Denali: The High One

I knew our honeymoon was going to be rugged (c’mon, it’s me and Owen), though I did not expect to find myself wielding two cans of bear spray, my head on a swivel, waiting to fight off a charging grizzly. But let me start from the beginning. 

Planning a trip to Denali National Park is a little intimidating. There are essentially no trails in the backcountry, you can’t drive your own car on the park roads, and there’s nowhere to buy food once you’re in the park. Needless to say, we procrastinated until the last minute to plan our honeymoon. The weeks leading up to our departure date were a whirlwind: we booked flights, trains, campgrounds, hotels; purchased essential gear (gaiters for me, stream crossing sandals for Owen); and carefully stocked up on provisions to last us for two weeks. We hit a small snag when Owen’s backpack was initially 60 pounds and mine was about 20 liters too small. After ditching anything that wasn’t absolutely essential, we were left with two enormous but acceptable bags.   

As with any great adventure, ours did not start according to plan. We missed our connecting flight and our bags nearly did not make it to Anchorage. But thanks to some quick thinking flight attendants we arrived, bags in hand, just a few hours later than scheduled. With the first snag out of the way, we were eager for the next leg of our journey: the Denali Star Train. The ride was gorgeous: we passed through areas so remote that homesteaders flag down the train to travel into town for supplies. We even saw some views of the peak of Denali. After eight hours on the train, we finally made it to the park I'd been dreaming about for years.  

The Denali Star Train

Viewing car

We camped near the park entrance for the next two nights, and our main objective was preparing for our backcountry trip. The most important part: securing a backcountry permit. Without any trails in the backcountry, the park is divided up into 87 units, most of which have a quota. I’d done a lot of research beforehand: some units require expert glacier travel skills, others are only accessible by bush plane, and still others “present the opportunity for trips that will test the abilities of even the most skilled backcountry traveler.” We were left with essentially a handful of units that would not kill us. Luckily, a few of those units had availability, and after filling out several forms, watching a series of videos, and essentially signing our lives away, we were given the coveted permit. With permit in hand, we attended to the next most important task: visiting the Denali sled dog kennels! The dogs don't just look cute, they also work hard. In the summer they train up, and in the winter they travel the park, blazing trails for winter visitors, checking on research equipment, and transporting supplies.

In awe meeting a canine ranger

Planning out meals for the next two weeks

The next morning, we boarded the first camper bus into the park, welcomed by our no-nonsense driver, Tom: “I’ll drive the bus, you look for wildlife.” I spotted the first “bear” of the bus ride, which turned out to be a moose! Over the next few hours, we traveled deeper into the park, and as the road turned from pavement to dirt, we saw even more wildlife: elk, grizzly bears, and even Dall sheep (found only in Alaska and western Canada). Finally, it was time to disembark. The starting point of our five-day backpacking trip was Eielson Visitor Center, which also gave us one last chance to take advantage of indoor plumbing. We spent a little longer than needed packing and repacking the contents of our bags until finally we could delay no longer and set off.  

Day one of our backpacking trip, still clean and dry

The next five days were some of the wildest I’ve ever experienced. The challenges were abundant: river crossings, wet feet, steady rain, bushwhacking, routefinding, avoiding animals, scree fields. The rewards made it all worth it, though: views of Denali poking through the clouds, camping above the Muldrow Glacier, following a river drainage to its headwaters, walking barefoot on the tundra. Easily my favorite part was the wildlife. We saw bears, caribou, a red fox, a Dall sheep skull. At one point we were watching eight grizzly bears, half of which were cubs, lounge, play, and eat off in the distance. It was like something straight out of National Geographic.

Hiking above the Muldrow Glacier

A typical misty Alaskan day

One morning, we had just started packing up our tent when a backpacker traversing the gravel bar below us yelled up, there’s a bear approaching you! I yelled back, from which way? But his answer was incomprehensible, lost to the wind. We quickly devised a plan: Owen would pack everything up while I would stand guard, looking for the incoming bear. Armed with both cans of bear spray, I watched for the bear as if my life depended on it. Finally I spotted him, he got a bit closer, we yelled, looked big, waved trekking poles, and he backed away. We were totally fine. And that was our experience with all of the grizzlies that we observed: they were more interested in eating berries and digging up ground squirrels than investigating us, and we were able to peacefully share the land.

