Our Town

Letter 3   

Limited edition. Those two words connote more value, restricted supply, higher price. Often the product delivers eye turning appeal. To car buffs the words Auburn, Cord and Duisenberg would probably meet that standard. I know you know I am up early, but what the hell does that have to do with Turkey? Read on.

Our group is 21 is drawn from Washington DC, the original Dublin, New Jersey, southern and northern California, and Auburn, Indiana. For those of you who have not ventured south of Indianapolis, this sounds like a small village, which runs quite well at its own pace. Mayor Norman Yoder sets a conservative tone, focusing on when to open the public pool. At its peak Ephesus had 300,000 citizens. The one active dig site we explored there probably was home to more than the 11,000 who live in Auburn. True, neither St. Paul wrote letters to the Auburians, nor does it feature magnificent architecture which has stood the test of centuries. However what it does have is at least two noteworthy draws. One is public, the other much less so. I am drawing all my information from a 10 plus year’s resident and she has first hand information on both counts.

In 1904 the Auburn Car Company, an offshoot of the Eckhart Carriage Company, offered its first fancy cars. Subsequent mergers with the Cord Company (of Chicago) and Duisenberg, created a multiple car company which produced well into the 30s. Tiny Auburn was home of this venture. It now has a museum of these rare cars. Owners from all over the USA bring their cars to be part of the Labor Day parade, during which tops speeds of 18 MPH are achieved. If you are into cars, book early since the hotel capacity is modest. (That is unless you are willing to commute from the big city Ft. Wayne).

Twenty two years earlier, in 1882, P.T. Barnum purchased the elephant Jumbo, Thomas Edison flipped the switch on the first commercial electric power plant (which provided light to about a square mile in Manhattan), and Jesse James was shot dead. However that was also the year of the founding of the Ladies Literary Club of Auburn. Those brave and intelligent women had the foresight to draft their own bylaws and charter. In the ensuing 129 years, they have not wavered. Meetings start at 1PM, twice a month for 8 months of the year. (The other four months the members probably read Danielle Steele). A book is discussed and is part of an annual theme. Meetings stop exactly at 3PM, no matter who is talking. Then, exhausted, the members stop for tea and an “appropriate snack”. (I am guessing this is not pork rinds). Did I mention the club has only 19 members?  Like Augusta, if membership is sought, it is denied. Unfortunately, most good things have drawbacks. The dues are $15 per year. However, being intellectuals, the members don’t squander that money on themselves with expensive trinkets or food. The local library is usually the beneficiary, although sometimes they don’t grant the whole $585 at one time. Good thinking, you wouldn’t want them to get lazy.

My source is a fellow traveler who is celebrating her 80^th by inviting her daughter, granddaughter, and niece on the tour. She is game for everything despite ankles which make Yao Ming’s look solid. (Yes, her problems came from the same source; she was a forward on Wellesley’s basketball team in the early 1950s). Her stories have regaled our group (staying up all night with Jason Robards after a performance of The Iceman Cometh, watching Dylan Thomas consume the fifth of whiskey which was intended for the Shakespeare Club’s plum pudding at otherwise dry Wellesley, and on and on). Happy Birthday Lois, we can all only hope the world looks as interesting to us when we are 80.

Our journey Monday (after the relaxing evening in Assos) was heading south along the coast line. First stop was at a gas station for lunch. However, that is slightly misleading. It seems there was a very good restaurateur in Pergamon. He packed them in. However, a petty mayor, who may have had a rival restaurant, decided his crowds were “disruptive” to the city. The successful one was banished, just as in days of old. He moved his business to a huge gas station complex. His bill of fare was diverse and very enjoyable. Ground fava beans, eggplant with peppers, small pizzas, and once again a kebob over rice. What an excellent meal in an unexpected place. However, our string is intact. Desserts are just way too sweet. They make you cavities ache.

On the bus to Pergamon, an ancient Greek outpost. Acropolis type buildings way up a hill. Either the same mayor or someone of similar constitution decided recently the tour busses were bad for this gem. Thus the city designed and built a very fancy aerial tram. Visitors pay a small fee for this short trip. I am sure the mayor is laughing all the way to the bank.

