Nights 34-37/25
Family Camp was not awesome.
It was so smoky Xochitl's nose swelled up and scared me. She had had an infection in her face too recently that made her nose swell up in such a way that it worried her primary care physician. When it scares Dr. Ananda, it scares me and I wasn't sure what this was, a new infection? Then I saw other people's faces were also swollen, I assumed from the smoke and I calmed down.
Xochitl wouldn't swim in the lake, it was murky and opaque from all the swimmers kicking up mud and it scared her. And so I couldn't swim in the lake. Also, there was a swimming beetle the size of my palm. I'm only glad Xo didn't see it.
There wasn't food Xo would eat. I couldn't sleep. Xo was cranky and just wanted to do crafts. She wouldn't shower. She was bratty about hanging out with her new friends.
We won't be going back to that family camp any time soon. Which is too bad, it's my camp. Now I'm not sure what to do.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Night 33: KOA
Night 33/25
I'm sure I've slept at a KOA before. I just can't remember when. We moved camp because I wanted some place to have fun with Xochitl and since there was no lake to swim in and so much smoke, we moved.
The Trinity Lake KOA has a playground and a pool, so we were set.
Xochitl loved it. And it was really pleasant swimming in the warm weather and sleeping outside. This campground too was very empty, though not as much as the state park. We went for a short walk with Xo to look at the empty lake, (it is dammed) it was creepy. Lots of exposed stumps.
The next day we packed up and got ready for the short drive up to family camp.
I'm sure I've slept at a KOA before. I just can't remember when. We moved camp because I wanted some place to have fun with Xochitl and since there was no lake to swim in and so much smoke, we moved.
The Trinity Lake KOA has a playground and a pool, so we were set.
Xochitl loved it. And it was really pleasant swimming in the warm weather and sleeping outside. This campground too was very empty, though not as much as the state park. We went for a short walk with Xo to look at the empty lake, (it is dammed) it was creepy. Lots of exposed stumps.
The next day we packed up and got ready for the short drive up to family camp.
Night 32: Golden Rolling Smoky Hills
Night 32/25
Family Camp. We left two days early to make the drive shorter, to get a couple more nights out together. But northern California was smoky, so much covered in fire. And dry. Trinity Lake looked empty and the campgrounds reflected that. No boaters and no campers.
Xochitl and I with our wilderness nanny Courtney (who I had met recently in Alaska) met Marsha at one of the state park campgrounds on Trinity Lake. It was late in the day, it was warm and smelled like pine trees, despite the smoke.
I was disappointed I couldn't show Courtney more of the mountains, she is from Minnesota and had almost never been anywhere else.
It was a lovely evening. I had Xo out camping and that made me happy. I think it makes her happy even if she misses her Dad.
Family Camp. We left two days early to make the drive shorter, to get a couple more nights out together. But northern California was smoky, so much covered in fire. And dry. Trinity Lake looked empty and the campgrounds reflected that. No boaters and no campers.
Xochitl and I with our wilderness nanny Courtney (who I had met recently in Alaska) met Marsha at one of the state park campgrounds on Trinity Lake. It was late in the day, it was warm and smelled like pine trees, despite the smoke.
I was disappointed I couldn't show Courtney more of the mountains, she is from Minnesota and had almost never been anywhere else.
It was a lovely evening. I had Xo out camping and that made me happy. I think it makes her happy even if she misses her Dad.
In Aggregate: the Wrangells 2015
Done writing about that trip.
Sort of.
I think I will be processing it as often as I let myself think about it.
I think about that trip two ways. One is very positive. I met a lot of great people, it was a fun crew. Courtney came out to California a few weeks later to be my wilderness nanny at family camp. I went for a day hike with Emily when I was in Hawaii with my family in November. I think fondly about going back to McCarthy, to the Wrangells, and even stepping foot on the ice again. I think hard about seeing that big jahkulhlaup in action, there is apparently a two week window in July when it's an option.
And I think about it in terms of what it could have been. It could have been a time for hiking and relaxing and swimming and spending more time with the tundra and the landscape, not fearing it and dropping tears on it and wondering if my life and who I thought I was in it was over.
As I think about the 2016 season, I think about this trip and how it won't happen again because of course, it's a different season. I'm in a different emotional landscape, even if the tundra feels familiar and the same.
Sort of.
I think I will be processing it as often as I let myself think about it.
