In October 2018, my wife’s brother Wayland and I planned to conquer the roughly 100 mile lowest to highest route. The route starts at the lowest point in North America (Badwater, Death Valley National Park) and ends at the highest point in the lower 48 states (Mt. Whitney, the Sierras). If that in itself were not brutal enough, the route makes an initial ascent over telescope ridge (11,000 feet) during the first 20 miles.
Wayland, flying from Orlando and I, driving from Salt Lake City met in Las Vegas. We ran some last minute errands in town and grabbed lunch. From Vegas, we began the drive to stage a car at the Whitney Portal trailhead near Lone Pine, CA and hitch to Badwater. As we were leaving Vegas, we identified a hitchhiker on the far outskirts of town. Thinking we needed to earn some hitchhiking karma, we stopped and offered him a ride. His name was Scott and he had shifty eyes and was trying to make his way to Reno for a “fresh start”. We took him as far as Beatty, NV. From here we drove across Death Valley. At the Saline Valley Road, we cached water. Our intent was to leave four gallons here and four gallons at cerro gordo. But we were anxious to start our adventure, so we left all eight gallons. We hid the jugs discretely in the bushes and made a mental note of the location referencing a sign across the road. From here we finished the drive to Lone Pine and made a quick stop at the town grocery store. I purchased some produce.
We drove the car to the whitney portal. The food we planned to consume for the last leg of the trip was put in the bear lockers. At this point it was early evening and we hoped to hitch to Badwater. It didn’t take long to get our first ride out of the portal. We got our hitch through Lone Pine and dropped a few miles out of town on highway ???. As dark settled in, a few cars passed but none were willing to stop. Finally a police officer stopped and asked if we needed help. He told us he couldn’t give us a ride but wished us luck. While we talked to him, a car nearly stopped but changed their mind. We convinced each other the cop scared him away. Eventually we saw headlights racing towards us with our thumbs in the highway. The driver swerved into the left lane and slammed on her brakes. We were excited that somebody finally stopped. “You scared the shit out of me,” she said. She explained to us that she had been texting and driving and barely saw us at the last second. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, so we embarked on a terrifying drive with her down a winding road. She couldn’t take us as far as Badwater, but she took us to a decent campsite near a large boulder just off the highway. We set up camp here and made some dinner.
The next morning, we woke up early and packed up quickly. As we made our way down to the road, we spotted a van with plenty of room that looked like a perfect ride for us. But we didn’t make it to the highway in time to get a hitch from them. Next we saw a tiny sports car. It was too small, there was no way we would fit. We barely even bothered thumbing. But the guy stopped and we piled in. After a few more hitches and some road walking, we eventually found our way to Badwater. Here we encountered a sign warning us of the heat with strong recommendations that you not enter during the hot part of the day. “Those are for the tourists,” we told each other. We were full of energy and anxious to start our hike. Walking out to badwater with a sea of tourists, we started our adventure. After a few hundred yards many tourists congregate at what appeared to be the true low point. We left the crowd and continued across the vast salt flat expanse. The ground eventually was a thin crust of white salt covering a few inches or more of mud. At times the mud reached our ankles. This was slow going and the heat quickly took its toll. Trudging through the slick mud was physically exhausting. We rested briefly and pounded some water. We experimented with using an umbrella and it gave me some relief from the heat. My head started to pound and the dehydration became intense. We trudged through with some urgency, deciding we needed to get out of the exposed salt flats and into some shade. Our packs were extremely heavy with a week worth of food and lots of water. The distance of this basin is extremely deceptive. With a barren landscape and no visual landmarks, my eyes were playing tricks on me. Eventually, we reached a tree which marked the end of the basin stretch. We threw our packs down exhausted. The dehydration had turned to heat exhaustion at this point. The remoteness of our location was unnerving. We pounded water with electrolyte berry powder and rested in the shade. We closed our eyes for a moment. We were less than ten miles in and we had grossly underestimated this hike. We talked ourselves out of quitting at this early stage. Out of the basin, we began the climb up Hanuapah canyon. I saw my water supply dwindling and felt some urgency to reach the first spring tonight. We walked up a dirt road slowly, resting frequently. Our legs were cramping. We used our trekking poles to shift some of the work to our arms. It was extremely slow going at this point. I was skeptical that we would reach our water source tonight. Eventually we called it for the day, a few miles short of the water source, our bodies were experiencing extreme fatigue and the heat stroke was unbearable. I made my dinner which was ground falafel mix reconstituted and formed into falafel balls cooked in oil on the backpacking stove. I added tomato and cucumber with mayo and hot sauce on a tortilla and it tasted heavenly. I drank some more water but held some back for the morning. We cowboy camped and throughout the night I woke up with severe leg cramping, a result of the dehydration.
