Written on June 12, when I was at my worst.

My body doesn’t do elevation well. I’m not quite sure what the highest elevation I’ve been at before this trip was, but I think it’s safe to assume it’s far lower than 10,000 feet because it’s never affected me this badly. I can’t eat; I know I should force myself to, but I’m sure I’d just vomit it right up if I tried.

I miss the desert. Sure, the Sierras are beautiful, sure it’s nice to have rivers and streams at regular intervals so I don’t have to carry water for 20+ miles. Sure it’s nice to not be dealing with the dangerous heat of the desert floor. But the thing is, those are all things I can deal with. The elevation? I feel so helpless. As I type this up on my phone it’s 8:30 am, far later than I’d usually be hiking. I’m still laying on my deflated sleeping pad because this position is the one and only way I feel somewhat ok. Getting up long enough to put my quilt in the sun to dry made my head spin, same with peeing. I took some ibuprofen for my head, and I forced down a granola bar. I need to get hiking because I do need more water eventually. Also I’d like to get to Crabtree before my friends get back down from Whitney because I don’t want them to worry about me (any more than they probably are worrying after seeing how I was yesterday and knowing I didn’t make it to Crabtree last night).

I’ve acclimated since the 12th, though I’ve still had trouble on a few mountain passes. The highest elevation I’ve now been at is 13,200 feet – Forester Pass on the PCT. And I did that on June 13. I have medicine for elevation sickness now in case I have more troubles, and I’ve had to use it, and I’ve been going much slower than I did in the desert, but I’m now enjoying the Sierras quite a lot.