I think about that trip two ways. One is very positive. I met a lot of great people, it was a fun crew. Courtney came out to California a few weeks later to be my wilderness nanny at family camp. I went for a day hike with Emily when I was in Hawaii with my family in November. I think fondly about going back to McCarthy, to the Wrangells, and even stepping foot on the ice again. I think hard about seeing that big jahkulhlaup in action, there is apparently a two week window in July when it's an option.
And I think about it in terms of what it could have been. It could have been a time for hiking and relaxing and swimming and spending more time with the tundra and the landscape, not fearing it and dropping tears on it and wondering if my life and who I thought I was in it was over.
As I think about the 2016 season, I think about this trip and how it won't happen again because of course, it's a different season. I'm in a different emotional landscape, even if the tundra feels familiar and the same.
Night 31: Sleeping on the Ice
Night 31/25
Not quite on the ice, on the moraine. So on the bit of rock on top of the ice. But it's cold, a lot colder than sleeping on tundra. And I had my new sleeping pad, the only one I have ever felt cold on.* But it's possible sleeping on the thin rock veneer on top of the ice cube was the highlight of that day.
We started by hiking up to the top of ridge, incredible, almost unfathomable views, and as it turns out 3G cell coverage.
That was the easy part of the day. Hanging out at the top was also easy and fun, even though my morale was low and my spirits were down. The views did manage to pick me up, but not enough since I had no idea what was ahead, terrain wise. My anxiety flags were out, scanning, sensing, looking for the route down.
It turned out there was a reprieve, and i reveled in it. And as much as I was in my element, bouncing down tundra, i hung back and exchanged deep emotional life trauma stories with Emily. So I cried big rolling sobbing tears as I took in the scenery through the soft warmth under my feet and the smell of grassy Alaska in my face. I talked about my childhood and its various challenges and fuckupedness and therapy and she talked about losing her twin and more recently her mom. It was like showing scars, nodding, sighing and carrying on silently, except exactly opposite, kind of. For me it was more of a slow emotional release that I did not know the bottom of. I did not know what I was even scratching at or if the surface had yet given way. I found myself wondering if this floundering, will-less oaf was the new me.
Then the reprieve was over. We came to the place where the steep but lovely tundra slope ended and the mass-wasting sites began, and we had to get down one of them. By the time we got to the bottom, via stepping, side-stepping, slipping, falling, catching ourselves and each other, and sometimes just sliding on the broken terrain slicked up by the previous 6 passers by my legs were shaking. I could hardly hold myself up. It took us hours to get down that slope. I'm sure we did not cover a mile. At best it was half that.
And there was still glacier to cross. An entire glacier. Not as big as the first day, but much more ice than the previous day. Also, over a portion our guides had never been on, we were crossing much higher than they usually cross. This being not the route we signed up for. And I hated it. I did not have it in me. Mentally, not even close. Physically, I was fine after a rest from the downslope, my legs had stopped shaking and they would hold weight, so walking was certainly within reason. But my emotional self could not take another step. Not on ice.
But I had to.
I have done a lot of scary, difficult things that I thought I could not do. I don't know if I think this one was the hardest simply because it is the most recent and freshest in my memory, or if the emotional challenge really made it so. It was a bad run day of epic proportions.
We made it across. Not without explaining in no uncertain terms that no, i would not take another step more than once. Not without being certain I would fall into a cravasse. And not without standing on the edge of a jakulhlaup. Which was a pleasant surprise. It was a 90 degree cornered cliff of ice. Then we walked on a bit and set up camp for our last night.
*And now I can't find it. Maybe I left it in McCarthy? I just can't believe I would have done that. But who knows, I packed up a morning after very little sleeping. I just didn't think I left anything in that room. Did I leave it on the glacier? Is it at the bottom of some moulin now, the great honey pot of the glacial traveling world.
Not quite on the ice, on the moraine. So on the bit of rock on top of the ice. But it's cold, a lot colder than sleeping on tundra. And I had my new sleeping pad, the only one I have ever felt cold on.* But it's possible sleeping on the thin rock veneer on top of the ice cube was the highlight of that day.
We started by hiking up to the top of ridge, incredible, almost unfathomable views, and as it turns out 3G cell coverage.
That was the easy part of the day. Hanging out at the top was also easy and fun, even though my morale was low and my spirits were down. The views did manage to pick me up, but not enough since I had no idea what was ahead, terrain wise. My anxiety flags were out, scanning, sensing, looking for the route down.