After a good night’s rest, we awoke with our spirits still a little broken, but re-energized. The hike that morning was far more pleasant than yesterday’s death march in the heat. Our weather forecast called for a strong hurricane to move inland today meaning there was some potential for rain and wind. Instead, we had overcast skies and a few sprinkles. A beautiful rainbow was spotted in the early morning hours. After a few miles, we reached the water source. Signs were posted warning hikers that due to illegal activity the water may not be safe to drink. We had no choice. We emphasized the meaning of the word “may” and decided it was just some overly cautious lawyer that led to this signage. We wondered how tainted the water could be and what type of illegal activity had taken place. We laughed at the irony of the situation given the basin’s name “Badwater”. Ignoring the signs, we stayed at the water source for awhile, hydroloading ourselves and filling up every empty container we had. From the spring, we had to do a little navigation work to decide the next part of the route. Here is where the brutal ascent dramatically begins up to telescope ridge from the canyon floor. We were doing this hike without a GPS, only maps and mileage waypoints were guiding us through this adventure. We left the lush canyon floor and made a vertical ascent up our first of several ridges. This was an extremely slowgoing mile or so. We climbed vertically following cairns and occasionally using our hands though there was nothing dangerous. We stopped frequently as each step was a difficult steep climb. After some intense climbing, we eventually reached a high point. The view of the badwater basin from here was dramatic. Telescope ridge rises out of nowhere with ridge fingers spreading to form canyons. We were on one of these fingers, with a great distance to go before we met the proper ridgeline. We broke here to consume some calories and drink. As I threw my pack off, I punctured my camelback bladder on the side of my pack. I quickly tried to salvage as much water as I could and hydroload every drop I could save. I filled mine and Wayland’s containers from the broken camelback. We trekked on from here up, down, and flat but mostly up following the ridgeline with dramatic views in all directions. I have an overwhelming feeling that I am truly out in the middle of nowhere. There is a vast landscape and a great distance can be seen from this vantage. I see no signs of humans and this area is definitely not well trodden. The elevation profile an eager hiker finds while researching this route is hard to comprehend or compare to any other hike. Wayland talks of stopping for the night but there’s still a few hours of daylight left. I encourage him to press on, but now he put the thought in my head. We’re in a tough spot on top of the ridge to make much in terms of a campsite. I keep my eyes scouting for a relatively flat spot but I find nothing. Eventually we reach a small patch that looks sufficient. I cowboy camp placing my pad in a bed of pine needles under a tree. The tree keeps me from falling over the edge of an enormous cliff. Wayland makes his bed on a flat spot on the trail. We rig his tarp over him and if I find myself in rain that night I will join him here. It ultimately doesn’t rain that night, so all the tarp rigging was done in vain.
