The day I ate all our peanut butter

When you walk, all you can do is think. As you know, for the first part of the journey, all I could think about was how miserable I was. So I tried to think of different things. John and I would recount stories, talk about our families and politics, list the movies we’d choose if we could only watch five for the rest of our lives. (Mean Girls, of course. The Philadelphia Story probably. Does Lord of the Rings count as one movie or three?)

By this point in our journey, my mind had accumulated countless random thoughts. (Duh.) Each time a clever or interesting one popped into my head, I would remind myself throughout the day in hopes of remembering that night so I could scribble it in my journal. Soon, my journal entries became a series of lists. Be proud, Rory Gilmore.

When John Muir was especially moved by “grand alpine vistas or the sight of firelight reflecting off lofty silver firs,” he would dance around shouting “Look at the glory! Look at the glory!” His friends refused to join in. (The Life and Adventures of John Muir by James Mitchell Clarke)

Day 15: LeCont Meadow to lower Palisade Lake

Things I’ve Noticed:

• Or, things I couldn’t help but notice: A deer kept circling our campsite last night. Deer as I drink my tea. Deer as I brush my teeth. Deer inspects tent; deer makes eye contact; deer walks straight towards me then turns away. Is it curious or domesticated? Can you domesticate deer? Oh dear.
• Many granite faces have black teardrops down the side. I suspect it’s from water runoff, but I think these mountains have had much to mourn over their long, long lives.
• Water flows so clearly here.
• I still haven’t figured out the right, “environmentally conscious” way to spit after brushing my teeth. (“You don’t spit. You spray.” -John)
• Flowers say hi to me as I pass. Sometimes I say hi back.
• I think I’m good at zoning out. This would explain my high pain tolerance, ability to ignore bug bites, and, mostly, ability to go down imaginary paths when the real one couldn’t be more obvious.
• I’ve lost weight. (Don’t tell my mom!)
• I miss music so much.
• I also miss my mom.

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I didn’t journal about Day 16 until Day 17 because Day 16, I wanted to die.

At 10:30 a.m. on Day 17, I lay on a rock under the scorching sun, solidified my tan lines (which would last until… now) and did nothing. It was a much-needed break—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Day 16: Palisade Lake to some junction

The Golden Staircase: We’d heard stories from fellow hikers. The name says enough. This path, leading up to Mather Pass, was steep and seemingly endless, but we beasted it. The night before, we’d camped near Ines and the boys, who spent a good part of the afternoon trying to fish in Palisade Lake with a tent. They were unsuccessful—although they swear they almost caught one.

Originally, we had planned to cross Pinchot the next day and meet up at the junction with Andy and Rob, John’s brother and friend who were resupplying us and hiking the rest of the JMT with us. We crossed Mather Pass early and decided, spur of the moment, to take on Pinchot Pass and see how far we got. So we kept trekking.

As we went up Mather Pass, I kept thinking, this should not be as hard as it is. I mean, we just went up the Golden Staircase. This should pale in comparison. I couldn’t understand why I was trudging even slower than usual and needing so many breaks. Our friends were a happy sight at the top of Mather Pass. They were an excuse to dawdle at the top and enjoy an especially long break. We headed down before them and hiked and hiked, and hiked. I didn’t ask John how far the junction was out of fear that it was far. As we descended lower, I kept hoping to be happily surprised by the junction sign. It never came.

I was tired. Frustrated. I could only think about my misery and how much I wanted to lie down. Why did John keep hiking? What kind of sadist was he? Was he also a masochist or did he just feel no pain? The sun crept down to the west. The junction was always just out of reach. I tried so hard to hold my tears back. We would never stop. We’d be hiking in the dark. My poor, poor feet. I wanted to collapse, but I couldn’t get the courage to tell him that I was not okay. I was dangerously teetering on the verge of a break-down.

It was about 8 p.m. when I cracked. I demanded a break. I sat down on a rock, tried to stop the tears (stupid coping methods) and gouged gluttonous amounts of peanut butter straight from the jar with John’s spoon. I vented at him, told him how tired I was, complained that we never talked, told him to stop telling me to do things. Then he threw up his hands and said something about how he was flipping out because without warning, after two and a half weeks of no similar behavior, I broke down and started eating all our peanut butter. “We might need that peanut butter!” he said. I told him “sometimes I’m going to break down” and he said, “We only have four days left. How many more times do you plan to break down?” He told me I should let him know if I need a break or warn him if I’m near a mental/physical collapse.

… He was right. (About some of it.) As hard as it is for me to admit when I’m not okay, I realized it wasn’t fair to him.

I was so angry at him but I was glad he vented right back at me (with wildly waving hands). He put things into perspective. The situation was so ludicrous it was comical. I still think it was inevitable. About a mile later, we reached the junction and set up camp in the dark. The next day, I looked at the junction sign and calculated our previous day’s mileage: 20.3 miles.

Day 17: some junction, all day

A “zero day” is what they call it. A day where you don’t hike at all. I tried out several different rocks, on which I lay all day soaking up the sun, journaling, reading, and listing. Andy and Rob would arrive that afternoon. Ines and the boys hiked past us. We said our goodbyes, knowing we wouldn’t see each other until summit day.

Things I Crave:

• a milkshake, from Dairy Queen perhaps. I don’t know the last time I had a Dairy Queen shake but that is exactly what I want
• a massage from my friend Winona and her fingers of steel
• a cheeseburger and pancake at Whitney Portal. (The pancakes are supposed to be twice the size of your face.)
• music!!!
• friends
• a cold shower (right now, because it’s hot)
• a hot shower tonight when it’s cold
• the beach and its warm, lazy sand
• toilets, beds, and other such luxuries
• cheese and peanut butter. As if our diet for the past two and a half weeks hasn’t consisted of this.
• a peach
• just food. lots and lots of food

I wandered over to a nearby campsite full of tents and struck up a conversation with two British blokes. One of them shared my name—Laurie—and I’m sad I don’t remember the other one’s name. When I met them, they were making tea. How British is that. They were running out of tea bags and had begun to share one bag between them both. We talked about the passes we’d just crossed and Laurie showed me a huge gash covering his right calf. Going up Muir Pass, he’d postholed into the rushing water beneath the snow.

They’d both served in the British military and gone adventuring around the world. They told me about hiking in Europe, which apparently doesn’t require carrying such heavy packs. The JMT was quite difficult for their 50- or 60-year-old limbs, they explained. With all the weight from both their bodies and their packs (60 or 70 lbs each, they said), they postholed very easily, hence Laurie’s Muir Pass souvenir. We talked about healthcare in the U.S. and Great Britain, and about what I wanted to do with my life. They were sarcastic, chatty, and wonderful. I wanted to adopt them into my family.

Rob, John, and I eye-feasting off our food resupply. photo courtesy of Andy

I left them with a promise to return. When I reached our tent, I saw Rob and Andy had just arrived and brought with them an entire grocery store! It was Christmas! They had peanut butter and Honey Bunches of Oats and trail mix and tea and cheese and lots and lots of oatmeal. They even brought luxury food that would only last a few days. That night we feasted on sausage, potatoes, Ramen, hot chocolate, and marshmallows.

Things I am Happy with Here

• my sleeping bag (my cocoon!)
• nature noises
• brushing my teeth in front of a majestic peak every morning and night
• waking up early and not dreading getting out of bed. “Look at the glory! Look at the glory!” -JM

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