The digs were hard for me to imagine. Citizens walking on the same paths and courtyards thousands of years ago. What really caught my interest was our guide’s question how long it took the ruler of this outpost to communicate with those in the Middle East, thousands of miles away. Most of our sun baked brains started thinking about some poor messenger running 15-30 miles a day without Nike waffle trainers. Not even close. The watch towers used to keep an eye out for any who may approach (Remember rape and pillage as well as fierce takeovers which make Wall Street’s antics look tame?) However, the other use of those series of towers was communication. Using the sun, mirrors, and a code word was passed over long distances in a matter of hours. However, I wondered if they had the same problem as whispering a secret around a circle.

The day’s adventure ended with our arrival at the brand new Swissotel in Izmir. What a spectacular property. However, it seems clear they have some early operation bugs to work out. Give it a year or two.

Izmir is one of the three largest cities in Turkey. It is newer than Istanbul. Traffic is chaotic.

I have yet to tell about Ephesus and related sites, but I must now go pack. We are off to the sea in our gullets. I hope I can post this before we leave. Probably not much for the next three days, as I anticipate internet access will be zip.

June 16

All He Did Was Read a Poem

If there was ever a time to have a drink, it was when Carol’s bag was recovered Sunday night. However, that was impossible. Turkey has a law just like the one which impacted guests at Andy & Kristin Mowat’s wedding in Mexico City some years back. Drinking is restricted on Election Day. This makes no sense to me, and was a severe constraint Sunday. It seems to me in some elections voters should be given a drink when they leave the booth, after dealing with the choices they were given.

Monday morning’s results were widely expected. The current Prime Minister was re-elected for five more years, receiving about half the votes. Note, the turnout was something like 80%. Democracy is alive and kicking here. This is encouraging to any pro-democracy observer since the military overthrew the government in 1980. It turns out one of the key mandates of the current PM is to re-write the constitution, which still reflects some of the military values and thought.

To keep it simple, the PM was the former mayor of Istanbul. His name is Erdogan. His party members are generally strong proponents of capitalism, privatization, and free markets. This will be discussed later. The major second party, the CHP, are the welfare party. They believe in state solving problems. I checked, and Page van Loben Sels isn’t a member.  

The PM is a key leader of the country, but I like the function of the president.  Among other things the president interprets the laws passed by  the unicameral legislature, the Parliament. If he thinks anything is not constitutional, he can reject the law. (Sounds like a job of the courts to me). The Parliament appoints the president, although some think that may shift to a public election. The 550 representatives in Parliament need 55-60% approval to pass a law, and 80% to change the constitution. I am told they do better than the Bozos in Sacramento, but I guess that could be said for just about any legislature. I am sensing that Turkey is a richly diverse political landscape. Thus, I anticipate getting 80% of the representatives to agree on anything more than what day it is may prove to be tricky.

Remember the military takeover? When all was said and done over 200 generals got a chance to experience jail first hand. That is something they have in common with the current PM. Are you kidding? Can you imagine a gaggle of Pentagon brass and the US president all being former jailbirds? As richly as some of them might deserve that distinction, it seems unlikely.

When the president was the mayor of Istanbul he was invited to speak at the Parliament in 1998. He decided his message should feature a famous poem, included  the statement “we shall assume power, either with blood or without”. That was seen as unacceptable speech (yelling fire in a crowded theater?), and he was sentenced to 8 months in the slammer.

Did I mention it is a bit after 3AM Turkish time? Most of you know my early to bed tendencies. Last night we went to bed at 10:30 or so, after a dinner on the shores of the Agean. I am not sure if it was the fact our room was slightly cooler than the Saraha in midsummer, or if it is just my goofed up time clock. I woke up and realized Carol was reading her eBook so the later gains credence.

Yesterday was Monday. We got an early start and headed south and west to see  Gallipoli and Troy. Loved her, hated him. I was uninformed about Gallipoli, other than seeing the forgettable Mel Gibson movie and hearing details of what it meant to the Aussies and New Zelanders over a pre-trip BCA lunch.