The next morning we wake early to our alarm, break camp and start hiking in the dark. We make constant progress up the steep ridge but it is slow and time consuming. We hit false summit after false summit. Our routefinding is based on the principle that we don’t want to give up any elevation that we’ve worked hard to earn. We keep looking for ways to connect ridgelines in a way that avoids shedding elevation into valleys. There is no real trail at this point, but when in doubt we just climb higher. This is a slow, demoralizing, steep ascent. Eventually we reach the ridge where a proper national park trail is found. We break for lunch and I load up on carbs. We still have some water remaining from the spring. From here we have a detour option to summit Telescope Peak. We opt not to. It’s a short jaunt, but it’s been a grueling day and we are getting behind schedule. It’s a relief to be following an actual trail. The view on the other side of the tall ridge reveals the vast panamint valley with badwater basin in the rearview. Across the valley, I spot another ridgeline far in the distance.
We travel this proper trail and encounter human trailrunners for the first time since leaving badwater. We engage in a brief conversation and get some intel about the path towards the telescope trailhead. The trail is extremely straightforward and easy to follow. We make quick time and appreciate the break from climbing to a downhill descent. We encounter a few more humans and soon find ourselves at the trailhead. We make the decision to take the wildrose alternate. On this route, a developed campground with water awaits us this evening. After our laborious journey over telescope ridge, we were ready to yellowblaze this section rather than trudge down the dirt road. At the trailhead, which also served as a campground, two young women arrived from the telescope peak trail. We asked them for a ride down the road to wildrose and they obliged but had to pack up camp first. Soon they took us the short distance to camp.
Wildrose is a free primitive campground which appeared as a five star hotel after our last few nights. We drank lots of water at camp and scavenged firewood from the vacant sites. One camper saw me scavenging and offered me a few additional logs of his own. We made some dinner and cowboy camped next to the fire. During the night we heard the terrifying loud bellows and stomping of wild burros either mating or fighting.
In the morning, we broke camp quickly and started walking in the cool morning down the canyon road. One car passed and offered us a ride which we declined. At some point, the guided materials instruct you to leave the road. We overshot this wash junction and retraced our route overland climbing a few hills. We encountered a few mining claims and witnessed the rumbling of low flying military aircraft. The march across the playa was neverending. In the distance, we spotted the Panamint Springs Resort, our destination for the night. Waiting for us there was pizza and cold beer. As the day warmed, our exposed hike across the barren landscape proved to be a physical challenge. This was coupled with the mental challenge of judging distance. Panamint Springs resort sits close to the intersection of two highways. Eventually, we spotted the cars along the more traveled highway. We hiked for hours, but the highway remained far in the distance. I used my umbrella to take some of the edge off. Wayland found his umbrella useless and awkward. We hiked overland as long as we could over mostly flat terrain with some small hills. Eventually we bisected a road and the heat radiating off the asphalt compounded the intensity of the hiking conditions. We followed this road for awhile. A few cars passed and the sight of two lunatics backpacking in the death valley heat was likely incomprehensible to some. At least one car asked us if we needed anything and we told them we were ok. As the heat of the late afternoon intensified, the cold pizza and beer remained in the distance. Our thumbs started getting a mind of their own. We attempted to hitch for less than an hour and finally one of the few cars on this road pulled over. The driver, Josh, was an employee and resident of the Panamint Springs Resort. He drove us the remaining few miles to the resort and showed us the best campsite in the resort under a large tree. We threw our packs down, paid for the site at the convenience store, and with salivating mouths got a table at the pizzeria. After ordering my beer, I went to ask for some change to the type or size and was lectured by a hostile waitstaff for encroaching on the employee zone. I was just trying to ask for the change before he poured my beer, but he was angry. He must have been having a bad day. The cold beer, glass of water, and veggie pizza was the best thing I had ever tasted. In addition, we were able to obtain wifi, get in touch with our loved ones, and check the news. I researched the reason for the cautioned water source found in Hanuapah Canyon and learned that an illegal pot crop had been discovered there recently. There were probably concerns that pesticides or herbicides had tainted the water. I felt better about this possibility than I would have about illegal mining. After sitting at the pizzeria, our leg muscles were stiff. We purchased some cold beer to go. Wayland was running low on food for the trek and he purchased some firewood, playing cards, and food from the convenience store. We hobbled across the street to the campground. Back at camp, we conversed with our RV neighbors. They were two families of friends from Germany. They asked us questions about our trek and we felt like celebrities for what we had accomplished. Here at Panamint Springs was the roughly halfway point in terms of miles. In terms of elevation, we had the difficult telescope ridge behind us and the Mt. Whitney finale in our sights.
