Endgame

After taking a much needed zero, plus two half-days, off in Stehekin, I was definitely ready to hit the trail and finish strong.  I generally manage to pull off an all-out sprint across the finish line when I race, and it felt good to have that same sort of motivation going into the last stretch of the PCT.  Daybreaker and I got a fairly late start (2pm) after Judy dropped us off at High Bridge, but we were determined to make it 20 miles to Rainy Pass.  It would require a bit of night hiking, but the weather was good and it would set us up well for the rest of the trip.  We made great progress until nightfall - after which we had to slow down due to low lighting and confusing trail junctions.  The place was criss-crossed with trail junctions that were difficult to identify in the dark - fortunately we managed to catch our one wrong turn before going too far off course.  Once we got back to the trail, it wasn't long until I got my last bee sting of the trail.  We paused too close to what I can only assume was a grumpy, caffeine-riddled bee that should've been asleep - and it went right for my ankle :(  After much cursing, and remembering to grab my dropped trekking poles before running away, we finally made it to Rainy Pass around 10pm.

The weather had held off until then, but Rainy Pass lived up to its name.  At least we got our tents set up before the rain and wind really picked up.  I think we woke Red Blaze and Half Fast up, but it wasn't long before everyone was asleep.  Around 3am, I woke from a deep sleep to a sound that I recognized in an instance.  After hiking for over four months in the wilderness, there were two sounds etched into my memory and adrenal glands: disturbed rattlesnakes and trees giving way.  A sharp "Crack CRACK CRACK - THUD!" shot through the area as a nearby tree finally gave in to the high winds.  At once there were cries throughout the campsite of, "Is everyone alright?!"  We couldn't identify the tree in the morning, but at least it missed the campsite.

The next day Daybreaker and I pushed a solid 30 miles and made it to Harts Pass just as it was getting dark. Other than a few bouts of light rain, the weather held out for most of the hiking.  The low hanging clouds and fog added a surreal touch to the already incredible scenery.  I still need to get the rest of Daybreaker's photos for this section since my camera/phone was disabled.  The terrain opened up once we got above treeline so that we could see for miles, and the larches (deciduous conifers) were starting to change colors from dark green to neon green to yellow.  From Harts Pass, we knew that the US/Canadian border, the Northern Terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail, was just 30 miles away.

The last full day of hiking was a fitting end to our journey on the PCT.  A venture through the North Cascades wouldn't be complete without a taste of wicked weather - and this day delivered.  Every year, hikers make it as far as Rainy Pass and then quit because they've had enough suffering in the late-season Washington weather.  Every year, hikers that finish ahead of the truly bad weather laugh about and can't understand how someone could make it so far and then throw in the towel just 70 miles from the end.  It only took one day in freezing, pouring rain for Daybreaker and I to understand how that punishment could wear someone down after a week or two.

It was below freezing when we left Harts Pass, but at least the weather was dry.  Within the first hour, it started to snow in light flurries - what a perfect and beautiful signal that it was time to finish the trail and get back to civilization!  The snow picked up and began to accumulate on the ground an inch at a time, but it wasn't difficult to walk on and we could still see the trail.  Once the snow reached ankle depth with no signs of stopping, we realized that we were lucky to be within shot of finishing the trail by evening.  Then, as we feared, the temperature rose just enough around noon to turn a pleasant snow into freezing rain.  We were climbing up to the trail's last high point of about 7,000', and the rain quickly turned the inches of accumulated snow into slushy ice water.  It's one thing to cross ice-cold streams in the Sierras where at least you get out of the water and into the warm sunshine quickly.  This was a completely different experience.  Walking for miles in ice water was painfully numbing to the feet - and a legitimate concern for frostbite.  Daybreaker and I talked about the possibility of us having to set up camp somewhere after the ridge to dry our feet out before frostbite set in - but this wasn't an attractive option.  We wanted to drop down to lower elevations and get out of the weather as soon as possible - plus we didn't want to be walking on ice the next morning (sans microspikes).  So we picked up the pace as fast as we could safely go and were fortunate to drop elevation quickly after the trail peaked out.

The rain had washed away the slush on the other side of the ridge, so frostbite wasn't a big concern anymore. However, the rain had picked up and I came to understand the limits of rain gear.  Regardless of how good a piece of rain gear is, whether it's a respected brand or an "impermeable" material such as Gore-Tex, water WILL find a way in if you hike long enough in the rain.  By the time we made it to the monument marking the end of the PCT, we weren't just wet - WE WERE SATURATED.

It was 6:05pm on September 26th and our first item of business was to get the required photos at the border monument ("Monument 78").  Unfortunately, Daybreaker's high-end DSLR camera was very sensitive to moisture and had gotten too wet to turn on.  To compound this bad news, we couldn't even sign the trail register. The register book is kept inside Monument 78, a scale model of the Washington Monument.  It may look cool, but I honestly think it is the dumbest place to put a trail register.  You have to lift the heavy metal top off the monument to get inside, and it's very difficult to grip the plane sides when it's wet with rain (and it's not like rain is an unusual occurrence in the Pacific Northwest).  I'm wondering how many people have nearly crushed their toes dropping the damn thing.  I made an effort to sign the register, but my fingers were too cold to work properly.  I had intended to leave a long quote from Theodore Roosevelt, but all I could manage with the pen grabbed in my fist like a knife was to scrawl "9/26 - Scouts" in giant letters across an entire page.  We did enjoy the tiny bottle of Kahula that a day-hiker had given Daybreaker, but the border celebration was not quite what we had envisioned.

