It actually got cool overnight and for the first time this whole trip I actually used the blanket! After a quick brekkie and picking up our packed lunches for the day, we headed out onto the literal road. The path meandered by a busy road way. There were occasional hedges to dampen the noise but it was mostly sudden engine noises rushing by at startling speeds.
I put on some Beethoven to feel fancy and distract from my already hurting feet. We pulled up into Heddon-on-the-wall as the playlist hit Ode To Joy and appropriately enough it was lunch time. A joy. We ended up stopping at a Shell station for cold bevvies and ate in a cute park blessed with shade. I took off my shoes and stretched in the grass. Tanya was enamored with her space gummies and we spent the time discussing the various merits of different candies.
We eventually made our way back to the path with wondered through a small suburb before heading down toward the Tyne River. The road ran in a tiered fashion so we had constant views of the houses’ back yards or steep front yards. One such house had a beautiful garden that we stopped to admire. The owner came out to greet us and we were invited to a tour. After discussing bramble management and vinegar, we continued on.
The road eventually curved around into a small forested area. Along one side was a high stone wall and then a sign that said “Biology Experiment”. Tanya and I spent a good 30 minutes speculating on what was going on behind that wall. Mutants? Dinosaurs? Dead bodies? I wanted to believe it was dinosaurs, but there was a distinct lack of dinosaur sounds.
Towards late afternoon, we made it the River Tyne which would be our final companion into Newcastle. The path was all concrete but there was nice patches of grass I was diverting through to help cushion the feet. More and more people were on the path and it was mixed use so the occasional bike drifted through as well. I looked behind me to cross over to some grass, didn’t see anyone and then made my move. One footstep out and a speeding bicyclist came zooming by nearly running me down. As this high class example of a human being passed, he called me a “FOOKING IDIOT”. I snapped back “Oh that’s real nice”. (I’ll admit it wasn’t my best comeback and was in fact the very thing that would haunt me the rest of the day until I came up with a better response.) There was an older lady that was sitting off in the grass and started sing-song crooning to her dog “thaaaaats reeeeaaaal niiiiiice”. It took me quite awhile to even process what the hell was going on. Tanya trudged on.
We made it to our next stop (after much whining from me): The Hedgefield House. It was hit or miss on finding the entrance and once inside who to talk to. But we persevered and after a quick shower (yes! I’m never not excited about this!) made it over to a fancy British Italian restaurant. I say British, because despite the attempt at Italian flavor, there was still somehow none. Salt is your friend here.
Day 7- 10 miles
We got a car back to the trail. Our accommodations were about 2 miles off the path, so to save the old tootsies we decided to do the easier thing. Once back on, it was all paved pathway, all the time. And nary a public toilet in sight, which was unfortunate for my tiny bladder. The path snaked along the river with occasional coverage of houses or hedges. Near the outskirts of Newcastle proper, the path meets the river and stays there. Open sun, no toilets. I was feeling some kind of way by the time we reached a suitable place to stop – an Italian cafe (run by actual Italians, who apparently did not like debit cards judging by the many many signs extolling the virtues of cash). We stopped and had a coffee and I made use of the facilities.
Sun. Heat. Lots of people. Little did we know that the day we were walking into Newcastle coincides with the Great Northern Run, with the finish line right in our path. More and more people and then suddenly it was festival levels amount of humanity. I was trying to keep my cool by paying more attention to all the bridges. I should have taken a note from this guy (possibly a monk?) who was moving along deliberately and doing prostrations. He appeared completely unbothered. There were a lot of puzzled faces.
The end of the race was near the Millennium Bridge, so once we got past that, the crowds mostly died out. We stopped at a place called the Hub for lunch, which also appeared to be a bike shop. After lunch we were back on the path next the river, but now it was decidedly quieter…and dirtier. It didn’t seem like this part the river walk was used much. There was broken glass and weeds everywhere, but hey, no people!
Eventually the trail moved inland and through some housing areas. And then there is was: Segundum, the end. There was a nice plaque to take a picture by. It was so so so hot though. We quickly took our requisite pictures and then moved inside the visitors center for our last stamp. Once again, ending a trail if often very anti-climactic. I just wanted A/C and a shower. The romans built a very nice wall that mostly stood the test of time. Yay.
Tanya called us a taxi to our hotel in Newcastle. This hotel was a little more modern and had individual room thermostats for A/C, so we cranked that sucker down to 19 C at full blast. It was heaven. We showered and then went out to try to find somewhere to eat. It was sizable city, easy enough right? WRONG! Though I did hear enough younger Newcastle patois to last me a lifetime. The kids are loud. We ended up back at the hotel’s restaurant and I had fish n’ chips.