Patiently waiting to see where a grizzly bear was headed

There are a lot of rules for backpackers: camp at least a mile from the park road, don't hike in a line, cook 100 yards from camp... We tried our best to follow everything, but when we finished our backpacking trip at the Eielson Visitor Center with a park ranger waiting for us, I assumed we were about to get chastised for doing something wrong. And then I saw the “Trails closed” sign. Turns out that recently a hiker had violated the park's most basic rule: don't give your food to wildlife. Apparently a bear had approached and he dropped his pack, allowing the cub to feast on all his snacks. The scary part is that now, the cub will associate humans with food for the rest of his life and may try to approach more people for some easy grub. As a result, the park closed all the trails and backcountry units nearby, including our units, though we had no idea since they had no way to contact us.

Trails closed: news to us!

With a sigh of relief that we weren’t going to be arrested, we grabbed our cached food and caught the next bus heading deeper into the park, to Wonder Lake Campground. Most of the passengers were cruise-shippers that had been on the bus for hours and were drifting off to sleep. We stood out with our big packs, hiking boots, and dirty clothes, and the ones that were still awake were intrigued with us. Owen attracted quite the crowd as he fielded questions about where we slept, what we ate, what animals we saw. It was a worthwhile conversation, as we learned there was a good chance of seeing the northern lights the next few nights!

Wildlife viewing from the bus

Our campsite at Wonder Lake Campground was the one thing we booked months in advance, and I had been eagerly anticipating our stay there. For one, it’s deep in the park, a six hour bus ride from the entrance. It’s also only 26 miles from Denali, and supposedly offers spectacular views of the mountain on clear days. Our three days at the campground certainly lived up to my expectations. The tundra was alive with fall colors: fiery reds, oranges, and purples. The weather was incredible and we saw the mountain every single day. We even saw the northern lights one night! What I wasn’t expecting, but enjoyed the most, were the characters of Wonder Lake- the friends we met during our stay. One lady had been coming to the park so often that she could “write a book about the showers and bathrooms of Denali." Another older couple shared stories from a lifetime of traveling, and reflected on how their experience in the outdoors is changing now that they’re older. A group of friends who meet up every Memorial Day weekend at Wonder Lake, told us of backcountry skiing in the Alaska Range just a few miles below the summit of Denali.

Our campsite at Wonder Lake

Wandering off trail in the shadow of Denali

Have you ever wanted to shower so badly that you would pay $1,000 to do so? After nine days of backpacking, camping, and wearing the same pair of pants, that’s the position we found ourselves in. Luckily, we had hotel reservations for a backcountry lodge just a couple miles down the road from Wonder Lake Campground. So we said goodbye to our friends, promised we’d let them use our shower if they made the trip out to our hotel, and hit the road to catch our ride. We were the youngest people at the lodge by about thirty years, and we were not their typical guests. We stuffed our faces at every meal, did not go on a single guided hike or tour, and drank with the employees. We bummed a razor and deodorant off the front desk, begged for the manager to let us do laundry, and commandeered the outdoor fireplace as our own. I never thought I’d spend $1,000 a night on a hotel, and I probably never will again, but it was absolutely perfect and worth every penny. 

We pulled ourselves off the couch once to go mountain biking

Our post for our stay at the lodge

Many of you know that my family affectionately refers to Owen as “superman” for his uncanny ability to fix things and make things better. He’s brought back cars from the dead, fixed frozen pipes, and deep cleaned toxic college apartments. So you can imagine I wasn’t surprised when our bus heading to another campground after our stay from the lodge broke down, four hours from the nearest help, and Owen whispered “I think I know what’s wrong.” With my coaxing, he approached our bus driver and offered up some help. All I could do was watch from my seat, watch his freshly washed clothes get dirtier and dirtier as he pulled, shoved, and pounded something heavy. Not even twenty minutes later, our bus driver successfully turned the bus back on, and Owen got a standing ovation. 

Sow and two grizzly cubs

After nearly two weeks in the park, we had seen it by bus, foot, and bike, and there was only one mode left: plane. We had no shame being the ultimate tourists on our flightseeing tour of the park. I was crammed in the very back of our little Turbo Beaver, right next to the emergency supplies and blankets. The upside was that I had both windows to myself, and I constantly looked left and right, mesmerized by the world of snow, ice, and rock that we were in. Eventually we landed at Denali base camp, where most mountaineers start their expeditions to the summit in early summer every year. We were there for less than half an hour, and I somehow managed to fill my boots with snow and numb my hands. I don’t know how people survive the climb. 

