TRT

As the imminent relocation of the parents Trager, from Visalia to South Lake Tahoe, drew closer and closer, we set out to get to know "New Visalia" in a deeper way. We decided to familiarize ourselves with the lake/region on foot, circumnavigating the lake herself through the wilderness that surround it via the Tahoe Rim Trail. The idea of doing a "thru hike" long percolated in our collective imagination, especially after our little taste of it the year before (although looking back on that experience in the context of the experience described at length/nauseum below, I don't think I could label it as anything close to thru hiking. Thus is the blessing/curse of hindsight) and even though we put a lot of work into the planning of this nearly two hundred mile hike, we were unsure and excited-nervous to embark on our first true thru hike (I don't know what the official definition of a "thru hike is" or why people spell through the wrong way, but I've certainly written about it enough already in this introduction. It seems, though, that anything past a week should count). We found our way to our car dumping spot/trail head at the Kingsbury South Trailhead and did one last check on the provisions for the next nearly two weeks we had squirreled away in our bags/homes for that extended lake stroll.

To get to our trail head, we passed by a chairlift I've taken in countless winters past

Then, we arrived

Not exactly sure what we were in for

But all clean and loaded down with water and food for the next week or so

Banana pocketed and some harsh black tea thermosed, twas time to walk

Mirrored signpost at our first of many log squat/backpack adjustment stations

Some of the miles before us. Anything past twenty miles was really difficult to comprehend there at the beginning of our hike

Pick a way and eventually you will arrive back at this same spot

Chairs I've sat on plenty of times, but never above such greenery

Then we pushed out of bounds into places unknown

Appreciated some ridgework

Then found this plaque on the backside of a large granite slab. Don't know who Big Bob was, but this situation put it into my mind that this is how I want to be memorialized. First, harvested for science, then returned to dust and sprinkled somewhere meaningful and finally some vital statistics about my life immortalized in bronze and placed somewhere that can only be visited by hiking many miles into a meaningful back country location

Climbing up, far above the summer browns of the Carson Valley

Short term goals came into view (the signage of, at least)

we ventured towards it atop the forgiving softness of some sandy stretches

and spotted some color and shape distractions, trailside

Then, we arrived at Star Lake, our first plotted stop of the hike. Took some time to air the feet out and check on our progress for the day via this tome

The lake herself, and life, uhh, finding a way on islands of wood

and granite

Near where we plopped our bags, some boat carnage to consider

A scant thirteen or so miles into that first day, we arrived at our first planned campsite just past Star Lake. Melissa secures some water from the stream right below our camp

And I readied a counterweight for hoisting the food that could not fit into our bearcan

With everything set up for the night (and plentiful sunshine to hang out in, basically the only day of the entire hike that afforded us this luxury), Melissa got to work lecturing about the flora that surrounded us.

And we basked in that sunshine camp-time and the residual jittery excitement of beginning that adventure, thinking of all those miles ahead of us

We read, we walked around the site, we took in the view

and the trees silhouetted to go to bed by

Day two of our twelve dayer 'round the lake, up through this pass (forgot its name. So it goes)

Some really quiet, sacred miles that morning, that would become the norm as we steadily fell into a rhythm of rising before the sun to get started on each days hike

Burl spotting, holy light

Drip-tecture above us

Wood line drawings at our feet

Deep blues and the circle of (tree) life

And yet more drippy rock architecture. Really a non-stop pageant of the best of nature

Some trail curvature 

And naturally framed meadow scenes

Plodding away the miles of smiles. 

Is it through the tree or merely behind?

Rock monster

An investigation of trailside fluff

Life cycles/new normals

A step back to look up at the blackening process

Well constructed specimen indicating we were nearing a well used trailhead

Exited the trail here to connect to it elsewhere, twas not super clear where to go at first. Our way finding could use some work, admittedly. We walked about in a parking lot and down some roads, looking for where we could continue our hike for the day

Eventually, we found our re-entry point

Learning of Da Ow A Ga on our way to Round Lake

Apparently, two large lakes that mean a whole lot to us have an alliance of sorts, but I am not sure how active it is at this point. Maybe they achieved their goals of establishing trails to circumnavigate each lake as well as fend off potential ecological disasters and so the alliance is no longer needed? In our world, unfortunately, there is always reason to remain vigilant, so here's hoping the alliance is still up and running to a certain degree

The first of a few major highways to cross on trail. Look both ways and run

Another bridge, this one

dumped us out into the Big Meadow herself

After foot-falling our way across that quite large meadow, we found this twiggy poofer

And a log peeling apart satisfyingly

Ever closer to Round Lake, our home for that night

Thru hiking (theres that term again) has a special way of teaching one about microclimates and this one we entered just before we found Round Lake was a unique one to behold, full of 

Second day done, time to wash, refill water bottles, hydrate dehydrated foodstuffs

Also, de-grime. Further

and further into that Round Lake

Sunset tea squat to reflect upon that day's trail-hustle and the spoils thereof, as well as what the next few days held in store for us.

