Dear Friends,
Tomorrow morning my daughter Marina returns from a three-week backpacking trip in the Sierra Nevada mountains, the same area I backpacked a few years ago. I miss her! My heart is with her up in those mountains, and my mind has been on the memory of my own time there.
The summer I turned 50, I hiked the John Muir Trail. Not all 211 miles of it, but a little over half–about 120 miles. It was 2014, and the California drought was in its third year. The snow had melted, even at 12,000 feet, and the streams were not too high, which made it much easier to hike than after a big snow winter.
When there has been heavy snow during the winter, parts of the trail remain covered with snow through the summer, and the streams become hazardous rivers that are difficult to cross.
When you take a long trail hike, it’s tradition to get a trail name, and the one I picked is Steady Bear. It will always be my trail name, but it was particularly fitting for this trip. First, I love bears, and consider the bear to be my spirit animal. Second, I knew I wasn’t going to be the fastest hiker in our group of six, but I would get there, one step at a time. That was true, but, much to my consternation, I ended up being the absolute slowest hiker of the group.
So, I spent a lot of time hiking on my own in those mountains, from Yosemite National Park through the Ansel Adams Wilderness, the John Muir Wilderness and Kings Canyon National Park. For the first few days, my mind was buzzing–constant thoughts dashing through my head. After the third day, my inner dialog quieted down, and I could be more present in that awesome wilderness.
When I did my “epic” hike, it was hard for me. Really, really hard. Five friends and I spent 6 months talking about the trip and ironing out the details. Two of our friends, Philip and Jacqueline, were coming from Australia, and were, by far, the most prepared. They had hiked every weekend with their packs, adding more and more weight each week. Their preparation paid off on the trail!
Jo, Hanna, Jacqueline, Philip, Barbara and Jennifer, August 2014
I, on the other hand, hadn’t prepared sufficiently. In fact, during the three months leading up to our departure, I saw my bathroom scale change in the wrong direction. In addition to my 30-pound “ultra-light” pack, fully loaded, I added an additional 15 pounds of weight on my body, that I would lug for 120 miles at high elevation. Hard.
For me, one of the most difficult challenges of the trip was being the slowest. I was in “last place.” I couldn’t keep up with the others, and I felt embarrassed and ashamed. I had always been one of the best athletes in school, and here I was. My ego reared its ugly head, in the clear blue wilderness, and there was nothing for me to do but accept the reality. Eventually, humility found me, and I relaxed about it.
My friends were fantastic. Jennifer, Jo and Hanna stayed with us for the first 75 miles, but then had to head back home. So, from then on, it was Philip, Jacqueline and me.
Our plan was to hike the entire trail in three weeks, which is faster than many people do it. We averaged 10–12 miles a day, carrying everything we needed on our backs–tent, sleeping bag, water, food, jet boil and the minimal amount of necessities.
Barbara at Lake Virginia (10,400 ft.) in the John Muir Wilderness
On day 14 we summited Muir Pass at nearly 12,000 feet. That night, I was exhausted! I couldn’t sleep because I had intense cramps in my legs, and I missed my family. My daughter, Marina, was just about to start high school (now she is just about to start college), and I was going to miss what felt like important days for her.
It occurred to me around 5 am the next morning that I could end this expedition early. We were near another pass (Bishop) and I could exit on my own while Philip and Jacqueline carried on. What a glorious thought, on so many levels! I was ready!
Philip and Jacqueline didn’t want me to leave on my own, but I didn’t want them to quit the trail. It took a lot of talking to reassure them that I would be okay. In Australia, it’s a solid rule that you don’t separate from each other. I explained, with a bit of tongue in cheek, that in the United States we are independent and can strike out on our own.
Luckily, we ran into a ranger who provided some reassurance that others would be on the trail, and I would be fine. In truth, getting out required a 20-mile hike that day, summiting another 12,000-foot pass, and not finishing until well after dark, with no plans on the other side.
Exhausted, but determined, I made it over the summit and out of the wilderness that day and night, only crossing paths with three backpackers in the last ten miles. After hiking in the dark for a couple hours (luckily with a nearly full moon), I came across another backpacker. We were two miles from the trailhead of Bishop Pass, and it was 20 miles beyond that to town. He had a car at the trailhead and said he would give me a ride. Amen!
Shortly after my new best friend and I started hiking together, we heard a rustling sound. He asked me, “Are you afraid of large wild animals?” I said, “No.” What else could I say? He said, “Look to your right.” About 20 feet off the trail there were two big bear eyes staring at us, nearly as tall as we were. Yep, I was terrified, but so was the bear, I’m sure.
I made it to Bishop in the wee hours and managed to find a motel. It was pure heaven to take a shower and pass out in a bed! I rented a car the next day and drove the 320 miles home. Sitting in the car, with the air-conditioning and comfortable seat, felt like pure luxury! After two weeks on the trail, living out of a backpack, the ability to stop at a store and pick up food seemed miraculous.
During the next few weeks, I relished every little and big luxury we have in the modern world, from refrigerators and running water, to cars and houses! There is nothing like contrast to remind us of what we have.
Philip and Jacqueline completed the entire trail and summited Mount Whitney, the highest mountain in the contiguous United States at 14,500 feet, on the last day. I have a vague plan to go back over Bishop Pass and finish the trail. Maybe next summer with Marina!
Tomorrow, when we pick up Marina, I can’t wait to hear about her grand adventure and watch as she appreciates all the comforts of life after three weeks in the wilderness.
Lessons from the trail:
- We can do more than we think we can do, even when we’re not prepared.
- It’s better to be prepared if you can be!
- Pack light, physically and emotionally.
- It’s okay to change your plans.
- Take time to quiet your mind, so you can hear the voice that guides you.
- Remember to appreciate all of the abundance you have around you.
With gratitude,
Barbara (aka Steady Bear)
CEO, ROI Communication
Chief Catalyst, Living ROI
I created Living ROI as a passion, to share what I’ve learned and support others who want to live more authentic, joyful and fulfilling lives.
If you’d like to get my weekly newsletter, you can subscribe here.
