The Young Heroes Museum

datadan Uncategorized ,

The city of Voroshilovgrad, in the Soviet State of Ukraine, differed from the images presented in my State Department pre-departure debriefing. The buildings were not massive and block like, there was no hustle and no bustle, and more greenery existed than the gray drab photos I had seen. Furthermore, churches and onion domes decorated more of the skyline than I expected the Soviets to allow. There were many pleasant things about this city, but the details of those city buildings and historical monuments are not what I remember most. I remember a single day, or more exactly, a single place. A place I think about now and again.

I entered the Young Heroes Museum looking for a distraction from the speeches and conditioned interviews with various city officials. I knew nothing about the museum and knew not what to expect. The bright red carpet, typical of many patriotic buildings, covered the floor. A few dioramas interrupted the empty feel of the sparse interior. Portraits hung on the walls. Just beyond the entrance a giant statue greeted visitors. Below it, a plaque outlined the contributions of young people from this city during the German invasion.

My eyes rolled – another war memorial. I usually avoid war memorials. I understand the sense of loss felt by the families, but I cannot ignore that many become soldiers by choice. All soldiers receive training on how to kill and avoid being killed. Their trainers often provide them with weapons to carry out their duties. The format of most memorials vary little: lists of battles, statistics about lives lost, medals won, plaques and busts of those who died, and quite frequently treatises on the justness of the war to ensure that no one died in vain. As a pacifist, I derived little value from such commemorations. However, I was in the door and my Kopecks paid.

There did not seem to be much, and I believed would be quick, so I continued onward.
As I moved closer to the pictures, instead of seeing portraits of soldiers who died in battle, I saw faces of young boys and girls. With the docent’s help, I read that they ignored the evacuations and used acts of sabotage to thwart the German advance and occupation. Far from being conditioned and hardened Soviet soldiers with orders or training, they were children doing what they could to defend their homeland.

Unlike other museums, seeing the faces of those who died allowed me to establish a connection. Theses faces seemed similar to the faces of my old classmates – the bully, the popular kids, the outcaste, the clown.

I spent most of the day examining the faces. Some appeared in old photographs, while others were in paintings or sketches. Each face beamed with innocent earnestness. Some looked mature and ready for adulthood, others looked young and mischievous. Eyes full of dreams, and dreams lost, looked back at me. Captions below the faces spelled out their names, dates of life, accomplishments, family history, and quite frequently method of death.

Here the horrors of war and the depths of man’s inhumanity toward man revealed themselves. Girls prostituted themselves for information. Boys and girls stole foodstuffs, made makeshift fire bombs, and used stolen guns to kill the invaders. When caught, the lucky ones were executed quickly while the others, like Klava Kovaleva were tortured to death.

“Klava Kovaleva, 17 years old is taken swollen, the right breast is cut off, left leg burnt and left foot cut off,….to be buried in a communal grave of heroes on the central area of Krasnodon.”
Not all stories ended in hideous torture. Some died in battle, like Vasily Borisov who died the day after his seventeenth birthday trying to disrupt German communication lines. These children attempted to shoulder the defense of their homeland. Hundreds were killed, nearly a hundred were identified and immortalized in this museum. Although posthumously awarded various medals, as if to point out that their sacrifice was not in vain, I spun from the realization that too many of these children were too young: Seventeen, Sixteen, Fifteen, Twelve.

At the end of the day, I walked out of the museum with my feelings of disgust for war reaffirmed yet subsumed in conflict. The actions of the invaders were cruel and horrific. In the final analysis the sacrifices made by the youth were futile – not affecting the outcome of the war. So were the children courageous or foolish? Did they have resolve or did they lack self worth? World events thrust these children of Voroshilovgrad into making decisions without the orchestration or manipulation of some lofty principle. They acted on elemental feelings of self preservation and defense. They organized themselves and fought back. Do these reasons alone merit glory and commemoration? What of those who feel so marginalized that their only course of action, their only way of defending their way of life, is to explode themselves? The faces and questions plagued me then as they do today.