My perch in the back of the plane

The Alaska Range, in all its glory

Denali Upper Base Camp

There is nothing more depressing than flying home after an incredible two weeks spent in the wilderness. $2,000 and two free first class tickets does soften the blow, though. Yes, you read that right. Our flight home was overbooked, and they were offering $1,000 each and a first class ticket if you got on a later flight. Owen and I practically shoved each other out of the way running up to the counter to volunteer. Gorging on free food and drinks in plush seats that we didn’t pay for was the perfect way to end our honeymoon.

Despite our lavish arrival home, the post-vacation blues hit me really hard when I went back to work, so much so that I took stock of my life and realized I needed to make a change. So, as of today, I am no longer working for San Mateo County. I start my new gig in (surprise) another local government agency: Santa Clara County, on November 18. Look for more stories on my adventures during my time off in a couple weeks!

Nine Years in the Making

Nearly nine years ago, Owen and I headed off to separate colleges after a couple weeks of dating. We didn't know if our relationship would last until Thanksgiving break. We definitely didn't anticipate the years of adventures that lay ahead for us: studying abroad, joining the National Guard, living in the deep South, moving to the West Coast, adventuring on a motorcycle. We have come a long way from the two high-schoolers we once were, and I'm so proud to say that we're now husband and wife!

Photo credits: Daryl Gillum

Almost a month later, I still can’t believe that we pulled off such an incredible wedding. As two people who are both laid back, don’t ever plan parties, have no eye for decorations, and tend to procrastinate, we are truly the opposite of wedding planners. But somehow, it all came together and the whole weekend felt like a celebration of our favorite things: motorcycle rides, redwood trees, fire pits, wild dance parties, hiking, delicious food, and fancy drinks. 

Photo credits: Daryl Gillum

The weekend of the wedding, I thought I was well prepared, armed with our detailed schedule that mapped out every single thing happening. But nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming generosity of our family and friends. They bought last-minute supplies, assembled bouquets, loaded cars, brought us pizzas, made amazing toasts, shuttled people around, fixed my makeup, set up centerpieces, made us s'mores, bustled my dress, retrieved my vows, hosted an after party, and that's just scratching the surface. I like to think of Owen and I as pretty low maintenance people, but there is no way we could have gotten through the day without the help and support of all our guests. 

We couldn't have done it without them! Photo credits: Daryl Gillum

There were so many memorable moments that I’ll cherish forever: looking into Owen's eyes during the ceremony and feeling like we were the only two people in the world, listening to Kelli totally rock her maid of honor toast, watching the sun set over the Bay as our guests danced into the night... It was an incredible day, and a lot to take in. After the wedding weekend, we escaped to a treehouse in Santa Cruz for a night to unwind, just the two of us: our first trip as a married couple!

Our humble abode

Skylights above the bed

Reality check, though: planning a wedding is freaking stressful. So in the weeks leading up to it, we sprinkled in a few trips in the mountains so we could clear our minds and for a few days pretend like our world did not revolve around place cards or centerpieces or wedding cake toppers. 

Running a 16 mile race in the snow with 5,000 feet of elevation gain was a good way to do that. Back in June, Madeline and Evan flew down from Seattle and we all headed up to Squaw Valley in Lake Tahoe so Madeline and I could run the Broken Arrow Skyrace. Before the race, we had gotten multiple email warnings from the race directors that there would be some snow on the course, but they weren’t exactly sure how much would remain on race day. A lot remained on race day, that’s how much. I realized this race wasn’t like anything else I’d run before when I looked to my right and saw skiers and snowboarders queuing up for a ski lift. Yes, you heard that right: the ski resort was still open at the end of June and we were running past skiers and snowboarders. Two of those skiers/snowboarders were Owen and Evan! The race had it all: stream crossings, ropes to pull ourselves up steep, snow-covered slopes, glissading, and even a ladder, dubbed “Stairway to Heaven” on the rockiest, steepest part of the course. When I wasn’t cursing myself for signing up for something this difficult, I was pretty much in heaven. Plus, we got to spend the weekend with our best friends. Wedding stress couldn’t hold a candle to it. 