Rather than give up entirely, we decided to camp a half-mile from the border and make another attempt at pictures/register signing in the morning.  It continued to pour rain, and my tent got soaked in the process of setting it up.  The spongy, inundated campsite soil didn't do much to help.  Fortunately I was able to keep the important thing - my sleeping bag - dry on the island of my ground pad.  We slept in the next morning until the rain lightened up, threw on our already-soaked hiking clothes, and returned to the monument.  Daybreaker had slept with his camera disassembled and inside his sleeping bag to dry it out, and it worked well enough for us to get photos.  We were also warm enough to properly sign the register.  From there, it was just a nine mile hike down the access trail to Manning Provincial Park, British Columbia, CANADA!  The rain picked up to an outright downpour, but we didn't care.  We were done.  Warm, dry shelter was just a few hours away.

When we got to the lodge, Daybreaker's girlfriend from Seattle was waiting for him so that he had a ride back to the city.  There wasn't room in the car for me, but it worked out for the best since Manning Park had an awesome hostel.  As I was checking in for a hostel room, I was literally dripping head to toe.  A Canadian woman behind me was kind enough to point out, "Son, you are SOPPING WET... [I turned and was about to say, "Oh, really?!"] Oh, well I guess you don't need me to tell you that."  The hostel was a walk across the highway from the rest of the lodge, but $30 got me a private room that was spacious enough to spread everything out so that it could dry.  It wasn't long before I grabbed a hot shower and had freshly washed/dried clothes to wear.

Other hikers continued to file in throughout the day and the following morning.  I was glad that Daybreaker and I had pushed big miles out of Stehekin - those behind us had an even rougher time with the weather.  By the time I boarded the Greyhound bus to Vancouver, only Liz, Meow Meow, and Funyan were unaccounted for (I later received a Facebook message from Wired confirming that they made it through the weather alright).

As I pulled away from Manning Park in a comfortable seat, in dry clothes, with the rest of my gear dry in the cargo hold, the realization that I was done with the PCT finally began to sink in.  Four months and fourteen days, over 2,650 miles, no flips - no skips, indescribably amazing and incredibly diverse scenery, too many great hikers to note on a complete list, it was without a doubt an adventure that I will remember for the rest of my life.

From Manning Park, I spent two days in Vancouver wandering around on my own followed by two days in Seattle with a Georgia Tech friend who now works for Boeing before finally flying back to my parent's home in Texas.  Since then, I've been going through the none-too-exciting process of cleaning gear, catching up with emails, and packing for my next move in life.  I was relieved to be done for the first week or so, but it wasn't long before I found myself missing the mountains, the fresh air, the people, and the simplicity of the PCT.  Part of me longs to be back in the woods, but the other part of me is glad to be resting and getting back to a "normal" life.  I can't say I learned anything profound or life altering on the trail, but it was definitely a good experience and a much-needed break.  I feel more refreshed having taken some time off and more ready to tackle the upcoming challenges of grad school.

As for my next step in life, I am currently packing my bags for Australia and slowly, painfully, but surely getting backing into the swing of triathlon training.  For anyone interested in going to the southern hemisphere this year, I will be in Sydney November-February and Melbourne March-July (I just got word that the professor I'm working with is changing schools and taking the project with him).  I probably won't have more than a bedroom in a shared apartment, but I'm sure I can free up a couch for people to crash on if anyone wants to visit.

Well, that was one hell of a trip.

Glacier Peak Wilderness and Stehekin

For the first time after more than four months of hiking, I finally knew that I would be finishing the Pacific Crest Trail.  Sure, there was always the potential to slip and break an ankle - but nothing short of a debilitating injury was going to stop me going north from Stevens Pass.  There was less than 200 miles to go, and I figured that I was prepared to stick out whatever bad weather or other difficulties the North Cascades could throw at me.  Although I was greeted with steady rain on my first day out, I knew I was being spared the truly miserable weather (pouring freezing rain) that often haunts hikers trying to finish in late September.  I also got a bit of solitude since my timing out of the Dinsmores' put me into Glacier Peak Wilderness alone between the other groups of hikers.  It was good to have some time alone to hike/camp at my own pace, reflect on the past few months, and start thinking about the future.  For the first time since Southern California, I went well over a day without seeing a single soul!  It almost would've been two full days had I not run into Pounder at the Suiattle River bridge.

All in all, Glacier Peak Wilderness lived up to its reputation for great views and challenging climbs.  There were a few areas where I spent hours walking through brush so dense that I couldn't see bare trail, but for the most part the trail consisted of exposed switchbacks where I could see for miles.  There were a lot of passes to climb over, and each one led to an awe-inspiring glacier carved valley.  Given the name of this particular wilderness, it was no surprise that I also saw a lot of glaciers.