The most passionate amongst us are youth. Without knowing all that life offers, they frequently set their own well being aside for the sake of a cause. Forces of good and evil tap into this reservoir of eagerness to fulfill the most expendable positions in their schemes. From suicide bombers to front line war conscripts, the best hopes for any nation’s future often ends in brief acts of violence which in turn breed more hatred and resentment.

In the years since, the city changed its name to Lugansk, the Soviet Union dissolved, and a stable peace developed among the USA and Russia and the previous Soviet states. However, the world still knows war and the devastation it brings. As I hear reports of young people who fight and die fulfilling someone else’s vision of the world, I think not just about the justness of the struggle, but also about the cost. Some are on the right side of battle and some are not. Sometimes, there is no right side. Regardless, I have faces to put to the young that die in battle. They are the faces of boys and girls hanging on the walls of the Young Heroes Museum.

Some of the stories from Wiki:

Ulyana Gromova


Ulyana Matveevna Gromova was a Ukrainian Soviet member of the Soviet underground resistance in World War II, executed by the Nazis. She is a posthumous Hero of the Soviet Union. Gromova was born to working-class family on 3 January 1925 in the village of Pervomaysky in what is now Luhansk Province of the Ukraine. Gromova’s father, Matthew Maximovich Gromov, was born in 1880 in Poltava Province of Ukraine part of the Russian Empire. Gromova’s father served in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905 moved to Krasnodon and worked as mineworker, retiring in 1937. Gromova’s mother was housewife. In March 1940 Ulyana Gromova joined the Komsomol. At the German invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941, Gromova was 17 years old and in tenth grade. Like many of her classmates, she worked in agriculture to replace farm workers and took care of wounded soldiers in the hospital, she was graduated from high school with good to excellent marks on 3 June 1942. When her home province was occupied by German troops, which began on 17 July 1942, Gromova was not able to evacuate because she needed to care for her sick mother.

Together with Maya Peglivanovoy and Anatoly Popov, she organized a group of patriotic young people in her village of Pervomaysky who became part of the “Young Guard” of the underground resistance Komsolol organization in September 1942. In October 1942, Gromova was elected a member of staff of the organization, she took an active part in the preparations for armed resistance, the creation and dissemination of anti-fascist leaflets, collecting medicines, campaigning among the population, urging them to not obey the enemy and to disrupt plans to supply the Germans with material and impress Soviet youth to work in Germany. On the night of November 7, 1942, Gromova and Popov hoisted the red flag on a pipe shaft at Mine Number 1 in occupied Krasnodon. Mass arrest of suspected underground figures began in the city, the Young Guards developed an escape plan for Gromova, but she was arrested by the German authorities on 10 January 1943, she was beaten and tortured during interrogation, but she stayed true to her oath to her motherland and comrades and did not reveal details of the underground’s activities.

She was hung by her hair, burned with hot irons, had a five-pointed star cut into her back and the wound rubbed with salt, suffered a broken arm and broken ribs. She endured her suffering stoically, cheered her imprisoned comrades by reciting Lermontov’s epic poem Demon, which she knew by heart. In the note which she managed to pass secretly to her relatives, knowing her death was near, she expressed faith in victory and called for her brother Elisha to stand for his homeland. On 16 January 1943 Gromova, along with other Young Guards, was executed, her body thrown in the 58-meter pit of Mine Number 5 in Krasnodon. After the liberation of Krasnodon, Gromova was buried with military honors on 1 March 1943 in a mass grave of patriotic heroes in the central square of Krasnodon, where a memorial to the Young Guards was erected. Hero of the Soviet Union Order of Lenin Medal “Partisan of the Patriotic War” 1st Class Gromova is a character in Alexander Fadeyev’s 1946 novel The Young Guard, included in school curriculums.