"Stairway to Heaven" ladder

Trying not to fall into the lake after the race

You would think that a backpacking trip marked as appropriate for kids ages eight and older would be a walk in the park for Owen and I, right? Well, you would be wrong. Let me explain. There was an article in Backpacker Magazine about teaching kids to backpack, and one of the trip ideas for "big kids" was a loop in the Trinity Alps Wilderness in northern CA. It seemed like the perfect mellow trip for a long weekend. Day one, we got a late start as it was July 4th, and we had made an impromptu stop to watch a Fourth of July parade at a small town on our way to the trail head. We weren’t worried though, as we had half the day to cover five miles to the first good campsite. The hiking got hard immediately, and did not let up. What we didn’t realize, because our map didn’t have elevation, was that the trail gained 4,000 feet in those first five miles. I should also probably mention that, somehow, we hadn’t gone backpacking in about eight months so we were wildly out of shape. At one point, hours into our hike, we were scaling a very steep slope, grabbing onto trees to pull ourselves up the loose dirt, and I kept thinking “This can’t be the trail.” Turns out it wasn’t the trail. The actual trail was still covered under several feet of snow. By the time we finally rolled into camp, right before dark, I didn’t care if we were sleeping on a boulder field, I just wanted to get horizontal. 

The next morning we regrouped. After talking with other hikers we learned that much of the rest of the hike was covered in snow so we reset our expectations. We would ditch our heavy packs at our basecamps and go for a day hike, with the hopes of making it to at least one of the four lakes on the loop. Hiking uphill in the snow wasn’t bad. Hiking downhill, though? That required too much effort. Instead, we glissaded down all the big slopes. If you’re not familiar, glissading is basically sledding without a sled. You’re supposed to use an ice axe to stop yourself, but we didn’t have ice axes so we used our trekking poles. It was scary, but also fun as hell, and we even got a round of applause from another group of hikers across the lake. We may not have conquered the loop made for eight-year olds, but at least we got to play like we were eight years old again.

After our wedding, Kelli and Cam stuck around and borrowed our car to take a road trip through the Sierra. Our car that had "Just Married" written all over it. Honestly, there's no better way to embarrass your sister than making her drive that around with her boyfriend. I was actually really grateful they could spend more time out here, though. That next weekend, the four of us drove out to Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. After battling it out with Bay Area traffic, we didn’t arrive in the national forest outside the park until the moon had already risen, so we carefully navigated a dirt road and found a decent camping spot. Owen and I got to work setting up our tent, while Kelli and Cam reclined the front seats of our car and cracked the windows. When they say “car camping” they literally mean sleeping in a car.

The last time we were here it was so busy that there was no place to pull over to actually see the giant sequoia trees. I was not going to make that same mistake again. Which meant we woke up at 5:45am Saturday morning, threw everything in the car, and quickly got on the road. Our Toyota Yaris, now dubbed the “jellybean” is not an expansive vehicle by any means. It’s the perfect size for a two-person road trip, but when packed with four adults and their stuff (Kelli brought a suitcase for god’s sake!) it was reaching its capacity and things started to go missing. At one point, I don’t think any of us knew exactly where our wallets were. Anyway, we didn’t need wallets to see sequoia trees, so we hightailed it to the Giant Forest, then basked in the early morning glory of having the grove almost entirely to ourselves.  

Photo credits: Cam McCall (this was a vertical panorama!)

That afternoon we hiked the Lakes Trail and had two options: book it out to the farthest lake, six miles away, or arrive at the first lake, swim, nap, and lounge for a few hours. We opted for the latter with no regrets. We even got to do a bit of scrambling to get to the top of the Watchtower, a massive granite rock formation. That night before we went to bed, we established ground rules for proper bear etiquette: one honk of the car horn meant Kelli and Cam were simply trying to drive the bear away. Two honks meant they were actually driving away, and Owen and I would be left to fend for ourselves. Luckily, we never had to test out the system.

We leave for Denali National Park, for our honeymoon, tomorrow! The past two weeks have been a whirlwind, not just because we had to plan the entire trip, but also because we've been tracking conditions in the park and they weren't looking great: heavy rains, mudslides, and wildfires. As of now, everything is open but fingers crossed that it stays that way. Our trip hasn't even started yet and it already feels like an adventure!

Frequent Flyer

If you know me well, you know I don’t impulse buy anything. Each new purchase is usually researched, mulled over, sampled in person, and mulled over some more. Hell, it took me a year to buy a new bike after my old one was donated for scraps. There’s a caveat though. I don’t impulse buy anything...except for flights. In the depths of winter, from my hibernation position on our comfy couch, I thought it was mostly a good idea to cram four trips involving flying within about two months. Now, three trips down, one to go, and I’ve finally come up for air long enough to share some stories!

