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 8.

Miles: 16
Elevation gain: 2000ft
Elevation loss: 3800ft
Altitude: 11,000ft

It started with a meltdown by Ralph at mile 4, when mistakenly he was referred to as a cute moose by a traveler heading north. With the promise of a carrot cake cliff bar, we finally calmed him down in time for the big climb over Selden pass. 

It must have been 3/4 the way over this damn mountain, 8 miles high, that delirium set in. Deprived of sleep due to bear nightmares and russling in the bushes, I was convince the lack of oxygen on this peak was creating a dizzy frenzy like spins as if one had downed a few drinks at a dinner party gathering. Passing by a lovely glistening alpine see-through blue lake we perched our packs for lunch. These lakes are surreal. Colors of blue that dont even come in the 24 pack of crayons, and the hardware store's paint samples called ocean blue are an insult. Photoshop might be able to recreate this vibrancy we were mesmerized by for over an hour, but any top of the line printer would produce a shameful replica. Relaxing over a delicious lunch, who could ever imagine the taste bud joy of rehydrated hummus upon rehydrated tabbouleh upon a a preservative green chili tortilla. 

Knowing that on the other side of this mountain, 3000 ft below lay our resupply tub stuffed full of chocolate covered espresso beans, colorful m&ms, and enough carrot cake cliff bars to keep Rudolph, sorry I stand corrected, Ralph satisfied. 

If you ever wanted to know what it's like to fly, hike a 30lb pack up and over mountains and valleys. Upon release of this inhuman invention comes a feeling of weightlessness. As if born with wings, arms flapping, a liftoff was almost humanly possible. Pushing miles to the point of pure exhaustion, tears nearly ran down my sunburned cheeks at camps arrival. Picking camp at sunset, cooking was out of question and dinner was a 1/2 liter of chocolate milk. 

30lbs of food await for us upon sunrise at the ranches resupply. And although the arrival is late, and the miles long, a hot spring awaits tomorrows sore muscles and a short 10 mile day to follow. With questionable sightings of bear tracks and scat, and a shed full of many many hikers food, a sleeping pill digests, the nights starry window opens, and ancient horses, goddesses, and mermaids are just a sunsets tale away.