 

Oleg Koshevoy

Oleg Vasilyevich Koshevoy was a Soviet partisan and one of the founders of the clandestine organization Young Guard, which fought the Nazi forces in Krasnodon during World War II between 1941 and 1945. Born in Pryluky, a city in the Chernihiv Oblast of present-day north-central Ukraine, Oleg Koshevoy’s family moved south to Rzhyshchiv and Poltava before settling in Krasnodon in 1940, where he attended secondary school. In July 1942, Krasnodon was occupied by the German Army. Under the leadership of the party underground, Koshevoy organized an anti-nazi Komsomol organization called the Young Guard, becoming its commissar. In January 1943, the Germans exposed the organization. Oleg Koshevoy was soon apprehended, he was tortured and executed on February 9, 1943. On September 13, 1943, Oleg Koshevoy was posthumously awarded the title of the Hero of the Soviet Union, the Order of Lenin, the Medal “Partisan of the Patriotic War” 1st class. Many mines, sovkhozes and Young Pioneer groups in the Soviet Union were named after him.

citation: https://wikivisually.com/wiki/Young_Guard_(Soviet_resistance)

The cost of clean up

datadan Uncategorized ,

A third party frequently must deal with the garbage left by others.  The news is replete with stories of out of control garbage. Consider these recent stories:

Human Waste, Trash Overwhelm Some National Parks in Shutdown

Sailboat From U.S. Teen’s Doomed Round-The-World Attempt Found Drifting Off Australia

The great pacific garbage patch

It indicates that people don’t care enough about their environment to not little. Certainly some cases may be beyond regulation like the Tsunami in Japan that swept tons of garbage into the ocean; however a good portion of the trash ends up there by people not caring for a public good.  If you go to a park and the bin is overflowing, take the trash with you.  If you’re child messes their pants, take them with  you to dispose of them properly, don’t just toss them on the side of the road.  If you are done with your Starbucks drink, hold onto the cup until you get to a trash bin.  Who raises their children to believe it’s OK to toss a bag of McDonald’s trash out the window on the freeway?

We pay public agencies to deal with trash in the parks.  We pay municipalities to cart away the trash we bin.  Volunteer groups do beach cleanups and various people take different tactics on dealing with the garbage patch.  Why not this:

Add clean up surcharges and deposits for disposable items.

If you want to put a boat in the water, you must pay a “clean up deposit” in the even your boat becomes trash.  Once you remove your boat from the water you can reclaim that deposit.  You want to want to use a disposable, cup, bag, or container, you get charged an extra fee.  Bring your own cup, container, or bag and you get a credit.   All “trash items” found bearing a logo can be linked back to a company, then get’s charged a “garbage fee.”  Huggies will be charged $.50 for each diaper found bearing its logo in a public place, those who found it and brought it back to a “collection center” will receive $0.25 of that $.50 collected from the Huggies company.

I read that in Germany they are trying reusable cups that belong to the cafe.  You pay an extra deposit for the cup, and when you bring it back you get that deposit back.

A system like this promotes corporate responsibility, individual responsibility, and social responsibility.

Will prices go up?  Probably, but that is because, the true cost of many items passed on to future generations in terms of pollution and environmental catastrophes.

When will there be political will and community support for ending policies of kicking the can down the road.  The road is not infinitely wide or long, and we are already starting to bear the cost of short shrifting environmental woes.

Privilage

datadan Uncategorized ,

We did a privilege walk with 8th graders.

  • Many were privileged.
  • Many were confused about how to feel about their privilege.
  • Some expressed …. in matter of fact terms…. extremely hurtful moments in their lives.  A tribute to the safe space created.
  • Some have not yet felt the

Can’t change privilege, but can change what you do with your privilege. Are you going to exacerbate gaps in community or reduce gaps in community.

