FEATURED POST

Years earlier, Fitz had met a couple who backpacked and climbed through the Sierra for two months. Their description of stunning granite, cerulean alpine lakes, and sunshine for days provided fodder to tantalize our climbing addled brains. When the long days of summer shortened, we mused about taking our own journey through the Sierra, but this and that prevented us from committing to it. Yet, we knew that if didn’t make the time, schedule projects and work differently, the trip would continue to exist only in the ethereal.

We started scheming in January when the freezing level kept snow from falling at the local resorts. Could we take the time off? How were work projects lining up? In March I accepted a field job that started early and finished at the end of June. August and September were clear for me. Fitz ordered topo maps and poured over climbing books. The idea was gaining momentum. When a project that Fitz had been working on became indeterminably delayed, we said yes.

We planned to spend 45 days in the Sierra. Starting in Sequoia National Park, we would hike north, traversing along the Sierra spine, using portions of the John Muir and Pacific Crest Trails. Our path took us through Kings Canyon and Yosemite National Parks, and the John Muir and Ansel Adams Wildernesses. We would reemerge through the Sawtooth Ridge near Bridgeport, CA.

Though most days were dedicated to hiking, we would climb along the way. We wanted to visit routes that rarely saw yearly ascents. To explore new routes. Because of climbing, we delved into side canyons and alpine basins, exploring beyond a trail that is pounded by thousands of feet each year. We delicately balanced miles hiked and routes to climb with days to resupply food and rest. We set a start date, filled in where we would be, and sent the itinerary to our friends asking them to join us.

Of course, our itinerary was the ideal. On the first day, we didn’t hit the 15-mile mark that we were supposed to hike. Backpack straps ground into our soft bodies. New shoes and unusually hot weather caused blisters. The backpack weight was crushing. We didn’t speak of turning back though the thought threatened to devour all others. We focused on moving forward. “Your body will adjust. Your body will adjust,” I pleadingly told myself.

At mile 9, we reached the first reasonable place to camp. We’d already readjusted our ideal schedule and made day 2 a hiking day rather than a climbing day. We could camp. Or we could continue up, gaining elevation for another 1.5 miles that had never seemed so daunting. I could see defeat leaking into Fitz’s eyes. I could feel it in mine. “We should probably keep going,” I said, unable to muster enthusiasm. I hoped Fitz would say, “No, let’s camp here.” We stared at the water tumbling over rocks in the creek. Felt the cooler air coming down the valley. “Okay,” he said.

Two nights later, the full moon rising over Hamilton Lakes rewarded our efforts. We slept outside, enjoying the warm night and light. When the alarm went off at 6 am, we ignored it. The winds had started to rail around midnight and we uncomfortably wrestled deeper into our bags. My eyes were crusted with dust. When light flooded the basin at 7, we debated whether it was worthwhile to try climbing. The hot temps and intense sun limited our options to north facing routes.

We had known the trip would test us. That there would be difficult moments. Mentally, we had accepted this reality. Now we knew it physically in the aches and pains that you never want to imagine when you’re planning. The ones that fade away so quickly when you return to tell your tale. We looked at the map and route description, spooning oatmeal into our mouths. “Okay,” I said. We set out to cross the first ridge, unsure of the best approach, but committed to trying. We committed to being each others support. And most importantly, we committed to saying yes.

The release of The Love Letter video is coming April 12th to the Outdoor Research site. Updates, additional content and contests will be featured on The Love Letter Facebook page; “like” the page and stay in the loop on the latest!  The Love Letter is a project from Duct Tape Then Beer, featuring Fitz and Becca Cahall, and brought to you by Outdoor Research, Osprey Packs, and Climbing Magazine.