We drove to the Straights of the Dardanelles and came to a very somber and remote grass knoll which held a stone monument. That showed the words of Ataturk who spoke poetically of the events of this god forsaken land. I encourage you to google this, and read these incredible words. What happened here? In 1915, the Germans, Russians and English all were plotting what they thought should be done with Turkey. England decided it needed to invade Turkey, and was aided by a young navy officer named Churchill. This was not his or their finest hour, which came 40 years later. The Germans decided they needed to aid the Turks to resist this move. Despite being overwhelmingly outnumbered, the fiercely nationalist and proud Turks resolved to fight to the death to defend their homeland. In 8 short months, 300,000 died in essentially trench warfare. Holding the higher ground (and their resolve) proved decisive, and the Turks prevailed. What about the Aussies and NZ contingent? They were called by the Queen to help, and 15,000 young men from down under never came home. This event is evidently seared into their national psyche. Despite the great loss this event gave each of those countries an importance sense of national presence.

In one of the clearest and yet most haunting pre-battle admonitions I have ever heard, a Turkish general told his small group “Men you must die to defend your country, but die slowly”.

The challenge facing the British was to scale a hill of 1,000 feet or so. Evidently the gun fire and bombings were so intense, the ground cover and trees were destroyed, and the earth has eroded. The figure of a sphinx appears to remain. Plans are already underway for the August 2015 (100^th annual) commemoration of this battle. Well worth the visit.

Troy is closer to the Greek border. It is one of the earliest cities, dating back 5000 years. I guess because it was such an ideal location, they city essentially kept building on itself. Thus, when it was discovered, at least 6 different time periods have been unearthed. Too bad that very little has been spent to display this “dig”. Yes, there is a four story wooden horse, but is looks like it belongs at Chucky Cheeze. It is easy to see streets, houses, and gathering places in this ancient location. I hope someone wins the lottery and donates enough money to display this history as it should be seen. Start by replacing the rickety wood plank walkway which has lots of protruding nails, unstable handrails and rot. Embarrassing.

Yesterday afternoon we arrived in Assos. Consider a tiny little town 500 feet below the highway, snuggled in a protected harbor. The road is so steep and narrow our bus could not make it to the hotel. One walks or rides a small van the last several hundred yards. There are three or so hotels here and perhaps 20 fishing boats, most resplendent in some garish color and in various stages of disrepair. The hosts were smart enough to provide thatch covered areas next to the water. Here one can have a drink, snack or have a meal. We played backgammon (I was dethroned by my opponent’s double six roll in the closing stages of the game), chatted, and enjoyed to cooling breeze and light sprinkles. Yes, we did have a delicate fish for dinner. Life is good, particularly when you have a change of clothes.

Note, I have not told you about our day and one half in Istanbul. The pace of the tour has been fairly quick. This too shall pass, so that comes later, albeit out of order. Life is messy.

I will close by admitting this is our first tour. I can’t say I ever welcomed that concept. I worried about crowds of uninteresting people, uncomfortable buses, and waiting for someone who just couldn’t get it together. In all times past, we have planned our own travels, although the Wongs and we got considerable help in China. We hit the jackpot. Our group of 21 is filled with interesting and fun people from around the US and one woman from Dublin. Meals and bus travel are filled with lively conversation and laughs as we discover so many common links and experiences.

More news in a day or two. The sun is out and hot, meals are tasty, the history is rich and interesting. What else could you want?

posted 6/14

I thought Marathon was in Greece, or Move over United

Letter 1

Johnny Lee our driver to SFO did his part. He got us to SFO a bit before 12:30, just as planned. Little did we know then that we were to learn not to take such precision for granted.  Our plan was to catch American’s 2PM flight to Chicago, wait two hours, and then fly non-stop (essentially over night) to Istanbul. We would arrive at 5PM Friday. Emphasis on “that was our plan”.

