NOTE: It’s been over a year since my hike. These stories are from memory, they may not reflect what actually happened on the trail, but this is how I remember it.
It’s 3am, cold and I’m sore from the previous days trek. Outside my tent I hear rustling, the buzz of a gas stove. I can see a green glow on the outside wall of my tent. Someone’s making coffee! crap! I have to get up and get ready. It’s going to be a big day today.
As I wake further I can hear whispers. It’s Heather and Casey hard at work preparing for the day ahead.
I pull on my dirty, smelly, cold clothes and shoes and crawl slowly out of my tent, being careful not to stretch my weary muscles too far too fast. I ease on to my knees and eventually my feet. I’m a little unsteady, as is normal in the mornings. I gain my balance and sense, turn on my headlamp and stumble forward, toward the glow of a gas burner and the smell of fresh, hot coffee.
I reach the makeshift kitchen, only 20-30 feet from my tent, to be greeted by Casey. His high energy, friendly personality doesn’t even fade at 3 am, I think to myself.
Heather smiles from behind her headlamp lite face. knit hat and puffy jacket jacket pulled and zipped tight, she motions me toward the freshly pressed coffee. I grunt, nod in thanks and stumble two more steps in order to fill my soul and body very important nourishment.
Minutes later I notice others from our expedition team, also awake and mulling around camp prepping for what’s ahead.
A bracelet (or necklace) of show laces in hand, pack on, shoes on and full of energy for todays adventures, Heather gathers the expedition team and reviews the days plan.
It’s still dark. We all have headlamps, packs, and are dressed warmly.
Slowly, steadily, we file out of camp, across the meadow and creek and onto the trail.
It’s a gentle slope to begin. Quickly giving was to rocks and boulders. I can hear a stream, but it’s still too dark to see anything but the 10 feet of trail illuminated by my head lamp.
No one is talking. Everyone is still tired, trying to push through the darkness of morning in anticipation.
The darkness gives way slowly and I can see a marshy meadow, and mountains, huge, grey-blue-purple mountains to my right. We’re ascending the left side of a mountain wash toward Guitar lake, the basecamp for a Mt. Whitney summit.