Day 8 and so forth
Sleeping in the frigid A/C is a real treat. Tanya said she was awoken by all the Newcastle partiers but I slept through it all. Out in the street was the detritus of last night festivities: various drink containers, bits of paper, and a lone chunky heel. We got on the train down to London and then eventually connected to another train to Hastings. As an avid driver, I must say the train system seems a whole lot better than 8 lane highways. It was so relaxing to just sit back and not worry about driving somewhere. We basically travelled the whole length of England.
Hastings is a cute little seaside town with wobbly buildings and a still active fishing industry. I didn’t find a 90 degree angle anywhere. The beach is made of pebbles and the water is frigid. We walked around a bit, Tanya did her grocery shopping, and then we had dinner at her local pub. After a day of bothering Tanya at her home, I hopped on the train and made my way to Gatwick. The journey back home was much less stressful: the planes were just their usual lateness and I had a whole row to myself.
Overall, despite the outliers of the sun and heat, the trip was a success! I had fun, I saw stuff and didn’t majorly injure myself. I just wish it could have been longer…and that I brought my sunglasses.
We got a ride back to where we left off at the trail. The real start of the wall coming from the west seems to be near Banks East Turret 52A. Historically speaking, the wall was built during Hadrian’s reign to “keep out the barbarians” and to emphasize the might of the Roman Empire, though apparently there wasn’t much need for it’s defensive purposes. Current day, the wall is worn down to its base and never seems taller than 4ft or so. At every roman mile (about 1.48 km or 0.92 of a regular mile) was a “castle” that marked a gateway. Since we were walking the path backwards to its intended direction, the castle and turret numbers would go down instead of up. At some of the castle sites you were fêted with a square shaped foundation of stones next to the wall.
We reached the Birdoswold Fort near mid-morning, where we treated ourselves to fresh beverages at the cafe. This was a historical site you had to pay to get into, so we just sat outside in the courtyard enjoying the nice tables and chairs, a real treat on any walk. After getting our stamps, it was back to the wall.
Everything seemed so lush and green, which I’m guess has something to do with all the sheep poop everywhere. We walked along the wall through rolling hills of verdant grasses with pops of purple Harebells dotted throughout. Occasional informational signs expanded on the history of the wall and the area. And I would promptly forget what I read, it was pretty dry reading. Except for the one sign that told us about a bit of ancient graffiti from a centurion named Candidius.
Lunch was another packed bag from our previous stay. I’ve learned to ask for no butter and to just put the mustard on myself. Today’s fare also included a banana. We found a shady spot near a grove of beech trees. A group of British hikers were already set up and we politely conversed until they moved on. I’ve noticed that the British I’ve encountered so far are polite but reserved. They’re not unfriendly, just not so eager to discuss their whole life story at the first meeting. It’s actually quite refreshing coming from the excitable golden retriever energy of American hiking.
After lunch, it was back into the wind and melting sun with the start of some real climbing. It wasn’t tall, just steep like the Appalachians and in the same manner, the trail makers never heard of a switchback. Once we got past the Walltown Quarry it was a thrill ride over hill and over dale. There was a turret square named for King Arthur that was full of the devil’s weed and one of my many nemeses on this trip: stinging nettle. Even though the constant up and down was frustrating, the sweeping vistas, bright sunshine, and brisk wind made it bearable. Our afternoon snack break was sat upon the top of some grassy bit of hillside with 360 views.
Near the end of our planned day was the highest point marker sitting at a whopping 1130 ft. By the time we got there though, I was beat and didn’t want to stop for long. I just wanted to hoof it to our next pick up spot. We were due to be picked up again and behind schedule. That’s the one thing I don’t like: being put on such a tight schedule. I like having a margin of freedom to meander and go as slow as I want. We missed our taxi and Tanya had to do some calling around since she was the one with a working cell service, with my phone being on permanent Airplane mode. Eventually, we made it to the Manor House Hotel in Haltwistle, where I even got my own room and bathroom. It was practically an apartment.
Day 4 – 12.5 miles
When we got back to trail this morning, it was cold and gray – a little more along the lines of what I thought September in England would look like. Me and Tanya talked about how rough the first 3 days have been, with long miles and tight schedules, and how our feet hurt. Today was going to be shorter and our next accommodations were on trail! So it was an easy going one where we’d take as long as we damn well please! Also it was Robin Hood tree day!
