A Dream Years in The Making
I have loved Yosemite, land of the Ahwahnechee, since the moment I first set foot there. The massive granite mountains, the waterfall-carved “pools”, and a unique scent of forest that can only be smelled there, had me hooked from the start. It’s a place where I felt both more in tune with the world around me and better able to tap into the stillness within me.
I can’t remember the exact year I picked up, “Almost Somewhere” by Suzanne Roberts (I’m guessing somewhere around 2012–14) but ever since I did, the dream of hiking the Nüümü Poyo (commonly referred to as John Muir Trail or JMT) has lived rent free in my mind. The joy, suffering, awe, challenge, and exhilaration of such a journey sounded irresistible. I couldn’t stop thinking about it even if I tried.
For those of you who don’t know, the Nüümü Poyo is a trail that goes from Yosemite Valley to Tumanguya (commonly referred to as Mount Whitney) stretching over 211 miles and gaining over 40,000ft of elevation. Most people complete it between 14–28 days, with 2–3 resupplies (places where you stop to pick up more food and dispose of your trash) along the way.
Over the course of the past few years I kept dreaming about spending weeks out in nature, carrying all I needed on my back, meeting parts of myself I have yet to know, and completing this journey through the Sierra Nevadas.
Finances and work stood as the main blockers in making this dream a reality: having enough money to buy all the gear, take necessary safety classes, and a job that would allow me to take a month off.
As life would have it, in early 2021 a job that took up most of my life came to a close and I finally had the time and energy to dream bigger. To reconnect to what mattered most to me and cultivate the courage needed to do big and scary things again. As I ventured back out into the world and gave myself different outdoor experiences, the Nüümü Poyo started creeping back into my mind. “Maybe I can actually do it next year…”
Fast forward to September 2021. I was being interviewed for a new job. During that interview I asked the person questions about their DEI practices, what their expectations are when it comes to having access to my time, as well as mentioning I needed 2 months off. One to take an EMT course and another to hike the Nüümü Poyo. “No problem”, they agreed.
Between then and now, I gave myself time to chill before diving into a logistics and, as the time to book my permit approached, I found myself feeling more and more stressed about it all.
You see, part of what you need to do to get a permit, is have a tentative itinerary (aka an outline of all the places you plan to sleep each night). As someone who has never done anything like this, to say that I felt overwhelmed would be an understatement. I ranted to my sister multiple times about how hard and complicated and confusing all the information felt. How there are so many logistics outside of my control. I was making myself miserable and definitely not enjoying myself.
After a few days of this special kind of self torture, I was able to tap into what really matters. I reminded myself:
a) “First things first.” What did I absolutely need to do to get started? Do that.
b) “This is part of the process.” Figuring out how to do all that stuff is part of the project itself, I could learn a lot, and it would help me guide people down the line.
So, I put my big girl panties on, downloaded FarOut (previously named Guthook) and started creating a sample itinerary for myself. A few months back I had talked with Sarah Williams (who completed the JMT herself back in 20…) and I reminded myself of her words: to remain flexible and know that my itinerary would definitely change- especially once I put my boots to the ground.
It was now January 2022, I logged on to recreation.gov, snagged an entry permit for Cottonwood Lakes, typed in my tentative sleeping spots, selected Yosemite Happy Isles as my exit point and paid.
It was now official. I held the digital permit in my hands. It was time to start planning the next steps.
As I’ve grown and learned, my understanding of what it means to be Indigenous/Native in a country like the US has deepened and, with it, my sense of responsibility to play a part in changing things.
The language I have been using when it comes to this trail and its surrounding mountains is intentional. We live on stolen land. Land whose original stewards are still here and whose sovereignty needs to be reinstated.
Click on the link below to learn more about the rich history of the Nüümü Poyo and Jolie Varela of Jolie Varela of Indigenous Women Who Hike.
As part of prepping for the Nüümü Poyo, I plan to write weekly blogs outlining my training as well as the mental and emotional side of things. Stay tuned for more!
