The Wonderland Journal

Miles hiked: 21.7

Mile marker: 761.2

Dad says the Sierras are magical. It certainly seems as if I stepped into a story book after coming out of the desert. And so sudden too. The trees, creeks, rocks, everything is so different than the desert. 

The biggest difference? This darn bear can. I’m getting better at packing it, at least. Dad barely had to help me this morning. All he did was tighten some straps. It probably helps that my extra food that was out of the bear can is now gone. Less food = lighter pack. 

By the time we begin to walk, it’s already light outside. We’re walking in the twilight zone — the time between sunrise and the gold hour. As we walk in shade, the sun lights up the tips of the mountains. 

Our path is sandy and rocky and white. It’s easy to walk on, but we soon have a long ascent. 

The wide and flat rocks remind me of lily pads on a pond. The ground around me is a slope of sandy rocky fields. It’s white and scattered with trees here and there. I need to use the restroom, so I walk into the dunes. It swallows my feet and feels something similar to walking on snow. 

The sky is bright blue now. It’s full of puffy white clouds that hang over the mountains in the distance. Giant rock formations look like they’ve been meticulously squashed onto one another. The trees are a vibrant yellowish orange color with deep striations running up the bark. 

I’m going up and up this hill. It’s not actually too bad, but this altitude is getting to me. My heart rate is high. My breath catches in my lungs. My mouth is so dry from my heavy breathing. My muscles protest as I put one foot in front of the other. The sun beats me down. 

It’s not even that hot. 

I take a few breaks with the others as I crawl up the switchbacks. One break and I’m sitting on a sloped rock, leaning against my pack. My chest strap is at my neck and waist belt in my ribs as I use my pack as a back rest. 

The next break and I fully take my pack off. I lay back on the rock with my arms thrown over my head. The sky is vibrantly blue. The mountains in the distance are snowcapped. Trees scatter the plains. 

It’s so quiet out here. Peaceful. 

Rafiki continue on until we reach a river crossing. 

“Did you see a guy with license plates pass by?” Rafiki asks the two women. 

“Yes! He said he was going to have lunch at the lake,” a lady says. 

We backtrack across the white rocked river and follow a path until the lake comes into view. Our group is here!

I pass through the long grass and collapse on the ground. What a hike. 

“Going swimming?” I ask Dad. 

He’s already been here an hour and the girls half an hour. 

I feel kind of lame for having taken so long getting up the hill. This altitude is not treating me well. 

I wade into the water. Woof, this is cold! My body immediately erupts into goosebumps. 

“Rafiki, you coming?” Dad calls. We’re standing on a rock with our feet in the water. Rafiki is next to us in a minutes, and we stand side by side. 

“Three! Two! One!”

I leap forward into the water — a shallow dive. The lake swallows me whole. Ice water flushes over me — over my hair, my head, my face, my arms. 

I can almost see the pale green water with the sun shining through it as I exist in the water for just a moment. 

I push my head above the water and scream. And scream again. “Whoo!”  

Rafiki shouts next to me. I wade in the water for a moment, trying to catch my breath. I feel like someone pumped my blood with ice!

I hang out here for a couple of minutes then get out. It’s not too hot today either! The wind blows a gentle breeze that brings goosebumps to my skin. 

I eat lunch — cold soaked mashed potatoes with tuna and ramen bone broth. It’s disgusting. I don’t know why it was so tasty yesterday. It’s the exact same meal!

We lounge around for a while, talking about what it means for us to be out here. Dad has been challenging people today. My challenge is to walk alone for a day. Savannah and Luxy’s challenge is to find a camp spot and camp alone. Bumper’s challenge is to say only positive things for a day. Rafiki doesn’t have a challenge — he already walks and camps alone and hikes with no conversation. 

We’re slowly getting ready to go. 

“Want to skinny dip?” I say to Savannah. 

She shrugs. “I will if you will.”

So Dad pulls his hood over his eyes for a mini nap while Savannah and I strip and wade to the jumping rock. 

“Come on Luxy!” we call. She was already dry and didn’t want to come. 

Before we know it, us three girls and Rafiki and Bumper are lined up in the water. 

“Three! Two! One!” 

We jump. 

It’s a lake of yipping and hollering as we tolerate the coldness. Luxy swims around like she’s in a heated pool. I join her for a mini swim before getting out and drying off with my Swedish towel. 

“All done!” I say to Dad. He pulls his hood off of his eyes. 

We finish getting ready and head uphill for another small ascent. 

Small is relative. 

I’m soon huffing and puffing like I’ve just ran a mile as fast as I could. The pointy trees scatter the white rock. The blue lake — Chicken Spring Lake — is shimmering a deep blue. 

What an amazing time! 

I see a marmot butt and step close to see him. He scurries in between some rocks. 

Rafiki, Luxy, and I walk together for the rest of the afternoon. Both Luxy and I say the same thing: we’ve broken the barrier with our group. We’re now all just a little closer and a little freer out here. 

This is definitely one of my favorite moments on trail so far. 

The moment I get to me free, to be purely myself in all the complexity I am, to be youthful and have fun as if no one is watching — and to do all of that with a few other people who’ve been pushing along these desert floors and Sierra altitude with me. 

Pure joy. Pure freedom. Unencumbered about the world, about what others think, just flying into the water and being a part of nature. 

The big part of nature I soon find I don’t like after the nine-mile hike to camp are the mosquitos. I pitch my tent quickly, my legs burning as I squat to push stakes into the ground. 

I make dinner and eat it, clean up my things, all while wearing my rain gear and a mosquito net. The mosquitos swarm my face as I sit still. 

This is only the beginning of mosquitos.