On the PCT: Kearsarge Pass, Take Three

My final foray on the Pacific Crest Trail this year was dramatic, to say the least.

After the Lyme relapse that sidelined me, I was feeling well enough that I wanted to get back on the trail by the second week in July. I spent a day bustling around Teresa and Laurie’s home, preparing to hike again: There was food to be packed and food to be eaten; Doxycycline-approved clothing to wash and Rainbow Dash-approved clothing to send home. Excited to be going back to the trail, I happily had my last night in an amazingly comfortable bed, watched my last Doctor Who episode, and had my last shower.

Feeling some tiredness and dizziness while loading the last of my belongings into my pack, the nerves set in. I worked to assuage them by thinking about all the antibiotics I’d taken and detoxing I’d done, but my efforts weren’t entirely effective. As Teresa drove me from Acton all the way to the Onion Valley Trailhead near Independence, I talked and laughed and worried.

Driving to Independence, CA

Driving to Independence, CA

At the trailhead, a previous year’s thru-hiker noticed my pack and struck up a conversation whilst I was giving my gear the final once over and taking mid-day medicine.

“You hiking the trail?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you a little late? Seems you should have been here a few weeks ago.”

That’s probably the last thing I needed someone to point out to me.

As we had done near Mojave with Pine Nut, Ant, and Laurie, Teresa and I set off down the trail together. With seven days of food in my pack rather than 11, the climb toward Kearsarge Pass wasn’t so arduous, but I could tell that the weeks of Lyme rest had taken their toll. We walked steadily onward, enjoying the trailside waterfalls, green rocks, and foxtail pines. The gathering storm clouds overhead were less enjoyed, especially when they began letting loose rumbles of thunder.

One hour into the climb, Teresa and I said our tearful goodbyes (“until we meet again”). Then, I turned and walked up into the storm.

Honestly, my tears remained for a good ten minutes. My goodbye wasn’t eased by my being so anxious, so worried that I was being too ambitious in returning to the trail. But, eventually, the endorphins of a good uphill hike started to kick in, and I neared treeline.

A deer bounded across the trail, the upper-atmosphere thunder rumbled a little louder, and tiny hail began falling. I walked on.

Kearsarge Pass was shrouded in clouds, giving it an otherworldly feel. Chilled from the hail, I snapped a quick picture before hurrying down the other side.

As a lot, thru-hikers despise “bonus miles,” any walking in addition to the 2,650 miles between Mexico and Canada. The Onion Valley Trail is more than 7.5 miles long, and I did it three times. However, there was something enjoyable about hiking a familiar stretch of trail, particularly now that it was so unusually misty.

As I’d neared the top of Kearsarge, my dizziness had intensified. Part of my rushing down the Pass was in the hopes that losing altitude would improve my symptoms; it didn’t. The PCT between the Onion Valley Trail and Glen Pass stays high, so I knew I needed to get up and over Glen before calling it a night.

I’d be lying if I tried to pretend those miles weren’t difficult. I resorted to counting my steps, rewarding myself with a break after every one or two hundred footfalls.

By the time I was atop Glen, the hail had stopped and the storm had blown over a bit; however, the evening was bringing chillier air with it. I marched onward, eager to get down to Rae Lakes and make camp, keen to quell my dizziness.

In the twilight of 8:30, I spied a small campsite next to a tree overlooking Upper Rae Lake and decided to call it a day. Too nauseated to eat, I crawled under my quilt without dinner. I thought sleep would come easily, but I was feverish and nauseated and dizzy and spent hours just trying to feel okay.

My fever broke in the middle of the night. In the morning, I considered my possible escape routes, in the event that I needed them: up and over Glen and Kearsarge Passes or, once again, a long, downhill trek to Road’s End. I decided that the best thing to do was to get to lower elevation — to tease the effects of altitude sickness from the effects of Lyme — and reevaluate my predicament there. I packed up and hiked northward.

A hailstorm unlike any I’d seen before soon accompanied me.

To be continued…

Advertisements

One comment

  1. Lady, to complete even that hike (one that MANY people I work with, who are ‘healthy’ would never even consider just shows me how truly tough you are. You amaze me and I am hard to impress.

    YOU are an example of why I hated the book “Wild”. Yours is the story that should be read by all!

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s