The spoils of the hike

Another nite of counter-weighted foodstuffs that we couldn't fit into the bear can

Shortly after I took the photo below, on the morning of the third day on trail, my camera decided to stop working. I tried everything I could think of, with a growing sense of panic, to remedy the situation. Nothing seemed to work and so we plodded onward to the very southern part of the trail with the growing realization that there was a good chance that for the rest of that day we would be hiking without the aid of pictures/an external-brain to help store up all of the breathtaking beauty we were living through for future reference. We held out hope, though, that upon our arrival at Echo Lake, the little store there would have disposable cameras for purchase and we would only be half a day or so un-recorded via photos. With no way of recording the process, other than our own brains/memories, we continued onward from that very southerly point, up toward Echo Lakes, Desolation wilderness and beyond.

Well, no other way besides our brain-cameras and the pen and journal I was carrying around the lake with me. For the rest of day three, all of day four as well as five, we were camera-less. Instead of photos from those jam-packed days, I now present to you the journal that I kept during that time. It will probably not make much sense to those of you reading this, maybe it will. They are the most distilled version of those days spent without a camera that I can present to you now

"dia tres. A quarter turn meetup with a mythic trail to turn right meadow cabin cowbell stillness and the blurry death of leicompanion. Just who is this for? Brain shift to now, then now. Life in its truest form, quite quickly fleeting. Intense greens trailside, flat plods to straight ups, day eleven finishers quite close, surpassing our pre dawn start, our weaknesses revealed through weight. Obsessed by loss of digital stores. Home bags must go on. Failing to plan, bro. Meadows quite in bloom, alight in colors just for those moments. Us time, solely. Granite korridors downward, time on a much different scale, time and patience/endurance my body trail-broken doesnt have. Across the fifty, new perspective on old pathways, picture opportunities abound. Echo lakes, lip balm camera let down, powerchugging a cookies and cream milkshake before a corgi boatride, one to the next (thats howit works apparently. Thru kayak dynamited path out into Anther island kingdom). Really have to get that invisible cover offa my camera somehow. Boat luxury dumped into desolation wilderness granite austerity. Tamarack surprise, lake dunk for tired bones and bro noise right next door for our forty miles into wilderness. Voices carrying right over to log squat camera brain dump. Who are we doing this for? Tahoe Baikal mulling over large parts of trail punish. The spiders work, weaving experience drawing comparisons, making worlds a bit more understandable." 

 "daye fore. Hard to think of its fullness due to the suffering of its particulars. Aloha lakeland magic, enough for some not to be listed. Morning softness light surrounds, more memory pictures to have and to fade. Thanks be to lake camping (illicit) and its hydrating abundance. Now at dirt camp (seventeen miles today, I think) Water woes weighing down. Escaped thunder clouds v(i)elma down into rock, tree, mosquito punish plod. Officially limped past previous b pack record (now at 57 miles total orsomeshit). Dicks hat dicks pass and lake, stunning to behold and not fix digitally. Why are we doing this? Evening suaree with methland hotel worker, walkin stories, campin stories (ilicit). Squat, bird calls and the time to crinkle this forest nite away.

"cinco. Hot sauce monologues am radio out of dirt camp lows. Hobbling resentment and what I thought the truth of all this to be. Storytime from high desert and on trail communities connected. Perhaps trail magic, but our pct fifty is drawing to a close. Lifestyle and codes barely accessed. A lesson on native deep creek usage, Rubicon trailside. Familial ghostings abound. Retracing adventure stories, family lore and memories upon landscapes. Barker pass quasi civilization and a trailrunning hunk spotted. Last few miles always the worst, entering a new directional biome. Atop barker and thru-man with a big stick. Golden brown monolith, feet width trail and that ocean in the mountains at least on display not through trees darkly. Add a few miles for fun at the end of today and more trail magic before we split off from this Pacific Crest rapid fire coffee man on his thirty sixth mile to begin with, weed aura and illuminated landscapes. Hike back up to perf wind camp waterbucket bless un-punish in his whirlwind. All containing worlds. Now hunkered inna tent for first cold, map obsessing. Who are we doing this for? Civilization enough for camera and lip balm salve tomorrow...

