“Life is too short to hike ugly places”

-Me…after listening to PCT thru hikers talk about all the dry, dusty, desolate and downright ugly sections they hiked through before arriving in the Sierra Nevada.

The John Muir Trail is hard. Getting from here to there always involves climbing up before climbing down…or climbing down followed by yet another climb up. For many, the high elevations cause significant problems. According to Ranger Rob at Crabtree Meadow, 90% of all evacuations are for altitude related problems. From the southern end, just getting to the start of the JMT requires either STD’s (screaming thighs of death) up from Whitney Portal or a roundabout twenty extra miles. From the northern end, one’s introduction to the JMT is 8,000 feet of climbing from the Yosemite Valley floor to the top of Donohue Pass. The John Muir Trail is hard…but oh, it is so worth it!! As an anonymous writer once penned, “All things excellent are as difficult as rare.” So true!

Almost every day, and often multiple times in a day, a hiker on the JMT is confronted by world class views. After the second day we put a one-per-day limit on the use of the word “Wow!” It really was that spectacular. So in this post, I’d like to let the Sierra Nevada speak for itself.

Under the Stars

We spent twenty-one days on the trail. We hiked every single day. With the exception of two nights spent at Tuolumne Meadow, we laid our heads to rest in a different location every night. You can spend hundreds of dollars a night to sleep in someone else’s bed in a luxury hotel and not come close to matching the luxurious beauty of our open air bedrooms. Here is a sample.

Wildflowers

“There is poety among the wildflowers”

– Rachel Irene Stevenson

Cause and effect. This was an exceptionally good snow year in the Sierra Nevada mountains. Heavy snow meant a late melt. A late melt meant a few extra mosquitoes along the trail. More of an annoyance than the apocalyptic swarms of biblical proportions that many warned of. Late snow also meant late wildflowers in glorious colors and quantities. Sharon took some extra time capturing their beauty.

Rocks and Water

At home I am often annoyed by long haul truckers who feel compelled to compensate for certain…shortcomings… by the overzealous use of engine brakes on a nearby highway. So it was with great joy that almost every night for three weeks I was lulled to sleep by the soothing sounds of creeks, cascades, rivers, rivulets, in other words, moving water of every description. Every day we were treated to boisterous waterfalls, gentle creeks, and everything in between. Every day we were treated to stunning alpine lakes filling broad valleys, or nestled in the intimate embrace of soaring granite peaks. Every day we were surrounded by “rocks” and “water”. Those familiar words are empty and meaningless until they’ve been filled with images and memories from the Sierra Nevada.

“Few places in this world are more dangerous than home. Fear not, therefore, to try the mountain-passes. They will kill care, save you from deadly apathy, set you free, and call forth every faculty into vigorous, enthusiastic action.”

-John Muir “The Wild Muir”

I second John’s sentiment above. Fear not to try the mountain passes. And not just on the John Muir trail. Some fear it is already being loved to death. There are countless lesser know, barely traveled trails all throughout the Sierra Nevada (and all over our country) that will yield similar view and experiences. The important thing is to educate yourself about “leave no trace” camping ethics, equip yourself with what little you need to be comfortable outside – and leave the rest of the gear home. Then get out the door – whether it is for one night or one month. Seize the Carp!

I confess that when it comes to the wilderness I am basically pretty selfish. I want it all for myself. I don’t want to share. Perfection in backpacking has always been to never see another soul. The JMT is NOT that kind of a trip! This is a beautiful area and everyone from long distance through hikers to weekend warriors want a piece of it. I knew that going in. Turns out I was surprisingly OK sharing my wilderness with others. In fact, our favorite moments on the trail involved the friends we started with, and the fascinating people we met along the way. This post is a tribute to some of these amazing people.

