Day 28

Vidette Meadows to campsite before Tyndall Creek

I woke up and immediate was thankful.

Nothing woke me up from last night, so bow and arrow man may be in the past.

I reached over and inReached Katie.

“Everything is okay, thank you for praying.”

That was the weirdest and scariest moment on the trail for me. It wasn’t an animal or the heights. It was people behaving unpredictability.

As I was contemplating the things that I was actually afraid of out in the wilderness, I watched a cartoon rendition of a spider crawl around the mesh consuming the bugs that had fallen asleep between the rainfly and the mesh. It had a round body (not the segmented waist most spiders have), and it’s legs were long and skinny (not segmented as much as other spiders). He was efficient, making several laps around the tent in a short amount of time. I wondered if he was actually a Daddy long legs rather than a spider. I needed to research it when I got back into cell phone range.

One day, I think I’d like to keep a nature journal and sketch the things I see. That way I can combine being outside with working on art.

I got out of my tent and realized it has been 4 weeks now. Wow. For 4 weeks I’ve been away from home and living in my tent.

In a lot of ways the trail is freedom. My choices are simple here. What to eat of what I brought. How many miles to do. Where to sleep. What to see. The trail is like a constant that keeps me centered. I can choose almost anything as long as I’m moving along the trail.

It’s no wonder that the key metaphor for following God is a path. Follow the footsteps, stay to the good and righteous path. The Hebrew understanding for repentance is to return to the path, not the 180 turn away that I think evangelicals like to allude to. If you step off the path, or get off direction … correct yourself and come back to it.

Being on trail, that metaphor is in sharp clarity.

I started my morning routine and saw I didn’t eat all of my dinner last night. I decided to finish the spaghetti and freeze dried sauce, drink some coffee and get on trail. I was out by 7:30.

I was almost a full day ahead of what my plan was. I checked my outline document and realized I hadn’t accounted for being back on trail so early and marked the Williamson hotel day as a zero, when it ended up being about a 10 mile day (with the extra 1.5 to find a campsite with people at it). My original plan was to camp at the base of Forrester and do the pass in the morning. Forrester was only 6 miles away, which would make an exceptionally short day if I wanted to stay on plan, or doing Forrester in the afternoon.

Forrester Pass is the highest point on the PCT. After Muir, it’s one of the scariest ones on the trail because of its exposure (closeness to the edge) and signature avalanche chute. The good thing was the chute was snow free at this point, but there was still snow on the upward side. Ideally I’d do Forrester in the morning while the snow was still firm/iced over. Since I’d be getting there in the afternoon the snow would be slushy and potentially I would post hole through.

I decided to go and ask anyone coming down what they thought. If they felt it we easy, I’d go over. If it was difficult, I’d go to the camp site at the base and plan to do a low mileage day.

I started hiking.

About a mile in, I ran into a deer and we had a bit of a stare down. Eventually she won and I decided to walk away.

I ran into a solo woman coming down. She hurt her knee and was turning back from Forrester because she was afraid it would be too much. Point for waiting.

Then, I ran into a man who did it the evening before. He said there was two routes. The high route was scary and he didn’t do that one. He did the low route and it was straight forward and used the real trail. “Follow the ducks and you’ll be fine.” Point for doing it today.

As I was climbing I stopped to switch water bottles at a downed tree and listened to a mama bird and her chicks. I felt inspired and got out my Bible app and read outloud Psalm 104.

It’s all yours Lord. All of it.

“Like the ravens, God provides for them”

I was thinking a lot about Ravens. (From Luke 12). They are super smart, even using tools. Apparently they can remember human faces. That’s why the beefeaters at the Tower of London keep them as pets. In some places they are training Ravens to pick up cigarette butts in exchange for food.

When I started hiking again, Forrester came into view.

I decided I’d do it today.

I really love seeing the different personalities of mountains. This mountain still had snow and it’s lakes were partially frozen. I could completely understand why this particular pass would be intimidating if snow covered.

Dragontail peak, the mountain that Katie, Josh, Eric and I climbed right before my JMT trip was 5000 less elevation that Forrester. We needed ice axes and crampons and it was still snow covered. I wondered if I would have done Dragontail if it was at the same elevation as Forrester. Probably.

I got to the first snow field. About 20 feet to get to a mix of scree. Slow and steady, made it across.

Then it was a few switchbacks to a massive snowfield. I looked at the field and wondered if there was a way around it. I could see a boot-track through but it looked like the “high route” I was warned against. The man’s advise to “follow the ducks,” floated back into my memory. What was a duck? I scanned the rocks and noticed a cairn. Maybe ducks were cairns. If you only put two rocks, it could look like the bird. No matter, these cairns exist for a reason and it’s worth checking it out.

Turned out that was the right choice. Cairn after cairn, they lead me to a scree field I needed to scramble down, but met up with the trail. Then the trial switchbacked upwards to a saddle on the mountain ridge. “That’s where the pass was,” I thought to myself.

It was easy to follow the switchbacks and the last 30 feet, I could see all the people on top. There was a small snowfield I had to cross to get up, but the snow was stiff and held my weight. Soon, I was on top.

I was met with cheers and congratulations. I asked someone to take my “summit pose” photo and grabbed a seat to eat my Pro Bar and listen to everyone’s story.

Bow and arrow man was part of the discussion. Some of the hikers saw and talked to him.

The pass was another one.

There was lots of sharing or PCT hiking vs JMT.

Some talk of burning man, which was happening in a few weeks.

I weighed in a few comments and rested. On my way out I bid goodbye and swapped names with some of the people there.

“I’m Larissa,” I shared with the man that took my photo.

“My first girlfriends name was Larissa Torsten.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Hopefully she treated you well. I’m Larissa Swanland, so we aren’t related.”

“That’s a beautiful last name.”

“Thanks”

I am always caught unaware when someone thinks my name is pretty. Thanks? I didn’t choose it but I appreciate the appreciation.

I am actually aware that I am technically the last Swanland. My sister and I were the only ones for a while. My cousin Paul was a Stevenson but after his mom and step dad were divorced he changed his name to Swanland. The name would continue through him and his brood of children rather than me.

I hiked down and started to look for a campsite. I found a lot of beautiful ones by the pass, but I wanted to be out of the wind so I kept looking. Eventually I hiked out a few miles to a little creek in a cute shaded grove. This campsite would work for me and I set up, ate some food and went to bed.