When I signed on as the Coordinator of the Blanchard Library Literacy Program last summer my husband Steve and I already had plans to hike a section of the John Muir Trail in August, and the Director, Ned Branch, graciously allowed me the time off. It was my chance to finish the 211 mile trek my dad had started me on years before, backpacking the JMT in sections since I was 11. Now, 52 years later, we were going to polish off the last section in honor of my dad, who’s 89.
Leaning on years of backpacking experience, we figured, “We can do this...maybe a little slower, but, Hey! It’s just putting one foot in front of the other, right?”
We minimized everything possible to save on weight, including leaving the pop-up tent behind (big mistake), but I did take a book along-what else can a Literacy Coordinator do??
We headed in on a gorgeous Sunday morning from the east side, up to Bishop Pass. But what happened to that 3-year California drought? As we climbed, other hikers kept passing us on their way out, talking about thunderstorms, rain, hail, even snow flurries. “Aw. It’ll be over by tomorrow,” we thought.
So we camped at the base of the pass that night. Sure enough, a huge clap of thunder woke us at 4:30! Might as well get up. Coffee at 5, watching the August “Super Moon” sliding in and out of the clouds. Beautiful.
But going over Bishop Pass was NOT beautiful. All day long, a series of thunderstorms walked up Dusey Basin and crashed over the pass, as we inched up, hugging the biggest rocks we could find during hail flurries. It was scary. But between showers, we made it over. Even managed a photo, reading my book at the top.
The second day in was my birthday, and although still overcast, the heavy storms had moved on. But the trails, cut down into the alpine meadows over the years, were little streams. We did a lot of rock-hopping, trying to stay out of the water. Halfway down Dusey Basin, I slipped and fell, twisting my knee (a 40-pound pack doesn’t help with balance). But the day got better, including a Trader Joe’s chocolate bar from the ranger, for my birthday. That chocolate bar lasted 3 days!
The third day we knew would be the hardest--The Golden Staircase--the reason this leg of the John Muir Trail had been saved till last. It’s a very steep climb up a sheer cliff for a couple miles, getting us within striking distance of Mather Pass-12,200 ft. The altitude was still making Steve light-headed, so I asked to carry a little weight from his pack, to help.
My knee was still hurting a bit that morning, but we started along a nice stream, warm sun, lovely big trees, deer wandering near. THIS is why you go into the backcountry! It was too tempting to sit long enjoying lunch. When we started up
The Staircase, it was getting into mid-afternoon, and the climb lived up to its name. By the time we got near the top, I was getting worried. My knee was really hurting, and starting to wobble. I gave some of the weight back to Steve, who was doing better by then.
He went ahead (still another mile’s slow climb) to find the campsite that a kind fellow-hiker had scouted for us. We were exhausted, and I was limping pretty badly. Cracker crumbs in onion soup, and hit the sack, exhausted. Just thankful the rain had stopped.
We woke surprised at the sheet of ice on our sleeping bag, but the sun came out and we got everything dried out pretty quickly. I found if I “primed the pump” by working my left knee up and down first, I could walk pretty well as long as we went straight. Up wasn’t bad. Down was tricky.
Then we hit the last approach to Mather Pass and the trail became “talus”, fist-sized rocks tumbled together. Hard to navigate with a bad knee. But we made the top for lunch and conversation with some old timer park rangers out for their annual vacation hiking the JMT.
As we looked down into the next basin, the tree line didn’t look too far away, and I was determined to get there before dark. I wanted cover that night. I took the lead because stopping and re-starting my knee was getting too painful. I didn’t want to stop. I was OK till the trail began to be big 2- or 3-foot “steps” down and there was no way to avoid twisting my knee. It started to “pop out” to the side, and I was getting seriously concerned.
We had a beautiful camp that night, lovely stream steps away, good food, and good rest. We prayed heartily over my knee, but the next morning it wasn’t much better, and we were 2 high passes and 4 days walk from our planned exit. Deep in the back country.
The next morning, Steve decided to look for help while I rested and iced the knee. His is another whole story in itself, but he miraculously found a 30-year veteran of the Park Service, Sandy, who had radio contact with the Park Service. “Pack horse? Sorry. None available. We’ll have to get her a helicopter lift out.”
Steve was 8 miles down the valley when he made this arrangement, and I was enjoying the solitude in my high country hide-away. All of a sudden my quiet was interrupted by two cheery young Park botanists calling for Wendy. What??
Natalie and Tom just “happened” to be in the neighborhood when the radio call went out. They came to check on me, afraid I was in bad shape. Who gets helicopter-lifted out of the back country? I think I disappointed them. I was fine except for a wrenched knee.
Steve slugged back up the 8 miles to our camp that night, and the next morning he hiked back down and out a steep side pass with Sandy, who not only walked out with him but took him some 30 miles around to our parked car.
Natalie and Tom stayed with us overnight, and radioed in the helicopter in the morning. My golden chariot made a pinpoint landing in our “front yard.” I was amazed how close they could come. The pilot and TWO EMTs jumped out, expecting the worst. I was honestly rather embarrassed. I was fine except for that knee. I also honestly could not walk out the last 16 miles with that knee. Dang. An experienced hiker doesn’t like to be powerless.
So the poor, injured hiker got a FABULOUS 20-minute helicopter ride, swooping over Steve on his way down Taboose Pass, and on up to the Bishop airport. Breathtaking! There I waived the ambulance ride to the hospital, promising to see my doctor as soon as I got home. Instead, the owner of the Thunderbird Motel in Bishop came out to the airport, picked me up, and settled me in a room. Aaaah! Steve finally joined me at the motel at midnight. I think God had a very specific purpose in giving me this experience in powerlessness, and I’ve thought a LOT about the two take-aways from the hike:
1. Be prepared.
2. One step at a time.
As we move forward with the Adult Literacy Program at Blanchard Community Library, how can we prepare? By training the tutors well, and supporting them. By preparing the students, too, to expect the time necessary to learn to read, write and speak better English. It doesn’t happen overnight.
And we’ve got to take it one step at a time. Building a good literacy program is a lot like climbing a mountain. There will be setbacks along the way. You will need others to help you. Both the tutors and the students.
Come help us. There’s so much need in this community. Call Wendy or Olivia at 805-525-2384 Ext.4 to make an appointment! Or email me at wendy.batstone@blanchardlibrary.org
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So the poor, injured hiker got a FABULOUS 20-minute helicopter ride, swooping over Steve on his way down Taboose Pass, and on up to the Bishop airport. Breathtaking! There I waived the ambulance ride to the hospital, promising to see my doctor as soon as I got home. |
