Rolling hills. That’s what he told me this hike would be like. I have been really out of shape and knew I couldn’t handle too much. But only having done one other trip earlier this summer, we had the itch to get into the back country. To revive ourselves.
We started in the Red Cones area going over Mammoth Pass near Horseshoe Lake. At only 9300′, we barely realized that we were going over a pass. Winning!
We continued on in the blazing sun for the rest of the day. We climbed uphill most of the first 12 miles. Rolling hills my ass.
But I will say, it was all worth it to kick back and spend the night at Rosalie Lake…
The next morning was anticipated to be our toughest day. We were going to be route finding in the afternoon to connect two trails to form our own loop. Our first stretch was down hill to Shadow Lake and we were cruising. We made it the first 6 miles to Ediza Lake in no time.
All was awesome.
Oh, except that clouds were gathering and it appeared as though a storm was brewing. Now we can handle some water—we have gear for that. But what we cannot handle is lightening as we are about to enter the exposed section of our hike where we will be climbing on talus and route finding. Seriously, this is our luck right now.
What to do. What to do.
Eating a snack at the tip of Ediza Lake, we determined if we should move forward or not. We have a history of being in such situations where we have to risk going forward or turning around. Always take the risk. Not because I am that adventurous, but because I do not want to turn away from something I set out to accomplish. Sometimes we question if this thought process is unwise, and it probably is, but the second another hiker came along and started going up, we threw our packs on and followed a few minutes behind him. Safety in numbers. Though I suppose nothing can protect you from a storm.
We nearly jogged up to the next lake in order to race the clouds. We arrived at Iceberg Lake to begin our climb. The next climb. The point of no return. Once we step forward, it’s onward and upward. No turning back.
It takes alot to challenge me, but nearly 10 minutes into the climb and I am pretty shaken. Physically, I am shaking from using my muscles so hard. Mentally, I am shaking because I am pretty scared. This is by far the most technical of all hikes I have ever done. You do not want to be uneasy on the side of a mountain with a lake below. Bouldering with 25 lbs on your back really throws off your balance. The grade was much steeper than climbing Whitney, plus there is no trail to follow.
Casey is gassed and stopping every 2 minutes to catch some breath and figure out how to maneuver the rocks for his next move. I am close behind him thinking wow, when did I get such a fear of heights? Is this even a fear of heights or fear for my life? When did I become such a baby? Oh, and what happened to the storm we were so worried about earlier. One new worry pushes the old one out.
I look up and the clouds look okay now. Though I note to not look up again—it makes me dizzy standing on the side of this mountain. ‘Rolling hills’ repeats in my mind but I am too shaken to even talk.
I am tired and determined to just get to the top, safely. And I am almost there.
And when Casey stops shooting photos and let’s me move, I see it. Cecile Lake with Clyde rising above it in the backdrop. And in this moment, the beauty and feeling inside, make that gruesome climb all worth it.