“Friendship improves happiness, and abates misery, by doubling our joys, and dividing our grief.” -Marcus Tullius Cicero

At times it can be a challenge to organize a trip involving people with different work and family responsibilities, and from different corners of the country. As was proven once again on this trip – it is so worth it. We laughed with – and at – one another. We shared memories of many years and trips together. We had serious conversations about serious matters and deeply personal issues. We walked in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. Thank you Sharon, Andrew, Cailie and Dan for just being who you are and making yet another trip special. Can’t wait for the next adventure…

“You can make more friends in two months by becoming interested in other people than you can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you.” -Dale Carnegie

Most interactions with other hikers involved just a smile and brief pleasantries while passing on the trail. Occasionally though, we would stop long enough to find out a bit about the people sharing the trail with us. From time to time we would share info or observations, and compare notes and experiences. Here is a small sample of a few of the fascinating people out enjoying the JMT.

The appreciation of this wild place, the enthusiasm and the joy so often expressed by others was infectious. Rather than detract from the experience on the trail, these brief encounters were uplifting and stimulating. Our passing conversations often led to longer discussions as Sharon and I continued on down (or up) the trail. All the meet ups above took place with southbound folks as we passed. From time to time though, circumstances brought us together with fellow northbound travelers. Several of these chance encounters led to some deeper connections.

We first met Kirk and Brittney on our way to resupply at Muir Trail Ranch (MTR). At first we leapfrogged along the trail, then we hiked together for a bit, then chatted even more as we sorted and swapped food from our resupply boxes. As happens, we ended up hiking and camping together several more times. Kirk has been on some amazing trips out back of beyond. Definitely a kindred spirit. Brittney is a veterinarian with some fascinating insights into the challenges faced by folks in this profession…and just life in general. She is incredibly insightful and eloquent – you should definitely check out her blog here. https://dvmexplorer.com/blog/ . Fortunately we met up one last time in Tuolomne Meadows just as we were leaving for home.

We first saw Vangie and Jane at Vermilion Valley Resort as a group of JMT hikers were inhaling embarrassingly large breakfasts. Up the trail we leapfrogged and chatted a bit, then ended up camping together. These ladies were crushing it. Jane especially was knowledgeable about Yosemite and offered some helpful (and for once) accurate information about hiking in Yosemite. Vangie is planning a trip to Nepal later this fall, so we had fun sharing our experiences.

What can I say about Ondrej and Helena? We first met camping at Garnet Lake, and then spent the next several days enjoying the privilege of getting to know this wonderful pair. We learned about the Czech Republic. As always, it was fascinating to see our country through fresh eyes. “People here are sooo friendly!” And thanks to their patient tutelage, I am now practically fluent in Czech. “Ahoy” is “hello” – although I think they may have just been messing with me. And “It is beautiful” – To je krásný. Just seeing their smiles and zest for life every day made the world seem a better place.

Our last night in the backcountry we spent hours along this beautiful river with Helena, Ondrej and the Texas Twins. Perfect.

At the beginning of the evening, four separate groups were complete strangers. Several hours (and beers) later, we were sharing food and intimate details about our lives. Such is life on the trail. Mylan is in the merchant marine and somehow needed to get to the other side of the Sierra mountains in an impossible time frame. He said it was for work – but there may have been a girl involved. His friend Ethan across the table ate so much food that he earned his trail name “Taper” (for tapeworm). His tapeworm earned the trail name “Bernard”. Tigger and Freight Train met on the PCT. They had intended to through hike and had done a significant portion, until injury and life got in the way. They had rejoined for this middle portion. Even though three months earlier they hadn’t known each other, now they were like a married couple finishing each other’s stories and sentences. It was a magical evening.

Rachel was an interesting find. Tuolumne Meadow has a ‘backpacker’ portion of the campground where JMT through hikers and backpackers can spend a night as they pass through. Rachel was not hiking. She was on a solo bike tour and had camped nearby. Somehow she and Sharon got chatting and before long, she was joining us as we ferried our car down to Yosemite Valley in preparation for the last portion of our hike. The hour and a half drive wasn’t nearly long enough to even begin to learn about all the things that made this young lady amazing. Follow her on Instagram (RachelsontheRoad) to find out for yourself. She well and truly seizes the carp every single day.

