A Breakdown

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.