As for wildlife, the area was teaming with marmots and pika.  Hoary marmots are the alpine ecosystem's equivalent to ground hogs, and they could be seen everywhere munching on shrubs (trying to fatten themselves up for winter hibernation).  They also made their presence known by loud whistling.  The first time I heard them whistle, I blew my whistle back in return thinking that there was another hiker ahead in the fog trying to signal me.  I got a lot of pictures of the marmots since they didn't seem to mind my presence, but I kept wishing they would keep farther away from the trail.  They had a lot of holes dug right along the edge of the trail, some of them covered by grass, and I was worried about snapping an ankle this close to the end.  Pikas, on the other hand, are more timid - so I only saw a few of the "giant grey mountain hamsters".  I could hear them squeaking though every time I traversed a scree field.  They sounded just like a squeak toy you would give a dog, and I was wondering what sound would be made if I ever stepped on one...

After several bouts of bushwhacking, I caught a lucky break when I came upon a recently opened re-route of the PCT near the Suiattle River.  The original bridge over the river had been wiped out by flooding years back, thus hikers in recent seasons were consigned to scuttling across a giant log.  The re-route consisted of freshly cut trail that felt like a highway and the bridge itself was a monster!  I wish I had been there to see the helicopter(s?) lowering the giant steel I-beams into position.  I don't think this bridge will be going anywhere for a while.  

As I was night hiking on my last day before Stehekin, Daybreaker caught up to me just before we reached Hemlock Camp (the largest wilderness campsite I saw on the PCT aside from the old scout camp on Mt. Baden-Powell).  He had been pushing big miles for the section since he wanted to take a full day off at Holden (another town, accessible only by boat, on Lake Chelan where he had worked last year) and still be able to reach Manning Park by the 27th.  We decided to hike together for the last section since we both wanted to get pictures at the border monument and we wanted to finish with people that we knew.  Daybreaker and I first met after Big Bear in Southern California and had been hiking at roughly the same pace since then.  We were also in a group with Sly, Dirtmonger, and Easy Strider through the first half of the Sierras (the most difficult in terms of climbing, altitude, and snow), so we thought that it would be fitting to finish together.  The next day was an easy 12 mile hike to "High Bridge" where the North Cascades National Park shuttle bus would pick us up and take us into the town of Stehekin.  Along the way Jimbrick, Wiz, Buttercup, and Headbanger caught up - so we had a large group going into the final rest stop.

Two miles before reaching the town center with docks, lodging, and post office, the bus made a pit-stop at one of the hiker-famous icons of the PCT: The Stehekin Pastry Co.  My diet (as is the case with most thru-hikers) was not exactly the healthiest during my time on the trail, so my sweet-tooth had sampled a lot of bakeries between Mexico and Canada.  This one easily topped them all.  The pictures of the display case explain more than what my hasty words can do, so I'll just say that it was a very fitting reward for reaching the final leg of the trail.  According to the bus driver, one hiker had spent a record $55 during the 10-minute bakery stop (my meager total, for a non-meager about of food and espresso, was just over $10)!

Upon reaching Stehekin, I picked up my final resupply package and grabbed a FREE campsite without any problems.  Daybreaker left for Holden as soon as the Lake Chelan ferry came in, and the other hikers with us did a quick in-and-out to get back to the trail ASAP.  So I had a few hours of peace and quiet to shower - and to do laundry while wearing my rain suit for one last time.  It wasn't long before Liz, Meow Meow, Funyan, Gush, Spock, Twiggy, Dutch, Happy Meal, Rocklocks, and Mr. Fox arrived.  My phone also "died" (turns out something on the memory card was corrupted, I was able to "revive" it when I got home), so I got to catch up with the other hikers one last time without being distracted by electronics.  The Dinsmores' Hiker Haven had been too crowded and noisy for me to get much rest, so a true zero-day bounded by a half-day off on either side was exactly what I needed to prepare for the final stretch of trail.

Once Daybreaker got back from Holden, a Stehekin local who knew him from last year gave us a ride back to the trailhead.  Shortly after 2pm, we embarked on the final stretch of a cross-country odyssey...

White Pass to Stevens Pass

The three days between White Pass and Snoqualmie Pass flew by in what seemed like an instant.  Although the trail often passed through areas that had been recently clear-cut, the scenery was not nearly as dull as I had been warned.  There wasn't anything to rival Goat Rocks or Mt. Adams, but the trail was clear as it made its closest approach to Mt. Rainier (~12 miles from the base).  The weather also held out and continued to provide unseasonably warm and sunny conditions for hiking.  At night, I was amused (although often awakened) by the loud  buggeling of elk.  Bow hunting season had just opened up for elk, so I ran into a number of hunters on the trail asking about where I had heard or seen the animals.  Other than being questioned by soft-spoken hunters about the whereabouts of elk, the only other interesting note for that section was hitting trail magic every day.  First there was Shrek parked near Chinook Pass with coolers of soda and beer.  Then there was Magic Man parked at an unsuspecting dirt road crossing with Krispy Kreme donuts and coffee.  I couldn't take many since I had just eaten a decent lunch, but Half Fast downed six fresh donuts so that he wouldn't be trumped by Sunshine - the 11 year old girl who had apparently managed five donuts while passing through just a few hours ahead of us.  Finally, there was Not Phil's Dad (the father of 2009 thru-hiker Not Phil, named for his resemblance to Phil Collins) camped out at Tacoma Pass.  I was hiking into the night with Red Blaze and Half Fast with the impression that I probably wouldn't even have dinner given the time.  Then, just as we reached our campsite for the night, we saw Not Phil's Dad camped out with a pavilion, lawn chairs, propane stove, and multiple coolers.  We went from planning to skip dinner entirely to indulging in hot chili dogs, chips, and cold drinks.  No wonder my net weight less at the end of the trail was 0 lbs!  

