Sometime in the middle of Day 3 hiking with The Commissioner, I had mentioned to him that it was obvious that there was no chance that I would be able to attempt the ascent of Mt. Goddard. It was patently obvious, of course; what I wanted to spare him from was him having to tell me that I could not go. No sense in adding one more uncomfortable conversation to an already difficult situation.
(This is - literally - the headwater of the South fork of the San Joaquin River)
Thus, before I drifted off to sleep on Day 3, I received my (non) marching orders: rest up, eat breakfast and wait for everyone's return.
I vaguely heard everyone else stirring around 0430 as they got ready to leave; I rolled over in my sleeping bag and awoke again sometime in the 0630-0700 timeframe. It was a leisurely wake up with none of the "I need to be about packing up and getting ready".
(An iceberg. In August)
Everything was quite still - there are few birds at this altitude and other than the wind blowing, there was really no other noise than the sounds of the stream nearby. I ate my breakfast of granola - my appetite was back at almost full strength, a good sign - and took a stroll around the area that we were encamped.
It was odd, being the only person there - or likely within two miles at that point.
There is nothing quite as snug as lying in one's sleeping bag as the wind blows and the rain falls, being warm and dry with nowhere to be and nothing to do but listen.
Admittedly, not being able to try for the summit of Goddard was a disappointment as that was a sort of goal of the hike. On the other hand, how often does one have an alpine lake all to themselves?
Those clouds appear so much closer, at least you had a few hours to contemplate being really alone TB.
ReplyDeleteThey really do feel much closer Nylon12. It is not as if somehow one is that much higher relatively speaking to the clouds; I wonder if it is just an optical illusion or simply a sense that one is closer to the clouds.
DeleteI'm so sorry you couldn't make the final ascent, TB, but that was very thoughtful of you to speak up first. Your attitude is amazing (through the whole thing, it sounds like). I don't think I'd have ever thought "snug" would describe being tucked inside a tent during wind and rain. Wary or concerned comes to mind. ;^) Looking forward to the descent now, I imagine?
ReplyDeleteBecki, I have hiked with The Commissioner before and heard stories. Telling someone they are not capable of doing something when they have paid money to do it must be a hard thing, even harder when they think the can. I am an adult; I should be able to recognize my own limits now.
DeleteIt really was snug: I was warm, dry, and had no particular place to be.
The descent? Well yes, eventually, after one more climb...
Ooooh... Somehow I thought this was it. Looking forward to the next installment.
DeleteAw, disappointing. I suppose there was some compensation in not being out in that storm!. It's still an amazing adventure, even without that leg of the hike.
ReplyDeleteIt certainly was Leigh - in fact, I would argue I feel doubly recompensed by having a wilderness to myself.
DeleteFocus on your success, and not on what failed to do.
ReplyDeleteEasy to say, much harder to do.
Quiet and alone time in that location would be a great experience to remember.
John, that is what I chose to do. It gets a little easier every time.
DeleteThe silence, especially lying in the tent as the rain hit, is something that I can clearly still hear and feel in my mind.
Lying in a tent listening to rain pelt the outsides is one of the great pleasures in life that few people every know.
ReplyDeleteEd, three years ago I would have no idea what you are talking about. Now, I am convinced it is one of life's great pleasures (unlike packing up the wet tent fly, which is one of life's less great pleasures...).
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