Tim Cahill, adventurer and writer once said, “A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles.” I couldn’t agree more. When I think of our experience on the JMT, I will certainly remember the achingly beautiful mountains, lakes and streams. No doubt it will be those images that will make you want to venture out to see those places yourself. But when I think back to our experience on the JMT, the images that will come to mind first will be the smiles and laughter of the beautiful people we met along the way.

In the Throne Room of the Mountain gods

As we all pondered and prepared for our trip to Nepal, our main focus was on…well, the mountains. We were going to be spending three weeks wandering around in the shadow of Himalayan peaks. What we didn’t know, and hadn’t anticipated, was how much we would come to admire and appreciate the Nepalese people in general, and our guides and porters specifically.

Dawa Finjo Sherpa met us at the airport. For the next month this young man was our guide, mentor, nurse-maid, and friend. Although he was young, he had a wealth of experience in the mountains both as a climber and as a guide. He made all the arrangements for us at the various tea houses as we trekked through the countryside. He sized up our abilities and planned our route and side trips accordingly. As we all, one by one, fell prey to various lung and intestinal maladies, he reached into his bag of western and traditional remedies to nurse us back to health. Gradually as we got to know him, we were able to coax out some amazing stories. One of my favorites was about his successful Everest climb just six months prior. He had been paired with the egotistical and incompetent leader of an Albanian national team of climbers. This ‘climber’ was more than willing to let the Sherpa guides break trail, fix ropes, haul all the gear, food, oxygen, set up the tents, etc. so that he could ‘climb’ the mountain. Despite his lack of talent, this individual insisted that he be the first to reach the summit. Finjo just nodded and smiled – and dialed back his oxygen flow. As he slowed down, the rest of the team caught up and they reached the top together. Well played Finjo – well played. Now seven years later, Finjo still makes sure to wish the “Queen Mom” (Sharon) a happy birthday every year when the date rolls around. We couldn’t have asked for a better trip leader.

Our trip through the Himalayas would have been very different without the porters. We were each allowed a 35 lb duffel bag with extra clothes, sleeping bag, personal gear, etc. This was in addition to our day pack. Each porter would carry TWO of these gear duffels, plus their own gear, plus a portion of the community gear. And, we found out later, no matter how far we traveled or how high we climbed on any given day, it was a point of honor for them to arrive at our destination before the clients. One thing we noticed almost immediately was there was a definite “servant – master” dynamic evident. This made us all extremely uncomfortable, especially when we saw other trekkers totally buy into that and treat their guides and porters with disrespect. In spite of all their hard work, the porters often were required to sleep outside. Our accommodations were definitely rustic, but still a far cry better than what the porters were given. Throughout the trip we tried to communicate how much we appreciated what they were doing for us, but given the language barrier it was hard to gauge our success. We regularly bought snacks and drinks for the crew, and at the very end during our farewell dinner, we made sure they were seated in the tea house so that we could serve them food and drinks. We never were able to find out what they earned for all their hard work, but we know that the tips they received from us were greater than the average annual income for a Nepali. As we were thanking them for all they did for us, they were thanking us for the privilege of schlepping our gear all over the Himalaya. The money they earn is generally used to support a large portion of their extended families. They definitely earned our admiration and respect.

One of our porters in particular, Santos, had a heartbreaking story. Throughout the trip, Santos was always upbeat, always had a smile, and even though we had a significant language barrier, liked to joke around with us. We found out after we’d parted ways and were back in Kathmandu that just days before our group arrived, his infant son had died. He apparently had contracted an illness that would have responded to the most basic of antibiotics. Since there were no antibiotics available in his village, his son died. Any one of us would have been immobilized with grief, or filled with anger at the unfairness…yet he did nothing to indicate he had just suffered this tremendous loss. It also saddened us to realize that regardless of his feelings, he could not pass up this financial opportunity. His work ethic and attitude, coming on the heels of that personal tragedy, left us all absolutely dumbfounded – and in awe.