Day six, North Fork to Tahoe City, sixteen miles to civilization and the certainty of regaining the power to record our experiences with pictures. Also, the promise that Melissa would be able to de-chap her lips. Tahoe City abided all our needs/wants, as you can see from the excited/crazed look in my eyes below and you'll have to trust me on the moisturized lips of Melissa front

We strolled about, lake level, tracing where our legs had taken us thus far as we peered out round that beautiful, ancient body of water. We walked about the town into the evening, eating what felt like unbelievable portions to our already trail conditioned bodies. We whiled away the hours, adrift in the civilization we walked into. What does one do when on break from walking? Walk more. We then took multiple showers in the hotel room that we booked for that nite (I know, a bunch of cheaters)

The parents Trager came over to meet/resupply us from New Visalia the morning of day seven. We gorged on breakfast burritos and the conveniences of life off-trail (toilet paper, running water, etc)

Then they kindly chauffeured us back to the trailhead

Then headed back down to the other side of the lake, where we would see them again in about a week

Then, we were off to complete the second half of our lake loop. That day's goal, though, was to make it to Watson Lake. Upon looking at the following somewhat anonymous looking disposable camera pictures of what we passed by on trail, I question the necessity of being a camera-wielding hiker. Here are some trail views that I look upon now with the growing realization that perhaps our experiences on the trail were indeed richer without a camera-eye-external brain to lug around with us.

We found found more drip-forms/rock faces to document along the way and...

...I was really lichen that log

Rock notch and stack=film spent

More information to share on the world around us

A common trope of th'thru-hiker, these footy milestones. I felt like it needed to be marked nonetheless. Walking a hundred miles, just one in front of the other. It was unbelievable at the onset of this hike that we could walk that far, but there we were

High above it, looking out

Then down. I know nothing of composition or the tricksy ways of disposable cameras

I do know that there were plentiful wild raspberries to harvest trail-side and we'd stop routinely to get hands-full of the stuff. We flavor bursted our way through the wilds and moments of those days, now lost both to camera, journal and memory. Maybe that's okay

Perhaps I was stuffing m'face with more raspberries here, perhaps I was in prayer in the tree-cathedral

Atop something else, trail bod'd

Ducking into more trees

More silhouettes to consider, as well as the diminishing qualities of plastic cameras. But on display here is also the warm texture of film versus digital to consider

Rock stacks and more footpaths. These are the things of hikes, of brains on hikes

Who wore it better?

M at our campsite for the nite, showing off her pillow-head

Another lake to consider our mortality next to. To filter water from. 

And to take a photo with th'disposable that I finally like

Fields aburst with mules ears the morning of day eight, after our traditional pre-dawn rise. We set the goal to make it to Gray Lake by that evening, via a few miles spur off the official TRT. There is a tendency to be trail purists among certain thru hikers, but we decided to hike our own hike to make our camp/home for the nite a bit off trail after we considered our options and opted for what seemed the much better one

Captured this moment, took it out of the realms of possible forgetting and affixed it to film/pixels

The impulse to take a photo of every single one of these trail markers was put in check by the knowledge that I didn't have endless capacity for such endeavors. I still recorded a few, though

Just before entering the Mount Rose Wilderness, we walked into a rain storm. Really gratifying to use all of the gear that we carried on our back. Here I am in pink, huffing the beginnings of the absolutely overwhelming olfactory feast set before us

Some pathetic rectangles I could capture of the intensely beautiful scene we peered out upon from our perch up in the Mount Rose Wilderness. Storm time dramatics

Yellow bagged and peak-experienced

The tippy top of da oh aga, rain-tentacles reaching down to touch a parched landscape

Another angle of a dood in pink above/within the water cycle of an alpine lake

These things, aerosol-ized. We breathed deeply on our emptied trail. These are the moments that burn brightest in my memory. Obviously no way to fully capture them in words or pictures, so I just leave you with encouragement to get out and experience first hand these glories 

Better pink bag lake picture reportage here

Everyday, the last few miles of the hike felt interminable. The miles that it took to make it to Gray Lake felt the most infinite. Just like all of the other goals we made on this trip, though, all it took to realize them was continuing to put one foot in front of the other

We ducked off the official trail, into the wonderland that contains Gray Lake, reassured by our surroundings the entire way that we had made the right decision. The lake tucked up in there is spring fed, you can trace the path of this spring water heading to the lake below

Near the source of the spring, a view of Melissa's alter ego

We ventured as close to the source as possible so as to not have to filter water for that evening/the next day. What an unbelievable luxury. Twas all worth not being TRT purists for

Our home for the night, no one else around (at least for the time being)

Gray Lake herself, diminutive though she may be. Absolute highlight of a hike of highlights

Thar's the outlet

(hashflag)Sunblessed

Rock hopping in that sun blessing=our evening's entertainment

Here's a selection of a few more photos I am happy with from the temple of Gray

Field after field of mules ears to huff, the morning after. We'd reached day nine

Our moon above more rock stacks

Our author among the rockitecture. Here he is, considering the insane monster howls we heard the night before at our remote outpost, but also reflectively knowing to smile for a photo opp

G-d bless th'trail builders, for these sights and so many others made relatively easy to access

Proud lil

Waterfall smiles

Freeway smiles

Soon enough, we plopped down at our site for th'nite, still well within the greater Mount Rose Wilderness complex. Here's another rare example of getting to our campsite with daylight. Time to read and wait for the first Reno friend visit. Beautiful simplicity I long for now

Said Reno friend come to visit  for the afternoon from her nearby art school job

We can only hope...

