Of the many meals I have enjoyed with Vince over the years, the most memorable took place on Independence Day in 2003, in a dusty California desert town known, ironically, as Independence. It was an accidental breakfast, almost a mirage. Ivry and I had convinced Vin to join us for a climb of Mt. Whitney--the tallest peak in the continental U.S. To ensure that the two lunatics did not throw him off the side of the mountain, Vin brought Waters along for the fun of it. The four of us climbed together from dawn on July 3, struggling without enough water, gut-wrenching trail food and unyielding gravity. We later split into two groups, with Ivry and Waters forging to the summit as conquerors while Vince and I consoled each other at 13,500 feet and beat a defeated retreat.
The four of us reunited in the dark, exhausted and beaten. We awoke the next morning to the brilliant desert sun, pondering a long trip back to the Bay Area. There were no specific plans for further adventure or food, just a gnawing hunger and overwhelming soreness. We hit the road, only vaguely recognizing that food might be tough to find on a normal day in Lone Pine on the way north to Deadman's Pass. As the reality of traveling on July 4th set in, we quietly resolved to accept our hunger until we arrived back home.
To our collective astonishment, we found a holiday block party just past Independence. Traffic was virtually stopped, so we pulled off the road, more to find some shade and a detour than to join the party. We were ushered into a pancake breakfast, where the remarkably friendly people insisted that we have as many pancakes as we could collectively eat. I don't remember much of the conversation, but that most basic of meals epitomizes much of what I have done with Vince over the years--turning unlikely and desperate moments into memorable adventures.
In wishing you a happy 50th, I hope we have the chance to enjoy more adventures together in the future, though with better food.
Your friend,
David Epstein
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