Before pulling into Snoqualmie Pass to pick up my resupply package, I pulled ahead of Red Blaze and Half Fast with the result being that I spent a night alone at the creepiest campsite imaginable.  I was camped off-trail by the side of Ridge Lake with THICK fog rolling in.  It was the quintessential scene from a horror movie, and I was preparing to run at the first sound of Friday the 13th music.  At least I had 3G reception since I was so close to I-90 and was able to say a few final words to friends on Google Chat and Facebook.  I definitely let technology invade my wilderness experience more and more as I moved northward, but I figured I deserved a break.

Fortunately I slept well without being awaken by ax murders or swamp monsters and was able to pick up my resupply package at the Summit Inn/Pancake House before noon.  While browsing through the hiker box, I came across a trail magic container with "magic crystals" (quartz) and an attached story.  I thought the story, posted below, was worthy of taking a crystal to defend myself against the onset of snow:

"PCTers,

You must have shown great courage to get this far, PCTer; but there are still many trials ahead before you reach the Golden Trailhead that guards the invisible borderland of Canada where the bravest of you will be greeted by a host of Furry Friendly Monsters, with wings, who will breathe raw freedom into your nostrils and shrink your feet back down to their previous proportion in reward for your hiking from Mexico to Canada...

Frozen fingers, days of 35 degree rain, vicious Wood Elves with a taste for skinny-assed thru-hikers, Bigfoot (and his mother) - all these dangers you must face as you pass through the Northern Cascades, the Sacred Evergreen Jungle that knows no state or nation or beaches...

BUT, never fear!

I, Bookmaker Jake (who made a book on this trail on Sept. 8th, 2011), formerly known as Cashe (who thru-hiked the Trail of Trails in 2006 and met the Furry Friendly Monsters), have some magic for you.  The crystals in this NASA designed Tang container aren't any old crystals found in the circus stands of One-Eyed Carnival Wookies - these magical trail crystals were forged from the fiery blasting of we the Crystal Miners of Mt. Spruce - which you could gain access to if you were classified as a Miner, or an Assistant Miner/Human Pack Mule in my case.. Otherwise I am not permitted to say where Mt. Spruce is, other than to say that it's at the Heart of the Northern Cascades... Toothless Brit of the Queen's Empire is still searching for it.  The Human Pack Mules, like me, of the Evergreen Jungle make lots of money on field trips seemingly looking for Mt. Spruce.  Anyway!  My fellow miners and I used all our crystal mining magic to put the purest of pure trail magic in these shiny rocks.  They didn't, but I did perform the appropriate dancing rituals with spirits and Pip, Evergreen Jungle Cat In Training, to add a little something-something to keep the snow away for at least another few weeks.

Best of luck to you!

And remember - when all other lights fail you, don't hold your crystal up and expect it to shine.  Pray for moonbeams instead.  Ha!"

Climbing out of Snoqualmie Pass, everything around me changed in an instant.  The second I reached the top of the initial climb, all the day-hikers disappeared, the weather turned south for the season, and there was no doubt that I had entered the North Cascades.  I suddenly found myself surrounded by clouds of fog, jagged peaks, and rocky trail lined on one side by a dark rock wall and on the other side by a fog-shrouded abyss.  Thick clouds continued to roll in such that by the time I set up my tent, I couldn't even see the alpine lake that was literally a stone's throw away.  At least the rain held off until I had my tent set up, and it lightened up enough for me to pack up camp the next morning without getting things soaked.  The rain continued incessantly for the next 24 hours and the temperature dropped into the 40's, but I managed to stay warm and dry enough to be happy.  Even with the rain, Alpine Lakes Wilderness was spectacular.  Rugged terrain, cloud-shrouded peaks in every direction, and dark-blue lakes everywhere I looked - this section was definitely a highlight of my trip.  It was also the most physically challenging section since escaping the Sierras.  Most of the trail was tightly-stacked switchbacks up and down steep mountainsides.  The sections of level trail traversing the bottom of glacier-carved valleys seemed short and fleeting.

On my last night out before Stevens Pass, I got a reminder that the seasons really were changing and that summer was gone.  I decided to camp on an exposed ridge at 5,700 feet, and I woke up to freezing winds and a slight flurry of snow.  I knew it was going to be a cold morning, but I didn't think my hands would be going numb packing up!  At least I warmed up quickly once I got moving- and by 2pm I was warm, dry, and freshly showered at The Dinsmores' Hiker Haven.

The Dinsmores are trail angels in Baring (small town just west of Stevens Pass and Skykomish on WA Highway 2) that host hikers in a garage that's been converted into a hostel.  Although the small hostel was jam-packed with other hikers, it was good to catch a break from the weather.  I also caught up with Buffalo Jump Sly whom I hadn't seen since he split into Vermilion Valley Resort (VVR) in the High Sierras.  He was pretty surprised to see me since he was under the impression that I had permanently left the trail when I took time off for my shin splint.  Mrs. Dinsmore did my laundry as I watched Golden Eye, and it turns out that my pants were in worse shape than I thought.  The back of my shorts were already torn to tatters by the time I finished sliding my way down the Sierra snow-slopes, and another 1,000 miles of hiking hadn't done much to improve their condition.  In all her years of hosting hikers, she has never seen a pair of shorts that were as badly torn-up as mine.  She wanted to hang them on the wall along with other beyond-destroyed pieces of gear that hikers had left over the years - so I agreed to mail them to her once I had finished the trip.

