hiking with friends | sporty mama life.....

We had a great campsite at Kearsarge Lakes. So quiet and peaceful. We heard coyotes howling on this night for the first time.

We left our tents and packs and slacked-packed over Kearsarge Pass down to Onion Valley to meet D (K’s hubby) for our first resupply. As we descended into OV, we could see him, waiting at the trailhead into the campground. I was already so overly emotional because of the pain I was in and for the first time in seven days I was able to get in communication via cell phone with G back home while coming down off of the pass. This trip was one of the longest times we have been apart without communication. (We’ve been apart longer, but always within communication) It was hard. Talking to him made things much worse! I sobbed on the phone to him! I was hurting so terribly and told him I thought I needed to be done. I had hit the wall. He was surprised. He is not used to me being in such a low spot. He has supported me through some pretty crazy endeavors and I think my crying out made him nervous and uneasy. In his usual fashion, he spoke gently and listened to my lament. This man always has a way of talking me off any ledge and he has our entire 23 years together. He knows exactly what I need to hear. He’s honest and forthright with me, and knows how to motivate me! I cried for a good 10 minutes, talking to him. I am talking SOBBING! That gross, ugly, real, hurt-your-heart kind of cry. When the time came, I told him I couldn’t hang up. I just couldn’t. I knew it was going to be about 10 days before we could have any communication again. I just could not hang up the phone! I was miserable and he was the only balm at the moment making me feel ANY better. We eventually hung up and when we saw D, I was so overjoyed! Just the site of “familiar!” Of home. He greeted us with big hugs, and when we got to his camp, home cooked breakfast burritos (be still my starving heart) and a cold, cold beer. What a reward!

Trying REAL HARD to smile and hold it all together.

Top of Kearsarge Pass 10,750ft. We had to stop and take a pic for our friend FG back in Idaho.

We sat and reminisced with D about our experience thus far. The trials and the complete and utter beauty this country has bestowed on us. I had already decided that I was going to skip the Immediate Care. I was in way too much pain for anyone to be able to clean out the area of my feet that were torn open. If anyone was doing it, it would be me! At least I’d know what was coming. We did, however, have to go into town and find a pharmacy so I could grab the additional supplies to take care of, clean and wrap my feet. It had reached beyond what our first aid kits were capable. While contemplating where to go, us girls (while K was in the fancy restroom of the campground, i.e. meaning he wasn’t digging a cat hole) decided that since we were going into town that m a y b e we should grab some lunch and m a y b e spend the night. Just maybe! This was met with a little struggle, but our begging sealed the deal and K gave in. We were devoted to the cause when it meant shaving our legs and eating a fat, greasy burger and fries after days of dehydrated meals. I don’t know if K stood a chance. He was a great sport about our whining and we loaded up and made our way down, down, down into town. First, stop FOOD! Real bona fide food! In seats. With other people around! Oh sweet Jesus, were we ever thankful for this diner. Possibly the best-tasting food I’ve ever consumed. So satisfying in every way! After eating and hitting the pharmacy we quickly found a nice, quiet place in Lone Pine…..WITH A SHOWER to spend the night. It’s the little things, right? We hadn’t showered in seven days. (My apologies to the people in the diner trying to enjoy their lunch) This was lesson one on appreciating the small, creature comforts we have grown accustomed to. A shower.! How it changes a person. Clean water….give that some thought.

At our resupply in Onion Valley. Looking pretty warn out, but just had the best breakfast burritos on the EARTH!

We slept like kings and queens but had to rise early to leave at 5 am to start our way back over Kearsarge Pass.
One of the sweetest things about picking up a resupply for me, other than the food, of course, was knowing that in my buckets were notes. Notes from my sweet, husband. I also added my own notes, written by myself, for myself over the few weeks before we left for this trip. They were priceless and irreplaceable and as we continued on this journey my heart ached for them and they became to me, just as valuable as my food supply. Just the smallest of interaction with my hubs set my heart on fire! Those of you that know me well, KNOW that besides my all-loving and radically fervent God, there is NO ONE to me like my husband. He’s my north.

What happens when J says “ACT NORMAL!”

We made our way back over Kearsarge, packed our tents and made another arduous hike to Glen Pass. Oh, Glen Pass. I could write a book JUST on Glen Pass, but I fear it would have so much cussing, that no one could read it. Glen Pass (for me, because we EACH had THAT pass) was so difficult. So severe and rough. So painful and punishing that this was what almost put me over the edge. I was also still hiking in sandals.
My only journal entry for Glen Pass says “we made it 3/4 of the way up the pass. Found a nice lake to camp at. Today totally killed me. My feet are toast. BLISTERS!”
Not that the skin that had slipped off of two toes to expose the rawest, most open, sore, form of skin possible wasn’t enough, now I am adding blisters. I am a runner and have some pretty impressive calluses that I love. I don’t wear socks when I run and never have. These calluses have graced my feet for literally YEARS! When getting pedicures, the first thing out of my mouth is “please, DO NOT remove those calluses.” Those wonderful, feet-protecting calluses are what slipped right off, like gloves being removed from fingers. It was some of the most unimaginable pain I’ve ever felt!

When we got to camp, I was done. I told K, K and J that I needed to be hiked out to the next ranger station in the morning, which I think was about 4 miles out. My feet looked like hamburger and I could barely stand on them. I was angry and had tried everything but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make it any further. I went to bed so defeated. So saddened and so disappointed. I was crushed in every sense of the word.

