Out of the Frying Pan….and into the Sky

Sorry for the slow pace of updates over the last two weeks. We just took a vacation from our vacation, consisting of ten days in God’s Country (you know…Wisconsin) with family and friends. We had the pleasure of spending time with the extended Bruner and Opps clans, as well as our immediate families. All those hours spent tossing nieces and nephews around, gorging on unhealthy food, and throttling our families in various competitive pursuits left little time for blogging. Now we’re back on the road and aiming to return to our previous posting cadence.



Our last update came as we fled the scorching deserts of Southern Utah. Perhaps counter intuitively, we found refuge in the arid state of Nevada. We spent a few days cooling off in a wonderful oasis of mountains floating in a sea of desert called Great Basin National Park. This park is so named because none of the precipitation falling in a massive area between the Sierras and the Rockies ever makes it to an ocean. The water in this giant bowl collects in ~200 different low places and eventually evaporates. The park’s snow-capped peaks and cool weather were a welcome change. We hiked to a bristlecone pine forest and marveled at these gnarled beings, some of whom live past 4000 years old. Staring at these ancient organisms, some of whom predate the mighty Pyramids of Giza, was a humbling experience and another reminder of our place in the universe’s pecking order. Our hike took us through high alpine areas where spring is just arriving, with snowpack still melting away and the aspens beginning to bud.























The next leg of our journey took us across the barren width of the Silver State. This is the Nevada that you picture, with scrub and low mountains as far as the eye can see in every direction. It often felt like living a Wiley Coyote cartoon, where the backdrop just keeps repeating itself. We crested many passes, looked out at the moonscape before us, and asked each other “Didn’t we just drive through this?” The monotony set us up to appreciate the Sierra Range all the more when we reached California. Our first night in CA was spent next to a roaring river a short hike from an amazing igneous rock formation called the Devil’s Postpile.
















Our last big hurdle before the promise of heading to Wisco to sleep in a bed was our Mt. Whitney summit attempt. We spent a few nights camping near the trailhead, with the highest point in the Lower 48 ceaselessly lurking in our sights and our thoughts. While we acclimated to the altitude, we gathered intelligence on the state of the mountain. When we applied for our permit in February, we hoped the peak would be clear of snow by the end of June, granting us relatively simple passage. Unfortunately, the various reports we cobbled together held that snow and ice were still ubiquitous on the trail and that crampons and ice axes were necessary. Since these items were not in the budget (not to mention our lack of experience with them), we resigned ourselves to advancing as far as the mountain would let safely proceed and quelled our hopes of reaching the apex.

Our secondary goal for the day was to have a safe and fun hike. Our primary goal was to avoid carrying a bag of excrement. Because Mt. Whitney concentrates all of its visitors on a narrow band of trails, regulations require hikers to pack out all human waste. Upon permit pick-up, we were given portable toilet bags and a gut-wrenching explanation on how to use them. Time to get good at holding it....










We left camp at 3am on summit day, after six hours of tossing, turning, and feigning sleep. As we hiked through the dark with our headlamps, we were treated to a gorgeous sunrise over a thunderstorm in the valley below. The first rays of sun hitting Whitney’s jagged fangs were spectacular and we felt that even without reaching the top, the hike itself would justify the trip. We encountered our first significant snow and ice fields at 12000’, five miles from the top. To our delight, we found that with hiking poles and Yak Tracks on our boots, we were able to navigate the slick slopes safely. We powered on to the summit, our heads feeling cloudier with every step over the last three miles. The excitement of cresting the peak was short-lived, as the thin air at 14500’ gave Ben a wicked headache. After a few pics, we beat a hasty retreat to lower elevations and the oxygen-rich air that beckoned. We completed the 22-mile roundtrip hike in 15 hours, gaining (and then losing) 6000’ of elevation along the way. Most importantly, we didn't have to carry a backpack full of poop! The mountain was a fun mental and physical challenge and we felt justified in going out for greasy cheeseburgers in celebration.


































After our time of luxury surrounded by family, friends, beds, and plumbing, we are excited to return to the road and the simplicity of life it brings. Tomorrow we drive through the orchards and vineyards of Central CA and on to our next adventure! As always, thanks for reading, for your supportive comments, and your suggestions on destinations to add to the list.