Why didn’t I stay at down at the creek (if that would have helped me feel safer at all)? I’m still nowhere near any high points in the area. I can hear the crackling of it, I can feel the intensity. I sit under a big tree near the campsite, trying to decide whether to set up my tent, hoping the storm will pass quickly, like the small ones did yesterday.īut all too suddenly, the flashes and the thunder are way too close, too loud. So I keep going, gaining elevation, to another, which feels a little cosier. The first one I pass feels too exposed to the sky, on a kind of ridge. The ones by the creek are pretty open and too close to the trail, so after a long break, I get going up the other side of the valley, hoping to find a sheltered spot not too far away. My plan is to do two shorter days to the end, so even though it’s not yet noon, I’m looking for a campsite. I’m dead by the time I reach the crossing of Junction Creek, at the bottom of the valley. The water brings the rich fragrance of the forest alive, and it smells delicious. I stop for an early lunch at a road crossing, and when I get going again, it starts to rain. Soon, I emerge beneath the bank of fog, and views of the dark green valley open up. I can’t see anything beyond a small radius, and it’s like I’m hiking with my headlamp again. But I taste the moisture on my sun-cracked lips, and it is welcome. The mists insulate sound, they quiet down the land. All others behind me, I walk straight into the low clouds that I admired from above moments before. I cross the parking lot, and by doing so, pass into the last segment of the trail – 28.

Awareness expands, and I can appreciate the details, the surroundings, no longer hyper-focused on the goal. The pull of the peak, the anxiety of getting over the top, has dissipated, and my mind quiets, relaxes into the achievement. I move slower, ambling, the adrenaline no longer fueling the fire. As soon as I start the descent, my limbs stiffen, I feel the pain. Soon enough, I’m taking in the views of Taylor lake, on the other side.īy now, I know how it goes, I’m expecting it. I stay alert on the talus and don’t look over either shoulder. Zig zag to the top, and then around the corner, the grand finale of my time above treeline – a knife-edge-looking traverse to Efendi Peak. At times the trail comes quite close to the dizzying drop, and I must focus on my footing to keep from freaking out. I walk the undulating ridge, as everything turns pink, then yellow, then the muted blue of cloud-filtered sun.

Devour up drop top