Link Here

  1. If you are right-handed, take one step forward.
  2. If English is your first language, take one step forward.
  3. If one or both of your parents have a college degree, take one step forward.
  4. If you can find Band-Aids at mainstream stores designed to blend in with or match your skin tone, take one step forward.
  5. If you rely, or have relied, primarily on public transportation, take one step back.
  6. If you have attended previous schools with people you felt were like yourself, take one step forward
  7. If you constantly feel unsafe walking alone at night, take one step back.
  8. If your household employs help as servants, gardeners, etc., take one step forward.
  9. If you are able to move through the world without fear of sexual assault, take one step forward.
  10. If you studied the culture of your ancestors in elementary school, take one step forward.
  11. If you often feel that your parents are too busy to spend time with you, take one step back.
  12. If you were ever made fun of or bullied for something you could not change or was beyond your control, take one step back.
  13. If your family has ever left your homeland or entered another country not of your own free will, take one step back.
  14. If you would never think twice about calling the police when trouble occurs, take one step forward.
  15. If your family owns a computer, take one step forward.
  16. If you have ever been able to play a significant role in a project or activity because of a talent you gained previously, take one step forward.
  17. If you can show affection for your romantic partner in public without fear of ridicule or violence, take one step forward.
  18. If you ever had to skip a meal or were hungry because there was not enough money to buy food, take one step back.
  19. If you feel respected for your academic performance, take one step forward.
  20. If you have a physically visible disability, take one step back.
  21. If you have an invisible illness or disability, take one step back.
  22. If you were ever discouraged from an activity because of race, class, ethnicity, gender, disability, or sexual orientation, take one step back.
  23. If you ever tried to change your appearance, mannerisms, or behavior to fit in more, take one step back.
  24. If you have ever been profiled by someone else using stereotypes, take one step back.
  25. If you feel good about how your identities are portrayed by the media, take one step forward.
  26. If you were ever accepted for something you applied to because of your association with a friend or family member, take one step forward.
  27. If your family has health insurance take one step forward.
  28. If you have ever been spoken over because you could not articulate your thoughts fast enough, take one step back.
  29. If someone has ever spoken for you when you did not want them to do so, take one step back.
  30. If there was ever substance abuse in your household, take one step back.
  31. If you come from a single-parent household, take one step back.
  32. If you live in an area with crime and drug activity, take one step back.
  33. If someone in your household suffered or suffers from mental illness, take one step back.
  34. If you have been a victim of sexual harassment, take one step back.
  35. If you were ever uncomfortable about a joke related to your race, religion, ethnicity, gender, disability, or sexual orientation but felt unsafe to confront the situation, take one step back.
  36. If you are never asked to speak on behalf of a group of people who share an identity with you, take one step forward.
  37. If you can make mistakes and not have people attribute your behavior to flaws in your racial or gender group, take one step forward.
  38. If you have always assumed you’ll go to college, take one step forward.
  39. If you have more than fifty books in your household, take one step forward.
  40. If your parents have told you that you can be anything you want to be, take one step forward.

 

Sexism alive and well at my work

datadan Uncategorized , ,

We all have self images of ourselves.  We are bigger, stronger, more courageous than the lesser of those around us.  However, what happens when you get a reality check.

In a meeting, a presenter was giving a lesson on stereotypes in masculinity and femininity.  I had seen this lesson before.  Stereotypical images of men and women in advertising would be shown, and they we would have to comment on it.  The images would most likely show the worst stereotypes….

4 images into the presentation, the images became sexualized and depicted photo-shopped images of scantily clad clothes selling makeup or purses or something of the like.  Then, from behind me one of my colleagues said loudly: “Finally, some decent images to look at during PD”

Stunned, I said nothing.  I thought of saying: “Inappropriate and unwelcome.”  But I didn’t.  Why not?  Here was part of my calculus.

My relationship with that particular colleague has always been strained.  If I don’t have positive stuff to say to him, I don’t say anything.  He is also in a precarious situation in his life (by his own admission.  He is undergoing a variety of hardships).  The presenter was trying to race through a 2 hour presentation in 30 minutes, and dropping an accusation would have derailed the presentation.  Also, this particular person, tends to get angry and yell, and it was  long week and I didn’t need that at week’s end.    By the time I ran through all these thoughts, the 5 seconds for that picture had passed and we were on to other images, and I felt like the moment had passed.

I told the boss at the end that he should talk to my coworker to complete my cowardly act.

In the end, that’s what it was.  I was cowardly.  I did not have the strength of will to stand up and do the right thing.  If that comment was about certain ethnicity would  I have stood up?  If it was a cultural differences, would I have stood up?  Would I have stood up if I was in a position of power?  I like to think that I would have stood up if a student had said it.

I thought about this all afternoon.  I lost sleep about this.  The next morning I sent a note of apology to the instructor.

Getting lost on the JMT

datadan Uncategorized , , ,

The John Muir Trail is well traveled.   Where there is soil, there is a well worn path.  Frequently, there are logs or boulders on either side to help delineate where to go.  Also to help travelers, there are giant carved marks in the trees along the trail.  There is not reason to get lost.