I was not prepared for what greeted us at American’s ticket counter. There was a huge, unruly line. Lots of frowns, clumps of baggage all over the floor and fellow travelers dressed in all sorts of “travel clothing”. (Yes, I do remember when men wore a coat and tie to fly.) After standing in line for 20 minutes, and moving about two and one half feet, we got the news. There was weather in Chicago which would cause a “major delay”. Although no time was given, it was clear our connection was in jeopardy. After 30 more minutes or so (filled with frantic calls to American and our tour sponsor, both of whom said work it out with American at SFO), we met the humorless Mr. James Lovelace. He was to be our ticket agent. Yea, I get it. These guys are paid minimum wage, and he didn’t need this, but what ever happened to the customer is always right? Wasn’t is our vacation which was starting off poorly? Mr. Lovelace (nee, Loveless?) acknowledged us and started trying to see our options. For what seemed like an eternity, he apparently kept typing in routes into the system, waited a minute or two, and then shook his head and started over. (I wasn’t buying this. I wondered how he got Angry Birds on his CRT). Finally, and these were his first words in 10 minutes or so, he said “Air France through Paris might work”. Their 2:30 non-stop to Paris was “slightly delayed”, and would leave at 5PM. We could then connect to Turkish Air and arrive about 5 hours late. This didn’t seem too bad.

And it wasn’t, had it been true.

We cleared security and got to the gate to learn two big things. First our flight was on a new A380, which had 540 passengers. This newest design is essentially a double-decker B747. We came to understand that means everything takes longer. Second, 5PM proved quickly to be fiction. At 5 we were only told “come back at 7PM for an announcement”. As good as we were sure the Air France dinner would be, we rushed to the close restaurant and had “dinner”. Long story short? After lots of vague announcements, we boarded the behemoth at 9:30PM, which happened to be 15 minutes before our crew of 20 was no longer available. (You see they had arrived at the airport assuming an on time departure, nearly 8 hours earlier.) Of course you experienced travelers know boarding and departing at two different words. Wheels left California at 10:30 PM, or about 10 hours after we arrived at SFO. We had gone 26 miles of our trip of over 10,000. I know the first 26 are the hardest, and that is the distance of a marathon, but this was crazy. 

We arrived in Paris around 6PM Friday night, well later than either of the two “possible” flights we had hoped to get to Istanbul. Thus, we started our tour missing at least the first day. Here is where it starts getting in interesting. Air France confirmed we had seats on the 8AM Turkish Air flight to Istanbul Saturday morning. They explained it would take 2 hours to get our bags out of the secure storage area. We punted on that “delay”, not knowing we had just seamed our doom. We were given a temporary personal kit: a tee shirt, toothbrush and paste, deodorant, etc. We were also given a voucher for the All Seasons, (not Four Seasons), just off the airport. It was hard to find the coach which took us, but we were pleased with the small but efficient hotel. Good dinner. Hopes were high.

Saturday morning started early, and we were on the 5:45 AM shuttle back to Charles de Gaulle. Unfortunately, Turkish Air explained our reservations had been cancelled. We found an Air France angel who interceded on our behalf. Boarding passes were received, and we rushed through customs.

In Istanbul at noon. Success. Not so fast. The bag conveyor belt stopped without our 4 bags. Turkish Air explained our bags liked France so much they decided to stay. (Our ticket cancellation was the probable culprit). There were a couple flights which would arrive later Saturday and would be “rushed” to the Grand Hyatt. (If you bought that, then I have a bridge to sell you.)

OK, so our guide meets us, and we have a nice lunch on the Bosporus, before our cruise on that incredible 25 mile stretch of water which separates the Asian and European sides of Istanbul, and links the Sea of Marmara and the Black Sea.

Late Saturday night we checked with Hyatt. No bags delivered. Sunday started with us in the clothes we put on back Thursday morning. A day of touring made us all the more fascinated with Turkey but more uncomfortable. A busy day of touring was brightened by the news our bags had been delivered to the hotel.

Not so fast. In fact, three of our bags had been delivered. Unfortunately, poor Carol’s was the odd one out. If only it could have been mine! LSS (long story short), our guide and I finally took possession of the missing bag around 9:30 PM Sunday night. I didn’t have the nerve to explain to Carol if she waited just 12 more hours, she could say she lived in one outfit for 4 straight days.

