[pct-l] Ray Day Start

[Jeffrey Olson]

I started on June 10, 2005 at Manning Park and hit dangerous snow only 
once, and that was because I got careless because I was self-belaying 
with an ice-ax and got careless.  The shaft was buried deeply enough I 
simply  hung there for a bit before getting footing in the soft snow and 
pulling myself up.  This was just before Cutthroat Pass. That year a 
SOBO hike was the way to go. 

Ray Jardine is a wonderfully opinionated, bright and experienced hiker.  
His June 15 "Ray Day" is nothing more than a published, well-respected 
opinion.  It served to allow thru-hikers to have a relatively 
"objective" perspective upon which to choose when to leave Kennedy 
Meadows.  That objectivity is easily reduced to opinion, because that's 
what it is, regardless of his experience, reflection and insight.  Read 
what he wrote.  He thought a lot about this and came up with an 
excellent rationale for June 15/Normal.  Caveat:  Have you ever met 
anyone, or anything, that was "NORMAL???"

The HYOH ethos that these sorts of conversations ultimately affirm 
simply returns to what Ray had to say.   As the first of April 
approaches, nervous, budding thru-hikers fantasize their way into all 
sorts of conclusions about what they will encounter days, weeks, and 
months before the actual encounter.  The firm date of the kick-off 
doesn't help those wanting to meet other hikers and learn from those 
who've passed before.  It's based on "Ray-Day." 

I remember sitting in Bend OR reading journals and watching weather 
sites in the 10 days prior to starting my hike.  There was a woman who 
started five days before me who concluded it was "extremely dangerous" 
to hike SOBO.  She described walking with her beau through snow, white 
out, over snow, getting lost, etc.  My experience of the same terrain a 
week later was opposite.  Sure it snowed every day and the clouds were 
dense enough I don't remember anything north of Harts Pass.  It was cold 
and there was snow to walk over.  But I never felt in danger, or that I 
had lost the trail. 

I remember the emotional intensity as my start day got closer.  I'm a 
bright and imaginative guy, and my imagination was running wild, driven 
by nervousness and fear of the unknown.  My sister, with whom I was 
staying in Bend, validated my anxiety.  My brother-in-law exacerbated 
it, reveling in seeing me uncertain about my trip.  He has lots of 
mountaineering experience and waxed loquacious about the north cascades 
and their unfeeling deadliness. 

I can only imagine what it's like to form into a moving pack, huddling 
together a couple nights a week, talking about the snow in the Sierra 
ahead - six weeks of fantasizing and phantasmagorizing and freaking and 
simply worrying.  Fear of the unknown - one's own abilities and the 
actual conditions. 

Hanging out at Kennedy Meadows and deciding what to do, being driven by 
emotional ups and downs, damn near ready to be clinically diagnosed as 
bi-polar.  To feel strong and capable, and then overwhelmed and small - 
back and forth, back and forth.  Intensity is individual.  Just how much 
the center is either lost, or never existed in the first place, becomes 
patently obvious. 

There is a myth in the making on the CDT right now - Lovebarge.  Every 
man she meets falls in love with her, and realizes quickly there is no 
way he can keep up with her.  Read Skittles CDT journal and you'll see it. 

She was on the PCT in 2005 and all the single guys got sideways when 
they spoke of her.  Awe is the best word that captures their far away 
looks and verbal recitations.  She climbs off-trail mountains alone and 
still does 25 mile days.  I met her at Trail Pass and spent a half hour 
talking.  A hunter-guy and his 16 year old daughter rode up on their 
horses and the four of us spent 15 minutes telling stories.  I could 
tell the 16 year old was fascinated with Lovebarge - what a role model 
for a woman.  The father, a CHP officer from Lone Pine, tried to 
maintain his distance, but ultimately fell under Lovebarge's spell.  We 
all left because she was getting cold, and needed to change into warmer 
clothes. 

What I gained from having met Lovebarge - Lisa - is a deep, chordal 
sense that everything is doable.  But when I think about hitting Sierra 
and 500 miles of snow - it doesn't end at Yosemite - I get weary.  Such 
is the production of imaginative introspection. 

When you get to Kennedy Meadows there are all sorts of online frames to 
give shape to personal anxiety, fear, wonder and illusion.  It would 
seem to me that there has to be a chordal theme that drives a thru-hiker 
at this point, one that exhibits caution, or perhaps bravado.  
Regardless, what one chooses to do in the face of objective wisdom - 
"Ray Day" - is uniquely individual. 

This is the beauty and challenge.  There are no "right" answers to any 
question, no matter how well presented a perspective may be.  Each of us 
is a risk taker, and "I" have to decide what risks "I" am willing to 
take.  This is not black and white, either/or.  This is a process in 
which each of us matures and grows in unique and wonderfully different 
ways. 

My guess is not one of the men who fantasized themselves to be 
Lovebarge's partner would be satisfied in that role.  She would always 
be the driving force just a little beyond comprehension and comfort.  
The reason she could become a mythological figure is that she would 
always be "beyond." 

"Ray Day" provides a comfort zone, a frame for the newbie to locate him 
or herself.  It is a mechanism to reduce anxiety, but not a "T"ruth to 
guide.  When the "Wave" arrives at Kennedy Meadows, all this becomes 
transparent.  It's individual, solely individual.  Really, is there 
anything else that can be said?

Jeff, just Jeff...