Wayland and I played cards briefly for a bit until the German family re-approached us and offered for us to join them for dinner. Granted, we had just polished off a pizza, but we were insatiable. We accepted and soon joined them for conversation and beer while they prepared the meal. The families were interesting to talk to and at dusk we dined on a delicious meal. This included fresh vegetables, cucumbers and tomatoes. The taste of vegetables is phenomenal when hiking for days in the desert. Exhausted, we thanked our new friends and returned next door to our camp. Here we decided to venture across the street to the pizzeria bar for a night cap. At the bar, the same grumpy waitstaff refused to acknowledge us. We met four or five Panamint Springs Resort employees now off the clock. This included Josh, our driver from earlier in the day. Wayland charged his phone here and one of our new acquaintances kindly gave us each a beer from the 6 pack he had just purchased. We had hoped for some whiskey or something stronger, but the grumpy waitstaff still refused to acknowledge us. The guy sharing his beer was overly enthusiastic to befriend us. He smiled at me and looked into my eyes with a perhaps drug-induced gaze and told me that I reminded him of his best friend. The group was enthusiastic about partying with us at our campsite. But we were too tired from hiking to stay up late. Besides, we had told our hospitable German neighbors we were going to bed. What would they think if we then brought these 20-something party animals to our camp. We thanked who we later dubbed “sharing Johnny” for the beer and politely declined the all-night party invitation. As we were leaving, the grumpy waitstaff accosted us for not ordering anything. We crossed the street, finished our drinks and called it a night.
The next morning we stopped at the convenience store for some last minute items. I took inventory of my food supply and gave Wayland an extra Indian packet I had saved from last night’s feast. He bought a jar of peanut butter and some other items though the convenience store didn’t offer much for backpackers. I bought a cup of coffee and we hiked the mile or so up the road. From here we opted for the darwin falls alternate route. The cool morning and the shaded wash were very pleasant hiking. We joked about our strange night and the encounter with Josh, the grumpy waitstaff, the Germans, and mostly about “sharing Johnny”.
Soon we reached the beautiful Darwin falls which is a lush desert oasis of running water. According to the guidebook there were a few waterfalls and it became necessary to climb up the canyon and routefind a way around them. Some of the moves that were necessary were extremely challenging. There was a lot of exposure and some critical hand holds. In a few places, I ascended first and Wayland passed our packs up to me, then he would take his turn ascending. The climbing was extremely slow going. The exposure required a lot of physical and mental work. Eventually the rock climbing became easier and we found our way up canyon. At times we bypassed the canyon floor using the rocky ledges. Other times, we bushwacked through the overgrown reeds. Eventually we forced our way up canyon until we reached china garden spring. This is a bizarre hippy’s nest with dirt road access that is clearly used by the young locals as a party spot. It’s a strange experience to find koi fish and goldfish thriving in the middle of the mojave desert. We stopped briefly at china garden spring and then continued on our way.
At this point, most of our climbing was behind us for the day. We still had to push through over a few hills, but there was nothing difficult like our morning had consumed. We followed a series of burro trails and had to do some navigational work reading maps. Wayland has a remarkable gift for finding our location on the map and I’ve learned to trust his instincts. Eventually we spot the highway in the distance. Over time, we even identify the junction of saline valley road and the main highway. This is where we had left our water cache and this was a critical destination we had to meet tonight. Our goal was to camp at our water and consume as much as possible so we wouldn’t have to carry 8 full gallons the next day. Once the junction came into view, it was still a long trek down a gentle hill. It was easier navigation now having a visual to work towards. We trudged along late in the day for what seemed to take longer than it should. At this point in our journey, our legs had been trained to better handle the long days. We were able to push ourselves for more hours today and we reached our cache point at dusk. Not far from the highway, we cowboy camped just off the dirt road and cameled up.