What caused the Air France delay which caused this horrible start to our adventure? Despite being told at various times it was a) a late arrival of the plane, b) congestion in one airport or another, and c) weather, I like the answer given in the on board greetings. While landing, the plane “ingested” a seagull in engine 4. It is true the mechanics appeared to be working on one of the huge engines during the delay. But who knows? Maybe they were playing Angry Birds also.

The Count Down Has Started

Tuesday June 7
Even our cat knows we are getting ready for a trip. Clothes are clumped in piles around the house. Bags (duffle, soft sided because of the trip on the gulet) are being tested for which holds to most. And then the long list of "supplies", camera, spare everything, medicine, snacks, and on and on. The good news for Kit Kat the Magnificant is he will have the house to him self soon. (That is until our sons come home to "chill".) The great news for us is we are soon to headed way east to Turkey.

I have come to understand the value of using a blog.  Younger friends and advisors have confirmed "this is the only way to go".  What they don't know is some of my contemporaries are still not sure how stuff shows up in their in box. (Some even still use AOL!) "Youngers" all say readers can create an RSS connection which will allow you to know each time I post something. I will leave it to you (and your "youngers) to figure out how to do so, if that is of interest. (I think down where you can post a comment is a chance to link by eMail.)

We leave mid day Thursday and arrive sometime Friday. I am sure there will be several movies, a couple of meals, and fitful sleep in the ensuing 14 hours. Let the travel begin......

Setting Up for Turkey

In about 6 weeks, our travelling friends the Wongs, Carol & I are headed way east to Turkey. There, we will spend nearly 3 weeks poking around antiquity. In addition we will be spending a couple days on a Gulet. In trips past, I have enjoyed writing about our travels, and sending letters by eMail. This had several problems: adding pictures was hard, formatting sometimes got goofed up (sorry to use those technical terms).

This time I will try sending these notes, and some pictures via blog. You should assume I will be sending something every other day or so. Please access by checking this account. I am also checking with people who know more than I do about blogs (almost everyone), for an automatic notification method.

Hope you enjoy this. By the way, here is a picture of our son Stephen, as he graduated from unviersity of Michigan's Buesiness School and School of Public Health.

It’s Just Two More Miles….

 

Nine months ago my friend Rob Bond and I climbed Half Dome in Yosemite. It was as much as an adventure as a challenge, both of which are appealing to us. He is an inspiration to us all, as he plans to visit his 73^rd country (no fooling), listens to more podcasts of college classes (take Ackerman’s class on Geography at Cal, of course), and dreaming up new pranks. Let it be? No way. As soon as the pain in our feet and joints subsided we started looking for the redux of that weekend. It didn’t take long to decide on the sequel.

Early this spring, we discussed attempting to climb Mt. Whitney, as pictured below.



Whitney in snow

Our goal

                           

Simply put, it is the highest mountain in the continental United States. Only Denali in Alaska is a higher US peak. Prior to 1982 most acknowledged Whitney’s height as 14,494. However with the advent of better technology, Whitney is now 10 feet higher. (Frankly, one of our motivations was to go now before it got even higher).

 

Our original plan to hike on June 15^th took a severe hit when a freak snow storm in early June made that date impossible. Unfortunately for us, the rest of the summer was already booked by then. Only by Rob’s dogged determination did we hit on a rare cancellation for Sunday August 1. He snapped it up, and thus our date was set by late June. No backing out.

After and easy 7 hour drive, we arrived in Lone Pine (population 1,655) late Saturday afternoon. Lone Pine is the metropolis 13 miles east of Whitney and about 10,000 feet below its summit. It is situated in the Owens River Valley. It is a town whose “main street” (Highway 395) features 80% of its commerce and “action”. We headed to our hotel, the Dow Villa. The Dow was first built in 1843. While it now features a newer motel (with pool and the like), we stayed in the old hotel. It is an institution known to movie buffs, because it was home away from home for many stars in the 30-40’s when westerns were made in the valley. Pictures of John Wayne, Gene Autry, Roy Rodgers, Richard Farnsworth, and even Tom Mix adored the walls. They all stayed there, and by the way my bed felt, some of them might have shared the mattress. Our room well earned its “half star rating” awarded by Rob & me, since, among other things the bathroom was down the hall. However, how can you complain for $52.50 per night for two.



