The Middle of Somewhere(48)

She had read online that some hikers avoid this scenario and instead resupplied after Muir Ranch. It wasn’t straightforward. The southern half of the JMT was remote, tucked in the crease of massive mountain ranges on either side. With no easy way in or out, the mountains here were castle walls, ready to lay siege. To resupply, a hiker would leave the JMT and climb over, say, Kearsarge Pass, and hope to hitch a ride into Independence. After a night in a hotel, they’d pick up their bucket from the post office, return to the trailhead, and hike back to the JMT. Two days lost, if all went according to plan, and no closer to Mount Whitney. Most hikers, Liz included, could afford neither the extra vacation time, nor the hassle. They filled their bear cans at Muir Ranch and hoped for the strength to carry them up and up and up.

The trail followed one river, then another, reminding her of a dancer changing partners: a level waltz along the South Fork of the San Joaquin, a quickstep across Piute Creek, then a swing marathon all the way up Evolution Creek, the river pulling the trail into a closed hold in a switchback, and sending it away with a twirl, into the pines, again and again. Water raged down the steep canyon, poured over granite ledges and boulders as white paint, and landed in a froth in the pools below. Liz wiped the sweat from her eyes every few minutes and imagined standing under the falling water, an unending supply of ice-cold relief.

In the middle of the first climb, she stepped off the trail for a water break. “When we stop for lunch, we should soak our feet.”

Dante nodded, too breathless to speak.

A half hour later they reached Evolution Meadow, where the creek, now flat and broad, intersected the trail. They changed into their camp sandals and tied their boots to their packs.

She dipped a foot in. “It’s freezing!”

“Be careful what you wish.”

The rapidly flowing water came midway up her shin, and the rocks beneath were slick. Each time she placed a foot on the river bottom she tensed, knowing a slight slip could make her lose her balance completely, toppling her and her pack into the water. Halfway across her feet went numb, and she couldn’t be sure of her footing. The slower she went, the less sensation she had in her feet. She looked around to see how Dante was faring and found him already on the far bank, lacing up his boots. She continued in mincing steps and joined him a few minutes later, amazed she hadn’t fallen in.

“Finally,” he said. “An alpine activity I’m good at.”

“You’re good at many alpine activities.”

“Like what?”

“Not freaking out at storms.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Remembering to apply sunscreen.”

“I’ll put it on my resume.”

Liz thought for a moment. “How about lunch?”

“Oh, yes. I’m an expert at lunch. Perhaps even an opinion leader.”

After they ate, they entered Evolution Valley. The creek had become a wide ribbon lying across an immense golden field. At the far end rose the Hermit, a bare lump of rock two thousand feet above the valley floor. The river bent south, and they pursued it, toward the towering peaks of the Evolution Range and true wilderness.

They rose above the timberline and picked their way along a sloping boulder field. Liz could feel the lake approaching. To her left, the western side of Mount Darwin canted downward and disappeared behind the wall of rubble they’d climbed. To her right, the backside of the Hermit did the same. In the middle would be the lake, and this arduous day would be over. The chill from the river had long since left her feet. She was exhausted; her legs trembled with each step. Only pride stopped her from breaking into tears.

Above the tree line, a lake is either seen not at all, or all at once. For the past four hours, everything Liz had seen was gray: gray trail, gray rock, gray slopes, gray mountains. The monotony made the minutes drag, and it was hard to feel as though they were making progress. Every small rise should have been the final one, but wasn’t.

She concentrated on her footing as she climbed a broad slanting ledge. The trail leveled out and she raised her head. Everywhere was blue, blue, blue.

Now that she had arrived, she regretted having considered the lake as merely a spot on the map. This had happened before. She would arrive at the day’s destination, so relieved not to have to walk a step farther that she forgot why she’d hiked there in the first place. Today, at the sight of Evolution Lake, gratitude, wonder and relief surged through her. The energy she thought had been completely expended, returned. It made no sense for a view to have the power to completely alter how she felt, but it did. The sparkling sapphire water spread out before her, and she laughed.