Day: 297

Well now the spreadsheet has gone to hell. After the first four miles uphill this morning, Mom whispered, with tears in her eyes “I am not going to be able to finish this…” It hung in the air like a verdict.

It wasn’t the fact that she wasn’t enjoying herself, but her body has just quit and refused to move on. If we were able to keep the same pace we’ve been at, with the same amount of food resupplies, she could probably keep taking those little steps until Judgment day. The problem she is facing, is that the day after tomorrow we start the last 110 miles of the JMT which has no place to resupply for 10 days. Which means our packs are full of 10 days worth of food (as opposed to the 4 at a time we’ve been carrying), a roughly 12lbs gain over when our packs were full leaving Reds Meadow.

Now, she could probably manage this amount of weight over level ground for 11 miles a day, but she was coming to a realization that it would be physically impossible (in her current shape) to make it consistently over 11 and 12 thousand foot passes. Then the real problem would set in; if she couldn’t make a daily average of 11 miles we would run out of food before reaching Whitney. Not good.

She looked at me and asked: “If I quit are you going to go on?”

My first words were “Of course.” Thinking I could pack light, move fast, and and plow through those 110 miles in about 8 days. Mike decided that he would stay with my mother, whatever she chose.

An air of anxiety hung around us the rest of the afternoon as we slowly hiked a couple more miles to find a place to camp. My mind was racing with thoughts of solo trekking. Mom was moving slower than ever and slipped twice amongst large rocks on the trail, and Mike was constantly inquiring if she was alright.

The weather fit our moods and the clouds were threatening a wet evening and night. After the first few drops hit us as we pitched our tents and Mom climbed into her tent for an early evening nap. I sat around reading and thinking of the days to come. After a while I started dinner of freeze dried chicken and dumplings. Mom got up feeling slightly refreshed and as I served up dinner, Mike headed off a few feet away to put on his thermals…

Sitting around our circle of stones as I dished up dinner, Mom looks over my shoulder and her eyes go wide, and quietly says. “There’s a bear.”

“What?” I asked, barely hearing her over the nearby river’s gurgling.

Wide eye she says again. “Bear.”

I turn and not twenty five feet behind me, there he was, staring at my chicken and dumplings.

Now, this is no little bear, not the cute and cuddly looking cubs that inspired teddy bears to be created; this is the 350lbs-400lbs guy who could rip me limb from limb without breaking a sweat (that is, if bears sweat; a fact which I am unsure of). The king of the forest, able to eat children alive and bring down a deer. This bear staring at my chicken and dumplings is the apex predetor of the North American continent.

And he’s looking me in the eyes as if to say “Is dinner ready?”

I glance around looking for reinforcements; Mom still looks stunned and Mike is standing there in his briefs with one foot in his thermals, still completely oblivious to our guest.

I was on my own.

Rob vs. the Bear

A true match for us both.

My mind feels like a pinball machine as I try to recall what I am supposed to do in this situation.

“Go Away Bear!” I yell and take a few steps towards him. He returns my stare unphased.

“Go Away” I yell again, and take a few more aggressive steps towards him.

By this time Mom has found her courage and Mike, his pants. They join me in the yelling and hand waving.

The bear retreats a few steps and stares back at us all with a “You’re not worth the trouble…” look. A slow walk up towards the lake for his evening stroll and a few glances back were the last we saw of him. He left us with a hot meal and veins flooded with adrenaline.
Bringing to a conclusion a day of one of the oddest mix of emotions of “Mom Says...” so far.

Day: 295

It started out being a single short pass up from Ruby Lake (where I was up for some sunrise pictures), then a supposed 10 miles of downhill.

Then the second pass appeared on our 3rd mile, then the third… by the fourth Mom and I stopped believing about Mikes mysterious rantings about this downhill into Devils Postpile National Monument.

After 14 miles we wandered (Mom staggered) into the campground at Devils Postpile National Monument; only to find the backpackers campground occupied by the CCC (California Conservation Corp.) and closed to us.  We shelled out another $14 for a regular spot, in which I set up my tent on the spot to park our car (which we didn’t have) because it was the flattest.

I proceeded to receive numerous mosquito bites on my forehead to go with the blisters on my toes…

Day: 294

Didn’t do much today; after yesterdays sunset debacle we weren’t quite ready for an early start. A two cup of coffee morning (as they were beginning to be called) and a post 10 am departure.

A couple of miles & 700ft got us through Island Pass and down to Thousand Island lake for a freezing swim and mashed potato lunch.  A couple more miles got us to an amazing campsite and an eventful afternoon of laundry.

In other exciting news; I am the proud recipient of my first blister today! Good Times!

Ansel Adams once said something along the lines of:

“There is nothing good to photograph more than fifty feet from the car.”

My feet are starting to agree with him…