It poured all through the night and was still raining the next morning, but I was itching to get an early start and to finally finish the trail.  Fortunately my mom's cousin from Seattle drove all the way out to say hi and give me a ride back to the trailhead - so I was able to get 18 miles of hiking in and pitch camp just as the rain let up.  Slowly but surely, Canada was getting closer...

Sisters (OR) to Bridge of the Gods (WA)

(OOPS, I ACCIDENTALLY UPLOADED THIS ENTRY AFTER MY ENTRY FOR SOUTHERN WA.  ALSO, THIS ENTRY ORIGINALLY POSTED FROM MY ANDROID PHONE)

Well, I'm behind on updating my blog (like usual), so I figured I should get to it now that I am currently [when I started writing this post] halfway through WA.  I downloaded the Blogger app for my phone, so we'll see how well blogging works when done in a tent using a micro-keyboard...

After cursing much of southern Oregon for its mosquitoes and lack of scenery, the section after Sisters was a pleasant surprise.  My memory of the first few days is a bit sketchy, but I remember that everyone was pretty excited to be out of the (really bad) bugs and was looking forward to Timberline Lodge's All-You-Can-Eat breakfast.  I also got to meet some new faces on this section by hiking with Annie, Data Muffin, and Topsy Turvy (I had seen them previously, but we never really talked extensively).  The trail first started to get interesting as we approached Mt. Jefferson.  Mt. Jefferson is one of the first major volcanoes that you encounter while traveling northwards through the Cascade range.  Whereas the Sierras strike me as a fairly uniform range where the size of the mountains gradually changes, the Cascades are characterized by massive volcanoes dotting a landscape of comparably smaller mountains.  From south to north you have: Shasta, Jefferson, Hood, Adams, St. Helens, Rainier, and Baker.  I could see the crooked precipice of Mt. Jefferson from a day or two away, and it was fascinating to see the details of its glaciers as I got closer.  At one point we had to cross a milky-white (as a result of fine sediment/silt particles produced by glacial ice grinding against the volcanic rocks above) glacial stream and couldn't help but laugh about how much things had changed since the Sierras.  None of us would have thought twice about walking straight through that stream in the Sierras since keeping shoes dry was just a lost cause.  Yet dry shoes have been a guarded luxury since escaping the Sierras, and we spent over 10 minutes trying to find a dry route before giving up and splashing through.

That evening we camped next to an alpine lake in the lush meadows of "Jefferson Park".  For once I was actual able to enjoy a lakeside view since the temperature dropped low enough to keep the mosquitoes down.  I somehow ended up being the first one out of camp the next morning (I'm usually kidding myself anytime I set an alarm earlier than 5:55 AM) and was quickly able to justify having lugged my microspikes from Crater Lake.  There were still several large snowfields on the north-facing slopes that had to be traversed after climbing out of Jefferson Park and I hit them just after the sun came up.  The snow was hard and icy as would be expected that early in the day, but they were no problem at all with the microspikes.  I felt a bit sorry for Wet Smoke, the only other hiker out there at the time, as he gingerly made his way down the ice.

After Mt.  Jefferson came Mt. Hood and Timberline Lodge.  Annie, Data Muffin, Topsy Turvy, and I all camped at various points along the ridge that were above treeline and close to Timberline Lodge the night before heading in for breakfast.  Although the night was probably the coldest that I've had all trip (woke up to frost on my tent and pack), it was worth it to see the sunset over Mt. Hood.  As for the breakfast, things on the trail often get hyped up and we didn't want to get too optimistic about all the rumors describing an amazing spread.  Fortunately Timberline Lodge lived up to the hype.  Eggs, pancakes, seasoned potatoes, fresh fruit, make-your-own waffle bar with all sorts of toppings (berries, chocolate, nuts, whipped cream...), house-made toasted granola, milk, OJ, AND amazing coffee.  It might have cost $15, but I'm pretty sure everyone ate more than their money's worth.  I walked around the historic building to get a closer look at its craftsmanship as I digested. My understanding is that it was commissioned in the 1930's to make work for unemployed woodworkers, stone masons, and other craftsmen.

I left the lodge feeling sluggish from all the food, but I needed to push some miles for the day to set myself up for a quicker arrival at Cascade Locks.  Cascade Locks would be my last town stop before entering Washington, and I wanted to get in on Friday before the post office closed for the weekend.  As a result, I ended up popping a caffeine pill and hiking well after dark.  I'm not a big fan of hiking at night since it's easy to stub my toes and it can get pretty creepy, but it's still fun to do once in a while.  At one point I could look back through a break in the trees and an orange glow caught my eye on the horizon.  I realized that I was staring at the flames of a forest fire (many miles away), and I later learned that I had narrowly escaped trail closures that forced hikers behind me to skip sections of the trail.