The next morning we took what was left of our water haul and hid the empty jugs in a garbage bag in the bushes with rocks on top to haul out later. The trek up the dirt road was long and uneventful. Soon in the morning we reached the joshua tree preserve. This joshua tree forest was a welcome change in landscape. Many of the trees were very mature. We met a series of junctions and followed the guide dilligently. Today was cool and pleasant compared to a few of the hot days we had experienced. It was a bit overcast and the cloud cover made for pleasant hiking. I found in the afternoon I typically started losing energy. We found our legs capable now to push through the doldrums and we could crank out some big mile days. Later in the afternoon, I took inventory of my cell phone battery and decided we had earned some music. I rigged a “speaker” out of an empty water jug and this helped break up the monotony of endless dirt road and wash hiking. I strapped the speaker to my bag. After a few songs, the clouds darkened more and soon the rain began. The speaker was prone to gathering a puddle for my cell phone to soak in so I shut down the musical interlude. The storm intensified and we hiked with our umbrellas through lightning. Eventually the rain turned to hail during the early evening hours. We took inventory of the mileage. Just prior to a junction, we opted to end our hike for the day. The hail storm went through spurts of intensity. At times the sounds of thunder approached closer then faded away. When the intense hail subsided and faded to light rain sprinkles, we hurriedly started a fire in the wash bottom. We babied the fire with the little dry wood we had gathered and stoked it the best we could during the storm’s intermission. I used my thermarest z pad as a cover for my pack to keep it dry. The umbrella shielded me from the moisture a little but my hiking clothes were pretty soaked because the umbrella did little good when the storm was raging and the wind blew sideways. We sat here shivering in the wash waiting for the storm to pass. I didn’t want to put my dry sleeptime clothes on until the storm was over. I let my hiking clothes get soaked instead, and we waited patiently for the storm to end. The intensity of the storm picked up just when we thought it would pass. The hail returned with vengeance and the umbrella was useful in shielding us from its painful pelting fury. We sat shivering in the wash under our umbrellas getting a little warmth from the disadvantaged fire we were still babying. I looked up the wash, which Wayland had his back to. I saw a stream of water forming in the wash and we were camping in its path. In hindsight, a low point was probably not the best location during a storm. We moved camps up to higher ground and salvaged what we could from the fire. The storm eventually ended and we got our fire roaring. Clear skies eventually returned in the evening sky and we determined it was safe to change into our dry sleeptime clothes. Tomorrow was to be our escape day when we would return to the civilization of lone pine. We could endure these brief weather trials with the knowledge that it was temporary and it would all be over soon. That night was one of the coldest and I woke up several times to stoke the fire.
In the cool morning we begrudgingly exited our warm sleeping bags and put on our damp hiking clothes. Morale was high and we were excited for a short hike to cerro gordo ghost town. We followed the waypoints up elevation and saw the dusting of snow or hail on some of the higher mountain peaks. It made us wonder what kind of weather that storm had brought to whitney. We talked about a mexican restaurant we had spotted in Lone Pine and we salivated for burritos. We were behind schedule but we had pieced together a plan of yellowblazing to finish the trek with some semblance of success. Today we would hike the brief trip to the ghost town and potentially hitch out if possible or walk the dirt road to the highway where we could easily hitch to Lone Pine. In Lone Pine we planned to obtain our whitney permits and then the following day we would day hike mt whitney with our newly acquired legs and no packs. It seemed to be a foolproof plan but would ultimately fall apart at the seams. What we didn’t know at this time was that we overshot our last junction during the storm and we were not where we thought we were at all.