The Dow's Best

As a lark we asked the desk clerk for dinner recommendations. We expected a comparison of the Big Mac and Burger King’s best.  He surprised us and just said “go to the Seasons”, which was a short walk away. That was great since it was 90 degrees when we headed out a bit after 6PM. When we opened the restaurant’s door, we were surprised. The lighting and color scheme were very appealing (our wives have trained us well to appreciate ecru walls over red). The menu offered salads with fancy lettuces, Medallions of Cevena Elk, “new” potatoes, and even a vegetarian option. Some would be interested in their offering of several premium single malt scotches. We were not disappointed: warm bread, pasta aldente with a subtle tomato basil sauce, mine with juicy, plump shrimp. (We subsequently spoke with the owner who has been serving this fare for 12 years. All her daily delivery of fish and the like comes from LA, 300 miles away). Quite a find.

Back to the room, we made our first big decision: we would wake up at 3:30 AM, early even for the two of us early birds. We did so to avoid the heat, and have some time in case things took longer than expected. That was a very good choice, as we came to see. However, that meant trying to go to sleep around 8:30PM in the bright, hot evening. We showed them! Soon we were snoring.

When we woke up, we officially joined a steady stream of people who have made this trek since 1863. Most start at Whitney Portal (on the east side of the mountain) and hike 11 miles, and 6,000 feet of elevation gain, to the summit. Then they go back. Some break the hike into two days from this side, generally staying at Trail Camp (12,000 feet and 6 miles up). Consider poor Clarence King who tried twice to be the first to climb this mountain named after Josiah Whitney, the state’s geologist in the 1860s. He failed both times. The first ascent is credited to three Lone Pine residents who made it in 1873. Not much has changed in the last in the last 140 years. After the Second World War, some suggested re-naming it after Sir Winston Churchill, but that failed to gain consensus. However, recently the US Forest Service has started restricting the access to the trail to 160 people per day from June to October. (Snow is the limiter in the other months).

We reached Whitney Portal (elevation 8,500 feet) at 4AM. It was buzzing with activity, and its skimpy parking lots were already full. We started our hike at 4:15 AM. We had light packs with 2 liters of water (each), food, and emergency supplies. We fell into an easy rhythm of the early, gradual ascent. We, like most of the others, had Petzl headlamps. These are strong LED lights, which are lightweight and ideally suited for situations like this. Petzl is the “gold standard” of such lights, and they were invaluable. Looking up the mountain we saw clumps of such lights slowly progressing upwards, weaving north and south as they traversed the switchbacks. Later, we looked over our shoulder, and saw the first glimpses of the sun, yet didn’t feel its heat. By 7:30AM we had been underway for over 3 hours and were both panting heavily. We would come to understand the fun was just starting. We were 10,000 feet or so which meant we had another 4,500 or so to go. Unfortunately, as you look up the mountain you can’t see any way to attain that summit. It seems impenetrable, as shown below.



Peaks to the South

Target Destination

 

 

                  

Hikers are a friendly bunch, always offering each other encouragement, or an assessment of location and remaining time. The problem is that advice isn’t always right. Here we came on one of the differences in our approach to trips like ours. One of us is a planner; he tries to figure out what’s ahead, while the other prefers experiential learning. (I am confident all readers will know who is who in that description.) We had read a couple of the on line reports about the hike, and in fact copied some altitudes and distances from one. Unfortunately, they weren’t reliable. This led us (a couple of times) to the worst experience of hikers: thinking you have less distance or altitude remaining than is the case. It’s just two more miles….

 

As you climb you pass a couple of snow fed lakes, Lone Pine Lake, Mirror Lake, and the lake at Trail Camp. All are beautiful remnants of last winter’s snow, and are such a contrast to the granite which surrounds you.

Mirror Lake, 4 miles up

 

In the final 3 miles (about 2,000 feet elevation) before reaching Trail Crest (a false summit) one starts a cable protected staircase and then the series of over 100 switchbacks. Those switchbacks allow you to gradually gain altitude which was a God send.