Just a few days out of Lukla we stopped to spend the night in the village of Thame at about 14,000′. All afternoon, Cailie had been feeling a bit out of sorts. During the night she developed HAPE (high altitude pulmonary edema). HAPE is a life threatening condition where fluid collects in the lungs. The only treatment is to descend to lower altitude so that the fluid can reabsorb into the body. Fortunately, one of the pieces of gear that our porters carried was something called a Gamow bag (good job Mountain Monarch). All night long the porters took turns keeping the bag inflated, which made Cailie’s body think it was several thousand feet lower than our 14,000′. To be fair, it probably helped that they all had a massive crush on Cailie – but still…

The night in the Gamow bag improved Cailie’s condition. Still, the decision was made for Cailie and Rob to return to lower elevation for a bit, with the hopes of joining us later on the trek. So after a tearful goodbye, an assistant guide and porter walked Cailie and Rob back toward Lukla. We found out later that during the next night, Cailie’s symptoms returned. Fearing for her safety, they took turns carrying Cailie on their backs 3,000 vertical feet down a steep, rocky trail from Namche Bazaar to a lower elevation. Thanks to their efforts, Cailie and Rob made it safely back to Kathmandu and a full recovery. Once again we were in total awe and very grateful!

While most of our interactions were with the members of our group, we did meet some interesting people along the way. And while we came for the mountains, much of what we remember most fondly were the people we met along the way.

Next Post: The Place…Lots of photos and videos – the Himalayas were everything we hoped they’d be – and more.

In the Throne Room of the Mountain gods

The names and stories may be unfamiliar to many, but during my formative years they were the stuff of dreams. The mystery of Mallory and Irving lost on Everest, and Norgay and Hillary on the summit. Pete Schoening’s amazing ‘miracle belay’ during an avalanche high on K2 saving five other climbers from being swept off the mountain. Willi Unsoeld famously cutting off his own frostbitten and dead toes (and keeping them in a jar to show visitors). Jim Wickwire spending the night 450 feet below the summit of K2 – and surviving – after becoming the 1st American to summit! Just the names of the mountains evoke images of mystical and magical places. Chomolungma. Dhaulagiri. Nanga Parbat. Ama Dablam. Nanda Devi. Shishapangma. The Himalaya always seemed irresistably beautiful and appealing, forbidding and unattainable all at the same time.

In 2011, longtime friend and climbing partner Dan threw out the idea of spending a month in Nepal…in the Himalaya! He didn’t really expect any response, and rightly so! A month away from work? No way! Airfare to fly half way around the world? Commercial guides? I don’t think so. The Himalaya was…unattainable. Regular folks like us don’t take trips like that. But then one by one, the perceived obstacles disappeared. Turns out regular folks really can take a trip like this. By the time we boarded our flight in San Francisco in November 2012, our merry little band numbered eight. Sharon and I, Andrew, Cailie, Rob – friends from Flagstaff, Joel and Allison, and Dan Boss – our fearless leader.

Thank you Singapore Airlines for making twenty total hours in the air, if not enjoyable, at least tolerable. When we finally stepped out of the relative calm of Tribhuvan airport terminal into the chaos of Kathmandu, culture shock reached out and smacked us in the face. When absolutely everything you consider ‘normal’ goes away and the ground is figuratively shifting beneath your feet, it is hard to get your bearings.

Dan had made arrangements through Mountain Monarch. Anyone interested in trekking in Nepal has plenty of options. Many western companies feature highly paid western guides who contract with local companies to do all the leg work. It is possible, through these same companies, to have a somewhat sanitized trip – staying in tents and having western food throughout the trip. We opted to go directly with a local company and have a slightly more ‘immersive’ experience staying at the local tea houses. I’ll say right up front, we couldn’t have been happier with Mountain Monarch.

Our agenda had us spending two days in Kathmandu, and then flying to Lukla on our third day to start our trek. We spent our time seeing the sites, enjoying the food (momos), touring both buddhist and hindu sites, and prepping for three weeks on the trail.

Kathmandu was overwhelming, and choatic, and fascinating. Often we just found ourselves laughing as we tried to process the different things we were seeing. After two days, we were ready for the butt clenching ride through town back to the airport to begin the ‘real’ trip.

The flight to Lukla was everything everyone says it is. We caught our first views of the Himalaya. We survived the flight, met up with our porters and began our trek, but more on that in the next post.

