I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.
31 July 2010
The night wasn't as cold or as windy as I was expecting it to be. But it WAS a busy night, as peak baggers were passing us as early as 2am to get to the top. (I'm not sure what good doing that was, as the sun wasn't going to rise for a few more hours).
No one bothered us or told us to move. Some even apologized.
I felt my thighs this morning and was glad that I didn't feel the need to get up at oh-dark-thirty for the ascent. But when Abid got up for his climb after sunrise, instead of me heading down to the eastern base camp to wait for him there, I opted in the last minute to join him for at least the first mile. That turned out to be an ascent all the way to the top afterall by 6:30am.
The rising sun poked its rays from between the crags, but the colors weren't as vibrant as I thought they would be. When I got to the top the colors were already washed out by the haze and Abid was chatting with the three Maryland boys. The views were no more stellar than they were the night before.
"How was the sunrise?" I asked the photographer in the group.
"OK" he answered. So I wasn't the only one unimpressed with the sunrise.
Abid joined the Maryland boys, bartering chocolates for cigarettes. He seemed to crave nicotine now. I didn't listen to all that he chatted about and meandered around the summit for unique vistas. The view this morning was no different than the view last night: I had a grey granite panorama of peaks and crags.
I was cold now, having kept my down jacket and hat on for the ascent. I kept them on even after the sun had risen higher in the sky. More people were coming up, the summit no longer kept me in a trance, and I was ready to get back down and make room for other people.
"I have a hard time concentrating when I am congested" said Abid as we walked downhill. What brought up that thought? We were in the protective zone and were not allowed to use the bathroom here. Apparently I wasn't the only one "holding it in."
Thanks for sharing, Abid. He also asked me more philosophical questions such as do I think beautiful women are more stuck up than ordinary women. Yes. Men will always be attracted to beautiful women, but beautiful women will also get them in trouble. Beautiful women will also stray more out of a relationship. He also added that men who already have children should have their penises cut off (!). What, pray tell, brought on that thought?
"My wife is not very pretty, but she has a beautiful soul and is a great mother." I listened to his stories of his wife and children --he has five--with the youngest only two years old.
"Sounds like you need your penis cut off!" I replied back to Abid.
"Oh no!" So I caught him in a minor hypercritical reply.
Luckily our conversations mellowed back to normal once we were around others again.
We met Ryan on our way down. It only took him 30 minutes to climb up the switchback.
It was the last we saw of him, too.
The line of "other people," however, didn't subside. Mount Whitney was being attacked by a long line of day hikers coming up from the eastern slope. One could see the human train slowly move up the switchback. Some looked like they had no business attempting this strenuous hike.
The JMT was now officially over for me once I bagged Whitney the night before. Abid, however, took the opportunity to meet all the people coming up. The man has the gift of gab and can turn any trivial chat into a meaningful conversation. Today, however, I wasn't in the mood. I wanted to get down from the mountain.
"How long you think it will take us to get to Portal?" asked Abid.
"We should be there between three and four this afternoon," I replied. That still seemed so far away. We still had this human traffic jam to overcome.
"How much further to the top?" several exhausted hikers asked me. What I wanted to know was how much longer to the end?! Going down Whitney was no easier than going up it.
I stopped to take off my cold-weather gear, rested briefly just off the steep switchback, and by the time I was back on the trail fighting uphill traffic going the opposite direction, I lost Abid for the rest of the hike. He kept getting further and further from me. I had no energy to catch up with him.
My feet were now hurting. After 18 days of painless hiking, my leather Lafuma boots felt heavy, hot and tight around the toebox in both feet. No resting, no amount of water or snacks could get my energy back for me or my feet from hurting. These last eight miles to Whitney Portal were a silent haze, filled with nothing but steep granitic switchbacks.
A little pica nibbled on some leaves while under the protection of some rock slabs, completely oblivious to my presence. This little rodent was perhaps the one joy of the morning. It let me come up close to it before it scooted back into the darkness of its den.
To make matters worse, since I was in the protective "Whitney Zone" that meant I couldn't just run behind some shrubs and use the bathroom. I had to use a special WAG bag for human waste. It was a very unsatisfactory experience. What made this so bad is also having to carry that WAG bag in my backpack. The sealed contents did not smell too rosy...
I was soon far enough away from Whitney that I lost the view of the peak. The lower elevation trail was still mostly rockfall, but three miles from the exit the trail turned into an inviting, pine-studded trail. I was now seeing families again, overweight people and women dressed more for a fashion runway than for a trail as they walked toward Lone Pine Lake.
This canyon was long, steep and narrow. Why would anyone want to hike up Mount Whitney from this end? (Answer: all those not wanting to do it from the JMT!) I could see a paved road and the small town of Lone Pine from the distance, but the town never seemed to get any closer.
I made it to the parking lot at 3:20pm, within my estimated time. So this was it! I saw the Whitney Cafe I had heard so much about, where thru-hikers gather for a beer and cheeseburger. That is exactly what I wanted. Abid was already there and had been there for almost an hour. He had found his MoJo, he said, and kept on hiking.
And naturally he had found some people he could talk with. Some of the men were drivers looking for people like us they could drive into Lone Pine for a nominal fee of $20 each person.
We sat outside at a picnic table. I was famished and ate the cold remainers of some French fries. I also took my heavy boots off and sure enough, found two hot spots on each foot. Abid said he was going to order my cheeseburger but instead kept chatting with the guys to the point of annoying me; I should have gone inside first thing and ordered my own meal. It was the only time I lost patience with him.
So this was it. After 19 days of ups and downs along the trail, two storms and one involuntary water dunking, it was all over. Just like that. There was no ticker tape parade, no cheers, no final hugs. The John Muir Trail was over for me.
Now I just had to get back to my van, resupply and finish the last 23 miles. Getting back to Yosemite was now my next destination.
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