#theopensourcejourney

Crabtree Meadow is the fork on the PCT where most hikers will take a side trail that goes up Mount Whitney- the tallest peak in the lower 48. It is a nice peak to “bag" when you’re already so close and in that great shape. I didn’t want to do it though. I didn’t care a rats ass about it being the tallest mountain- in fact I was almost resentful that it was so close to the trail. If it was farther out I wouldn’t have been expected to do it at all. I chose a campsite away from most hikers and took a day off to nurse my feet. Look for the video blog from that time at the bottom of this post.

The next day I walked up to Guitar Lake and dozed off with the marmots looking over it’s infinity pool’esque edges over to the beautiful mountain landscape. It got me thinking though. How could I be so miserable amidst such beauty and doing exactly what I wanted. What did I hate about this? I hated being the slowest hiker out there. I hated that I felt it was dangerous for me to go up Whitney alone when everyone else were bludgeoning up and down. I hated that physically it seemed like I was getting beat down much more than everyone else. I hated that everyone else was so upbeat. As much as we’ve celebrated "Eric the Eel”, I didn’t want to be known for that on the PCT. I felt more broken spiritually than I’d felt at any point on the hike. The thing about being in such surroundings though was that unlike when I was working in a cubicle I couldn’t pretend that my problems lied in my circumstances anymore. If my feet hurt that bad all I had to do was to take a day off at the lake. If I hated that I was the slowest all I had to do was ignore other’s speeds and remember why I had started the hike in the first place. If I just focused on the fact that I didn’t really think Whitney was safe considering my faith in my own ice condition hiking, I could just mentally ignore Whitney was around. But I couldn’t do any of them back then- I didn’t feel the freedom to do those things. I knew I had to reclaim that freedom.

And it was a reminder- I already knew all those lessons intellectually, but every time I’d see a thruhiker overtake me or talk to me about a 25 mile day I’d internally cringe. Something inside made me feel like I was failing. And then secretly, as if doing it out of sight of my intellectual side, I’d unconsciously push the bar on my target for the day or that session. If earlier I was happy with a goal of 16 miles, I’d suddenly covertly start aiming for 24 and then feel bummed when I did an actually respectable 20 mile day. Why couldn’t I keep my picture of what I wanted for myself isolated and even protected from what others were doing? Why was I so afraid of losing at a game that I wasn’t even playing? 

I realized I needed to stop and reset. To become more conscious and reclaim the freedom to do my own thing. I spent the day hanging around camp forcing myself to talk to other hikers, to feel the excitement they felt for the impending Whitney summit and still be clear about what I wanted. I sat around, I cooked, walked a few miles, spoke to Mount Whitney and told her there was going to be one less hiker on her that year. After two "zeroes" at Crabtree Meadows I finally headed out. I intentionally walked slow, conscious of every step. I looked around and told myself I had the freedom to stop and marvel or read when I felt like it. I’m not sure if it was coincidence or if it was the heightened awareness just after you learn a lesson but that stretch from Crabtree onwards was the satisfactory of my PCT hike. I remember camping that evening- I had started at 11am, had walked very slowly and only stopped because of a storm and I’d still done about 10.5 miles. I made my new target for the Sierras about 12 miles. It wasn’t so much about having low expectations as not raising them while being disconnected with myself and influenced by external factors. That night two miles from the highest point on the PCT as I stepped outside my tent and looked out to the peaks and the moon in an almost Martian landscape(see picture above) I could feel my insides smiling back at me.