Although I overslept my alarm, I still got up early enough to take the Eagle Creek alternate route (a more interesting trail, but too narrow and crowded with day hikers for equestrians on the PCT) and grab my packages from the post office.  In addition to five more days of food, I got new shoes AND new socks!  My feet were very happy thereafter.  I decided to camp for two nights so that I could catch a true zero-day, and I timed it perfectly to coincide with PCT Days.  PCT Days is an annual event for the trail community that draws together past and present thru-hikers, trail angels, gear vendors, and anyone else with an interest in the trail.  There was a gear demo/sale, raffle to benefit the PCTA, and screening of the documentary Six Million Steps.  It was also a good time to catch up with hikers that I hadn't seen for a while.  Wired was there on account of taking a few days off to go into Portland, Balls and Sunshine were there after taking six days off for a badly-infected blister on Sunshine's foot, and Thumper (now off-trail) was there with his wife Stumbling Goat (got off-trail partway through the Sierras, it's a long story) to serve up lots of burgers and breakfast burritos.  Oh, and it all took place on "Thunder Island" in the Columbia River.  Thunder Island was separated from the "mainland" about 100 years ago when Cascade Locks was constructed to facilitate commerce up and down the river.  Back then, long before dams along the the river calmed things down, there was an impassable series of rapids that had to be portaged around.  Now of course the lock/canal is a historic footnote, but the town is still alive with tourists.  The next morning (actually, it was after noon by the time I had finished two breakfasts), I walked across The Bridge of the Gods with Cricket into the final frontier: Washington!  

Welcome to Washington

(THIS ENTRY POSTED FROM MY MOBILE PHONE.)

After crossing the Bridge of the Gods, I made a great first impression on some local day-hikers by dropping a very long string of four letter words.  I had just been stung on the back of my leg by an unnecessarily angry wasp, and I was none too happy about the rude welcoming to the state.  I was stung again the following day on my other leg for no good reason, and I began to wonder what I had ever done to piss off the insect population of Washington.  Perhaps it was a preemptive strike on their part for what happened the day after that.  Cricket and I had caught up to Headbanger, and we were all looking for a place to sit down for lunch.  Unfortunately we were in an area overgrown with vegetation and devoid of good logs to sit on.  When we finally did come to a trail-side log that I thought would make a good bench, my Leave-No-Trace ethics broke down and I began to hack away at the surrounding brush with my trekking poles.  I just wanted to clear some space for our legs and it didn't look like the brush would have the slightest trouble regrowing.  This was a mistake.  As luck would have it, I was hacking away right above a hidden bees nest - and they did not approve.  Before I knew it I was hopping the "bee dance" while cursing, swatting, and running a few yards down-trail.  I ended up with three stings to the knee, one to the wrist, and one right beneath my shoulder.  We concluded that we were not welcome at that log and pressed on to another lunch spot.

Aside from a few bee attacks, and more than one ravaging encounter with mosquitoes, the first five days in WA treated me pretty well.  In the areas that required a lot of climbing, I was at least treated to spectacular views of Mt. Adams.  Mt. Ranier may be the largest peak in Washington, but the PCT doesn't get closer than 12 miles from its base.  However, the trail wraps around the behemoth of Mt. Adams just several days out from Cascade Locks.  It was awesome.  When the trail dove away from the mountain and into a brushy "green tunnel", it also flattened out so that it was easy to push big miles.  However, the real highlight of this section was Goat Rocks.

I had heard that Goat Rocks was one of the most scenic and challenging sections of Washington - and I was not disappointed on either account.  To start with, I had perfect weather, brilliant sunlight, AND a light pack (it was my last day before White Pass, so I had eaten most of my food at that point).  When the scenery is amazing and the trail in good condition, I'll take steep climbs over flat trail any day.  As the trail climbed from our campsite, the views just kept getting better and better.  The wild flowers were in full bloom at ground level.  Further on the horizon, we were surrounded by snow-clad peaks.  It was truly awe-inspiring.
After a few hours of hiking, we came to a juncture where we could chose between the "hiker" route or the "stock" route.  It was clear from our maps that the hiker route just shot straight up an extra 1,000 feet only to drop straight back down again - a classic P.U.D. (Pointless Up and Down).  Being hikers and not horses, we chose this route anyway.  When we finally reached the end of what was probably the steepest series of switchbacks I've encountered on the trail (I can't compare against the Sierras since all the switchbacks were buried in snow last I "cut" them), we stopped for lunch atop a rocky pinnacle. 

While we were doing lunch, we got cell reception and a call from Headbanger's dad saying that he was already at White Pass.  Not only did he have a room with bunk beds - real beds! - to sleep in, but he was also cooking steak and potatoes for all the hikers passing through.  It would mean another 18 miles, but we decided that this was too good of an offer to turn up.  So we proceeded to haul ass down a knife's edge ridge covered in loose shale.  It was exhilarating to practically run down the spine of Goat Rocks surrounded by nothing but open sky and sunshine!  It also brought back a lot of good memories of trail running in the Wasatch Mountains from last summer; a subtle reminder of things I gave up to do this trail.