It turned out there was a reprieve, and i reveled in it. And as much as I was in my element, bouncing down tundra, i hung back and exchanged deep emotional life trauma stories with Emily. So I cried big rolling sobbing tears as I took in the scenery through the soft warmth under my feet and the smell of grassy Alaska in my face. I talked about my childhood and its various challenges and fuckupedness and therapy and she talked about losing her twin and more recently her mom. It was like showing scars, nodding, sighing and carrying on silently, except exactly opposite, kind of. For me it was more of a slow emotional release that I did not know the bottom of. I did not know what I was even scratching at or if the surface had yet given way. I found myself wondering if this floundering, will-less oaf was the new me.
Then the reprieve was over. We came to the place where the steep but lovely tundra slope ended and the mass-wasting sites began, and we had to get down one of them. By the time we got to the bottom, via stepping, side-stepping, slipping, falling, catching ourselves and each other, and sometimes just sliding on the broken terrain slicked up by the previous 6 passers by my legs were shaking. I could hardly hold myself up. It took us hours to get down that slope. I'm sure we did not cover a mile. At best it was half that.
And there was still glacier to cross. An entire glacier. Not as big as the first day, but much more ice than the previous day. Also, over a portion our guides had never been on, we were crossing much higher than they usually cross. This being not the route we signed up for. And I hated it. I did not have it in me. Mentally, not even close. Physically, I was fine after a rest from the downslope, my legs had stopped shaking and they would hold weight, so walking was certainly within reason. But my emotional self could not take another step. Not on ice.
But I had to.
I have done a lot of scary, difficult things that I thought I could not do. I don't know if I think this one was the hardest simply because it is the most recent and freshest in my memory, or if the emotional challenge really made it so. It was a bad run day of epic proportions.
We made it across. Not without explaining in no uncertain terms that no, i would not take another step more than once. Not without being certain I would fall into a cravasse. And not without standing on the edge of a jakulhlaup. Which was a pleasant surprise. It was a 90 degree cornered cliff of ice. Then we walked on a bit and set up camp for our last night.
*And now I can't find it. Maybe I left it in McCarthy? I just can't believe I would have done that. But who knows, I packed up a morning after very little sleeping. I just didn't think I left anything in that room. Did I leave it on the glacier? Is it at the bottom of some moulin now, the great honey pot of the glacial traveling world.
Night 30: This Wasn't The Plan and also The Jakulhlaup!
Night 30/25
That day we got out on the epic moraine again and hiked and hiked. i loved that thing, maybe because it wasn't ice? Or maybe because I felt confident on it and I knew that that confidence was a thing I grew into and worked hard for. And it was stark and beautiful in a new way. When you look at something and you just get quiet
Rebecca hated it. You couldn't tell she hated it. With Rebecca you just can't tell when she is having an unpleasant time. Unless we start talking about it, but I think it's more fun that way.
We left the Kennecott Glacier and got to the Gates Glacier and took a break. I was thirsty and just lowered myself over the stream and sucked water right off of it. It's fun, it feels ridiculous and normal. Of course that's what you do. Although most other places I have been I would avoid just drinking the water, pretty much at all costs. It needs to be treated, purified, (this is not entirely accurate, but that is what I think I should do/feel) all the "nature" removed.
We took that break, put our crampons back on and quickly got across the Gates, it wasn't very wide by the standards set in that valley. At the moraine on the other side we were given a "choice" between the route we signed up for or to go straight up a very steep tundra slope for an undefined period of time. And by straight up I mean literally straight up hill, no zigging or zagging and also straight up as in the slope was in my face. From where I stood I was looking at my next 3rd or so step. Stairs would have felt like a relief.
We took a break part way up the slope. Since we did not know what our destination was we didn't know at the time we were almost there. We looked across the valley and the guides pointed out we were looking at a jakulhlaup. I immediately became very animated and excited. I had learned about them in geomorphology class and never imagined I would see one. It wasn't happening while we were there, but to see it at all in my opinion is a life list event. I was so happy and excited it was as though the scare of yesterday's glacier and the work of getting up that slope were forgotten. And they were, for a time. As in the time we were sitting and eating lunch.
Then we gathered our belongings and continued upslope, this time with a more forgiving angle of repose.