Except in a year where the snow was 185% of average, and travelers are foolish enough to forge ahead without waiting for that snow to melt.

True enough, there are tracks in the snow.  However, these can be mountaineering routes created by seasoned snow trekkers out-rigged with snow spikes and a set of ice axes.   Also, there were large snowfields full of suncups.

courtesy of aspin Matis

I don’t see a path through this; frequently there wasn’t!  You make the road by walking.

In the tree line snow falls can covers the trail.  Aside from these snow drifts, the trees obstruct clear viewing of landmarks.

Given this….I got lost a lot.    The trail was totally obscured and I could not find foot paths or tracks.  Sometimes I lost tracks on rock outcroppings.    After Silver Pass I glissaded down which put me on the wrong side of warrior lake. I was lost.  Was the trail higher up on the valley wall or lower.  Every time I paused to look at the map, I was swarmed by mosquitoes.  I trudged through swampy muck and snow drifts….down and eventually found something that looked trail like.

On the way to Silver Pass, tracks took me east of the trail and I eventually lost the tracks, I wandered from rock outcrop to rock outcrop falling and sweating until I finally gave up on finding evidence of human passage and focused instead on the mountain ahead of me and going over that.  Eventually, I saw someone coming down, and aimed for that.

After Pinochet, there were a series of frozen lakes and elevated rock outcroppings.  I lost the trail and the tracks and zig-zaged back and forth. Until I was exhausted.  I collapsed on a flat rock out crop and laid down, thinking this is it.  This is where I end.   I laid there for a half our, than decided no, I don’t end here and kept walking North until I fund some tracks and a trail.

Coming down off of Glenn Pass, I headed into Rae lakes.   I crossed ice bridge after ice bridge and found myself in a campsite, but not where I wanted to be.  I followed some tracks that took me to an ice cliff.  I had to turn around and go back.  I headed towards the lake and the path led me to a lake crossing.  I was not expecting a crossing.  And being late in the day, the water level was high.  If I went all the way in, it would have been chest deep.  I saw a boulder in the water.  If I walked along the top of that boulder I would only be waist deep, and then I could make a two foot jump from the boulder to land.  I did this, but I could see no trail on the other side.  There were tracks everywhere, but none that seemed like a trail.  I wandered on the island for 30-40 minutes trying to find a way across.  I then found the trail on the other side of the island, partially submerged in water lake side.  I quickly got through after that.

Shaken from my Mather ascent, I was trying to make up time.  Into Palisades canyon, I could not find a trail.  I knew I needed to get to the end of the canyon, but I didn’t know whether to go high, or low.  Ramses and Nosebleed passed me here.  I decided on a high road.  I found a pine bed not covered by snow.  I set my pack down and rested.  A buck walked a across the snowfield next to me.  Inspired, I kept going.  The high road was the wrong call, as it let to an ice sheet.  I climbed down the ice sheet to the trail below, and then to the golden stair case.

It seems that whenever I got lost, I found my way.  Don’t panic.  Look at the big picture.  See the mountain through the trees and snow.  It was ok to not be on a trail, but see and follow the topology.

JMT Itinerary

datadan Uncategorized , , ,

I figured about 10-12 miles a day would it.  240/11 ~ 21 days.  I could do that.  I had been practicing.  I hiked about 900 miles in a year training.  This worked about to be about 30-40 miles a week (3-4 ten miles days).  No problem.  It took me about 4-5 hours to hike 10 miles.  Heck, I would have time to sit on a rock at the end of the day, meditate, swim in a lake, take in the air, and recover for tomorrow.

