AnalPhilosopher

10-31-86 I’m writing this two days late, early in the morning of 2 November; but I have a good excuse. I went hiking Friday night and arrived home shortly after noon Saturday. What a grueling hike! I’m still sore all over. My shoulders ache, my calves and buttocks are sore, and my feet are blistered. My knees and hips are all but worn out from the walking. But mentally I feel good. I accomplished exactly what I set out to do, the weather cooperated, and there were no problems. Who could ask for anything more? The only question is: Why did I do it? I still haven’t resolved that in my mind.

I left the apartment at 10:09 A.M., seventy-nine minutes after my logic class ended. I told the students that I would hold my office hours on Monday, because “I’ve got to be on top of Mica Mountain by nightfall.” The trailhead is only 8.2 miles from my apartment, directly east on Speedway Boulevard. I wore shorts, a “Vassar Eagles” softball shirt, jogging shoes and socks, and a heavy backpack. The backpack consisted of a sleeping bag, tent, food, flannel shirt and pants, half-gallon of water, and plastic groundcover. Slung over my shoulder was my [Pentax K1000] camera and in my hand was a plastic jug filled with Gatorade. I was in good spirits upon leaving, and remained so for most of the day.

The trail to Mica was long, winding, and at some points treacherous. But I hummed songs from the Joni Mitchell tape Dog Eat Dog [I now have this 1985 album on compact disc] and thought about school and other subjects. . . .

I noticed pretty quickly that my knees had not gotten any stronger since my last hike, on 16 and 17 May. Occasionally the path would drop, and that’s when the old pains resumed. “Damn,” I thought; “it’s going to be agony coming down from Mica tomorrow.” I could have gone back, of course, but by then I was determined to complete the hike, pain or no. I took my backpack off only once on the entire trip to Mica. That was at Cowhead Saddle, where I ate dried fruit, sipped Gatorade, washed my face, and cleaned my glasses. I had been there before, and knew that the steepest climb lay directly before me. But it was only 4.1 miles to Manning Camp from there, so it couldn’t be all that bad. I was still fairly fresh, having climbed from 2700 to 6100 feet. By my calculations, I was more than halfway to Mica Mountain in terms of both altitude and mileage. The day was gorgeous. The higher I climbed, the cooler and windier it became. This was a pleasant change from the desert heat.

I made it to Mica right on schedule: early afternoon. The tower has been dismantled, so I set my backpack down for a minute and took a picture. It would have been nice to stay there for a while, but frankly, it was cold! And I wanted to get to Manning Camp right away in order to pitch my tent, eat, and relax. I took a different route to Manning, knowing that almost all of the hiking for the rest of the trip would be downhill. In the pine forests atop the mountain, it was cold and dark. This gave the impression of impending darkness, although I knew that there were several hours of daylight remaining. I arrived at Manning Camp in short order and signed the registration form. There were only two people in camp, a male and female. They were seated near a fire in front of their tent when I arrived, the male reading to the female from a book. I excused myself and asked where the main campground was. They pointed and I thanked them. From their appearance and voices, I gathered that they were German or Scandinavian. It was nice to have someone else in camp with me.

The first day’s hike covered 14.6 miles. I gained over a mile in elevation, from 2748 to 8666 feet. But my knees and hips were already sore. I could only hope that a good night’s sleep and some nourishment would soothe them before tomorrow. The first item on the agenda was to pitch the tent, and I did so in short order. Manning Camp sits at 8000 feet above sea level in the midst of a pine forest. Huge trees are everywhere and the ground is covered in pine needles. After pitching the tent and putting on my long pants and flannel shirt, I ate a sandwich and a banana and wandered around. It was too early to go to sleep, too cold to sit outside for very long, and too obtrusive to visit the two other campers. So I decided to start a campfire and spend a few hours reflecting on my hike. I hadn’t planned to build a fire, so I hadn’t brought matches. I asked the other campers if I could have a match or two. They gave me a book of matches and I got a roaring fire going with the first match. What luck! I felt like a Boy Scout.

It grew gradually darker in the pine forest. The wind also picked up. I rolled two large logs into place around the fire and settled in to take advantage of the warmth. It was great! I warmed up immediately and thought pleasant thoughts. The tent was about twenty yards from the fireplace grating, and as the night wore on I thought less and less of going back to it. Finally I decided to sleep by the fire. I made a place for my sleeping bag, took off my shoes, and lay down. Above me the trees swayed in the wind. Stars appeared. . . . I used my new flashlight to gather wood as the evening wore on. Finally I tired and settled into a light sleep. Occasionally I would hear a thud and notice that a log had fallen off the grating. At other times the wind whistling through the trees woke me. Who needs a tent when you can sleep outside by the fire?