Squaw Lake - Edison Lake via Silver Pass
Last night was the worst. After our apparent success with altitude acclimatisation, I’d ceased to think about the risk we were taking, pushing our bodies through extreme climbs and descents at over 10 000 feet. I’d been unable to fall asleep, and around midnight I became nauseous and dizzy. I panicked. Adrian tried to comfort me and took me out to filter some water as I hyperventilated and cried pathetically. Packed up in my puffy coat, I fell into a cold sleep eventually, but was completely wrecked this morning. Eyes like slits, body heavy, brain filled with cotton. We moved in slow motion as we packed up down camp and trudged upwards into the sunrise.
Daybreak at camp beneath Silver Pass
Interestingly, Silver Pass was so tiny that it bordered on the disappointing. A steep climb through a snow patch that took about four minutes to traverse was all there was to it. First trail pass conquered! Was this the cause of the Americans’ hysteria? I had fretted endlessly about the record snowpack, but my driveway at home in Norway would be snowier than this in winter.
My nightly toils melted away as the sun seared over the distant mountains. Both sides of Silver were beautiful, green fields flecked with snow patches, lakes and white stone. Up here we could breeze along for hours before the trail descended from the alpine into familiar pine woodland.
Probably more fun going down…
We had lunch (the last on section 1!) on a gorgeous outcrop of sandy rocks next to a cascading waterfall. We were treated to some river crossings on the wilder side of my comfort zone as the trail winded ever downwards through the forest, and I plugged in music for the first time. “Mountain Theme” from The Man From Snowy River could hardly meet more fitting scenery.
Luxury doesn’t have to be expensive.
Hiking is all about details. Seeing the signpost to Vermillion Valley Resort - our resupply - gave me a burst of energy, and I felt like I’d already summited Mt Whitney when we reached the shores of Lake Edison. Gentle waves rippled in the breeze, and I waded along the sandy bottom for a swim (to the shameless fascination of two fishermen on the opposite shore, who had clearly never seen a woollen sports bra before…). And better yet, there was phone and data reception! I called my dad and dived into Facebook. Who needs a sunbed and pool when you have the California wilderness?
I stood there in the water forever. Drinking in the victory of finishing section 1 and living the dream.
Our last camp on section 1 was nestled on the pale shores of Lake Edison under a tall Jeffrey pine. No bugs, and we could eat our gooey mac ‘n cheese in peace. It felt like… a weekend. But I also felt nervous for the upcoming section. Section 1 is the gentlest, but it has been so hard. We were constantly covered in dirt, sweat, bugspray, and layers of old sunscreen. Despite my best efforts, I was covered in over 200 mosquito bites – my butt looked like a relic from the smallpox era - and I still had nowhere to blow my bleeding nose for lack of toilet paper. Every other day I’d change the gauze and leukotape covering my hips and collar bones to prevent pressure sores from my heavy pack.
Don’t get me wrong, I was so proud and grateful to be out in the wild. And I never expected it to be glamorous. But I’d be lying if I didn’t confess how hard it was. On the other hand… I also remembered that I’d resupplied myself both brownies and jumbo cinnamon buns. Omnomnom!