PCT Day 88 – SoBo Flip – Exposure Therapy

Sonora Pass (mile 1017) to campsite at mile 1003

Total PCT miles hiked: 1235

Due to our early start Keith (Starman) and I arrived at the Sierras when there was still a lot of snow, and decided it wasn’t safe to attempt a crossing given my skill level. We elected to flip up to northern California and hike southbound (SoBo) back to where we left off near Lone Pine – giving the snow a chance to melt out. During this flip the PCT milage will be counting down, but I’ll include a tally of our total milage hiked so that you can keep aprised of our progress in a linear fashion.

Sometimes it’s better not to know what’s coming. To dance joyful in the absolution of knowledge. As with many things in life, and many things on the PCT, knowing a little is being prepared while knowing a lot will freeze you in your tracks. Today I knew the climb up and over Sonora Pass would be challenging and snowy, and that is all I elected to know. The truth is, I can well and truly freak myself out on snow crossings, or talus fields, or lose rock. It is all too easy to let my mind run away with the thousands of what-ifs and maybes of fear. Or perhaps the real truth is that I am only now learning to cope with things that are out of my control.

The first snow crossing of note stretches long and low across the front face of a bowl. As we approach two hikers ease themselves onto the snow and begin the slow march towards us. We must cede right of way to them, which also provides a good moment to sit down and put on our snow cleats. Once it’s our turn to cross, the spikes of steel on our feet turn us into some sort of upright snow lizard, able to grip with ease to any angle of snow. Focusing on one foot after another I am surprised to see Keith a few hundred feet behind me. I’m never the fast one on snow crossings, but maybe I’m getting better, maybe this doesn’t have to be so hard. Across the first snow field we wash our cleats in a seasonal steam, discussing as we pack away our things how overblown hikers made this pass seem. We are cocky, we made it across the snow easily, we are also dead wrong. This is not the last, nor the longest snow crossing, but with a warm breeze blustering around us and a clear blue sky above we merrily hike on, unaware of what is to come.

We haven’t made it 100 meters before we cross onto another snow field, a short and easy stretch which we don’t bother to put our traction on. Beyond that there is another snow band cutting right across the trail and another – it’s becoming somewhat of a theme.

The afternoon passes with agonizing slowness. As often as not we arrive at a snow field to find a group of northbound hikers in the process of crossing, forcing us to wait. Some scamper across while others move more cautiously, while others still cross the snow so slowly that I start to think that the whole pass will have melted out by the time they get to us. Alas, I am not so lucky. But the slow hikers do give me something, undistracted time during which the only real thing to watch is the other hikers crossing the snow. This thing that I hate, that freaks me out more than almost any other aspect of this trip I am watching and doing all day long. Time and again until there is little fear left, until the emotional and physical exertion is simply too much to hold onto, and so I relinquish them. I cannot maintain the effort of getting worked up over every snow crossing. Somehow, mercifully the anxiety fades into a background hum, replaced by something that if nurtured might just grow into competence.