It was a long and exhausting day, but Cricket, Headbanger, and I made it to White Pass just after dark.  Instead of camping at a swampy and mosquito infested lake, we got showers, beds, and tons of freshly cooked food.  The next morning we made our resupply runs at the "Kracker Barrel" general store.  The ladies running the place were awesome and very kind to thru-hikers (I hope that the staff from Echo Lake Resort and the Old Station general store/Hat Creek Resort make it up here at some point so that they can learn a few manners!).  My resupply box didn't arrive on time, but the store agreed to forward it ahead to Stevens Pass for me as soon as it came in.  Fortunately the store was surprisingly well stocked for hiker needs.  Headbanger and Cricket headed out a few hours before me, so I left for the next leg of the journey with Liz, Meow Meow, and Funyan.     

Photos for Washington

For anyone interested in the rest of my photos from Washington, the public Facebook album can be viewed at:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.886371881609.2348577.12820170&l=4aaa7920b6&type=1

Photos for Oregon and Trail Name (Scout's Honor)

For anyone interested in more photos, the public album from Facebook can be reached at:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.880046567589.2346241.12820170&l=8397a26732&type=1




Also, in case anyone on the trail is trying to find my blog based on my trail name, I should probably post that my trail name has been Scout's Honor (alternative misspellings may include Scouts Honor, Scout Honor, or just Scouts) for over a thousand miles.  It's not a very exciting trail name, but it fits well enough and ought to do until a more exciting name (e.g., "Pants On Fire", "Grenade", etc.) comes along.  Daybreaker and Easy Strider came up with it on our first day out of Kennedy Meadows since I had been bouncing scout-related names for several hundred miles prior.  I left the McDonalds at Cajon Pass (Southern California, very early in the trip) with about seven other hikers.  We ended up hitting a long series of switchbacks just as it was getting late and eventually camped together ON (I think my previous post from the time has a photo of all our tents lined up along the trail tread) the trail since there was nowhere else to go.  Between cooking away from camp so as not to attract animals to my food at night, telling some of the other hikers not to through rocks as we were going up switchbacks while hikers were known to be below us, and a few other quips, the group agreed that a name related to scouts would be fitting.  However, it took a while to come up with one since "Scout", "Boyscout", "Girlscout", and several others were already taken.

Onwards Through Oregon

After packing down ridiculous amounts of food at the Etna brewery, I drove myself and a few of the other hikers back to the trailhead so that we could get a few miles in before sunset.  I think I forgot to mention in my last post that just as I was arriving at the access point to Etna, a group of PCTA members pulled up to the trailhead to start a section hike.  Kodak Karen recognized me as a thru-hiker and immediately offered her car keys to me on the condition that I drive PCT hikers back to the trail head when I returned.  This was definitely one of the more interesting rides I have had into town.  I was grateful to be entrusted with her car, but in hindsight it was a bit crazy on her part to just hand over the keys.  Even if integrity was not a concern to her, I would have thought twice about giving the keys to a hiker who hasn't been behind a wheel for over three months - especially considering the road.  The wide two-lane road at Etna Summit quickly turned into one of the windiest one-lane mountain roads that I have ever driven, and the car didn't exactly handle as smoothly as my Saturn Ion.  Having my view obscured by the rising sun and a dusty windshield (wiper fluid was empty of course) added an extra bit of "excitement".  Clearly I made it in and out of town safely though.

From Etna, it was about another two days until we hit the last trail town in CA: Seiad Valley.  Passing through the small town of Seiad Valley, we quickly learned that there was actually one more state to pass through before we could enter Oregon: The State of Jefferson.  Long-story-short, the rural counties in northern CA and southern OR have a history of feeling neglected by their larger state governments.  In response, there was a fairly serious movement in the decades before WWII to gain autonomy by succeeding from their respective states and joining to form the 51st state (they even went as far as electing a governor).  However, the movement lost steam when WWII fell into swing - yet the independent attitude of the area still remains.  State of Jefferson seals were plastered everywhere, along with "NO K.S. MONUMENT!" signs.  The latest ire to the locals is a proposal to designate much of the surrounding area, including the town of Seiad Valley, as a Klamath-Siskiyou National Monument.  Although the proposal is being pushed by environmentalists in Ashland, the locals are STRONGLY against the plan.  Granted I was party to very biased details since my main source of info was talking with the store clerk and campground manager, but my understanding is that a national monument designation would greatly hamper the town's land and water rights. Whatever the details, it is very clear that this town does not want to be messed with.  Anyhow, I passed on the cafe's Five Pound Pancake Challenge and left early evening to make the 4,500' ascent back to the crest.  The climb was pleasant considering we sat out the afternoon heat, but I was definitely looking forward to Oregon on account of its rumored flatness.

Oregon came soon enough and there was much rejoicing.  After three months of heat, sun, cold, and snow, it felt great to finally make it out of CA!  Before I left for this trip, I had never even backpacked over 100 miles - yet there I was with 1,700 miles down across an entire state.  To make the celebration even better, our next resupply was the town of Ashland.  Of all the towns that I've visited on the trail, Ashland is the one that I would most like to visit again in the future (preferably with a car).  Between the great downtown area, a large city park, and a renowned Shakespeare festival, there was so much to see and do but too little time.  I focused on resupplying and relaxing - thus I held back from wandering around and exploring everything that the town had to offer.  While the hikers that were sharing my motel room went to a late-night play at the other end of town, I put in a solid 12 hours of sleep instead.  So it was a good rest stop, but I have motivation for going back at some point.

