Day 18

Evolution Lake to Lake Helen

The morning was a lazy one. Marilyn and I decided we would separate after Muir and get back to our solo adventures. However, camping at lot “on top of the world” camp site had cost us miles (she wanted to be at Sapphire the night before) and we wouldn’t be able to tackle Muir until the afternoon and the snow would be slushy. So instead we were going to leisurely go to lake Wanda and journal, read and get up early for Muir.

While we were having breakfast Marilyn started to go through her plans and realized she was falling behind. Instead of doing our plan, she was possibly going to need to do Muir on her own and today. It was a tiny bit sad but both of us came onto the JMT to be solo hikers. It was a lovely time together getting to know one another, but it made sense to say goodbye early. Promising to look each other up on the “Ladies of the JMT” Facebook group we bid our goodbyes. She left while I was still packing up.

I wasn’t entirely sure if I wanted to stick to the original plan either. I decided I would hike to Wanda lake and decide how I felt there.

My current plan had a few 14 mile days that I wanted to break into smaller pieces. Issue was that I needed to be in the Onion Valley camp ground at 3:00 on the 17th. To do that there were a few poorly planned mountain passes in the plan that I needed to re-evaluate. The good thing was that I was a few days ahead of schedule, so I had the room to change the plan around.

Ideally I would be doing Muir early in the morning. There the snow would be hard and icy and my microspikes would have better traction. There would be less post holing (when your foot punches through the snow because the snow melts out from the bottom up) and if there was any water crossings, it would be slower because the sun hadn’t started melting the snow yet.

If I did Muir Pass today, I’d be hitting it in the afternoon… when the snow was slushy and the water would be at its most raging.

Not ideal.

I was contemplating these things when I turned the corner and Becky and Diane!

I first met Becky and Diane when I ran into Marilyn at Purple Lake. They were two women that sounded like they were close to retirement that enjoyed backpacking. I hadn’t seen them since A brief moment after Evolution Creek crossing, so it was welcome to see them.

They had decided to sleep low (lower elevations) and were behind me and Marilyn. Ironically they had the same debate. Do the pass in the afternoon or wait for the more ideal morning conditions.

We chatted and caught up. I told them Marilyn (who was looking for them) had left earlier and was doing the pass on her own. They shared their schedule with me and we stated to hike. Eventually I got a head of them and lost them.

I passed Sapphire lake and then came on Wanda Lake.

Wanda and Helen lakes are named after Muir’s daughters. I found myself wondering what kind of sisters were they? Were they close? Distant? Did they laugh a lot…? Were serious? Suddenly a wave of grief hit me.

I was thinking about my own sister.

I wondered if she would have wanted to hike this with me. She was always more adventurous than I. When she graduated from high school, she and her best friend went backpacking around Europe.

I wondered what kind of friendship we would have had if she was still living. I could imagine us hiking the Camino De Santiago and doing a trip like this together.

My friend Rachael’s voice floated to my mind. When I first moved to Seattle I sought her out to have tea with and somehow talked about Serena. I didn’t remember the conversation much but now, hiking past Wanda lake I remembered her saying, “The magnitude of what you have lost… haunts me.”

I don’t think I fully realize what losing my sister has done to my life.

I think there is a kindness to that. Like not letting my brain fully realize how much pain it’s in.

I remember shortly after Serena had died I’d see my friends with sisters and catch myself tearing up. I’d imagine what would happen if I got married and not having a maid of honor.

Later, I started to notice I missed her the most when small things came up. Things we’d laugh about, or if my mom said something I knew Serena would understand. Someone to process a breakup with. Someone to tease me about my hair choices or lament pains.

The person that bore witness all of your childhood…

I think ever since Serena died, I’ve been looking for friends to step into that role. I want friendships as deep as my relationship with my sister. I know how good it could be … and I want it back.

In some ways it went unhealthy places, like trying to make my interns into my little sister. In others, I think it’s made my friendships closer.