The misty gray was so refreshing to walk in but made the stones underfoot treacherous with the rollercoaster of rolling hills. Soon enough sun was bursting through the clouds and dried up most of the mist. By the time we reached Sycamore Gap the bright sun was out in full force. This particular gap is home to the famous “Robin Hood tree”, as it was featured in the Kevin Costner film “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.” (Or rather the movie should be more famous for Alan Rickman’s iconic portrayal of the Sheriff of Nottingham, in which he chewed so much scenery, I’m surprised there was anything left to show. I just love how absolutely bat shit crazy he is and as the kids say these days: he leaves no crumbs behind. Anyway back to the tree.)
In the movie, Kevin Costner and Morgan Freeman are walking along a wall when they get back to England, and stop near a tree where there is a medieval scuffle involving a kid and the sheriff’s cousin. This is the famed Sycamore Gap. In real life, the lone Sycamore sits in the dip between two sharp hills that the wall zips up and down. Viewing from the south, the background is just bright open sky. It’s the only thing within view and the framing makes the perfect picture. Everything is established for a beautiful shot! (I can’t believe some idiots chopped this tree down only two weeks after I was there.)
This is a popular part of the trail and on this day, it is full of hikers. Me and Tanya got to visit the tree and take pictures for literally two minutes before a hordes of day hikers showed up. We boot scooted along the wall to an out cropping with a view of Crag Lough where we sat and had second breakfast. Down below we watched two swans float peacefully on the water while behind us a steady line of path traffic increased. We passed by another roman fort attraction – Housesteads – whose main attraction to me was their bathrooms. We got another stamp.
With all the people on trail today, we had to go off trail a bit to find a nice shady spot for lunch. We found a downed tree among some damp grasses. As we ate Tanya was able to identify some of the bird song around us. There was a very polite sounding woodpecker who seemed much quieter than their raucous American cousins.
After a nice shady jaunt in some old oaks, it was back out into the exposed ridgeline. The heat was ramping up and felt a hot spot on the back of my right knee from the southern sun. I could feel my skin starting to cook. Of all the things I was prepared for, blazing sun and heat was not something I considered for British weather conditions. We slogged through four miles of cow and sheep fields, dodging the patties and getting sporadic views of the wall. We met a nice couple while searching for a break spot in some shade and the lady had some sunscreen that I borrowed for my cooked knee. (You may or may not be surprised that the shops we’ve passed along the way do not sell sunscreen.) My buff was enlisted for further sun protection on my knee.
And then it was a zombie walk in the sun and heat near a road. Tanya was ahead and did that wavery desert thing they do in movies. This trail went through dried out farm fields and of course: sheep. Let us never forget all the poop. I put on a podcast and tried not to pay attention to the sizzle in my knee. Once we reached the road into Chollerford it was all downhill in the shade, and we reached our destination the George Hotel which sat on the banks of River North Tyne.
Getting to our rooms was an another trek through a labyrinth of hallways and stairs. We finally found our room which felt like a sauna. And why would that be? Because there was no A/C, which understandable, it’s northern England. But why not put a screen on the window? Along with the heat were corners full of weird English bugs. I went to take a shower first and found the back of my knee was Kentucky Fried crispy. How absurd is that the first time I get burned in 20+ years is in England?! I didn’t even get burned in the California desert on the PCT!
Dinner was a microwaved spaghetti dish from the hotel’s restaurant that they didn’t heat up all the way. The middle was literally still frozen. The waitress took it back and returned with a nuclear meltdown plate of noodles that still hadn’t cooled down by the time Tanya was done. Looking at the river was nice though. It was that tannin rich dark brown water that looks like Guinness. We watched as the sun set and then returned to our steamy bug filled room.
This tree was a movie star! RIP Sycamore.
Day 5 – 9 miles
The George’s breakfast buffet was disappointing but somewhat filling. What wasn’t disappointing was the weather! It was chilly and gray again, which my much abused skin appreciated. We walked along a road way with speedy cars and eventually veered off into some fields. The humidity set in and again I was left wondering where the hell I was. After a climb up where we got a nice view of the valley below, it was back into the forest.
I’m not sure how, but I rolled my ankle pretty hard. The scenery somehow knew this and turned all sweet to accommodate my bad mood. I hobbled through a misty grove of heather and sloe berry that let out onto open fields with large haystacks. The gray fogginess made them seem like spooky hay dolmans – all tall and imposing – just waiting to inflict some sort of cosmic chaos.
