John Muir Trail Day 22/23: Why My Feral Self No Longer Belongs in Normal Society/Devil’s Postpile to Gladys Lake
There’s a certain amount of unavoidable culture shock that hits as soon as a hiker’s shoes leave the dirt trail and step onto the sidewalk of society…and, equally, the intensity in which you become aware of your own backcountry makeover. The good news, though, was that I didn’t have to explain to anyone around us that we were thru-hikers when my rancid onion stench did all of the communicating for me. Reasons Why My Feral Ass No Longer Belongs in Normal Society, I chuckled to myself.
Strangely, I did not feel self-conscious. No, ma’am and sir, I wore that whole look like a well-earned badge of hiker trash honor and I full-on celebrated that moment by destroying a bag of corn nuts on the free trolley into Mammoth Lakes. Yep, Day 21 on the John Muir Trail was gonna be like that.
I was basking in the glory of the trolley’s forward movement, requiring none of my own energy in making it do so while simultaneously getting to inhale my snack. On the trail, this kind of forward progress while snacking would have required a qualified Heimlich practitioner to save me when my hard breathing sucked my corn nut bag into the depths of my lungs and the end was suddenly near. Man, this is luxury right here, I thought. L-U-X L-I-V-I-N-
“What are you doing?” My husband and hiking partner, Cliff, suddenly asked me.
I jolted and turned, smiling a corn nutty, grimace-y grin at him, scaring everyone outside of our zone of stench, but I only cared about the fear-based growl coming from the dog in the aisle. I reluctantly dug deep for my rusty grip on manners. By the time we got off the trolley, I was still attempting to exude Classy Trail Trash, for the dog’s sake, but wound up with Comfortable Savage instead. #GOALS
Stumbling out of the trolley stop, we ambled past restaurants, shops and hotels, making our way to a very nice Motel 6. We walked into the lobby where we checked in while staring at pictures of black bears helping themselves to the vending machines located a few feet away from where we stood at that moment. This kind of decor made us feel right at home and we left feeling like we had chosen well.
The rest of the evening was a blur of showers, laundry and eating massive platters of Mexican food…and then another round of feasting on bar food from a brewery down the street. Sleep was instant the minute our heads hit the motel pillows and we woke up on Day 22 feeling more rested than we had in a while.
Still dealing with short-circuiting ovaries and uterus, the rest and calories gave those tyrants carte blanche to throw a fit which had me curled up and buried under the covers. As I tried to get a handle on the pain, Cliff extended another invitation to quit the trail, out of growing concern.
Luckily, this was nothing out of the ordinary, having previous experience with intense and prolonged physical exertion and stress (hello 29-week police academy) and what it did to my particular internal system. No doctor ever expressed concern, therefore, with enough Ibuprofen, I’d be back to being a hiking superstar in no time…I just needed a Zero Day to fully get there.
We used Day 22 to pick up our resupply bucket and lazily re-organized all of our gear in preparation for leaving bright and way too early the next morning. We ate giant breakfast, lunch and dinner meals, never feeling miserably full. By the time we woke up on the morning of Day 23, I had gotten more sleep in that day and a half than I had the entire week before.
That morning we hopped on several buses and finally arrived, backpacks maxed out with a full food carry, at Devil’s Postpile National Monument. I had always wanted to see the columnar basalt formations in person and who knew when and if we would ever be back here again. And so we took the opportunity to head in the wrong direction to ogle the beautifully weird rocks before hopping onto the JMT again.
Damned hot was the theme of Day 23 and it took its toll on our bodies, which had become used to not moving alarmingly quickly. Our hiking pace was a trudge and we stopped often for water breaks in the shade of towering evergreens.
By the time late afternoon hit, I asked if we could stop at the next campsite, calling uncle and for mercy on a day that just felt miserable. We had been aiming to stop for the night at Rosalie Lake, but only seven miles in, I was done. I knew the awful state I was in was solely due to my malfunctioning internal system, and I worked hard to not bully myself for the shit I just couldn’t control. This version of doing the best I could would have to be enough and, by the way, stop already, you’re doing just fine.
We dropped our packs on the ground and quickly set up camp before we ambled towards Gladys Lake nearby. It was a peaceful scene and I thought hard about the remaining days on the JMT.
Determined to enjoy the final push of our thru-hike, I reminded myself that the crown jewel of the John Muir Trail was waiting up ahead and felt lucky that we were hiking the trail NOBO because Yosemite National Park was the pinnacle of this entire hike…or so I thought.
Stats for the Hiker Nerds (Like You and I)
Day 22/23- September 7/8, 2024
Devil’s Postpile to Gladys Lake
Mountain Pass/Summit: N/A
Elevation Gain: 2453’
Elevation Loss: 428’
Mileage: 7
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Comments 4
Bernadette your writing is adventurous as the trail! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Ps have you tried massaging the tender spot on the inside of your ankles when you get laid low by pain?
Danielle- Thank YOU so much for taking the time to read and comment on my post! Okay, SO…I have not tried massage but I did a ton of cold water soaking which would often help (until the next evening). Did massage wind up helping you?
There’s a traditional Chinese medicine spot in the inside just above ankle bone…helped pretty quickly with pain.
Ohhhh! This is solid gold info! Thanks!