Head in the Clouds

May 22, 2021

“It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams.”

― Gabriel García Márquez

Post Summit. I kept seeing the hike pop up on my feed on Strava of local runners. Sometimes I look to see where they have ran so I can get ideas on where to go next. I would love to do as many trails as possible within an hour of our house before we leave California in the next couple years. We are fortunate to have a vast amount of options so close, even the Sierra Nevada Mountains are close enough for a weekend trip in the summer.

The coastline south of Monterey to San Luis Obispo is vast and rugged. Miles of trails stretch out off of Highway 1 in State Parks and National Forests. Some are even lucky enough to own the land on the coast that affords them million dollar views of the Pacific Ocean.

Post Summit sits high on a ridgeline towering over Big Sur in Andrew Molera State Park. The state park encompasses wild beaches and stretches across Highway 1 into the coastal mountains.

We arrived early on a cloudy Saturday morning. The grey muffled the landscape, but the visibility still stretched far across the landscape beneath the clouds. We parked in the main lot at the park and started our way up.

The night before we had decided to do a coastal trail loop in the park because the hike to Post Summit seemed difficult and time consuming. We still weren’t even sure where we would end up when we left the house. On the drive there we decided we were feeling ambitious, though unprepared for the vast amount of determination we would need to get to the top. We also were underprepared for the amount of snacks and water we would need.

But we went ahead anyways. Slapping the negativity from our minds and the hunger already brewing in our bellies we made our way away from the parking lot to the trail. The trail goes up straight away and brings you to a pedestrian tunnel to get to the other side of Highway 1. I thought we were going to have to chance our lives by running across the popular highway, but someone else had considered our safety long before we did.

The trail climbed steadily and in parts steeply away from the coast. We hiked our way upwards, quickly earning a view on the exposed hillside as the trail switched back across the hill on an old road grade. The air was humid and thick and I was sweating buckets immediately. Even Michael, who typically only glistens, was dripping with sweat.

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We took in the sweeping coastal views when we stopped to take some breaks. The clouds muted all the color from the area. With many miles and lots of climbing left we never stopped for long. It didn’t take us much time to reach the first ridge. The thick golden grasses covered the landscape and were trying to take over the trail.

We followed the thin singletrack along the ridge up and down a few hills. Michael asked if the next one was the summit every time. I laughed and continued following the trail hiking up and running the downhills. I was watching my footing carefully since grass was blocking my view to the ground beneath it. Being a little bit faster wasn’t worth tripping, stepping into a hole, or twisting my ankle.

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I scanned the trail ahead constantly and checked Michael’s sure footing to make sure I didn’t make any mistakes. The endless grassy ridge stretched out before and above us as the visibility started to reduce as we reached the elevation of the clouds. The humid air ebbed in the gentle ocean breeze catching each piece of grass in waves.

The grass laid itself across the trail creating resistance as we ran and walked toward the summit. Winding mostly northward on the trail we found ourselves in the clouds. Moisture was in the air and sticking to our warm and sweaty bodies. No relief was in sight as the visibility decreased to the immediate hills in our vicinity.

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With one more mile to go we checked our map and saw we still had 1,000 feet of vertical climbing to do. We had already come so far, and felt like we had walked uphill nonstop. How could there be more? With water and snack options dwindling, Michael told me there was no shame in turning back now. But how could we, when we have come all this way and gotten so close.

I couldn’t let myself go back now. We had to carry on. With our shoes full of pokey grass seeds we went downwards before the final climb.

The trail shot upwards immediately. Loose dirt and rocks left us slipping backwards searching for secure footing or something to hold onto. The smell of wildflowers filled the humid, grey air. Their vibrant colors were muted too. The top was not in sight and the trail we had followed continuously was obscured out of view.

The hard push left us sweaty and breathless as we went upwards on some exposed sections and then into wild brushy sections. An obvious narrow path winding through the shrubbery scratched and caught at our legs. Perhaps pants would have been a good alternative, but it was certainly too late and too humid for pants.

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Relentlessly pushing upwards the trail proved it was not done with us. An awful section of extremely steep and loose gravel had us falling back for every one step we crawled forward. The horizon in front of us brightened as we scrambled, showing us that we might be rewarded.

I tried to push the terrifying thought of returning down this steep gravel section out of my mind. The brightening all around us pushed the negative thoughts out and put me back in the moment. I was past that section now and coming back down was something that was still ahead of me, but it wasn’t important now.

The thin vail of mist at the top of the cloud evaporated with every step upward and forward we took. Just before the summit my body felt the dry warmth of the sun. My vision became unobscured and the views stretched far beyond the claustrophic clutches the cloud had held us in. We were free, open, and flying high above the valley and ocean below, though we couldn’t see it now.

A mountain summit always feels familiar. It brings comfort and accomplishment. The reward for the work and the best place to take a break. I marveled in the incredible views we had just above the coastal clouds. To the east the sun was in full force on the unending mountains in our view. To the west the cloud we barely came out of was hitting and spilling over the ridge in places. The cloud stretched on forever out to the Pacific.

