LOCALadk Magazine

LOCALadk 37 my pack was. Generally my carrying weight is 23 lbs. 13 lbs. base weight and 10 lbs. of food/water at any given time. After the eight-day fill, my bear canister was easily 20+ pounds. It was heavy. Initially moving with it was difficult, feeling my shoulders and body rock back. I worried about how this weight would impact my progress through five massive passes ahead. The more those heavy steps came, the more I thought about comfort. There is no such thing as comfort in the wild. The air is never warm enough or cool enough, the sun is too hot, the lakes are too cold, the wind is too strong, the pollen induces sneezing and wheezing, the mosquitoes swarm, the rain soaks through, the sun will set soon, so you must make a home and get in, but the moon shining in is too bright, and the creatures crack branches just beyond your paper thin walls which crack open fears in your head. Finding comfort in the discomfort is the only way to accept what is lacking. The discomfort soon becomes the comfort. You begin to crave it, you become part of it. All of the dirt and sweat caked on like a new skin. You belong. Entering Kings Canyon National Park I found a steady rhythm — small strides — deep breathes — no expectations. I climbed, and climbed until the first glimpses of morning sun were beginning to penetrate the forest canopy. I talked to myself, whispering words of encourage- ment. Evolution Valley was buzzing with wildlife and waterfalls. I found myself skipping rhythmically down the steep embankment without thought of my heavy load of food. There are just some days that stay with you. The hike out of Evolution Valley up and over Muir Pass (11,955") was one of them. We had all built it up in our heads as "the first big pass". It solidified to our "tramily" the feeling that we could really do this. At the summit stood Muir Hut, a stone, cottage-like shelter erected by volunteers for emergency storm use. A forged metal placard on the outer wall read: "To John Muir — Lover of the Range of Light." With views south to another chain of deep blue lakes and sky tickling peaks in all directions, I truly understood what John Muir meant by "The Range of Light." Two-miles above sea level. The strength of the unobstructed sun seared my face. I savored the warmth. I was free. As we descended from the pass, we encountered our first substantial day of classic High Sierra weather. Afternoon thunder and lighting, on-and-off rain, and a classic evening hail storm. The vertical relief of the mountains was growing. I felt smaller than ever before, staring out into the humbling scene behind. The peaks were like gar- goyles protecting a fairy-tale castle. Amongst these gargoyles, we set up beside the Palisade Lakes. The afternoon was spent swimming, playing mini Uno (that I found in the hiker boxes… score) , and ultimately enjoying one of our best campsites yet on trail. Mather Pass (12,068') was next. I come up huffing and puffing, sweat plastering my hair to my forehead, my steps keeping in time with whatever song is playing through my headphones (a lot of Earth, Wind & Fire this time around). The granite Sierra views were sweet, intoxicating, horrendously fantastic. Please sir, can I have another? We woke up at Marjorie Lake and went to bed at Rae Lakes. Our tramily had gotten into a wonderful rou- tine of planning our camp spots around alpine likes. Between the lakes, we climbed Pinchot Pass (12,130'). The next morning brought us out of Rae Lakes, looking up at a beautiful view (and reflection) of the "Painted Lady." Soon after came a crazy intimidating scramble up a scree field to Glen Pass (11,926').

• Cover