A spitting rain picked up as we reached the Errington Arms, a cute little roadside cafe in the middle of nowhere. We stopped to have coffee and lunch. I had a chicken pot pie with what looked like a deconstructed salad. Little piles of iceberg, coleslaw, tomatoes (the English love their toms), cucumbers, and beets took up most of the plate. Then we had Victoria sponge cake, on which they poured what looked like heavy cream. And you know what? I wasn’t mad at it. I may have gone a little feral about it in fact.
After lunch, the rain died out and we continued on through the shit-filled fields next to the road. A short four miles later we made it to the Robin Hood Inn that was directly on trail. We stayed in one of their cabins out back. Once the the doors and windows were opened, it reminded me of a very fancy Appalachian Trail shelter….with running water…and beds. Once we figured out how the hot water worked, we took showers and chilled out for the afternoon.
Today consisted of a long bus ride from London to Carlisle. It was mostly uneventful, which is how I want my mass transit: as planned. I got to see the landscape change from urban to country. Except for a stop over in the rather dirty looking Birmingham, it was nice to ride through. We got a nice view of the Yorkshire Dales National Park, which looks like it would be a harshly beautiful hike. Near late afternoon, we made it Carlisle, the first stop on our walk of Hadrian’s Wall.
Day 1 – 14 miles
Started the day with my first English breakfast. Thumbs ups to the eggs and mushrooms, but everything else was either too greasy or weird. Beans and grilled tomatoes for breakfast? Nah. Also the bacon was thinly sliced ham, a Canadian cousin? Or now that I think about it, where the Canadians got it from? I didn’t touch the black pudding, because I still can’t get over that its made from coagulated pigs blood and suet. Plus who knew what it would do to my stomach and me not being near a bathroom all day is not a situation I wanted to be in.
After breakfast a taxi drove us to the start point: Bowness-on-Solway. An unassuming parking lot housed the trail marker. The sun was bright and the wind was whipping. Towards the north was a waterway I never got the name of, and the land on the other side was Scotland!. We got our pics and started along a grassy path near the water. The tide was out, so the view was more mudflats than water. I could see a network of seagull footprints.
The trail went inland towards a roman fort museum where we got our first stamp. Then it was a walk along a road trying to dodge cars on the “wrong” side of the road. The water views gave way to grassy fields and occasional shaded lanes. I was grateful for the shade because I forgot to bring my sunglasses (they’re prescription) and the sun was unexpectedly very bright. There were cute little cottages and ye olde churches with graveyard full of indecipherable gravestones.
Near lunch time Tanya and I made it to a path that cut near a bunch of sheep fields who didn’t seem to have any fenced off boundaries. So there was sheep shit everywhere. The side of the path was lined with prickly Hawthorne and stinging nettle, which made for an rather unpleasant walking experience. We found a spot free of visible mounds of fecal matter near the road and ate lunch.
The hotel we stayed at packed us a lunch (that we paid for by the way) which consisted of a “sandwich”, crisps (chips) and a biscuit (cookie). I was dubious about the sandwich because it was just literally turkey and butter on white bread. Apparently that is how they make sandwiches in England. Cheese is occasionally added, but no veggies of any kind. I wonder what that is about?
We started back up toward Carlisle and eventually made our way back to town. My feet were crackling with fiery pain by the time we met concrete. I lamented my decision to not buy new shoes. Tanya seemed to be having trouble with her shoes as well. It was lucky we were back in moderately sized town who’d have some shopping options.
We made it back to the hotel and it was so nice to be able to chill indoors! I could get used to this! Dinner consisted of a bag of pancakes from Asda. Yes they sold pancakes in a bag, and you know what, they were pretty good.
Day 2 – 14 miles
Some may be wondering why I’m using miles while the British use metric. You know, apparently that switch wasn’t too long ago and I met plenty of British folk who still used miles. Also I’m just used to measuring my steps in miles and trying to switch to km doesn’t feel right – my body knows miles not kilometers.
Anywhoozle, we started out late so Tanya could find some new shoes. Her current boots were too small and stiff. There was a sports store on our way out of town where she was able to pick up some better footwear and I picked up some insoles. Appropriately fitted out, we started along a river path and it was already humid and gross.
There were a few shady spots: lanes with oaks and border shrubs. We passed through cute little hamlets, literally. One such spot in Newton & White Flatt won “Best Tidy Village” in 2013. Hamlets. Villages. It was all so quaint!