My naive plan – The planned route

 

Camp Location Night Miles Covered Cumulative Peaks, Passess, points of interest
Cotton Wood Lakes 1 6.3 6.3
Rock Creek Camp? 2 8.2 14.5 New Army Pass
Crabtree Ranger Station 3 8.1 22.6 Guyot Pass
above guitar lake 4 9.9 32.5 Mt Whitney
Tyndall Frog Ponds 5 11.8 44.3
Bullfrog lake junction 6 11.2 55.5 Forester Pass
Cut down to Onion Valley camp at arrowhead or charlotte depending on energy 7 9 64.5 Resupply 4.5 miles to Onion Valley 9 miles round trip + hitch to town
Sawmill Pass Junction 8 15.3 79.8 glenn pass
past taboose trail 9 8.4 88.2 pinchot pass
Dusy fork bridge 11 19.9 108.1 mather pass
McClure meadow 13 18.3 126.4 muir pass
Muir Trail Ranch 14 10.1 136.5 resupply
bear ridge junction 15 14 150.5 seldon pass
squaw lake 16 15.1 165.6 silver pass
deer creek 17 13.4 179
after beck lake jcn 18 9.1 188.1 Resupply Postpile, reds meadow
ruby lake 19 12 200.1
Marie lakes jnct (3.04) 20 10.5 210.6 island pass,donahue pass
Tuolome Meadows 21 10.6 221.2 If this is closed go to sunrise high Sierra Camp or cathedral lakes
Merced Lake jcnt 22 14.7 235.9
Backpackers Camp (Happy Isles – By North Pines) 23 8.1 244

 

In reality, I woke up before dawn and hike until sundown.  Here was the actual trip (I guess I wasn’t too far off)

Campsite Night Miles Covered Cumulative Notables Elevation+ Elevation-
Horse Shoe Meadow 1 0 0
High Lake 2 9 9 Failed New Army Pass 1543 0
Near Chicken Springs 3 15 24 Bristlecone Forest Cottonwood pass 1657 2000
Near Crabtree Ranger St. 4 17.2 41.2 Bristlecone Forest, Guyot Pass, first major crossings 1835 1025
Sandy Meadow 5 12 53.2 Failed Whitney attempt 2300 2300
Rock Outcrop near forrester 6 11.3 64.5 First Major snow field / Tyndall creek 1970 540
South of bull frog 7 9.4 73.9 Forrester Pass 1753 3813
South flower lake 8 12 85.9 Resupply (Kersarge pass) 3800 3600
Middle Rae Lake 9 10 95.9 Glenn Pass 2020 2400
West of Twin Lakes 10 10 105.9 2108 1908
1-2 miles south Mather at treeline 11 8 113.9 Pinochet Pass / South Fork Kings 2460 2060
Leconte Canyon Near Middle Fork Junction 12 12 125.9 Mather Pass/ Golden Staircase 1100 3600
Star Camp 13 9.3 135.2 2760 435
McClure Meadow 14 12 147.2  Muir Pass 1200 2350
MTR North junction 15 14.3 161.5 600 1850
South of Bear Creek Jct 16 12.2 173.7 Seldon Pass 2500 1820
South of Silver Pass curve 17 11 184.7 2500 1980
North of Duck Lake Junction 18 15 199.7 Silver Pass/Tully Hole ascent 2625 2245
Just above Johnson Meadow 19 15 214.7 1060 2380
Thousand Island Lake 20 13.3 228 Garnet Lake Peak/Shadow Lake 3400 1500
Upper Lylle canyon/Rafferty Creek 21 14 242 Island Pass / Donhaue Pass 1641 2781
Long Meadow near jct 22 14.1 256.1 Cathedral Pass 1170 670
Happy Isle 23 19.5 275.6 Half Dome 2100 7420

Total Gain: 44102 feet

Total Down: 48677 feet

The story:

 

Chapter 1: Day 1-5 (Starting out – Horseshoe Meadows – Crabtree)

Chapter 2: Day 6-8 (Whitney to Kesarge to Flower Lake)

Chapter 3: Day 9 (Kesarge Pass, Glenn Pass, Middle Rae Lake)

Chapter 4: Day 10 (Rae Lakes – Sawmill Pass)

Day 16-18 (Seldon Pass to Silver Pass)

Day 20 (Johnston Lake to Thousand Island Lake)

 

I’m Alive

datadan Uncategorized , , , ,
I’m back.  I’m in one piece. I’m a little scruffy and a little lighter. It was an amazing trip, and much harder than I had planned for (partly because I’m wimpier than my self-image, and partly because the conditions were more challenging than my rosy-colored projections allowed me to see).

