Alta/Kaweah/Eagle Scout

I stayed with my parents a for a week or so, and made preparations for my upcoming trip to South America. I was getting antsy, and Matt proposed one more trip: climbing Mt. Kaweah which was both of our final emblem peak. We had an ambitious plan of climbing six emblem peaks in three days time.

I took the bus to Santa Cruz, and joined Matt and Lexi for a delicious lunch. We left that afternoon, and soon were driving up the windy mountain roads of the Western Slope.

We found a can-spot for the night just off of the highway. A splitting headache and piercing sore through overtook me, and I barely slept at all, choking on the cold mountain air. Finally morning mercifully came, and I admitted to Matt that I would not be joining him on the trip after my disastrous night. I offered to hang out in his car, while he went to climb the peaks. “Let’s get to the trailhead and see how you feel”, he told me, and we drove on down the road to Lodgepole.

Permits were only available at the Giant Forest Museum, so we had to drive ten needless miles to pick up a piece of paper. I was grateful for the extra rest, as I was very nervous about the prospect of shouldering a pack and heading off into the cold October morning.

When we returned to the car and had our permit sorted, Matt and I discussed the trip and I agreed to give the first few miles a try, but I knew that I would likely be back at the car shortly.

The initial gentle climb out of Lodgepole felt tremendously difficult. Each step and breath were a battle. A partial eclipse began to envelop the forest. I was grateful for any excuse to rest. I held up a ritz cracker and hazily looked at the crescent shaped shadows it cast.

While I had told myself I would join Matt for the first few miles, I was too stubborn to head back to the car. The plan became that I would join him for Alta peak and reevaluate. I thought about how I had beaten Lyme, how tough that was too hike through, how I had pushed through multiple days of pouring rain on the AT and while hitchhiking across Canada. I can push through this cold and a night of no sleep I told myself and I did. We shed our packs and began to make progress up towards Alta Peak. At the top, we met a gentleman with a fishing pole, and took a much needed break, admiring the mountains and lakes thousands of feet below.

As we got back to our packs, a new plan began to form. We would cut out two of the six peaks because a fire was burning over there anyways. If we could just get to Hamilton Lake tonight, then we would be in good position to try for Kaweah the next day. After that, we could split up on the way back if Matt wanted to try for a few additional peaks.

The final 1,000 feet of climbing to Hamilton Lake were quite difficult, but finally we arrived just before sunset to the lake we were hoping to have lunch at. I once again, apologized to Matt for the delay, but of course he didn’t mind as we watched the sun’s last rays of light grace the mountains above before making its nightly journey out over the Pacific.

Fall’s nights are so mercifully long, and gave me a chance to recover a bit. I was still feeling a bit under the weather the next morning, but overall I was feeling much better. I shared the good news with Matt as we set out towards Kaweah gap. The plan was to set up a basecamp just past the gap and go for Mt. Kaweah with just our daypacks.

Soon, we were setting out up the 4,000 foot climb up Mt. Kaweah. I definitely slowed Matt down, but not as much as the previous day. We glanced up nervously at Black and Red Kaweah, knowing we would be attempting both of those intimidating peaks in the next few years. As we neared the summit and the air thinned, I again leaned on all of the miles I had hiked that year, and the month I had spent in the Sierra. Fifty steps then a break, fifty steps then a break, twenty steps then a break, over and over and finally I was on the summit. Matt and I celebrated finishing the Emblem list, both touching the summit at the same time, and accomplishment nearly seven years in the making. We gazed out from our airy perch in the middle of the range and reminisced on many of the peaks we had climbed together. The loose scree had been tedious on the way up, but allowed for some scree skiing on the descent. We got back to the trail and hiked the last few miles back to our tents. Soon enough I was lying on my sleeping pad entering another long night of deep sleep.

On the third day, we climbed Eagle Scout Peak, and enjoyed the precipitous views down towards precipice lake, some two thousand feet below. The original plan was for Matt to take a longer route back over Mt, Silliman, but all of the break time from me being slow had lead him to exhaust his rations prematurely. Luckily, the sickness I had surpassed my appetite, so we had enough food between the two of us to get back to the car via the trail. I was starting to feel better, and we made great progress heading down the moutain and then down the trail. Soon we were flying down the flat and well graded High Sierra Trail. I slipped back into the rhythm from the thousands of miles I had hiked on the AT that summer and the miles passed quickly.

We camped one more night a few miles from the car, were treated to one final sunset on the Sierra, and drove back to Santa Cruz the next morning. I felt that I had truly hiked all I could that fall in the High Sierra, and longed for winter to come and go quickly so that I could return for more.

My film (about half got ruined when I accidentally exposed the roll to light 😦 )