I love the lyrics to the song “Glorious” by Mamuse. So even though I’ve used them before at the beginning of a different post, I’m going to share them again.

I’ve got good friends to the left of me
And good friends to my right
Got the open sky above me
And the earth beneath my feet
Got a feeling in my heart That’s singin’
All in life is sweet – Oh what a day!

If you’ve read the ‘welcome’ page, you know that the genesis for this blog was a moving experience I had as a young man in the mountains. More precisely, it was the realization that the experience was somewhat diminished by not having anyone with whom to share it. To say that has changed would perhaps rank as the most colossal understatement of the ages. The quantity and quality of friends who have shared adventures since then almost defies description. In fact, as I gathered photos for this post, I realized there are so many friends, and so many adventures – they realistically won’t fit in one post. This, then, will be just the first in a series of photo essays to celebrate those whom I am privileged to call friend – and just a few of the adventures we’ve shared.

Boundary Waters (early 80’s)…I met the Backer boys in high school. We forged bonds of friendship doing what any self-respecting mountaineer wannabe living in the Midwest would do – we camped in the middle of winter – in northern Minnesota – in weather cold enough to freeze solid a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps. Thus was born the concept of “stupid fun.”

Neatly organized pack…Check! Broken ski pole splint…Check! Wool knickers…Check! Practically ready for a trip to Everest.

Aftermath of a Warren face plant. BTW…skis were my idea. Everyone else wanted snow shoes. Thanks guys!

Mike, Dave, Dan, Phil, Warren…successful south to north crossing of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area!

1985 Mt Robson… By the time we set our sights on Robson, Dan and Warren had already climbed Rainier as teenagers (what were their parents thinking?). I had lived close to lots of mountains in Alaska. We had several BWCA trips under our belts. Yep – we were ready for the big time.

It’s all fun and games until one of those beasts jumps on your back!

Warren, Dave, Tim and Dan sporting the latest in climbing gear and clothing.

Mt Robson from our climb to the top of Mt. Resplendant. Unsuccessful summit attempt on Robson, but super successful climbing adventure.

Studly Noob climbers. We didn’t even know what we didn’t know – and we still had fun.

The journey – and the views along the way – are just as important as the destination.

A New Life (1985)…Two weeks after Robson I said “I do” to an amazing new chapter in life with my best friend and adventure partner. One of our first (and still favorite) adventures was a seven week long, 2,500 mile bike ride up the east coast and into the maritime provinces of Canada.

The bike trip was a microcosm of marriage…lots of figuring things out.

For those who know me now, there was a time when MY hair was longer than Sharon’s.

Lots of miles and smiles that summer.

One of our less successful dinner experiments – a true gastronomic nightmare!

Somehow this captures what life would be like living in the inner city of Milwaukee, working, raising three boys, you know…life!

Boundary Waters…Again (2002)…Life in Milwaukee was fun, challenging and filled with lots of good times with many, many dear friends. We watched our children grow from infants to teens and were fully immersed in that world. A new century seemed like a good time for a fresh start though. In 2001 we moved to a mountain town in northern AZ and were suddenly confronted with a whole new world – a world filled with new friends and opportunities for new adventures. Interesting that I kicked off this new chapter in early 2002 with an old adventure with old friends.

Can’t remember exactly, but I think that was a brochure for a beach front time share.

Seems like Dan keeps popping up in all these posts involving snow and puffy jackets.

Yep…still snows in the Boundary Waters.

The gear had improved considerably in 20 years. Much more comfortable than I remember.

Warren, Tim, Phil, Dave and Dan Boss after another successful trip.

Collectively, the four trips presented here amount to less than three months out of the 57 years I’ve spent on the planet so far. Only seven people are pictured in these photos. Seven people out of the hundreds, perhaps thousands of people I’ve met in the course of my life. A tiny fraction.  And yet, when I look at these pictures, the flood gates open, the memories come pouring out and fill my heart. They make me smile and laugh. They make me grateful. And they inspire me. They inspire me to call, or text, or email a friend – to talk, to reminisce – and to plan another adventure!

The end…so far!