 

My first night in a tent was on 6/29 at 9,800 feet at Horseshoe Meadows (South of Mount Whitney), to acclimate to the higher altitudes.  I was feeling fine the next day so I hiked to my first pass: New Army (12,000 feet+).  I camped below the accent to attempt at first light.  It took me some time to get near enough to the summit to realize that I would not be able surmount the 40 foot cornice….even with my ice axe and crampons. I had no mountaineering experience and was too chicken to try.  So I had to detour around to Cottonwood Pass which added an additional 20 miles on to my trip.

 

Frustrated, I tried Whitney a few days later.  After climbing for about eight hours with my 50 pound bag, I ran out of water and time about a mile and 1,500 feet lower than the 14,500 foot summit. I decided to turn around and fail for a second time. I was frustrated and was beginning to think I wouldn’t be able to complete the trip.  I was passed everyday by about five Pacific Crest Trail hikers who were lean mean hiking machines.  Some of them encouraged me and gave me lots of positive
energy.  If they could do it, so could I.

 

I dug in.  In the next few weeks I managed to walk 283 miles, climb over 11 passes above 11,000 feet (6 over 12,000) most of which were covered with snow.  I managed to do snow accents and descents, glissades, ice traverses, and managed to cross sun cup fields.   I was truly terrified getting over some of these passes with Glenn, Mather, Muir, and Pinochet taking me more than six hours to get over.  On some of these, I was alone and no one to rely on but myself to get over and get home to
family.

 

River crossings were also challenging.  While the vast majority had log or ice bridges, or boulders to jump to and from, some tested my metal.  Some crossings were chest high with slow moving ice water, other were raging fast and thigh deep.  The South Fork Kings River was fast moving and gut deep, but there appeared no way around it. I found a spot were the river forked and tried to cross.   Leaning full weight into the flow it still pushed me backwards.  I managed to ford it.  It dragged me a little – a brush with a fate I’d rather not imagine.   Snow made the path hard to find.  Boot tracks were everywhere, and then disappeared.  I found
myself lost in the wild for at least an hour before and after the major passes.  Massive amounts of Avalanche damage required navigation over downed trees, boulders, and swampy conditions from rerouted streams all while fending off mosquito hoards with nothing better to do than feed on my blood.

 

Harrowing experiences aside, the beauty of our planet amazed me daily. Whether it was watching a humming bird give itself a bird bath in the trail in front of me (causing me to wait until it was done), or watching a buck walk by me as a rested under a tree, or the majesty and presence of the Sierra’s dominant geological features, or even the hydrological power put out by all the snow melt, our planet produces some amazing places.  It has encouraged me to keep working in whatever ways I can to preserve them.

 

It was an emotional trip for me.  I slipped from frustration one moment to wild euphoria the next, to intense pining for my family throughout the day.   I finished with a 20 mile hike down from Long Meadow, up then down Half Dome finishing at Happy Isles 7/21 at 7pm.   I wept with a joy that is hard to explain in words for my accomplishment.  I then caught my breath then walked another mile right into the Curry Village shower house for half hour shower.

 

I am grateful to be home with my family whom I missed so intensely.  I am grateful for the many hikers on the trail who rooted me on and gave me oomph when I didn’t think I had any left. I am grateful for the support and love and positive thoughts of all those who crossed their fingers or said a prayer to whatever intangibility they believe in to keep me safe, whole, and courageous enough to finish something that was well  beyond what I should have been able to do.  I am most grateful for
Sharleen, Alyssa, and Kylie who loved me enough to let go, and trusted me enough to make the right calls to come home.

 

I had no great revelations except this:  Being on the trail without a safety net strips away all the unessential.  It forces you to be absolutely mindful of the moment (where will I step, can I cross here, is that a safe route for me, where can I poop) all the superfluous stuff that fills and a clouds our
thoughts slips away and becomes nonsensical.  There is inherent value in this.  There is also value, I believe, in pushing oneself to and beyond what we believe we were capable of, as it allows us to be capable of more.  After all, isn’t that what we all want – to be more than we were?
Peace and Love
to you all,

RIP Rika

datadan Uncategorized , , ,

Rika (a.k.a. “Strawberry”) first passed me as I ascended Kearsarge Pass for the first time.  I was putting on my spikes and huffing and puffing on a rest stop.  She checked in with me and then walked off. Step-step-step-step  no pauses for sure footing, no crampons or micro spikes – just boots. Step step step.  I was impressed.  I finished my ascent and looked down and she was just disappearing into the tree line on the East side of the pass.  She was fast.