Our relative proximity to Reno drew another northern Nevada denizen to trail-visit us

Scaught! Here he is returning some keys to our house that he had stashed for a few years

A burrito blessing from the overflow riches of one of our favorite co-ops in 'merica

It all helped sustain our blast-off into that day of dodging mountain bikers on our way Marlette peak campground, high above Marlette Lake. For now, here's the lumpy right butt cheek of the top of the lake. We'd rounded the horn and were heading south for the last stretch of the hike

Enough of that. We have photos of rocks to get to

Here's the first vision of a double lake, walking through another distinct biome that felt akin to coastal northern California. I suppose its not that far away from coastal northern California

Me and Marlette and you know who

A campsite with a table? (hashflag)superblessed!

Also, well-fresh water accessible via only a few puumps. A nite not filtering water was a good nite

The second to last day on trail, day Ten? Eleven? A Twelve day hike would make this day eleven, but this also connects to the beauty of the thru hike. The felt grip of time starts to loosen a little

South, looking North for one last double lake view

XDEADXMOUSEX

Here we have the absolute worst water experience of the trip. Spooner Lake (avoid it if you can, especially in th'dry years) was much murkier/boggy than the photo below would have you believe. M went in search for a better water source nearby before this, but came back frustrated and empty bottle'd. So, we forced some bog-water through our filter and moved on. The rest of that day, water drinking wise, was such a bummer. Better than no water, I suppose

I remember coming across an older gentleman not long after we left this bench. He spoke about how special that bench has been to him over the years. When we talked to him about our TRT adventure, he got a far off look in his eye and lamented that he had never endeavored to do the entire thing. We encouraged him that it is never too late and then moved on. In thinking about that encounter, our minds inevitably entered the "yolo" territory you would think it would. All snark aside, though, yolo

Here's a view of my high tech anti-sun device purchased specifically for this trip

I think the photo below is from the last day on trail. The nite before, post-bench, we hiked into the night and plopped down trail-side when we couldn't take it anymore. We wanted to ensure a smaller amount of miles for ourselves for that last day. When we at long last plopped down for the night, we robotically set about our evening rituals. When I at long last dug into the bag of BRC I'd saved for that night, I mumbled the pronouncement that it was "the best meal I've ever had in my life." Thru hiking really makes one appreciative for the little things. I wonder how more than two weeks would effect the brain. Hopefully it won't be too long before we find out

We entered some familiar territory. We've driven by this staircase very many times en route to New Visalia. We pressed on with an uneasy mixture of excitement and dread that our hike was quickly drawing to a close

Our excitement won over, though, and shortly after taking the photo below, we took off running toward where we'd begun our hike the better part of two weeks before

Hard to explain the feeling of finding our way back to where we'd begun. Mostly extremely proud of what we had done and thankful for the opportunity. Right on the edge of tears, also.

Took a bow before loading back into the car and finding our way back to the parents Trager

We ducked back into normal(ish) life, feeling a sort of whiplash/cognitive dissonance. We sat and ate food that was prepared for us and indulged in potable water directly from the faucet, fear free

What does one do when one walks for nearly two weeks straight? Keep walking. We've gone over this already.

Although it stands for this, our study of US history present and past has revealed our this country of ours to be quite stpud, indeed. We completed our circumnavigation of that ocean in the sky a few scant months before one of the stpud-est moments of out history, thus destroying the inward focus and clarity we acheived on trail, and replacing it with an outwardly facing hatred. Well, also an inwardly facing dread that we probably need to be on trail for months to cure. Here's looking at you, PCT

We discussed possible futures with uncle Tom on the way to the best chai you'll ever have

If you've a magnifying glass, here's a detailed letter I sent off to a friend that goes through what you just read, in a different form. Heres New Visalia as she is

and in mirror form, pictured below. This inaugural thru hike burns bright in our memories. The daily ritual that we fell into on the trail simplified life to the bare essentials and it was in that ascetic space that we could put the fullness of our attention on the natural world around us. After day five or so, the mileage of each day didn't matter. After those first few days of breaking our bodies in to trail-shape, I could fully understand how long distance hiking becomes the only thing people can seem to do with their precious time here on earth. Other aspects of life seemed to just fade away and we were left with (almost) only the present, which is really all we ever have