Full of ignorance, we soon discovered mining relics which reassured us we were closing in on the ghost town. The mining relics were home to a complex network of old mining roads. It took some time before we realized the waypoints weren’t making sense. We tried to identify peaks on the map with confusion and no success. Each road we tried would dead end at a mine or pull us in the wrong direction. We returned a few times to one junction which we had mis-identified as the culprit for our increasingly now obvious lostness. We spent a few hours walking in circles, trying different roads and climbing ridges to get new vantages. We became frustrated as the lunch hour faded into afternoon with little progress made. We questioned ourselves for identifying a massive granite peak for as cerro gordo peak. We struggled to make our way around it and scouted no options for escape in the direction we needed. We kept our elevation and treked on looking for an opportunity to pass through the range. As the afternoon wore on, it became increasingly obvious that we would be spending another night here. We wouldn’t be going to Lone Pine today. We wouldn’t be eating at the Mexican restaurant. We would be spending another miserably cold night here instead. What was worse, our written itinerary left with my wife meant she was expecting us to have cell service and make contact from Lone Pine today. Now hopelessly lost, my stomach churned from knowing she was worried. It also churned from the hunger knowing our food supply was close to depleted at this point. Eventually we made the decision that we would inevitably be spending another night out here. We descended the steep ridgeline that we had worked so hard for. The early evening descent down a steep loose scree was done cautiously. Once off the ridge, we found more complex networks of old mining roads. At one point, these roads led us to a proper dirt road that had some moderate recent traffic. We paused here at this junction and talked through our options. If we turn right, it could lead us over the pass to the ghost town and ultimately lone pine. Maybe. If we turn left, we could find our way back to our wash and hike the 25 miles back to the saline valley road junction with the highway. We made the decision to turn left. We would escape tomorrow on a route we knew. We walked a short distance down the dirt road and experienced some serious buyers remorse. The consolation was that as we shed some more elevation it might eek out a few degrees of warmth that night. As dusk fell we found a suitable camp with plenty of firewood resources nearby. We stacked up a huge pile of firewood for the night and made a fire ring. Wayland cowboy camped under a huge boulder. He jokingly worried that the boulder might fall on top of him during the night. We made ourselves a hot meal from the few remaining oatmeal packets I had left. We went to bed hungry, cold, exhausted, and stressed. I closed my eyes and saw visions of a haunted taunting cartoon ghost miner with satanic eyes. He had placed a curse on us. The curse of cerro gordo. We experienced another cold night and we woke up to stoke the fire occasionally. It’s a strange experience to spend the night not knowing exactly where you are. To be lost. Unfortunately, it’s an experience I had been through before in the Wind River mountains on my Gannett Peak attempt. I felt terrible for what my wife was likely experiencing. I was determined the next day to reach cell service and make contact before the calvary got called.
We woke up to our alarms in the dark and started working on miles. It didn’t take long to rejoin our old wash and find ourselves on familiar roads. We identified some landmarks that we recognized from the hike two days ago. Now we simply needed to crank out the 25 miles, meet the highway, and hitch to service to call off the search party. At this point we met a backpacking couple headed in the opposite direction. We asked if they were doing the L2H. They said yes and asked if we were doing the H2L. We sheepishly explained our folly and misfortune. We talked briefly and continued on our way back to the highway junction. Now we re-entered the joshua tree preserve and a county vehicle approached going the opposite direction. With Wayland several strides behind me, I conversed with the driver and explained our navigational error. He told me if we reached the mining relics we had gone too far. I started to piece together our mistake and decided the dirt road we camped along last night was the proper exit to the haunted, cursed ghost town of cerro gordo. He laughed when I proposed maybe he could give us a ride to the highway. “You can do it,” he told me. This day was a bit warmer but our dwindling water supply was enough to get us by. We stopped for lunch and we shared my final remaining scraps of food. I reconstituted powdered peanut butter in a ziploc and made us a meal of some nuts and dried fruit. Wayland called me a ziploc chef.
