"Mammoth is the last easy way out of here until Independence, and we've got some hard country ahead of us."
I had a battle between my pride, fear and determination and the picture of Nate's face when stuck in sadness, rolling in my head all night. Christian had seen the boys after the hot desert death forest, and told us about Mammoth being our last transit city for a while. In fact, our sleepover in Mammoth was only partially to let them rest, and mainly for me to plot our options. This was how I understood the situation:
First priority, to have an amazing and safe adventure.
Second priority, accomplishment.
Unfortunately, the step off the trail and into real life had an adverse effect on the men. Their hunger was unyielding, their need for everything they saw was exasperated, and their desire for gluttonous behavior was frothing at the mouth. Totally normal I think, but too hard to swallow while I had all this indecision buzzing in my head and belly. My discomfort in indecision, mixed with my beastly boys, kept me up all night in the stupid hotel. I missed hiking. Really. Really I did. Wow.
So here's what we did:
We forwarded our Ranch resupply to the post office at Whitney Portal. There was a bus leaving to Bishop from Mammoth at 2p, and we bought tickets. We ate breakfast in the Colorado-sporty town center, and watched as the sky opened up and let loose a strong rain that tapered off by our departure. And then we skipped town and headed back to the trail.
I felt horribly guilty about shaving 72 miles off. Well, we will need to add 14 mi to get back on the trail from Bishop, and we will pick up miles when we hop off the trail to retrieve our resupply in Independence CA, so it won't be too disappointing, I rationalized. Still, it felt like a huge cut. In the end, this cheat jump allows us these important things:
A safe and amazing adventure,
time, with a plentiful new supply of food
and accomplishment.
So I swallowed my pride, and got excited for Bishop in the rain.
We were dropped off at a Kmart in the middle of a 4000 person town. Take yourself through this; you're shopping for windex and storage bins, and two boys with enormous rain ponchos and their backpackedmother ask you where the trail is. Kmart thought we were insane, and it seemed as if they had never seen the likes of us. I wasn't worried yet, but this was my first solid wall on this trip.
A woman at the customer service desk asked where we were going and kindly offered to look over some topological maps from her car. It turned out that we had to pick up the trail a good distance away from the Kmart, so I asked if Bishop had cabs.
Smile. Nope.
Her name was Brooke, and I have no idea why she trusted us, or lent her help, but she did. She offered us a ride to the trailhead. I knew she was a mom because she talked in we's; "we can take you!" Even though she was alone. She had good eyes, and we needed the help, so we took it.
In order to take us, she had to drive to a friend's home to collect her two adorable little girls, who she planned on squeezing in around our gigantic, imposing bags and bods. "No big deal, we'll figure it out," she sang--so matter of factly and so sweetly, as if it were her pleasure to drive us all around. So nice. So nice. We met Brooke's daughters and friend, and they all rearranged their evening (for us) so that the girls would stay put, while we were driven to the trailhead. Dinner and babysitting were all altered. Unreal.
The ride was significant in distance, and tricky in the rain. The boys were riding a rare sugar rush in the backseat, while Brooke and I exchanged stories and traded author and audiobook suggestions for our kids. With the warmth of a nurse and old friend, she never judged, or made us feel anything but comfortable and lucky. The finest lesson from John Muir's Trail has been found in the people, and I would love if this truth of goodness crept into the boys' souls and memories forever.
I do hope you write, Brooke, the second mom I've met on this trip. I cannot thank you enough. The boys and I would have been walking on a road, in the rain, without your help. Be well, and you have a friend in Cambridge if you ever find yourself out east!
The trailhead was marked clearly with signs indicating paths to the JMT. The entrance wore a Winnie the Pooh looking sign that read,
Trail.
It was sprinkling and 5p, but we had to at least get to a site for the night. With extra energy from our pig outs and cushy rest, we hiked up a chunk of the mountain super fast. The rain started pelting and we saw snow on the ground...but we were happy! All of us! Look at the snow! This is our best mountain yet! Now to be fair, I have no idea how challenging this was, and I'll look up exactly what we hiked tomorrow, but I am going to bask in the happiness and fun of our return, for now. Return to the dirt. We set up in the rain at the mountain top, ate under a circle of trees and retired to a dry tent for cards and reading. The walk was beautiful; a welcome change from the days that burnt our spirits. We are back, and I feel better out here.
