Backpacker – August 2019

ha ndf u l of times, in lit tle more tha n w ithered

clumps, because I tended to visit the high

country in September and October, past the

f lower’s prime. I had hoped I might see it on

this trip, a nd reca lled the stor y from Ra ndy ’s

childhood, when he’d climbed a Yosemite

peak with his father, Dana, and first dis-

covered polemonium eximium. Dana told

Randy that the common name is sky pilot

because it is found only on or near the tops

of the highest pea ks. “The name,” said Dana,

“means ‘one who leads others to heaven.’”

Randy reached to pluck a tiny bouquet for

his mother, but his father had stopped him,

explaining how the delicate f lowers had

fought hard to survive in such a harsh envi-

ronment. “Wouldn’t it be nice to leave these

alone?” He explained in terms an 8-year-

old might grasp: “If climbers before us had

picked these f lowers, we wouldn’t now be

enjoy ing their beaut y.”

I sat down amidst the blooms, their pres-

ence somewhat mitigating the regret of

not summiting, as the others continued

upward. It took them 30 minutes to top

out, the final push requiring some puzzle

work between, up, and over chunks of rock.

Rick pulled himself up last and found John

standing on the tiniest perch, with thou-

sa nds of feet of a ir beneath him.

One by one, they each stood on the

summit and unwrapped that 360-degree

gift that included a near-eye-level vista of

Mt. Whitney to the south and Mt. Russell to

the east. Strings of emerald and turquoise

lakes, patches of green meadows, and verti-

cal granite formations in every imaginable

shade of rust a nd gray stretched out from the

vantage point. Those who have stood atop

Mt. Morgenson say the view is among the

best in the entire Sierra, a nd R ick concurred,

thrilled at having made it to a place he’d

spent months thinking about. “You’re bleed-

ing,” Laura pointed out a gash on Rick ’s shin,

which he called a “rock kiss,” with a hint of

fondness. They signed the register, and the

four of them lifted their water bottles, toast-

ing their comrade: “ To R a ndy.”

S

OME 800 VERTICAL FEET below, I

remained disappointed, to be

sure, but it’s hard to feel too sorry

for yourself when you’re reclining

in paradise.

No storm moved in, the clouds remained

scattered, and in what seemed like no time

at all, I heard faint voices on the wind. I

could see that the others had descended

around the corner and were in the drain-

age far below, so I made my way down to

join them, sti l l feeling f un k y enough to but t-

slide the steeper rock.

I was relieved to be on f lat ground and

happy for my companions. It occurred to me

how appropriate it was that only rangers,

past and present, made it to the summit to

honor their colleague.

But I was most happy for Rick because he

From top: The author takes in the calm after the

storm at Wallace Lake basecamp; sky pilots bloom

on Mt. Morgenson.

JULY/AUGUST 2019

90 BACKPACKER.COM

SPONSORED CONTENTSPONSORED CONTENT

Trail by Design

Presents:

Alexandra Rubio

backpacker.com/trailbydesign

@alexandra.rubio.art | alexandrarubio.com

I try to stay true to my art

by only creating things I want to

create and that I have personally

experienced. I want to capture

the feeling of watching an eastern

Sierra sunset after an unexpected

scramble in the Buttermilks, or the

feeling of sitting with friends at

the base of El Cap during sunset.

My energetic (and almost chaotic)

style stems from my need to explore

more, to experience more, and to

do more of the things that make

me feel alive. I hope my pieces

encourage others to do the same

— that they encourage others

to create and cherish their own

stories of being in the outdoors.”

Each of my paintings

represents a story.

I work hard to evoke an

emotion and to match a

moment in time.

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