Day 26, August 13: Leaving the Wilderness

Day 26, August 13: Leaving the Wilderness

3200 Year Old Bristlecone Pine. Still alive.

It rained last night. I went to bed about when it started and I don’t know how long it rained, but I stayed nice and cozy. I did pitch my tent on a bit of an incline though (seriously, I looked for a flatter lie and couldn’t come up with one at my site) and kind of had to sleep on the edge of my air mattress. No worries though – I still slept pretty hard.

When I got up this morning, the idea to get going was pretty prevalent. I still hadn’t hiked at Great Basin, and I wanted to get at least a short hike in. I was mulling all that over while I was breaking camp, and even considering scrapping the hike altogether.

But my neighbors, whom I had met last night, invited me over for espresso. How could I refuse? Espresso at a fairly primitive campsite? What a treat. When I got there, the son, a boy of about 18, asked if I liked more of a latte or a cappuccino. I said latte of course, and he steamed the milk on their portable machine and fixed me right up.

Drinking my latte out of my metal camp cup, I visited with them for a while. Alice, the mom, is a nurse practitioner, and Dennis, the dad, is a psychiatrist.  The son, Michael, loves biology and chemistry. Any guesses where he’s headed? He thinks research, but his major will prepare him for medical school if he decides that.  They’re from Santa Cruz, and I have their numbers so if I’m ever in the neighborhood, I’m invited to give them a shout.

The family, which has a lot of hiking and backpacking experience, was headed north for a backpacking trip. When I discussed my plans and my indecision about the hike, they recommended the Bristlecone Pine hike at least. Kurt, from Kings Canyon, had suggested I visit a Bristlecone Pine grove in the eastern Sierras, but I didn’t take the time to do that. So here was the perfect solution.

I finished my latte – Dennis insisted they clean my cup for me – and we said our goodbyes. I can’t get over the wonderful people I’m meeting on this journey of mine. I’m seldom lonely, and a lot of that is due to these brief but strong connections I’m making with people along the way. I’m becoming more and more convinced that loneliness is a state of mind. And that the people we love will always be there, even if we don’t talk to them every day. And when they’re not, those gaps of intimacy will be filled with those we encounter along the way.

The view from the trail was spectacular

I finished breaking camp and went to the trailhead. The trail had two options: just take the Bristlecone Pine trail, which was about 2.5 miles, or add in an additional two miles and hike to the southernmost glacier left in North America. I decided to make that decision when I came to that junction.

The hike to the Bristlecones was very nice – a little bit of a climb but nothing terrible. The pines themselves are magical. These trees are the oldest trees in the world. Not these specific ones, but the species of tree. They live up to more than 4000 years. I did see a few that were around 3000 years old though. These trees don’t rot when they die; they erode like the soil and rocks they grow from. Their shapes are unique and twisted, and they can grow in the most desolate of situations. My favorite quote from the informational plaques that dotted part of the grove said, when talking about a tree that lived 1500 years in a very tough spot, hence becoming more resistant to rot by growing thin growth rings, “. . . its ability to stand for centuries after death is directly related to the adversity of its life.” I think there’s a metaphor there for the strength adversity gives us in our own lives.

That's the glacier in the dip

When I came to the glacier trail sign I was so energized from the trees and the hike to them, I decided to head for the glacier. It was a rocky and uneven trail, and it rose another 400 or so feet in elevation. At the trail’s 10,800 foot summit I stood almost eye to eye with the glacier, and stood atop what is called a rock glacier, the next level down from the actual ice.

On the return hike, I met a number of hikers, and stopped to visit with some of them. The connection I felt to them, the trees, the mountain, and just existence itself created a feeling of oneness and awareness that was palpable, bringing tears of gratitude to my eyes. What a way to finish hiking in the wilderness.

The Great Basin below the mountain

Shoe tree on the road. Ha!

I say finish because I’m outside Salt Lake City tonight at the Wasatch Mountain State Park. I plan to stay here two nights, and to go see the Great Salt Lake tomorrow. There is an island out on the lake that has a state park on it and some good hiking trails, so I’m going to shoot for that, but it, like the park where I’m camped, is an urban park. I can see massive houses built into the sides of these mountains, and the park itself is surrounded by suburbs of Salt Lake City. I will be driving across Wyoming the two days after that, but I don’t know how much hiking I’ll be able to do. Hopefully a few miles every day, but it will depend on what I find and where I camp.

The land here surrounding Salt Lake City and Provo is beautiful, and the mountains seem to shoot up out of the plains. I look forward to seeing more of them as I drive to the lake, but I’m not looking forward to the interstate driving I’ll be doing to get there. I guess it’s a good segue of sorts to going back to civilization at the end of the week.