Days 18-19
Zero days at Mono Hot Spring
0 miles
August 22-23, 2019
The next two days pass in a blur of eating and soaking in the hot springs.
HP and I have many more conversations with Doug, as well as the other resort visitors staying here. Newlyweds enjoying their honeymoon, an older couple here with their son, daughter-in-law and toddler-aged grandkid, a group of three middle-aged men finishing their annual backpacking trip, a family of five from LA, another JMT northbound hiker, the girlfriend of a staff member visiting for a few weeks from the East Coast… all of them have stories. The more I hear, the more curious I become. And they all want to hear our stories too, these odd humans voluntarily walking so very far with so very little.
One girl dreams of starting a flower farm for orphaned souls both young and old to find oasis, a place to dig their fingers into the earth and call home for however long they need. She looks at me inquisitively and asks, “What makes you happy?” I reply with a smile I couldn’t hold back if I wanted to. Stories and wilderness and writing and medicine. As our conversation drifts to other topics, I keep thinking about this important question. I never stop thinking about it.
On our first full day, we cross the nearby river in search of the various hot springs that give this resort its namesake. As we approach the river, a girl warns me that she saw water snakes in the springs. Great… When we reach the first one, I bravely sink my body into the warm waters anyway (but I do keep my old trail runners on). The sides of the concrete tub are coated in a thick layer of slime, and little bubbles periodically erupt from the surface of the water.
Try as I might to relax, I can’t get the thought of water snakes out of my head and eventually give up trying to convince myself otherwise. I climb out and explore the trails interconnecting the various hot springs, then head down to the river to soak my feet. I find the crisp, clear river water much more refreshing somehow. I stick to the resort hot tub after that.
Each night, I roam the resort grounds and see little campfires crackling and shooting embers in dancing streams of smoke toward the starry sky. I’ve always felt drawn to fire, instinctually and magnetically. Just like I’m drawn to the woods, to the feral wilderness. Drawn to my most primal, wild nature. These campfires are tamed, contained, reaching up and out and exploring the confines of what’s possible. Always consuming, never satiated, ever changing.
Humans are fire spirits. We are born with a spark and roar to life, consuming and dancing and reaching for the sky, pushing the boundaries to go as far as we possibly can. Each little flame can snuff out or grow to a wildfire, can burn bright, then eventually flickers and is gone. There is something reflective about sitting around caged fire watching the flames dance, something meditative and reminiscent and inspiring.
By the end of the second day, I’m back to eating full meals and feel my strength returning in full measure. It feels so good eat like a hiker again. I catch a reflection of myself in a mirror and am startled to see newfound muscling to my limbs, slimness to my frame. Every time I see myself, I make a new discovery. A new bruise or cut, a new tan line, a more prominent muscle, a slimmer waist. I find that for the first time in a long time, I’m comfortable in shorts, better able to quiet that critical inner voice I’ve battled all my life. I have earned every bit of who I am and still have miles to walk. And I feel so ready to start walking again.
Day 20
Mono Hot Springs to Pocket Meadow via VVR Ferry
4 miles
August 24, 2019
I wake before my alarm this morning, too excited to sleep in. Today, we return to the trail. As much as I’ve enjoyed these few days of much needed rest and recovery, the wilderness beckons.
And it feels like these few days in civilization have given me almost as much to think about as my two weeks on the trail.
I have loved getting to know so many different people, glimpsing their lives through their stories. It inspires me somehow, broadens my own world a little bit each time. All of them have been curious about my own journey, my story. I’ve interacted so much over these past few days, it’s started to drain my introvert energy reserves. I need time in the wild to recharge my batteries and reconnect deeply with myself.
If I feel this way after just a few days around so many people, how drained must I let myself get when I don’t have the wilderness to run to? I resolve to pay closer attention to when I need “me” time in the future.
We hitch a ride back to VVR and, after lunch and a beer, take the afternoon ferry back to the trail. While we wait for the ferry to arrive, I look through the hiker box (food and gear left by hikers for other hikers to take). Someone had left an unopened package of salami sticks, which I happily adopted.
Then, I moved what looked like a 5-pound bag of abandoned oatmeal and saw them. My heart leapt at the beautiful sight. A ziplock bag filled with Taco Bell Mild Sauce packets.
Here’s a not-so-secret secret about me: I L-O-V-E Taco Bell. Always have, always will. I’m not even a fast food person, really, but there’s a special place in my heart for crunchwraps and quesaritos. In fact, my homemade trail taco soups each contain a lovingly packed Taco Bell Hot Sauce. And now, I get to double the magic. I know what I’m having for dinner tonight.
The ferry arrives and carries us across the lake. Since the afternoon ferry doesn’t reach the trail shore until 4:30 PM, we only get a few hours of hiking in before stopping at Pocket Meadow for the evening. This is by far the most buggy camp we’ve experienced out here. We eat dinner in the safety of our tents to escape the mosquitoes, flies and yellow jackets. Then, we turn in for the night.