We encountered another L2H couple and conversed with them a little longer than the first couple. We shared war stories of telescope ridge and the brutal rock climbing ascent in darwin canyon. They were some of the few people we could meet in our lifetime who understood our trials and tribulations. To everyone else, it’s just not relatable. At this point we were slowly closing in on the highway. It was a long trek and seemed neverending. Even when the highway came into view, the distance seemed to pass slowly. I had not remembered this stretch taking so long when we hiked it a few days prior in the early morning hours. Perhaps it’s because we had just started our day then young, naiive and full of energy. Now we were worn, mangy, and broken. Eventually we reached the highway, threw our packs down and stuck our thumbs out. Many cars passed and nobody wanted to stop. We looked pathetic. Couldn’t they tell how desperately we needed a ride? A westfalia passed and I made eye contact with the driver while sticking out my thumb. I pointed to myself and pointed at him, raising my eyebrows and mouthing the words “Please?”. He passed us by but in a short time turned around and pulled over to pick us up. We were grateful. This was a young couple from quebec with their dog who were exploring the area. We told them of our adventures and made the drive towards Lone Pine. They were headed to Bishop. When we reached service I messaged my wife not to panic and told her I would call soon after we finished the hitch. She told me she had just barely called the rangers for advice on how to proceed with search and rescue. Later I talked to her and she had been pretty close to filing a missing person report. They had asked her a few questions trying to determine if I was mentally ill and if I had intentionally left her. We laughed.
The couple dropped us off in Lone Pine at the junction to the Whitney Portal. We attempted thumbing here for less than an hour before a pick-up truck finally offered a ride. We rode in the back of the pick-up and the cold windy ride at higher elevation left us shivering. We didn’t mind though, we had been through much worse. Wayland closed his eyes during the cold drive up the windy road. The driver dropped us at an overflow campground, not quite to whitney portal. I left my pack with wayland and scurried up the road to my car. I retrieved the food from the bear locker and picked him up. Once in town, we googled some hotels. They all seemed to be the same price (high) and quality (low). We happened to pick one really close to our Mexican restaurant. At the hotel we made the difficult decision between showering and eating. We decided to shower first. I turned the TV on and drank a beer while Wayland showered. There was an eery feeling to watch TV. I had too quickly become accustomed to the solitude life in the desert. It was hard to re-introduce myself to the over-stimulating noise and pictures on the television. I showered a week of filth off of me and changed into some clean clothes I had brought. Looking primme and proper, we hobbled on our stiff legs over to the Mexican restaurant. I ordered the most delicious burrito I ever had in my life. Inside were fried zucchini squash and other delicious vegetables. We also ordered a beer with our meal and it tasted heavenly. After dinner, we wandered across the street to Jake’s Saloon. I had been here before and the gimmick at this place is dollar bills stapled to walls. Dollar bills that customers have decorated. As we enjoyed our beers, I decorated my own dollar bill. I wrote our names, our hometowns, the year, the hike name and a phrase: “Failed but not rescued.”
We had both hiked from the portal to Whitney before. But I don’t know if we’ll ever return to hike the remaining miles from our bermuda triangle of Cerro gordo where everything went wrong. The bartender stapled my dollar bill by the old western swing door entrance. We didn’t stay long at Jake’s saloon. We were beat and ready for bed.
The next morning we grabbed some bagel sandwiches at a coffee/ice cream/deli/souvenir shop and hit the road. With Whitney in the rear view we retrieved our empty water jugs at our highly frequented saline valley road junction. We made another stop at stovepipe wells in death valley and grabbed some souvenirs for our kids. Driving across death valley one final time, I impressed myself with the number of miles we had covered. It wasn’t long before we reached vegas where Wayland would fly home and I finished the drive home to Salt Lake. In the coming week, I google earthed that route and reaffirmed where we had gone wrong. Where we had failed so close to the end. We had failed, but at least we were saved the embarrassment of a rescue.
or here
not here
Western Compass 