Mammoth Lakes: driving south to the mighty Sierra

     Out of the blue, I decided it was time to head down to Mammoth Lakes, CA. This is a town that I called home for many years in my late teens and early twenties. One of my best friends still lives there and it was about time to go for a visit. The last time I made the voyage south was for her wedding, nearly 5 years ago. Far too long. I drove down so that I could arrive with a variety of gear. My load included a downhill bike, climbing gear, mountaineering gear, and the appropriate clothing for each activity. We had briefly discussed possibilities for my few days in town, and aside from climbing Mount Ritter, I wasn't too sure what we would tackle. Regardless of the exact activities, I knew I was going to love my short trip back to Mammoth.

     During my mid teens, I was extremely fortunate to meet Kimmy. In all reality, I was lucky that my mom met Kimmy's mom. I was 17 and we were in Mammoth for USASA Nationals. I remember talking to my mom after a day on the hill and she told me about this wonderful woman who had a daughter one year older than me. They were from Truckee and her daughter, Kimmy, was doing really well competitively. My mom guessed that Kimmy and I would get along beautifully. A few months later, I found myself at a US junior camp at Mount Hood, Oregon. The first person I remember seeing was a delightfully smiley human. This was Kimmy. We were instant friends.

     To make this potentially long story a short-ish story, there are very few people in life who have the ability to alter your trajectory. Kimmy is one of those people in my life. If we had not been friends, Kimmy never would have asked me to be her room mate. I never would have convinced my parents to let me skip out on college and follow a very different path. Honestly, all cheesiness aside, I wouldn't be who I am or where I am today.

Please excuse the quality of this photo, it was obviously taken while driving
     It was evening when I arrived in Mammoth and the scenery actually made me exclaim out loud, "holy moly!" I had forgotten just how spectacular the surrounding mountains are, creating a jagged skyline wrapping 270 degrees around the tiny town. I peered up and down the row of peaks recalling most of them by name, and remembering different occasions where I stood on top of many of them. My arrival was bittersweet. Immediately upon entering town, I recalled a variety of emotions from those years when I called this place home. This is the place where I dreamed up my wildest dreams. This is the place where I tried, everyday, to make those dreams a reality. This is the place where I felt the debilitating blow of my limitations, leading me to understand that my dreams would be only dreams. My ambitions far exceeded my abilities. This is the place where I began trail running and climbing in attempts to forget those other dreams... and ultimately, this is the place I had to leave because those dreams lingered, and we could not coexist in these deep, mountainous valleys.

     As I said earlier, I would not be the person I am today without this wild and winding path.  I would not think to drive far away for three days of adventure.  I would not be able to roll into this gorgeous town, late in the evening, have my dear friend skip through her front yard and yell, "you're here!" while I simultaneously yell out, "I'm here, I'm here!"  But I am that person, and so on that evening we sat at her kitchen table, staring at climbing guides and coming up with a game plan for our week.