We slept fitfully last night, nervous I think about our plans to climb Forrester Pass at first light and then push ourselves all day to try and make 24 miles to a point where we will (for one last time) drop down below 10,000 ft and be able (one last time) to enjoy a campfire at the end of the day.
It was icy cold as we speedily packed up camp. Our route ascended steadily up and out of the last of the gnarly lodgepole and foxtail pines. Soon we were back in the now familiar glaciated, gouged moonscape of the Sierran high passes. Ahead, above and behind numerous lofty, looming plateaus, stood a sheer wall of gigantic peaks. Somewhere up there was our pass. The light of the new day gave a brilliant orange glow to the highest, easternmost facing peaks suddenly and slowly, irregulary, descended down to fill our great sprawling canyon with gold.
The pass took us three hours to overtake. Snow covered the trail completely for the second half of the climb and we lost the track a number of time. Fortunately one or two others had been over since the snow had fallen earlier in the week so we were able to follow their prints and avoid having to post-hole our own steps as we neared the pass and the snow became much deeper.
To sit at a pass, or at any point, I suppose, so high above the rest of the tiny, speckled world is an envigorating and peace-instilling feeling. We worked damn hard all morning and as we sat at the top at 13,200 ft, I felt just plain good. I felt accomplishment. Not just for the morning's effort, but for the whole summer, all 2600 miles of this trail which we've walked on since April. Looking over at Eliza, I am daily amazed with her strength and fortitude. She has impressed me out here.
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