From Ashland, the trail turned towards Crater Lake National Park.  The trail also lived up to its reputation of being flat and soft - but it was not the land of milk and honey that I had been hoping for.  To be honest, walking through a perfectly flat expanse of trees can get boring pretty quick.  I like climbing, and I was soon longing to be up in the mountains again.  Furthermore, there were mosquitoes.  Lots of mosquitoes.  Literary devices escape me for an accurate description of the horror (Gangsta Rap, Collin, and I have concluded that only creative sounds - not words - can come close).  How an ecosystem can support that many blood-suckers is beyond my comprehension.  From about two days out from Crater Lake to four days past the park, I was swarmed 24/7.  I'm not keen on exposing myself to poison, but I finally broke down and began (sparingly) using DEET in the afternoons when it was too hot to ensconce myself in rain gear.  Fortunately there were a few scenic gems floating throughout the mosquito hell-hole.

The first point of interest was Crater Lake.  I thought Tahoe was amazing the first time I saw it, but Crater Lake blew me away.  The dark and pure blue of the surface was mesmerizing, and the volcanic Wizard Island plus the rock walls combined to make one of the most surreal images of the trip.  The PCT rides along the rim of Crater Lake for just over seven miles, and my timing worked out such that I got to split the traverse over two days.  Although the rim is technically a no-camping zone, I figured that most of us PCT hikers are pretty good about Leave No Trace.

After Crater Lake, there was the jagged peak of Mt. Thielson and eventually exposed lava fields beneath The Sisters (prominent snow-covered peaks near the town of Sisters).  Overall though, I pushed hard to get through this section as quickly as possible with a 38 mile day, a 35 mile day, and no days below 30 miles.  I wanted OUT of the mosquitoes and I desperately needed to wash my clothes.  How a single pair of socks can hold so much dirty is one of the trail mysteries that no one can seem to figure out, and my two pairs were typical.  Despite my marginally-effective efforts to clean them on the trail, there was enough dirt in them that the arches of my feet were abraded to the point of needing band-aids and Neosporin for several days.  On the bright side, I had good company between Crater Lake and Sisters.  For the first few days I hiked off-and-on with Gangsta Rap and Collin, and I spent the last day or two around Rocklocks and Mr. Fox.  The last night of hiking before I split to go into Sisters was particularly entertaining since Mr. Fox also has an engineering background.  Getting two engineers in the same room together (or campsite) can be dangerous in that we will never shut up - and I reckon that everyone in camp lost a solid hour that could've been used to catch up on sleep.  The main topic of conversation was devising outlandish ways to repel and/or kill mosquitoes (of course).  After examining some less practical ideas such as a portable tesla coil (how would you power it?) and miniature laser turrets (same problem plus many more) - we started to think about acoustic methods.  If you could acoustically force the mosquitoes at their resonant frequency - or the resonant frequency of their internal organs - that ought to freak them out enough to make them less interested in dinner (i.e., YOU).  Of course that raises the question of "Well, how does one go about finding the resonant frequency of a mosquito?".  After pondering the question, I laid out an experimental procedure that ought to work fairly well (to anyone associated with PETA or other animal rights groups, let me state that ethics does not apply to mosquitoes).  I will spare you the details of super glue, shaker tables, and laser doppler vibrometers.

The only other interesting features from the last section were trail legends and trail magic.  Right before the trail junction where many hikers go into Elk Lake Resort for a resupply, I ran into a blazing-fast Southbounder.  He was the first thru-hiking Southbounder that I had encountered and he seemed to be in a hurry to push 12 more miles for the day.  There was something familiar about him, as if I had seen a picture of him before, and he politely gave a detailed report of the trail conditions ahead in Washington.  Granted things are changing quickly, so I should be better off by the time I get there, but he mentioned that he only had heavy snow north of Snoqualmie Pass.  He had introduced himself as "Bink" and was carrying what looked to be the lightest/smallest pack I've seen yet.  Only later when I got to town did I confirm that Bink was in fact Scott Williamson, a PCT legend.  Scott Williamson holds the record for the fastest thru-hike at 66 days, and apparently he is trying to beat his previous record by making 65 days this year.  Good luck to him; I'll be content just to finish the trail happy and healthy.  As for trail magic, Lost and Found (a retired school teacher) was camped at Lava Lake and providing all sorts of delicious food to every hiker willing to make the half-mile detour.

From Lava Lake I had the option of catching a ride from the nearby McKenzie Pass or pushing on another 17 miles to Santiam Pass.  Although I was craving a shower and clean clothes (trail magic had satiated my appetite somewhat), I wanted to knock a few miles off the next leg of my trip.  I decided I would rather hike the extra 17 miles with a practically empty pack than have to carry any extra food out of Sisters.  Santiam Pass proved to be the better hitch since there was actually a shoulder where cars could pull over and it was heavily traveled.  I can't say that there's anything particularly interesting to report about Sisters, but it is a nice tourist town with everything (except canister fuel) that a thru-hiker could need.  I intended to get a ton of sleep here, but I got sucked into watching both volumes of Kill Bill on AMC last night.  Fortunately the coffee shop here has the best coffee I've seen on the trail yet.  Anyhow, it looks like the afternoon rain has passed and it is about time that I get back to the trail.  Next stop: Oregon-Washington border at Cascade Locks!