Road Trip Daily

WEST.  175 days, 1,500 miles hiked, 25,000 miles driven, 75 parks visited.  One Story. Can you hear the NPR soft voice?!  Haha. My inner monologue ran constantly as I drove the 2,600 miles home.  After two hours of high mountain desert driving I hit I-40 and headed east, 2,450 miles east.  I drove for 350 miles between stops, powered by caffeine, chocolate and sugar.  I listened to music and political radio, catching up on the world that kept going while I walked.  I stopped at 9pm just east of Albuquerque, New Mexico. By the next day, the scenery had flattened and I was officially not in the West.  I felt like a trucker, on auto-pilot, making miles, stopping at the truck stops, even stopping in Oklahoma City for an oil change.  I camped for the night a few hours west of Memphis, Tennessee. I eventually made it to the mountains of North Carolina and then home to my dad's house at 10:30pm on the third day.  I had driven twelve hours a day but didn't feel that bad.

Our day began in silence, at 315am in pursuit of the summit.  We walked carefully, looking for slick, sandy rocks and icy sections--not wanting to fall. Hiking along a cliff edge in total darkness was thrilling, vividly black and white.  By 5am, we had reached the three mile marker and the turnoff up to Whitney summit. We removed the heavy items from our bags and set off towards the summit sunrise. The trail was spectacular, a special creation of this nation, winding from one side of the mountain to the other, going down and around one side before coming up to another, creating anticipation with each turn. Looking back, the sloping ridges caught the early sunset delicately.  As we hiked along the two mile upper trail, the views east would open up for the narrowest of moments.  This opening was my favorite.  14,000 foot cathedrals of nature thrusted towards the heavens at each turn. The summit was almost in sight, the highest peak in the lower 48 states nearly attained, the end of our 2

Wow, was it cold this morning. After waking up and eating breakfast, we packed up quickly and found this scenic sunspot to warm our bones. We had a short eight mile hike to Guitar Lake today,  the last viable campsite before the five mile hike to the 14,505 foot-high Mount Whitney summit.  We stopped at this lovely meadow and looked for bears. We only saw deer but were able to enjoy the incredible peace of the far mountain range. Steady hiker traffic, the most of the entire trip, including one group of twelve elder hikers, passed us as we rested, and jumped! Views of Mount Whitney finally came into view at Timberline Lake, a quaint lake where camping was unfortunately forbidden. We passed a group of twenty Taiwanese hikers.  The summit of Mount Whitney looked heavily defended when viewed from below. We were going to wake up tomorrow at 230am and hike up to the summit for sunrise-on-the-top-of-the-world*. The thought of this dark task was a bit foreboding.  We made it to Guitar Lake by

The mountains had a surreal glow this morning as we climbed up towards the 13,200 foot high Forrester Pass.  One of the wonderful things about the mountains is that they change appearance as the sun changes height, creating a movie-like experience as you walk. I felt so free and happy this morning--just in love with this light.  After sixty minutes of walking, we stopped in the first sunny spot we could find to thaw out and rest. Another hiker came bustling up the trail behind us and stopped at the sunspot to shed a layer of clothing. Sly was a Canadian hiker, just turned 40, who seemed happy to see us. We struck up a conversation about travels and when we pushed off Sly asked if he could join us. We said yes of course. We hiked quickly up the trail, reaching a high plateau with epic alpine views. Selfie time! We skirted around a high alpine lake and then went up a ridge line ever further higher. We were at 12,000+ feet now and the world began to look small yet vast.

The Fin, a rock spire surrounding Rae Lakes, could be seen clearly behind Dollar Lake, as we posed for a picture and almost fell in.  We ran into Alex and Kathleen on the other side of this lake.  They had barely slept--as the cool breeze and damp air off the lake froze their sleeping bags and bodies.  So note to hikers-- don't camp by lakes if it's cold. Craggy peaks littered the scenery surrounding Rae Lakes.  We stopped for a long, late morning break.  I lent Bob my warm, comfy sleep system and encouraged him to take a nap, which he did.  I ate peanut butter-dipped tortillas and journaled at a lakeside overlook.  Here is what I wrote that day: "If the High Sierra is an orchestra--the mountains are the wind section--creating stories with peaks and valleys, color with shapely crags over blue waters, drama with geologic rock formations, and drawing you to the climactic edge with ridgewalks and high pass summits.  The trees, shrubs, grasses and animals--deer, chipmunk

The mountains appeared like sand dunes in the soft early light.  We drank our coffee, packed up our gear and set off up the hill toward Pinchot Pass. Not a mile up the trail, we encountered another sensational High Sierra lake, Lake Marjorie, and the peaceful reflections off the lake's surface.  Mountains of white and red and grey and black surrounded us-- all surfaces seemingly from another planet, but welcoming us this morning on Earth. Jeff and Steve and a lady named Tara joined us at the picturesque summit of Pinchot Pass.  We remained there for a complete hour, enjoying stories of hiking triumph and Jeff's difficult but rewarding experiences as a search and rescue captain. Reluctant to leave the 12,000 foot pass, but begged forward by the slowly descending trail, we hiked on.  The wonderful landscape in the background, with layers of blues, and browns and whites, appeared like an Ansel Adams masterpiece, and the trail a magical doorway to its frame. The sce