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...