PCT Day 53 – Lone Pine

Campsite at mile 739 to Horseshoe Meadows via Mulkey Pass (mile 745 + 2 miles on side trail)

We arrive at the Dow Villa in Lone Pine and immediately see Moonshine, Bean Dip, All American Austin, Low Key, and Lost sitting in the lobby packing their bear canisters and planning to hike out in the morning. Trail family! It’s so good to see them and at the same time it breaks my heart. They’re heading into the Sierra, and we’re not. They’re going forward in a straight line, and we’re not. We’re doing what’s right for us, and they’re not. And even though I know we’re making the right choice for us, it hurts to know that this is probably good bye, probably forever. Six weeks in and we’ve just started to build a trail family and it barely lasted a week. The trail has a way of throwing people into your path and then after a week, a month, a day they’re gone, maybe forever, maybe not. Oh social situations, how you continue to perplex me.

Over dinner I watch videos of people traversing Forester Pass inch by inch, videos that my mother has sent me, mind you. Sent days ago and left unwatched in my inbox while I hiked far away from cell service. She had no way of knowing that we were already planning to skip around the Sierras and come back later, and now I’m certain our choice is right. I am at best, a reluctant mountaineer. My winter activity of choice is snowboarding, or skiing, perhaps the causal snowshoeing outing with my mom. But definitely, definitely not mountaineering. Keith is the mountaineer, climbing up stupid looking snow fields in the winter and spring while I rock climb and trail run in LA’s cool temperatures. In fact, the only reason I even know how to travel with ice axe and crampons is so that I can navigate small snow fields while hiking, not to use them in real deal winter travel. The idea of spending three weeks hiking through the snow and climbing steep passes under icy terrain makes me want to vomit. I climbed over every single one of these passes least the summer, I know exactly what they entail and I don’t want might be my last summer in the Sierras to be one of fear and frustration. Plus, as if that weren’t enough, there is a five day storm arriving tomorrow, that’s promising snow over 10,000 feet from Whitney to Yosemite.

What does worry me is that everybody else is heading into the heart of the Sierras in a snow storm. Keith and I propose our plan to the group but there are no takers. Squish and Carmen San Diego almost decide to come with us to northern California, but after sleeping on it decide that heading through the mountains in the snow is “kind of a right of passage” as Squish calls it. I get it and I don’t. I have seen the euphoric Instagram posts from the few brave souls who have made it through already. They’re enough to cause serious envy. But I’ve also seen the posts from people who started hiking at 4am, postholed all day, and are barely hitting double digit miles. And isn’t thru hiking hard enough without additional suffering? Who am I going to impress by doing something that feels unsafe? Why in the ever loving fudge does anyone’s opinion but my own matter?

So maybe I’m more on the side of not viewing going into the Sierra’s too early as a right of passage. I’m supremely unconcerned with the opinion of folks who will think flipping means that I’m not a “real thru hiker.” I try and curb my nervousness around others heading out, and focus on the minor logistical mess that lies ahead.