The next morning we were off. Other hikers we had talked to were going to camp at Tyndall Lake and head over Forester Pass the next day. We thought we would get to Tyndall and see what the weather was like. We didn't want to cross the pass and get into a thunderstorm, which were common afternoon events.

But, the weather was beautiful.

When we got to the bottom of Forester Pass we filled up at one of the last creeks. This way we didn't have to carry a lot of water weight on the approach. After we get going again I spot a marmot, splayed out on the top of a rock, sunning and acting like the Marmot King on Pride Rock.

Then as we're coming up the valley and have the first clear view of the entire head of the valley and the headwall at the end, I can't make out where the trail is. It looks like a solid wall of cliffs. Where is the trail? I spot a guy coming down the trail and I ask him which notch the trail goes through to get over the pass.

I'm a bit shocked at what he describes. It goes over the notch dead ahead. And that thin line I spot on the cliff face is the trail blasted out of the cliff. He says it's fine. About 5 feet wide and perfectly safe. No snow on this side, only a bit on the north side.

Holy shit! Now I start to panic a bit. After the little bout of vertigo yesterday going up the Whitney trail I'm not too excited to hear this. He moves on. Maddie is a fair bit ahead. I keep hiking up the trail. But now, my imagination goes into over-drive. I was worried before I knew where the trail went. Now that I can see it cross that cliff face I go into a full panic. I know I'm going to have trouble on that section. I've thought about my vertigo and the fear it induces a lot. It first started when my kids were little. I remember the exact moment. It was on the bridge over Deception Pass in the San Juan Islands. The girls were just little and they raced across the bridge to their mother. I was behind and had a clear view of the exposure and the water swirling below. I felt a wave of vertigo - for them. Not me. I was an ex-climber and mountaineer. I had seen plenty of exposure. Thousands of feet, straight down, right below my feet, while I'm hanging from a wall by my own muscles and tendons. Sure I had a rope clipped in. I'm not stupid. But I had plenty of experience. But, it had gotten worse over the years. I'd had a couple fearful sessions in Patagonia and Ecuador and after having thought a lot about it, I knew what the triggers were. I had to be in what I thought was a "death defying" situation with no margin for error. Just a steep slope wouldn't trigger it. But, this cliffside trail certainly would. So, now I really start panicking. I have a whistle and when I get to the bottom of the switchbacks I can see Maddie about 4 switchbacks up. I whistle and get her attention. She sees me and I shout that I will need some help when we get to the cliff. I think she says "ok". But, later I find out she thought I said "Someone needs help at the cliff". She's an EMT. So of course she takes off as fast as she can to help out. But, I don't know that. I feel a bit better because we can figure out something with her support and I continue. Also, music helped and I put my headphones in. But, now I realize I'm having a full-on panic attack. I've never had one before. So, I try to calm myself down. Listen to the music. Breath. Panic again. I literally have no reason to panic. It's not super steep or "death defying" on the switchbacks. But, I am heading toward the cliff section. I start to talk to myself inside my head. Breath. Use the rest step. I am the climbing instructor again lecturing the student how to get up the mountain. I feel better. Instructor and student are like the logical, rational side of my head. I know how to do this, I know how to teach this. But then, the irrational, emotional side crowds in. I start crying. Where's Maddie? I can't look down. I can't enjoy the spectacular view. I decide what I need when I meet up with her. I just want to see her heels in front of me. Not look at anything else. That will help. If I meet up with her. I get it together again and go back to instructor/student mode. I lose it again. It's waves of rationality and irrationality. Now, I'm at the cliff section and it is a trail that is blasted out of the cliff. Perfectly safe. But, if you're having a vertigo-induced panic attack it doesn't appear safe. No sign of Maddie. I try to keep it together and keep going.

Finally I see Maddie with her pack off near the end of the cliff section. I briefly look up and see the next section is a series of switchbacks to get over the final bit of the pass. I can't look long. I get up to Maddie and I tell her what I said below, that I need help, and she tells me what she thought she heard. I walk by her about 4 feet and turn and put both hands on the wall with my back to the exposed drop, and completely lose it. Balling my eyes out. Sobbing and breathing in shudders. Now Maddie goes into full EMT mode. She thinks I'm dizzy, like yesterday on Whitney. I tell her I'm having a panic attack. She helps get my pack off. I stand there with my back to the drop, my two hands on the wall, my feet spread like I'm being frisked, and finish crying for a few minutes. She wants me to sit down, relax, calm down. I tell her I cannot be calm on this cliff and if we don't finish while I have an adrenaline surge I may not finish at all.

Next up are some switchbacks. Slight less exposed but above the sheer cliff face. But, maybe if I fall on those I'll only land on the switchback below. Or so I tell myself as we start up again.

Final switchbacks over south-side of Forester Pass, PCT and JMT Trail.

Once we summit there's enough room to stop for some water and it appears no longer "death-defying" to me (of course it never was). I feel very happy now. I survived that wall. The North face is not as steep. A bit of snow but not terrible. I do take a slip in the snow and have a small fall. Not much of one but my pack twists around and my back leg doesn't slide forward and I stretch my lower back a bit. Seems like nothing at the time, but it will hurt in the next few days.

We are both very happy to be over Forester. Maddie was even a bit freaked out by the exposure. I'm sure my reaction freaked her out even more. But, it's better for me coming down. It's not "death-defying" so there's no trigger for another attack. The Valley below is gorgeous.

But, now it's getting late and we'd like to get down where it will be a little warmer tonight. Camp is still 3 miles away. We're part-way down the upper valley and Maddie loses all energy and feels nauseous. She's had two tough days, doing Whitney the day before. But, I know we don't want to camp this high up so I suggest she is dehydrated and coming off an adrenaline high and she just needs to drink more water to feel better. She takes her own pulse and it is weak so she agrees. She drinks a bit and then we head down.

I'm leading now and stop every few hundred meters so she can drink some more and soon she is feeling much better. So, now we like to tell the story - She helped me over the pass, I helped her down.

It was a beautiful valley. Too bad we weren't in the mood to take more photos.

So, the title of this post is "Fear and Lothing..." (all credit to Hunter S. Thompson on the title). I've described the Fear. What about the Loathing? Well, a bit of self-loathing has to ferment a tad to fully ripen and will come later. It's a bit like Kimchi. When it's fresh it doesn't smell ripe, but give it a few days.

Wanderfeast

Wanderfeast

Maddie and Tim's PCT 2016

Wanderfeast

Fear and Loathing on Forester Pass