An empty case of the mondays

Bad days can sneek up on people. I see it all the time on facebook. “oh Monday, get off me!”. Work can get to people, or school, or the lack of either. People find themselves down all the time in town. Obviously that’s a major reason why I find myself out here, to hide from “bad days” and to let my mind unravel, the ultimate persuit of good days.
I left Kennedy Meadows with 84 miles to our next resupply with 6 days of food in my pack. Six days of food to safely make it through the snow to Independence, Ca. Six days of food just incase we decided to zero somewhere in the great John Muir Wilderness. I walked into the woods with nothing but good days ahead of me.
Im from Texas and so is Caveman, Bird is from LA (a place that has even less snow than TX) and Bojangles is also a southerner.
– An SAT question and answer : a fish out of water is most like … C. Southerners on snow.
Two days into the Sierra and we had only hiked 28 miles. The weather was clear and hot and the snow buckled under the pressure of the changing season. Postholing in wet snow and crossing swollen creeks and rivers our feet were soaked from beginning to end of everyday. A fire at camp everynight to dry our socks and get some of the lake our of our shoes for the next morning. Then repeat. Wet feet, wet shoes, big snow, bigger river crossings. Day four and we were only 40 miles into the section with a day long side hike still in between us and more food. The morning before our Whitney summit the tape worm woke me up at a quarter of seven, “feed me!!” it said. Unfourtunately there was no feeding to be done, I had only two hot meals left and a ration of one protein bar per day. I tore down my tent and packed my bag while the tape worm sulked. The snow continued to cripple our miles and by the end of the sixth day out the food rationing began to cripple my stamina. Two days still remaining before town and the biggest, most difficult snowbstacle of the trail still looming before us. There was no more shopping in my food bag for what to eat. It was all rationed out. Bojangles saved my tape worm with three packages of cheese crackers and two oatmeal cream pies. That was all that was left. 400 calories versus 15 miles and Forrester Pass. The tape worm decided it would be a string of bad days till it was looked after again. On our last day out I woke up in a pout at 5AM to begin climbing the fence out of the Sierra, once you get in this place it’s hard to get out. A 1200′ ice wall with a nailbitting sheer wall traverse at the top. The tapeworm had me bitter at my frozen feet, angry at the snow and sick of walking, so I pushed off from our last break before the big climb first and headed straight into the nearly vertical ice wall. Six crackers and one oatmeal cream pie worth of energy. Each step and kick a battle. The only thoughts in my head were of my beautiful Rachel back home with her warm dry feet and pantry full of food. I didn’t want to be in the woods, I didn’t want to be in the mtns and I certainly didn’t want to be on that ice sheet. The last of the Little Debbie calories evaporated just as we topped out at the 13000′ pass. We could see over the wall and all the way down to town. Our escape back to civilization was now in the hands of gravity, if it were up to callories and stamina to get us to town I would have just died right there. Thankfully it was plunge stepping and glicading to the parking lot. The first road we had seen in a week. I got to the parking lot with an empty pack and an empty stomach. Laying on my back sucking at the air like a fish out of water.
We waited for our trail angel to come scoop us up an take us to burgers and sodas. I checked my watch and was surprised to see that it was infact Monday, a typical day for a bad day just not the usual setting for one. By the time our ride arrived my tape worm had fallen asleep from exhaustion and my eyes were again filled with the most extrodinary beauty. In the car our trail angel spoke softly of courage and determination. The idea of my “bad day” began to seem childish and weak-hearted. The hunger and wet feet had temporarily broken my ability to percieve beauty and grandure. By the time we got to LonePine CA Tom, our trail angle, had broken my ability to percieve bad days. As we shook hands and said our thanks for the ride I felt like a bumper sticker again. “No Bad Days”
Now even the hungry, cold and wet days will be good days, for I can see again that there are no beige walls keeping me inside, there are no due dates and Mondays suck no more than any of the other nameless days I walk through the wilderness. We head back into the snow today, I head back into the woods with twelve days of food and 1800 miles of good days ahead of me.

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