We passed along a part of “the wall” where you could see the mounds and ditches where the wall would have been if it was still there. We haven’t actually seen the wall yet in fact, just ghostly imprints in the land. We did see however, a lot of sheep and cows. The cows made me think of the comic “The Farside”. I don’t know why, these particular cows seemed to have that attitude. Also walked through a pack of horses who wanted to gnaw on my pack.
There was a little hut in the afternoon that we stopped at with fresh cold bottles of water. It also had a mailbox from Queen Victoria’s time. They put the initials of the current reigning monarch on the postal boxes, so Tanya made it a bit of a game to find ones that were rare. You’d see a lot of “E R” around because of course Queen Elizabeth had such a long reign. It was a surprise to see the “V R” and it was a nice break.
The path started to get a bit rough, with steep inclines through slippery grassy hillsides. We had to keep a bit of a pace since we were meeting a cab to take us to our accommodations in Brampton. So there wasn’t time to take it easy. Near the end of our day we finally came to a bit of the WALL! Finally! An actual piece of Hadrian’s Wall in the physical. Also, it was supposed to be the tallest bit of the wall left intact. We stopped for a second to take some pictures and ohh/ahh over ancient stones stacked in a particular manner. It seemed that Tanya had a little bit more gas left in her tank and was able to scoot along and meet the taxi before I got there.
We got shuttled to the Howards Arms Inn and I got to take another shower!! Such luxuries. Also there was a restaurant downstairs that served the usual pub fare.
(I’ve been so late in posting this write-up, that it seems silly to even post it now. For some reason, my brain labeled this activity WORK and then pulled a full meltdown about doing any of it. This is weird, because I like writing, but then I’m all procrastinatey about it. So here I am just finally doing it. I wrote in my journal the day of, so I’ve got the notes. Future Cheryl is just going to have to write these posts during any future trips like I did on previous hikes. Lesson learned.)
Some background: If you didn’t already know, I played roller derby in the Aughts (2005-2009) until my knees and feet gave up the ghost. My skate name was Foxfire and though I’d eventually learn all the various meanings in that name, I really only chose it because I was obsessed with Inuyasha at the time. It was a wild time of raucous games, whirlwind trips, and loooots of drinking. By the time I retired I was left with a dodgy knee and a network of lovely friendships. One of which was Tanya Hyde, the founding member who kickstarted creating a league in Atlanta.
One time when we meandered around a New Orleans graveyard, a busker (not sure what he was doing there actually) came up and decided we needed a song made up about us on the spot. In his song/rap he uttered the following: Tanya and her daughter Fox… which set us off, because Tanya is only 10 years older than me, but it gave us a laugh and she was forever my Derby Mama.
This was the year everyone basically had the same purse.
ACTION SHOT: We’re in the blue, Tanya is kicking butt, I’m messing with my wrist guard.
Earlier this year Tanya was back for a visit in Atlanta after moving to England and we were talking about me coming over to visit. I floated the idea of a hike, one that Tanya might enjoy, which didn’t include my usual brand of sleeping in the dirt. We decided on Hadrian’s wall – it was long enough, 84 miles (135km) but walkable within a week. There were Inns and B&Bs to stay in each night, hot food, and best of all a carrier company that would ferry your luggage from stop to stop. All you had to do was show up and walk. Perfect! Set the dates, paid the money and all I had to do was get there.
Easier said than done. Traveling by airplane these days is a apocalyptical nightmare. My first connecting flight was cancelled because of a tropical storm and therefore I wasn’t going to catch the actual flight to London. I spent four hours in lines and on the phone. Two meltdowns later, I’ve got a direct flight to London that only put me 3 hours behind schedule. As we were taxing out to the runway, the Captain informs us that we’re returning to the gate because of a medical emergency. It began to feel like the universe was pulling a prank, a real cosmic joke. And no, they didn’t ask for a doctor overhead like they do in the movies.
I finally got to Heathrow where Tanya met me and we were going to London to stay in her friend’s houseboat until traveling up to Carlisle to start the hike. Some train rides and a turn around the Underground later I’m finally in the spot I’m supposed to be, running on 28 hours of no sleep. I get set up with some espresso and we go eat some lovely Indian food.
The next day was a free day in London. I’d been here before, back in high school. Every year our school had international trips you could take during spring break. We stayed in London a couple of days and meandered up through Bath, York, Gretna Green, and finally stopped in Edinburgh. By the end I was horribly sick and had to stay in the hotel while everyone else went on the day tour of Edinburgh. Either way, it was incredibly exciting for 16 year old Cheryl to be in England, the homeland of the Beatles. I was obsessed. Anyone else remember that resurgence of Beatles hysteria/nostalgia in the mid/late 90s?
