Over Silver Pass

Day 5

We broke camp very early this morning to get a head start on a long, hard climb.  I love the early morning air- so fresh and crisp. I wore my gloves for quite a while even though it wasn’t really that cold, and hiked in my “jammies” with my skirt pulled over the top.  Out here I never have to worry about what is fashionable (not that I worry about it at home either, really) and just wear whatever works.  My thermal top and bottoms were just too cozy to loose today, so pulling my skirt on over the top of the leggings made me feel like it was day wear, and I used my long sleeved hiking shirt to cover my wool thermal top so it wouldn’t get so dirty. 

It is intensely beautiful, and hard, like all things in life that are worthwhile and good.  I have those blissfully golden moments when I look around and I am keenly aware how good life is and that I am doing exactly what I was created to do; I breathe in the rare air, listen to the birds waking up, pan the horizon for all its green and dramatic beauty.  The rest of the time I am just working so hard to keep going.  We have passed through ideal territory today- next to burbling creeks and water falls, through towering trees, past fields of wildflowers and green meadows.  My heavy feet and hard breathing remind me how hard I am working, but my heart and soul soar.

We stopped at Squaw Lake, just before the pass. I sat and grabbed my journal while Mark went off to do what he had to do.  I am busily collecting wild flowers to press between the pages- I want to adorn my journal with them later. There is heather all over here, with its little bright pink flowers peeking out from under the needlelike foliage, but it doesn’t press well.  I am reminded of Heather, my niece and send off a little prayer for her.  I feel like my prayers are heard so much better here where there is no interference from all the radio and TV waves and noise and traffic.  Less interference in my soul, too.  I am just reveling in paradise- nature as pure and clean and harsh and real as it was made to be.  But then Mark returns and I have to put my pack back on and keep walking.  The reflections stay with me for quite a while though.

It is only 8 am. We have walked three miles already.  Breakfast is already a distant memory and it is hours before lunch.  We have already stripped off our warm clothes and are down to just shirts, shorts and sunhats.  No matter how beautiful this all is, there are still ten miles left to go, and I am already running low on energy with no snacks left to munch on.  So on we march, over the rocky terrain and up over the pass. 

We took an early lunch just after the pass because we were both tired and hungry.  The other side was rocky and barren and steep, but this side is velvety green land dotted with trees, sloping down to little green lakes. We tucked in behind a little cluster of trees and got out our bagels and cream cheese. A few hikers passed by and we greeted them in between chews and swallows.  One set didn’t even see us right away and I think we scared them a little.  We sat and watched them fade into the distance- it is amazing how quickly you can make distance out here.  One minute, you are looking down into a valley that seems so far away, and just moments later you are down in that valley looking back up into the hills where you came from.  Those hikers quickly became little dots of bright color on a ridge far below.  When we got up and walked to that same ridge, I mused that now we were the bright bits of color bobbing along the ridge.  Your perspective changes out here.

In one narrow passage of rocky trail we were met by a group of three trail workers from the Forest Service.  The young man was friendly, but a little officious, and after he had greeted us nicely and asked if we were enjoying our evening camp fires, (which was a bit of a trap as there is a fire ban in this area) he asked if we had our wilderness permit.  Each of the trio carried a work implement- an axe, a bow saw, a shovel and a hefty pack and we chatted about trail work and such while Mark dug in his pack for the permit.  We’d never been asked to show ours before, and since you must apply for, pay for and carry a permit, I’s nice to know that they check them sometimes. I read the three of them my trial crew poem and they appreciated it- the guy even said he got tingles. 

The next seven miles were the most beautiful I have yet seen.  I am really glad that hiker at Red’s Meadow encouraged me to keep going.  Little creeks trickle down the smooth granite, or rushing torrents stream over large granite stones.  In one area water trickled, rushed slipped and fell over huge boulders and small stones.  In wetter years this would have been an amazing waterfall, but this year it is a small falls and a lot of trickles. Its moist and cool here, very pleasant.  We stopped and enjoyed the beauty of it for just a while.  I took my time picking my way over and around the boulders and through the water, which had pretty much covered the trail here, just so that I would have a little longer.  Mark had a bit of a headache, so we made sure to tank up on some water, and then we moved reluctantly on.  Further down we passed another part of the river where the water flowed over the granite in sheets and ripples.  I pictured us lying on the sun-warmed stone with our heads and feet in the pools of water, but Mark wasn’t ready to stop.  There were still a lot of miles to go to catch the ferry for the resupply.  We did stop later where the creek crossed the trail and it was so hot out Mark plunged into the creek fully dressed.  I took off my shoes and socks and splashed my face, arms, legs and necks, then perched myself up on a rock in the creek with a cup full of granola, mixed up my powdered milk, added a last little bit of nuts and fruit that I found in my pocket and fully enjoyed a bowl of cereal in the most beautiful eatery ever.  The Frenchies came by- they had camped just near us last night- and spread themselves out for lunch.  We shared a piece of Sonoma cheese and worked on communicating for a little while, trying to tell them we were from the wine country.  We were surprised to hear that they had reservations in Napa when they were finished with the JMT- apparently she loves wine. 

Here is my creative effort for the day. It kept my mind busy while descending the rocky trail. 

Down Silver Pass

Soft feet on hard rock
I descend
Step
after carefully placed
step
down the glaring
granite path
The sun's stark rays
bake the back of my neck
as i continue on.
The trail turns
water trickles, rushes
a cool breeze bursts on my hot face
The path explodes in green
Yellow, purple, pink blossoms
waft in the wind
I linger,
naming each wildflower friend
Shooting Star, Columbine, Larkspur...
The visit is brief
the cruel trail turns into the heat  again
Through mountian goat country
Though we see none of them here.