That day we got out on the epic moraine again and hiked and hiked. i loved that thing, maybe because it wasn't ice? Or maybe because I felt confident on it and I knew that that confidence was a thing I grew into and worked hard for. And it was stark and beautiful in a new way. When you look at something and you just get quiet
Rebecca hated it. You couldn't tell she hated it. With Rebecca you just can't tell when she is having an unpleasant time. Unless we start talking about it, but I think it's more fun that way.
We left the Kennecott Glacier and got to the Gates Glacier and took a break. I was thirsty and just lowered myself over the stream and sucked water right off of it. It's fun, it feels ridiculous and normal. Of course that's what you do. Although most other places I have been I would avoid just drinking the water, pretty much at all costs. It needs to be treated, purified, (this is not entirely accurate, but that is what I think I should do/feel) all the "nature" removed.
We took that break, put our crampons back on and quickly got across the Gates, it wasn't very wide by the standards set in that valley. At the moraine on the other side we were given a "choice" between the route we signed up for or to go straight up a very steep tundra slope for an undefined period of time. And by straight up I mean literally straight up hill, no zigging or zagging and also straight up as in the slope was in my face. From where I stood I was looking at my next 3rd or so step. Stairs would have felt like a relief.
We took a break part way up the slope. Since we did not know what our destination was we didn't know at the time we were almost there. We looked across the valley and the guides pointed out we were looking at a jakulhlaup. I immediately became very animated and excited. I had learned about them in geomorphology class and never imagined I would see one. It wasn't happening while we were there, but to see it at all in my opinion is a life list event. I was so happy and excited it was as though the scare of yesterday's glacier and the work of getting up that slope were forgotten. And they were, for a time. As in the time we were sitting and eating lunch.
Then we gathered our belongings and continued upslope, this time with a more forgiving angle of repose.
Saturday, February 27, 2016
This is a Repost
As I prepare for a new season, I wanted to remind myself when I started writing this what I was thinking about. Also, I want to remind myself, this season will not be like last season, every season, every trip (even to the same place) is different.
To recap the past year, in no particular order: I learned to make web sites! And so will be moving this to my own sooner than later. I paddled to the Arctic Ocean, I crossed 3 glaciers, I spent a month in Alaska. I had to warm my feet on bellies, more than once. I visited new terrain in a new part of Alaska. I got my hair caught in a rappel device, me and my hair survived, thank you to those who know who you are. I am WFR (Wilderness First Responder) certified. I got Xo out on 3 camping trips. I kicked 25 nights ass.
25 Nights Out
Over a year ago I was talking backpacking with my gynecologist. Somehow over the course of time spent looking inside my vagina we discovered a mutual love of backpacking. She explained that with her job she has been able to not only hike the John Muir Trail multiple times, but that she spends 20 something nights on the trail a year. I brought this up with my friend and sometimes hiking partner Rebecca and she tried to figure out how that could be possible for her and I. Not necessarily together, just, could we figure out how to spend that many nights out in a year?
It is February 2015 and I have yet to hit the trail except to run my first trail half marathon (Steep Ravine, because if you have run that you deserve the brag), so I can start counting today.
Rebecca contends that in order to hit the mark we should redefine trail night as night out. Night out being a night spent out of doors in just about any capacity, the backyard, car camping, burning man...so, I am going to see what I can do to get it done this year.
To recap the past year, in no particular order: I learned to make web sites! And so will be moving this to my own sooner than later. I paddled to the Arctic Ocean, I crossed 3 glaciers, I spent a month in Alaska. I had to warm my feet on bellies, more than once. I visited new terrain in a new part of Alaska. I got my hair caught in a rappel device, me and my hair survived, thank you to those who know who you are. I am WFR (Wilderness First Responder) certified. I got Xo out on 3 camping trips. I kicked 25 nights ass.
25 Nights Out
Over a year ago I was talking backpacking with my gynecologist. Somehow over the course of time spent looking inside my vagina we discovered a mutual love of backpacking. She explained that with her job she has been able to not only hike the John Muir Trail multiple times, but that she spends 20 something nights on the trail a year. I brought this up with my friend and sometimes hiking partner Rebecca and she tried to figure out how that could be possible for her and I. Not necessarily together, just, could we figure out how to spend that many nights out in a year?
It is February 2015 and I have yet to hit the trail except to run my first trail half marathon (Steep Ravine, because if you have run that you deserve the brag), so I can start counting today.
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