Electra loop: Why solo? Risk and control as a mother.

The High Trail dove down to cross the Lyell Fork of the Merced river, and laboured up switchbacks on the other side. I stepped off the trail and headed up river. It was midday, and I'd been charmed up the lower reaches of Lewis Creek with its waterfalls and great rushing waterslides over granite slabs, and inspired by glimpses of the far reaches of the park through the woods of the High Trail that sidled along high above  a deep valley - Red Peak is aptly named. 

Red Peak from the High Trail

But now it was time to turn off cruise control and venture into a seldom travelled part of the park. I'd seen no-one all day (and only 2 hikers the day before), and would see none for another two days.

Why do I venture out solo? Apart from the pragmatic reason of not being able to find a willing and available partner (strangely, my suburban mother acquaintances show little inclination in this direction...), I find myself quite content with my own company. But the real motivation, I believe, is comprised of two elements: risk and control, that I find lacking in my daily humdrum life.

Although I work part-time in a stimulating and rewarding job, my primary responsibilities revolve around motherhood: kids and school and a never-ending cycle of  housework and homework and volunteering and the expectations of being An Upstanding Member of the Community; of saying the correct things at the correct times. But I have never mastered the latter in this country- I lack the ability to gush appropriately in the American-mother style, my Kiwi upbringing leaves me socially adrift and there is a constant feeling of never quite fitting in and of knowing that that will never change. Of course, with this inability to live up to expected standards comes guilt. The mountains, therefore, are my salve and my saviour. A solo trip into these remote regions involves a certain degree of risk. But by eschewing the everyday safe life that is paradoxically so burdensome and fraught with social danger, I find freedom.  Dean Potter, a visionary climber and wingsuit BASE jumper known for pushing the boundaries and taking extreme risks wrote: 'I long to be that free, flying above the cluttered world of normalcy, where so many are half alive'. Sadly, Dean suffered the ultimate consequence of his extreme risk taking, but his words resonate with me.

Many would say that the assumption of unnecessary risk is irresponsible when you are a mother. But what are the risks? Injury, getting lost, difficult terrain, problems with altitude or gear, insufficient fitness, bears, weather, the possibility of death by a billion mosquitoes. The question becomes, how can you minimize them? I would say by extensive preparation and research, by training hard, by the incremental accumulation of backcountry know-how and climbing experience over many years, by the careful selection of equipment, by improving knowledge through navigation and wilderness first aid classes, by carrying a SPOT beacon and letting many people know your plans, by knowing where your risk limits lie (for example, I will scramble up and down third class (steep rock that requires hands) terrain alone, but will not attempt anything more difficult - this is a firm limit for me). When viewed from this perspective, risk become acceptable and liberating.

The second reason I enjoy solo trips is because I am in complete control over all decision-making and therefore assume full responsibility for my actions. Although I love to go venturing off with Al, he often ends up taking the lead by virtue of superior leg length and overall strength (and, truth be told, his 'mountain goat' genes), Not his fault at all, it's just biology. But the fact is that I want to lead, I want to make decisions, I want to be independent. There is a burning desire to prove myself capable. When you're alone, there's no bitching, no resentment, no blame. It's difficult to argue with yourself. You screw up, you deal with it. Simple.

Venturing beyond the confines of established trails increases risk and the need for control. It is constantly challenging: you must always be alert to your surroundings, must always be making navigational decisions, must always be thinking of Plan B and Plan C in case things don't go according to plan despite your best efforts or due to external factors such as weather. There is no plodding along mindlessly. You enter a state of heightened awareness. The pursuit of this mental state is the reason Dean Potter gives for putting himself in harms way, by 'pushing into fear, exhaustion, beauty and the unknown'.

Ultimately, I believe that these experiences, this assumption of risk and the ability to control it, makes me a better mother and wife. My head is clear, I have more patience, more confidence. I take pride in being a strong and independent role model for my daughters.

Lyell Fork of the Merced, Electra Peak and Mt Ansel Adams in center distance

=Looking down the headwall

The Lyell Fork of the Merced presented a range of navigational challenges as I worked my way up to a lake beneath Mt Ansel Adams. There were streams to cross on slippery logs. One attempt was a soggy failure. Meadows and bogs had to be circumvented and lastly a headwall consisting of a maze of cliff bands had to be to negotiated. 

Camp under Mt Ansel Adams.

I made camp under grey skies and watched, mesmerised, as the clouds swirled around the high peaks, lowering to engulf the lake in fog then rising to give tantalising glimpses of the Sierra Crest.

A stormy dinner

Another storm rolled in for

 a repeat performance of 

the previous day. 

Where I'm headed tomorrow....

Self-doubt threatened to overtake me as I contemplated the following day's planned climb of Electra Peak and traverse to the east of the crest. Would I make it? An intense electrical storm at 3 am did not bode well.