Intro

Welcome to a story, or stories I should say. A compilation of adventure tales. An ongoing itch to see, smell, and touch the world, or at least the deserted roads and rarely trampled mountains of America. Characters within the descriptive paragraphs of these stories carve out the coming and going companions in life; vital life people and pieces that parallel a universe for moments, days, years. And then spear off, leaving granules of magnificent memories of magical places. They leave a lasting trace, a gained sense of courage to stand tall on oxygen deprived mountains and shout absurdities like: I love you Ralph! Ralph is a teenage reindeer stuffed of the finest synthetic polyester fiber poof; he says made in Indonesia but really tells me he is from the North Pole. Delivered through a chimney one December night 20 years ago, we instantly became cuddle buddies upon that morning's sunrise. He is the instigator. The inspiration. And the imagination. He breathes creativity. Laughter. His is a dear companion. And yes, at 4lbs he tags along atop a pack or strapped to a rack. In delirium of 107 degree heat, the small possession of material belongings gain a persona. Innate objects become friends of the road and trails. And as for the humans who accompany, their presence reads priceless. Without O'Reilly, a 29 year old New Hampshirian with superior taste buds, the mathematical six foot four inch tall German, or handful of organic peanut butter and 99 cent jam eating munchkins, there would be a lot less excitement. The encounters we make with our specie, encapsulating the world with their awkward ways and over consumerist love, somehow we have managed to become overly adored creatures. Their generous hearts restore a faith that goodness prevails in the upheaval of a sometimes lost humanity. As for myself, I'm just the navigator, paddling up the stream of life munching on Clif Bars, with an iPhone documenting the frailties and goodies underneath all the simplified complexities in the world we reside. So again, I welcome you to get lost and dream a little through this typed text and your imagination. My name is Kristen Gentilucci. I live in Berkeley California and I love dogs.


Friday, September 6, 2013

Day 10

Miles: 15.8
Elevation gain: 2300ft
Elevation loss: 2800ft
Altitude: 12,000ft at Muir Pass

It started with a fiasco over hot coco powdered spores combusting within the bear bin. One would think the morning was ruined when an unhappy frustrated Conrad saw the brown morsels covering our basic material needs for the next 6 days. When life is simplified to a rough walk through some of the most beautiful lands in sight, it's the little things that get under your skin. Retuning to societies problems may be as grand as this hike. 

Bad moods were soon uplifted by mirroring lakes and giant scissor like peaks. Silence of nature could be seen in the still lakes and motionless meadows, but slowly the blue sky scattered into grey patches. We trudged 10 miles up that mountain they named Muir Pass. A beautiful climb that suddenly took a turn. Angels bowled in the distance, sparks were ready to fly, and with the tree line long gone, we stood shelterless under the angry sky at 11,500ft. Not even a bush in sight, all that was left to survive in this lacking state of oxygen was a few frogs and granite white rock. Awaking from his nap, Ralph was excited to see the storm. Having missed our conversation of Reinhold Messner, the man who first summited Mt Everest with no additional oxygen and left his brother behind to die while exploring new territory, Ralph laughed at my sudden attempt move very quickly up that mountain. Reminding him of the science of lightening, his head peering high above his masters, he was first to be hit, standing 6 ft 5" on this on this high mountain. Silenced, he slipped into the puffy down jacket he calls home.  Although this trek wasn't a race, it soon became one to the top of Muir Pass where a safety hut lay waiting, climbing this mountain at a suddenly rapid pace, the race was on against storm clouds colliding. Sprinting 1/16 up the final climb of the mountain we found ourselves safely eating hummus in the hut watching the hungry marmot on guard outside. But for some sad reason the chocolatety M&Ms divvied out for each set of peaks didn't sound quite as appetizing after the mornings coco bomb went off. 

A mere 6 miles down to what we would call home for the night should have been as breezy as wintertime sledding. What lay on the other side though, was mars, red and green rock, lifelessness completely out of sight, not even a speck of dirt to make a solid trail. We were left finding our way over shattered boulders of pretty pink, red, black and green rock with a storm glooming above. We danced along the scrapes of rock, each step carefully choreographed. But soon enough, landing on earth back at 10,000ft, trees began to sprout and taller they grew through the decent. The east side opened its doors to a fairy tale type of land, puffy patches of green and yellow grasses, Christmas tree like farms, and the all too picturesque waterfall trailing down the mountainside. 

Shyfuly welcoming us into their home, we gaze in awe at the family of 4 furry deer eating their dinner in the meadow patch and wading through the river to their beds. 

Thinking I knew a mountain before this trek, I stand corrected today. Linear does not exist, nor does flat or horizontal. 6 days left, 5 more mountains to summit, the Sierra's offer a harsh yet beautiful welcoming.