Can we ever know fully in the moment, what those moments mean? Can we ever grasp the meaning of eras as they are being formed? Will all of life be understood in reflection? In looking back to 2015, a distinct era reveals itself and it has been only through reflecting on that year (some written about in this blog) that I can see now how experientially rich it was and how important so many of the adventures we got into during that time were for the formation of a distinctive era. I now present one last bloggish peak into twenty fifteen, this time coming at you all again from the high Sierra. A few weeks after we completed our successful summit of Whitney, we ventured out into the John Muir wilderness just above Mammoth with a smallish crew and a vague-ish itinerary.
Our group convened as close as we could get to the trail head (we had to ride a shuttle to our actual starting point) and Jared exuded stoke as we all prepared to get lost/weird in the wilderness
His hip strap supports accentuated his girth beautifully
With his pack back on the ground, Jared considers the implications of hoisting an overly heavy pack onto his back and carrying it for many miles into the wilderness.
Melissa was reasonably worried about the prospect of Jared carrying that extra weight (as we all were, with the exception of Jared)
Map talk aboard our shuttle to the trailhead
And then, an auspicious start to the hike, with this gaggle of llamas meeting us upon our first steps out into the wilds. The lady who was llama wrangling said that she had just returned from a little over a month's worth of back country living with these gorgeous beasts, thus giving us all a goal to live up to for our later lives
Closer
and closer still to these gentle beasts of burden
Melissa gets the film angles
Then, our first water break very shortly after we began the trail
That they are
Garcia-Vielma brain trust
At long last, we were off
With our late-ish start and languorous pace, we decided to call it a day a few scant hours into our hike that first day and ducked off the trail a bit and backpacking hammocked the golden hour away (we scoffed at such a luxury when we first heard tell of it, but were soon won over by the comfort of it and now have such luxuries as part of our backpacking quiver)
Breath to sleep upon
Water bucketed (another at first dubious backpacking item that we were soon won over by and now proudly call part of our essential backpacking gear) and ready to be filtered
Home
Martin and his aluminum fire ring cooking contraption
Vielmas beholding thier food-warmth source
Then to work on a rock circle
And the fires within
Never not mesmerized by it
Woke up and encountered this thing again. One day, we will make its length our home for the better part of a year
Blue green white and Melissa thrusting into the morning hours at the beginning of our Minaret-viewing party. As we've experienced in the past hiking in that region, it doesn't take long for the scenery to change and become absolutely breathtaking, as evidenced by the photos below, a scant few miles into the hike
Stunned around every bend the closer we got to them
Took some time to reflect downward among all of the upward gazing
Jared, heavy blissing lakeside
Hiked above it
and the shimmering majesty thereof
The best of the bunch
Wood works foot path
Then up through there
Our original intention was to find Altha Lake the first day, but it proved more elusive than that and took us well into the second day to scramble up some barely-there paths to finally lay our eyes upon it. An isolated gem to behold and to call our home for the next few days
We settled into a cramped space for the first night at that incredibly remote locale
Readying another fire ring
Jared muscles some more kindling for our sustained warmth
A cup of something and a device to keep your eyes warm
This was an eye opening trip in many ways, not the least of which was the clutch move of bringing corn kernals to pop. Also, we came to appreciate all of that weight Jared
Peace on earth
Fire: normal
Fire: plus kerosene
Day two at Altha Lake, day three of the hike, we decided to switch sides in search of a better campsite. The clarity of the lake in greens and blues was an added bonus of this scouting mission
Had to get up and over some more barely-there paths and some uncharted rockways
But find a better spot, we most certainly did
Usually reserved for sleeping upon, we took our mats out onto the icy-cold lake herself
and settled into th'float
Returned from a bracingly cold sleeping mat ride, Jared flexed his excitement
Then it was the Trager's turn
My porcelain skin reflecting the sun it rarely see in that wide of exposure. Some shocking whites to behold by all, I'm sure
Trying really hard not to touch what was recently ice
The beginnings of an alarming smoke plume in the distance, disturbing our idle
Someone was able to find service and called the park service, who put our minds at ease regarding what we were beginning to think of as a forest fire that would soon overtake it (it didn't). We opted to spend the rest of the day at this remote alpine lake, lounging and fishing in the sun
and hiking above it all
Rock perch above our lakeside resort/respite
Checking to see how much sunlight we have left, using some sort of fisty technique I'm still not quite sure I understand
Skipp form
And then my first official fishing session, with the ever present apocalypse cloud in the background, trying to pay it no mind
Casted out quite a few times over the hour or so that I was stationed lakeside, with no interest whatsoever from the plentiful fish that swam round my lure. I announced to Melissa that "this is my last time" and threw it on out into the lake, half paying attention, ready to be done. Then, a strong pull on my line and a surge of panic in my gut as I realized what it all meant.
Melissa, who grew up fishing with her family, was yelling instructions at me as I reeled in my catch. Super surreal having our resident vegan yelling instructions regarding how to kill this animal I was yanking out of its beautiful home. Martin spotted that I had caught something and sprinted over from our campsite to help in the process, also yelling instructions at me.
Dangle flop, well away from the water as per M's instructions
Facing future food
The extent to which the burn cloud grew, thankfully not travelling any closer to us
Rainbow ring above us, another auspicious sign/blessing upon our hike. Llamas, fish and rainbows
Natural icebox for our fresh kills. The majority of these were caught by Martin
This fine gentleman
Meal prep station log
Trout decap
"You eat meat, you don't not have to do this, Ted" the refrain went from Melissa as I hesitatingly proceeded with gutting my catch
Martin right behind me, guiding various cuts and freaking out (in a good way) about the colors of the innards of these creatures raised in the most pristine, wild and clean of surroundings
Washing away th'guts
Fully decapped
Foil wrapped and coal cooked
Utter stoke at our day's accomplishment
Even more so upon consuming them. I've never felt so thankful to my meal
Fish-less section
Further proving the necessity of camping hammocks
Evening sky, forest fired
Third leg in the dying light
Although finding Altha Lake was difficult but so very worth it in the end, we decided to push our luck on the way back out and followed what we thought to be a trail to cut some distance/time off our hike back to the trail head. What transpired shortly after making that decision, though, turned into quite the harrowing experience for us all. Here you can find Emily contemplating the way down that we had chosen for ourselves, understandably unsure
Here's a better look at the pitch of this hill/mountainside/non-trail that we had chosen for ourselves. It was like hiking down a double black diamond ski run. We had to make our own switchbacks and be very careful with each step as it became clear that were we to fall, it would be a long time before we stopped falling
An even better vantage of our then challenge
A quick peak back from which we came
Melissa getting real low
We all made it down safely, thankfully. From the photo above to the one below, there was a lot of almost vertical ground to cover that I didn't take any photos of due to snapping fully into survival mode at a certain point. When we finally made our exit from the ski run we hiked down, we took a look back at what we just came down, pictures doing the sheer terror of it all no justice, but that dampen our joy in the least at being alive.
Proud lady
The rest of the hike back I didn't take many pictures, here's one of us asphalt hiking
395 southward, ash sky sunset
Keough pit stop, mercifully un-peopled
Dusky landscapes as we sped south toward our chosen, teeming megalopolis. And thus, our reportage from the 2015 era comes to a close. Stay tuned as we try (and probably fail, judging by the rate at which these get published) and catch up on 2016 adventures.