New bike: it was worth the wait

Trip 1: The scene is Boston in early April for my bachelorette party! On my late night flight from CA, even armed with my red-eye flight kit (Zquil, a bandana to cover my eyes, and one of those free blankets from the airline), I didn’t sleep a wink. Nevertheless, I felt rejuvenated after a shower and a catnap the next day. I am so grateful that my friends came up, over, and across all corners of the country to celebrate the last few months of my status as a bachelorette! Highlights involved going on a group run while wearing our “bridal party” sashes, shotgunning a can of cider for the first time on a cidery tour, and enjoying lots of well wishes from strangers while we rocked out to great live music at a bar.  

Downeast Cider House

Trip 2: My sister’s graduation from Quinnipiac University in Connecticut, in May. Somehow, I got out of going to Kelli’s undergraduate degree graduation last year, so there was no way I was getting out of her MBA graduation too. Plus, I genuinely wanted to go. (I swear, Mom!) This time on my overnight flight, I said screw the red-eye flight kit since it proved useless on the way to Boston, and I went the minimalist route: only a magazine and water. Unsurprisingly this didn’t work either- I stared at the back of my eyes all night. A New Jersey bagel and a shower worked wonders though, and I felt rejuvenated the next day. Kelli’s graduation weekend reminded me of one basic fact about college kids: they love their cheap alcohol. Kelli introduced us to a drink called “Hey Ya’ll” which is a southern style hard iced tea, brewed in Canada, and is like $5 for a hundred cans. I casually sampled it while we walked around campus.

Owen’s mom’s 60th birthday extravaganza, in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, was exactly a week later and by a stroke of luck I got approved to telework from my parent’s house in NJ in between. I spent my days working either in front of our woodstove or outside on the porch, depending on the fickle East Coast weather. By night, I sampled NJ’s finest foods with my parents. Then, it was off to Delaware for the weekend. I was a little overwhelmed by all the babies at first (Owen’s got four young nieces and nephews) but by the end of the weekend I was playing with babies like it was my job.

Prime teleworking conditions on a cold, rainy day 

I was shocked at how green NJ was

Trip 3: Memorial Day weekend, Seattle, to visit my friends Madeline and Evan. This was my first trip to Seattle, and my suspicions were confirmed- it sure is a rainy place! I got caught outside without a rain jacket once and quickly learned Rule #1 of living in the Pacific Northwest: always bring rain gear. There was a break in the rain though, and we got lucky since it coincided perfectly with our impromptu camping trip to Olympic National Park. Yes, you heard that right: we planned a last-minute camping trip to a National Park on a holiday weekend. Honestly, it was never too crazy though. We sat in bad traffic once, but whiled away the time listening to the Harry Potter soundtrack and working our way through all our snacks. Then there was the issue of where we would sleep. For those of you that have discovered the magic of dispersed camping, if you’ve already guessed that we found a beautiful, secluded, free spot to camp in a National Forest, you would be correct. I always feel like I’m getting away with something when I dispersed camp.

Lake Crescent

In the two days that we were at the park, we did a big driving loop through the Olympic Peninsula, stopping at the highlights that were suggested by a friendly employee at the visitor’s center, who had an advanced degree in map folding, as he dead-panned to us. There was Lake Crescent, where I got my first glimpse of the quintessential Pacific Northwest mossy rainforest. There was Sol Duc hot springs, where we soaked in the rejuvenating water while spotting wildlife both majestic (a bald eagle!) and mundane (a racoon). The next day, we finally made our way out to the coast, first to Rialto Beach, and then to Ruby Beach. I didn’t know where to look: at the gorgeous sea stacks, the mossy forests, or all the dogs. Later that day, we dipped back into the interior of the park to walk through the aptly named Hall of Mosses trail in the Hoh Rain Forest. Even though we had a long drive back to Seattle, Madeline and Evan were never short on providing entertainment: we listened to a Harry Potter audiobook and wolfed down our remaining snacks. Feeling pretty grungy after our road trip, we decided to do something classy on our last day together, and took a ferry to Bainbridge Island to go wine tasting… and cider tasting… and rum tasting. The ironic part of this trip? I fell asleep in an instant on the flight back to CA.