Day 21
Pocket Meadow to Reds Meadow
26 miles
August 25, 2019
After what feels like my millionth breakfast of mashed potatoes with bacon bits, we break camp and get an early start on the day. We decided over dinner last night we would try for Reds Meadow today. I am finding a joy in pushing myself to see what I’m capable of. My able body leaves me awestruck every time, filling me with gratitude at what I can do and where I can go. The world is mine. And tonight, so is the fresh-tapped beer at Mammoth Lakes Brewing Company.
We ascend Silver Pass as the sun rises over distant peaks and sit for a few minutes to soak in the view.
As we descend, we pass an older woman hiking in the opposite direction who cheerily announces, “It’s all downhill from here.” Foolishly, we believe her.
The switchbacking ascent out of Tully Hole takes us completely by surprise. Our legs are strong, but our minds have switched into descent mode and protest the uphill climb. The mosquitoes in this area of trail cluster together in clouds thicker than anywhere else I’ve seen so far, and we can’t outrun them with our uphill pace. I don my mosquito net and keep ticking on up the hill.
The trail undulates for a number of miles, up and down and up again, until we finally reach the descending last few miles into Reds Meadow. We have been pushing ourselves to keep a fast pace. We don’t want to miss the last shuttle from Reds Meadow into Mammoth Lakes, where cold beer and a bug-free hotel room await. It had taken me some time over the course of the day to be talked into staying in town rather than camping at Reds campground, but I finally relented at the thought of a hot shower and a night away from the mosquitoes.
By the time we reach Reds Meadow, my ankles and feet are screaming at me. The arches of my feet are unusually high, causing my feet to pronate (rotate inward) with each step. This, in turn, puts pressure on my ankles and knees. No conventional shoe insert has been enough to remedy the problem. As I hobble into Reds, I vow to schedule a podiatrist visit upon returning home.
I have set a new personal record today with this 26-mile distance. HP emerges from the Reds Meadow store with celebratory Corona as we wait for the shuttle to arrive. I have only finished half of my beer when the shuttle pulls up, so I chug the rest and hop in.
Surrounded by showered, clean people not covered in dust, bug spray, sunscreen and sweat in pancaked layers, I feel a little self conscious. We stand at the front of the bus in hopes of keeping our trail grime a bit more to ourselves.
We reach town, drop our stuff in our hotel room, and walk to the brewery to claim our much anticipated Epic IPAs before they close for the evening. We also order waffle fries and a huge Caesar salad. It tastes like a dream.
Back at the room, I wage war on the dust and grime covering my body. The hot shower water runs over my skin, through my hair, feeling like pure magic as it washes the dust away, making me feel new. No matter how much I shower and scrub at my body, more dust emerges. Finally, I give up and, feeling refreshed, turn in for the night.
Day 22
Zero day in Mammoth Lakes/Reds Meadow Resort
0 miles
August 26, 2019
We spend the first half of our zero day running errands in town. I sit outside a coffee shop talking with Ryan by phone and enjoying a latte and breakfast burrito as I wait for our laundry in the laundromat next door. HP buys new shoes at the local mountaineering supply store; his trail runners have begun to fall apart.
We sit outside the town center Starbucks as I call a close vet friend to say hi. She tells me how much she misses me and that she is struggling with something so so hard. As I listen, I feel mounting sadness and guilt that I’m not by her side to support her through this, not even reachable by phone. I tell her how much I love her, and that I’ll be off trail soon.
By mid afternoon, we have finished up in town and catch a shuttle back to Reds Meadow, where we have a cabin reserved for the night. By walking all the way here from Pocket Meadow yesterday, we arrived a day ahead of ourselves and today get to enjoy a full zero to rest.
My ankles have started to protest the long miles with a growing ache, so this zero day is very needed. My exceedingly high arches, only partially supported by even the best insoles, rotate inward with each step. This, in turn, rotates my ankles and knees inward with my body (and pack) weight bearing down at an unconventional angle. The result is chronic knee problems and a new, worrisome ankle soreness growing more persistent by the day out here. I resolve to finally see a podiatrist upon returning home.
Once we reach Reds, HP and I pick up our last resupply buckets and spread them out over our cabin beds to sort through. Predictably, we once again have way too much food. We set aside oatmeal, mashed potatoes, snickers bars, extra dinners and more, half filling a paper grocery bag destined for the hiker box.
On the way to the box, we come across a picnic table of fellow JMT hikers and offer up the donated food. Excited for anything different than what they’ve been eating for the past weeks, the hikers eagerly paw through the offered bag.
Once the food-claiming frenzy subsides, we all sit and swap trail stories until dinner time. Dinner for me consists of Fritos, candy orange slices and Crown Regal Apple fresh from my resupply. I share these treasures with my new friends as we continue chatting. I learn that two of them, a young engineering couple from Chicago, are leaving the trail today. They had planned to make it all the way to Yosemite but ran out of time. Now, the husband has to go back to work, they explain in dejected tones.
A solo hiker in her mid-twenties tells us how she came to this trail from her home in New York City, where she is a ballerina dancer. Two German men, a father and son, set aside nearly four weeks to hike the JMT before returning home. They are finding themselves very ahead of schedule, however, and don’t yet know what they’ll do with their remaining time before catching pre-arranged flights back to Germany. I share a bit of my apple whiskey and marvel at how quickly they got to this point on the trail.
Once the sun has begun to set in earnest, we retreat to our cabin for an early bedtime.
