed hard to believe that we’d actually climbed so high. Even though I was exhausted that night, I still think back on the trail as an exhilarating highlight I was able to check off my bucket list. I can’t possibly recommend it more, and hope I’m lucky enough to kiss the sky again someday on Clouds Rest…

Page 5 of 20
←
1
...
4
5
6
...
20
→