Getting up close and personal with a sea stack

Ruby Beach

Now, I don’t want you to think we’ve been neglecting our home state of CA. One of my favorite parts of living here is its diversity of landscapes, and this spring we’ve been able to sample them all, from the mountains to the ocean to the desert.

While I didn’t quite master the art of snowboarding this spring, I definitely held my own. Successes included riding down many blue runs, and even surviving an accidental, very short stint on a black diamond. One of our last days of the season I finally experienced a powder day which was quite epic: Owen and I had to chain up our little Yaris, and they were dynamiting the mountain to prevent avalanches. Oh also, fun fact: I watched a guy punch his snowboard and start yelling at it while struggling down a run. Perhaps the best feeling of my ski season? Finishing my last run on our last day without breaking a bone.

Finally had a reason to use our snow chains 

No one wants to break a bone, but I particularly did not want to break a bone because I was signed up for an ultramarathon. The 50K was up in Marin, north of San Francisco, the second weekend in March. To be honest, I hadn’t trained as much as I’d hoped but my goal was just to have fun and finish. Heck, I didn’t even really know where the course went. The race was called MUC, short for Marin Ultra Challenge, and that name turned out to be very fitting for the course conditions. Boy, was there muck! Which was not surprising because the first half of the race, it poured. My lightweight rain jacket eventually wetted out to the point where I got so cold, I couldn’t even tear open my energy gel packets.

This was Owen’s favorite ultra to crew me at because he could drive right up to all the aid stations, as opposed to the long hikes he was accustomed to from prior races. Luckily, this meant I saw him at every single aid station. At Muir Beach, about 15 miles in, I swapped out my soggy shirt for a dry one and had him open every remaining energy packet for me, in case my numb hands never warmed up. I didn’t need to worry though- after I saw him there it finally stopped raining and I pretty much felt invincible. Don’t get me wrong, there were some challenges the second half of the race. There was a solid three-mile long climb, and for some reason my foot hurt so badly I thought maybe a bone was broken but other than that, I was genuinely happy. I sprinted into the finish line, a first for me in an ultra, and spent the rest of the day feasting on all my favorite food groups: pizza, bagels, chips, beer!

I literally dunked my shoes in a tub to clean them afterwards

Owen and I are pretty unconventional when it comes to celebrating holidays, so we figured what better way to celebrate Easter than with a motorcycle camping trip? Our destination: Alabama Hills, an area on the eastern slope of the Sierra in the Owens Valley. We left on a Friday afternoon and by the time we arrived at nearly midnight, I couldn’t see a thing. We were meeting up with our friend Doug from high school and his girlfriend Kyle, who had texted us their campsite number before heading to bed. As quietly as we could, we pitched our tent next to what we hoped was theirs.

When we woke up the next morning, I was pleasantly surprised at how gorgeous the area was. We spent the next few hours wandering around the rock formations, checking out wildflower blooms, and ogling at Mount Whitney. Since there was still snow on most of the hiking trails, instead we planned to drive up to Whitney Portal, the highest the road goes below Mount Whitney. Our plan was quickly thwarted though- the road was closed several miles below Whitney Portal. There was a big parking lot right before the closure filled with cars but with no one in sight. We assumed they had all decided to hike on the road to get a better view of Mount Whitney so we did the same. The funny thing was, even after hiking for a mile or two, we barely saw anyone on the road.

Goofing off at one of the arches

It turns out that the "road closed" sign leading to Whitney Portal was more of a suggestion than a mandate, as a local informed us. Plus, our curiosity got the best of us so the next day after Doug and Kyle departed, we decided to drive past the barrier and see Whitney Portal. When we finally made it to Whitney Portal, the view of Mount Whitney was great, but even more impressive were all the mountaineers coming down from the mountain that had summited the day before! They were completely decked out with snowshoes, ice axes, crampons, and even glacier goggles. It definitely inspired me to hike Mount Whitney, though not in late April! It also explained the mystery of all the cars in the parking lot. I still can’t believe I thought they were all just going for a stroll on the road, while meanwhile they were battling deep snow and whiteout conditions on top of the mountain.

The area is fondly called "Nevadafornia" because it feels more like Nevada than CA

Heading up to Whitney Portal 

Now, I'm gearing up for my last trip of the bunch: to Ithaca, for my five-year college reunion! My friends and I are staying in our freshmen year dorms, and I have no clue what to expect but if it's anything like my first year at Cornell it's safe to say I'll have a good time.