I got into my tent and read the resupply notes. One from me and one from my sweet husband.

Note to me,
You’ve made it to your first resupply. You are already a testimony to your strength, discipline, determination and straight up BADASSERY! I know in the last few days you have felt the discomfort of the trail, but this journey is way more profound than any TRUE discomfort. You asked for this and are making remarkable memories and are LIVING YOUR DASH! Happy trails Paula. Continue to be epic!

And from G-
Baby!! You are living the gift of life that God has given you. NO REGRETS! I miss you & Love you. You are amazing.
Love, your G
He added a little-printed picture of the beach (our favorite place) to the note. It said “Live Life” becasue since the day we met this has ALWAYS been our agreement with one another.

ALWAYS looked forward to a cherished these resupply notes.

I remembered God’s promises; -“Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

-“When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions and the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.”

I slept.

No familiar with The Dash that I refered to in my note to myself, chick here to read it.

Link to past JMT posts

Into the mountains I go. To lose my mind and find my soul.

When we woke it was cold. I had smartly decided to wear a base layer under my hiking pants. I layered on a top base layer, a cold weather fleece, my down jacket, beanie, buff and my gloves. I was cold now but knew I’d warm in the climb. I put on my headlamp and unzipped myself from my tent. Immediately I noticed what appeared to be fire flies out in the night sky, which after taking a second look I realized where the headlamps of the hikers climbing Whitney ahead of us. Their lights danced in black space as they made their way up switchback after switchback in the freezing cold of the night.

The terrain of Whitney is rough and jagged. It’s granite boulders unfriendly. Sharp and serrated. As we started our way up we sludged through water running down the grassy slopes. The only green laying like a skirt at the bottom of this giant, granite treasure. My breathing was out of rythym and I wasn’t sure if the cause was the frigid cold, the accent or fear that had a grip on me. I can’t tell you why I was experiencing fear, other than worrying about altitude sickness, climbing in the dead of night or falling or quite possibly it was the fear of the unknown or the fear of failure.
As we climbed I could look out into the dark abyss below us and see the bobbing head lamps that reminded me of twinkling stars. I wondered how many would join us at the top for the sunrise.

Making it to Trail Crest was surreal. I had that a-ha moment of “I’m actually doing this!” Adrenaline rushed through my body. Trail Crest is the turn you take to the summit where the trail from Guitar Lake meets the Whitney Portal trail. It’s a staging area for the summit. Large packs are dropped and left here and slack packs are put on. The trial gets steeper and narrows at this point.

Previous to going to bed, we had packed our slack packs. Since we were returning to Guitar Lake we didn’t have to bring our big packs. We packed a small amount of food and enough water to get us to the summit and back.

Shortly after leaving Trail Crest I got ahead of K and K. J had decided that morning that she was going to skip the summit due to an injury from the day before. Being up Mt Whitney before she decided it wasn’t worth the risk to possibly take her out of the rest of the trip. At this point I was climbing alone in pitch black. No one ahead of me or behind me as far as I could see. I’m not gonna lie I was terrified! It was very empowering, scared me to death and allowed me to overcome some fears. I shook as I walked. I was cold and spilling over with unease. I had to get myself under control and allow my bravery to kick in. It was completely silent except for the wind on the side of the granite slab to my right. The other side a sheer drop. I learned right then I am a lot braver than I think I am. My entire world existed in a tiny dot of light from my headlamp. I couldn’t see further than 5 feet. As the trail narrowed I had a hard time being able to tell where I was going, a couple of times climbing over waist-high boulders dead center in the trail and watching every step I made as to make sure I planted my foot wisely. It was getting colder and colder and I was starting to get in to some snow and ice. I was anxious to reach the top and I was worried that I wouldn’t make it before the sunrise.

I prayed and knew that God is not a God of fear. This calmed me. I was quickly reminded of all the fearful things He’s brought me through only to step to the other side of that fear and feel accomplished, free, able, unrestrained and….enough. I think moving past fear is healthy. To do so is liberating. It changes you. You no longer feel the need to compromise or settle. And what’s funny is after you’ve smiled in the face of fear, you know you can never go back. You can’t go back into the unhappy relationship, the dead end job, the unhealthy friendship, the uneventful life, or the unloved and given-up dreams. You won’t allow fear to trample you again. You may have the occasional whisper of fear, a hint that reminds you that you’re human, but it will never overtake you enough to disable you.

When I turned the final switch back I saw it. Silhouetted by the faint glow of the pre-risen sun. The hut! I made it. A sob choked out. Relief from my discomfort and a complete sense of joy filled me! A feeling of success washed over me. I went inside just enough to warm up a bit (the summit was in the low 20’s with a sharp, biting wind) then I walked out to the summit table where ten others were perched waiting to be kissed by the sun. I sat alone and cried. I was overwhelmed, so caught up and grateful to be there right in this moment and as the sun rose I sat in praise! How awesomely, magnificent this gorgeous country is! How strong I am. How great our God is.

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*As I finish this blogpost I have just received confirmation of issue for another wildernesses permit for the JMT hiking southbound this time (SOBO) this July/Aug including, God willing, another summit of Mt Whitney!!

**Mt Whitney summit 14,505 feet

May you always do what you’re afraid to do.