To the north Pico Blanco stood towering above the clouds. The light colored rocks near the summit shining bright in the sun, proving it worthy of it’s name. To the south the ridgeline we were on stretched mostly above the clouds to Manuel Peak. The cloud spilled over the low part of the ridge just south of us. I watched it spill over slowly as we took in the sounds of birds and the light breeze.

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The sun went to work along with the light coastal breeze to try and dry us out as we ate the snacks that we had and sucked our water bottles dry. We checked for ticks that we had collected in the brush. One was trying to get to my knee so I flicked him off as far as I could down the side of the ridge. Our legs were scratchy from all the brush and grass, but we sat and enjoyed the breath-taking views thankful to have popped out above the clouds.

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Unfortunately, we could not stay at the summit forever. Life still goes on below the clouds. Feeling a little rested and a little bit drier we started to make our way back down.

As we left the summit we were quickly enshrouded back into the warm, humid embrace of the cloud. We could no longer see the top and there was no bottom in sight.

Slow and steady, nice and easy, and sure to be careful we approached the steep gravel section. My muscles clinched that every step might send me sliding or falling backward. I managed to keep my feet for a few steps only to slip again and again. My body was working hard to keep me upright and correct. As I slipped backward I snapped forward to counter my weight.

Eventually I knew I had to embrace that I was too clumsy for this and I squatted down low to use my shoes to ski down the loose gravel. This way if I fell there wasn’t far to fall. I controlled my speed by aiming for pockets of brush, totally aware of how ridiculous I must look. My sweaty butt was surely attracting and collecting all the dust it could find too. But hey, it made me feel just a little safer.

Finally, we made it down that short, but treacherous section. A few more steep and loose sections lay ahead, but none were as frightening as that one. I watched and followed Michael’s footing carefully as we made our way down with small quick steps trying to keep traction. If Michael slipped, I wondering if I would slip too, or if I might be able to find better footing. I did have better thread on my shoes than he did, but loose rocks over a hard surface will send even the most rugged shoes out from under you.

The bottom of the final summit push was in sight and we would soon be there. Our worries about slipping would end here and we could finally knock the gravel we collected out of our shoes. A relief washed over me. We would be down in no time running down the ridgeline single track. A short climb up and it would almost entirely be downhill.

Ready to run we started to take off down the hill. Only it didn’t feel right, it felt terrible. My legs were a little tired but ready to go, but my back had had enough. A little tightness is expected but almost always runnable. This was different. The pinching pain in my back spread out across and out to my hips. Each step felt wrong and off-kilter.

The pain was uncomfortable and took my breath away as I tried to walk and shuffle forward. I had no choice but to get myself off this mountain and I felt fortunate too that I was still able. My head ran through all the possibilities of what could have happened and how I could correct. I did some standing cat and cow stretches to see if I could loosen whatever was happening to no avail. I just had to keep going.

I walked and waddled along the beautiful grassy ridgeline consumed by my back and what might have happened. Each step provided no relief, but it never got worse or better as we made our way down the trail that seemed to be longer than the one we had come up.

Slower than expected we made our way down. When you move slower you get more time to enjoy being outside. Or at least that’s what every runner will tell you as an excuse for why we aren’t running record breaking marathon mile/minute times.

I tried to soak up the beautiful grassy and wildflower covered ridges. The warm and humid fresh air with the scent of wildflowers. The time I got to spend with Michael. The unique experience of being on a trail for the first time. I imagined what this trail would look like with clear views (and how sunburnt I probably would have been…). I tried all the things I could think of to turn my attention away from my back, and they worked for a time.

At the bottom of the cloud the Pacific Ocean came into view, but there was still so much elevation to go down and miles to cover. It would all be done in time. The grade would even out and open up as we reached the road grade we had first climbed. I was able to run more here since it wasn’t as jarring and with the end in sight it felt better to go a little faster.

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We were finally almost all the way down and back to the car. I felt like I needed a new back, some water, and a lot of food. I’m sure many different factors contributed to my back so I’ll never know for sure what it was. Next time I’ll be sure to bring more snacks and water so that can’t be added to the list of things to blame.

Hungry, sweaty, and tired we made it back to the now full parking area feeling accomplished. We took off our shoes and switched into our sandals while we checked for and picked off a few pesky ticks. I was ready to sit down and stop jarring my back. I hoped I could work it out once we got back home to stretch.

I wish that were the case, but instead it took a week of stretching, heat, ice, ibuprofen, and some muscle relaxers to finally break the last of the pain. Was it worth it? I’d say so. I think I needed a tough climb like Post Summit rejuvenate my mountain loving heart. Sometimes you get injured and that’s how you learn for next time. Now I know this can happen so I can prepare preventative measures and try to remove any variables that could easily be avoided as a possible cause.

The climb was tough and we were lucky to be rewarded with a view. It made me wonder what other summits I can walk, run, or crawl to the top of this year. The possibilities are endless.