 

The Granite Stairway

                                  

We reached Trail Crest (13,600’) at 10:30 which meant we were only two miles and less than 1,000 feet from the summit. Unfortunately, both of us bonked around there. As I understand it, one can bonk (run out of energy) for three reasons: lack of water, air, or fuel. In our case I believe we didn’t have enough water, even though we each had 2 liters. In addition the thinner air also made breathing tougher. (Lower pressure at higher elevations makes breathing harder. I think we were getting something like 60-80% of “sea level” oxygen, for much of the hike). I wish we had brought some cocoa leaves as used in the Andes to mitigate “thin air”. The trail didn’t help either. Essentially the final assault involves climbing behind the needles seen to the left of Whitney from the east. The “trail” is full of loose rock, is uneven, and has some very steep parts. Just exactly what you don’t want. We each struggled to gain altitude 6” to 20” at a step.

 

Heded up, behind the Needles

Further Up the Trail

      

The final few hundred yards to the summit are a gradual climb on the granite face, no trail. No matter, one can see the prize. We reached our goal after 8 hours of climbing. The first thing you see when you summit is the Smithsonian Institution shelter, a stone hut built in 1909. This offers protection from the common summer showers. Unfortunately, some have died being hit by summer lightening. (We had previously checked and saw there was no such activity expected for days.) The peak is also littered with various medallions which were placed by various geologic survey parties. None was noteworthy. However, the unobstructed 360 degree panorama was incredible. We could identify Yosemite, 200 miles north, and the start of the John Muir trail, which ends at Whitney. Summit also meant lunch, which consisted of one PB&J sandwich. (Despite over 8 hours of fairly hard work, neither of us felt famished, and had only snacked on trail mix twice or so.)  However, that mangled sandwich pictured below tasted great.

Never a Doubt

A Meal Fit for a King



Looked like a Ritz Carlton

           

Why the jackets? Well it is fairly windy most of the time on the summit. It was only 50 degrees on the top, despite the blazing sun which made Lone Pine over ninety. We rested for 15-30 minutes or so, and then decided it was time to start down before those sore legs turned to cement. Coming down is less energy, but much harder on your joints and feet. This is a problem, since we have two good knees and about 15 good toes between us. It was clear early, than descending was going to be very tough for us: bonked, sores knees and toes, and less than usual balance. Rob was good enough to lend me his hiking poles, which reduced the shock of each step down. (Shock seems so strong, but believe me it is not an overstatement.)

The descent was as tedious as some Giant’s games, and just as painful. The rest of the afternoon was filled with gingerly taken steps as we gave back the altitude we worked so hard to gain only hours before. Neither of us moved quickly, but for that matter no one was passing us. We estimate there were 60 or so people on the trail that day, which is hard to understand. The ranger had told us the day before there were no more spaces for Sunday. This was a time of quiet endurance, as the afternoon sun gave way to dusk. We could not remember how much farther we had for most of those last hours. It seemed like the question from the back seat of young family vacations “Are we there yet?”  

The “insult to injury” of our slow descent meant we were swarmed by mosquitoes the final hour or so of hiking. Those #@*& insects come out at dusk. We were easy targets as we were hot, sweaty, and our veins were bulging. Both of us soon became covered with bites. Just before the sun set, I wanted to take one final picture of the mountain. I pulled out my point & shoot digital camera and the screen announced “Battery Exhausted”. I thought to myself, that makes three of us. Out came the headlights for the final 30 minutes of hiking, since we didn’t want to risk falling at dusk. We finished our trip a bit after 8PM, or not quite 16 hours after we started. Neither of us had “much left in the tank”. However, we were both thankful for the safe ending of a long day.

We were fortunate. Rob will probably lose a toe nail or two, but no severe blisters as last time. Just bone tired. After a light dinner and lots of fluid, a shower and 8 solid hours of sleep, we revived. We concluded it took us longer to hike up and down the mountain than to drive to and from the bay area. And, it was harder.

Would we do it again? Speaking for Rob, I would say unequivently “Hell Yes”.

That is as soon as gas is under $1.00 a gallon, the Chicago Cubs win the World Series, and Printed Affair takes over CBS.

Will we find another adventure? Stay tuned.

 

August 10, 2010