I don’t know if I would want to do this trail alone if I had a choice to do it with my sister.

To the glory goes to God.

Not sure entirely why that came to mind when I was thinking about Serena.

Almost as if all of the good things show a taste of what Heaven would look like. When friendships are as deep as sisterships. When laughter is natural and truth comes because we love one another. That God made Serena at all. That I got to be her sister. That I was shaped by her and if I had a choice to never know her and not experience any pain of loss or that I got to know her for 19 years and would feel this much grief… I would pick the grief. That one day I’ll see the bigger picture, but for now I know that I’ve tasted the kingdom through my friendship with my sister and it gives me a glimpse of what heaven on Earth can look like.

As I was thinking these things, tears blurred my vision and I misstepped and fell over.

Luckily nothing bad happened, a slight tweak to my ankle but it was a good reminder to stop and gather myself.

I sat there and just … sat.

Grief is a strange emotion.

On one hand it hurts and makes everything feel so heavy. On the other… it’s a sign that something immensely good existed, so much that it’s absence disrupts. I looked around at the landscape and saw the analogy between the scattered boulders and the emotional artifacts of grief. Those boulders were out there by glaciers. Even though the glaciers are gone, the boulders remain. Because the boulders are there, some of the most complex and beautiful landscape exists to view. Maybe grief in a way makes us beautiful. That in our pain, we learn what’s important and able to prioritize. That we learn how to see others with grief and although no one wants to be part of the club, we are able to welcome one another well.

I got up and began praying. I hadn’t prayed much since I began hiking with Marilyn. So it was good for me to be solo so I could have this moment.

I prayed thankfulness to God for who He is and that He has answers I do not. I prayed thankfulness that He planned for all of this . Then, I prayed for His protection as I decided to go forward and do Muir Pass rather than wait for the morning. Something inside of me wanted to go forward.

I inReached Ryan to let him know I was changing my plans and I proceeded.

My ankle didn’t feel bad. I could see the snowfield I needed to cross. I got out my rain shell that I was going to use as windbreaker and my microspikes (just in case I needed them). It was going to be a 2,000 ft ascent over a snow field to the Muir Hut. Then it would be 2,000 ft decent on the other side.

Coming up was pretty straight forward. I followed the boot tracks and eventually I was at the Hut with several other hikers.

The advise one of the women I passed by on the trail was, “don’t dally at the hut, you still have to go down.” Keeping that in mind, I wolfed down a Pro Bar, asked someone to take my photo and then headed down.

Going down seemed straight forward. Until it wasn’t.

Like going up I started to follow the snow boot baths. The snow traverse sections were: Sun cups (when the sun melts the rock underneath the snow and big divots form in the snow pack), slush and ice (where the path had been crossed so much the snow packed down into ice).

Then, I’d lose the trail because the snow had melted out and I’d be on scree (tons of small rocks that slough off the mountain) looking for a path. I’d find a path and have to scramble up or down to the new path, then there would be new suncuppy, ice and slush traverses. That was fine until I got to around 11000 feet and the snow packs had waterfalls underneath them. Then it became, snow, scree and raging water crossings … while looking for the route.

All the while I had to pee.

You aren’t supposed to pee by water sources and I like to have privacy (instead of it being an open valley anyone can see the woman in the lime green rain coat is peeing) … but it got to the point I didn’t care and I did.

Then went back to route finding.

At one point I was debating between scrambling up high and going to where I could see a waterfall was running over the trail. Both were spicy. I couldn’t believe I didn’t see a single person yet.

“God, blessed be your name… but for real. Help please.”

Then, around the corner a NOBO (North Bounder) solo hiker came and I could see the path again.

It took me two hours to go up and four to come down.

As soon as I got to where I felt the pass was over, I started to look for a campsite. I was done for the night.

30 minutes later I heard my name.

“Larissa!!!!”

I looked over and recognized Becky and Diane! They had been behind me the whole time.

We collectively wow’ed that we just completed that and also decided to camp for the night.