I saw her again as I descended out of Rae Lakes.  I had just finished crossing Baxter creek and was putting my boots back on: “Hi I’m Rika and I from Japan, I walk 20 miles a day.”   Bold and fearless, she made me look like a rank armature grade A backpacking wimp.

I crossed the wood creek bridge, started up and she passed me again.  We said hi, but that was it.

When Nosebleed told me that no one had seen her I was surprised and worried.  She seemed so with it.  When I returned home I looked up her case immediately and saw the post by the National Park: “Any one with any information please contact the 800 hotline.  Within minutes of leaving a descriptive message I received a call from a detective.   “She was found dead 400 yards south of the trail crossing of South Fork Kings river.”

Holy crap, that’s near where I crossed.  And that river almost got me.

“I’ve been in search and rescue for nearly 10 years, and before that I was a navy seal.  Can you help me get into her head?  All of her texts home seemed preoccupied with the dangers out her and she didn’t know how to cross certain rivers.  I’ve gotta tell you, if that was me, I would have stopped until I got an answer.  Why did she continue forward?”

That is the question isn’t.  Why do any of us move forward?  Some of us stay paralyzed in fear of the world.  Afraid to travel, afraid to talk with different people, afraid to face the unknown. When does foolhardy and begin and courage end?

I didn’t have a great answer for him, but I told him:

“On the trail, after a few accomplishments, people become more courageous and overestimate what they can do.  That was the case with me.  I underestimated the trial and overestimated my abilities.  I guess I was just more lucky.”

 

Rika wasn’t the only fatality this year:

 

Article after article warns people to stay away.

 

The trip home

datadan Uncategorized , , ,

After packing my gear, I headed to the Lodge for some breakfast.  Perhaps my appetite had returned…..nope.

The bus was at 9am and fiddled around for a bit.  I found some souvenirs and hung around the village.  I sat at the bus stop watching the comings and goings of people.  It was my first time being to Yosemite and not seeing a bear….ironically doing something more in nature than I had ever before.   I watched tourists line up for a valley rafting tour.  Giving their information, getting on a scale, then paying money.  I flashed back to a brief discussion I had with a fellow hiker near Garnett lake.  “If you aren’t eating, you are definitely loosing weight”.  I looked at the scale again.  I hadn’t thought about it at all.  I thought about my pack weight but not mine.  I set my pack down and walked over to the scale and stepped on:  175.  That can’t be right.  I stepped on again and it read 175.  I asked the people if their scale was accurate, and they said it was just calibrated for the season.  I started my hike at 240, which means in three weeks I lost 65 pounds.  I went back to the bench and waited for the bus.

As the bus drove out of the valley I saw the parades of people and cars swish by.   Grand views, fierce streams, and glorious scenery.  The bus drove up and south through Wawona and towards Fresno.  I kept straining to peer through the canopy at the distant mountain range: “I hiked through that.”

The bus stopped for a lunch break.  I got a burrito.  It was incredibly awesome.  There was a lot of for sale signs around.  No doubt people who fell in love with the mountains, moved out here, and then found mountain living hard and are now trying to sell.

In Fresno I waited for train and took my last photo the of trip.

Before and After

 

Reflecting on my trip proved fruitless.  Instead I just stared out the window as the train passed by abandoned houses, junkyards, piles of garbage, burnt-out-cars, homeless encampments, dumped washers and driers and refrigerators and other large appliances.  We use far more than we need and at what cost.  What is the cost of gluttony and sloth?

The train rumbled into the last stop.  I walked to the bus line and caught a bus that took me close to my house and walked home and knocked on the door.  My wife cried.  With tears down her check, she hit me and said: “why didn’t you call so I could come get you.”   She hates surprises and likes to plan everything out.  This surprise felt good.  She said: “look at how skinny you are, we are going out to an all you can eat buffet right now.”

It was good to be home and sit and hug my family.