Wee Cheryl, excited about big stones. This may be the start of me presenting things.
I really loved that hat. You’ll notice that I’m wearing the highly fashionable JNCOs.
Back to the present, the day started out rainy and cool as we walked along the river. Heading towards Battersea Park, the rain really started to come down. I know its gauche to carry an umbrella in London, but I did anyway. I was surprised to see the bandstand from Good Omens (a show on Amazon that if you haven’t seen, you should). Ate some breakfast at a lovely cafe near a duck filled pond. We walked though Covent Gardens towards Buckingham Palace where the crowds really started to show up. Then it was through St. James’s Park with more ducks (another Good Omens filming location). Kept meandering into the city to a book store and then the National Portrait Gallery with some truly old shit. We took a break here in their cafe downstairs, and then took the tube over to the Tower. Ate some sushi, it was meh. We walked across the Tower Bridge and down towards the Globe and saw “As You Like It”. I know the general consensus is that Shakespeare is the start of modern English, but I still could have use the Cliff notes on this one. Still it was funny, the parts I understood and wouldn’t you know it, the Globe is also yet another Good Omens filming location. I didn’t even plan this, but ended up at three Good Omens spots.
Thankfully we got a cab back to the houseboat, because my feet were beat! I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again it is very different/harsher walking on concrete for long periods of time. Also in hindsight I should have bought new shoes for this trip rather than trying to make my old ones stretch.
The next day we spent on bus heading towards Carlisle, the biggest city near the start. The trains were on strike in this part of the country, still it was only a 8-ish hour bus ride and not entirely unpleasant. I saw the country side go from industrial to small farms and then the Yorkshire Dales imposing hill sides (well mountains, but think smaller like more exposed Appalachians) all from the highway. We got into Carlisle and settled into our first accommodation: the Arkale lodge. Across the road was an Asda which had the most British thing I’ve every seen – a whole aisle dedicated to mayonnaise. There was regular, light, spicy, various other “flavors” and then also something called “Brown Sauce” which looked exactly like it sounded. There was a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it space for mustard with your option of two sizes of French’s yellow mustard. Funnily enough they did have a good selection of hot sauces and I ended up getting Frank’s Red Hot to put on, well, everything.
Originally I’d told Anthony I would leave on the 0800 shuttle back to Stevens Pass but after eating dinner last night I swiftly changed my mind and decided on the 1100 ride. He took us to town before leaving for the trail and I got a sandwich to go from the deli. Unfortunately the coffee shop closed at 1100 so I didn’t get any caffeine. Skykomish citizens don’t need coffee after 1100 apparently.
I got back on trail about 1230 and was feeling the weight of 6 days worth of food. I had enough to get me to Stehekin where another resupply box waited. The trail wasn’t even hard but I was feeling slow and sluggish. I have a very hard time starting my hiking day after 0900. However I was only going to go a short distance today so I kinda wandered along in a noncommittal daze.
Camp was supposed to be down by Valhalla lake (so I could listen to some Led Zepplin in the proper setting lol), but there were no sites available. I went uphill back to the trail and set up under some lovely pines with the rocky wall of the mountain standing guard to the west. I soon discovered this was a Pika hot spot. Their squeaky meeps echoed throughout the night.
Day 163: 19.3 miles
I woke up ornery and mean. I’m not sure why? I just felt off and it didn’t get better all day. I had some hazey views of Glacier Peak to the north but what was really worrisome were the visible fires and smoke to the east. They weren’t new fires, as the Forest Service had already closed certain trails in the area, but they were uncomfortablely close to the PCT. Or at least it seemed that way to me. At this point though I could only see the smoke, not smell it and the wind was blowing east so I kept going.
All day I was in my head with worry and unease. It was hot and the climbs were tough. Someone left the sun on the Broil setting for some reason. (Who did that?!) I had no eyes for my surroundings I was so very deep in my feelings. At the top of one climb I gave up and sat down for a cry. Letting all of it wash over me without a fight. All the anxiety, the doubts, and the tension surged up through my eyeballs into an ugly cry. A chorus of the same old song Why is everything still so hard? made its rounds through my heart. Eventually the pitiful tears slowed down and I realized that I felt a little looser, infinitesimally gentler. Showing up as your authentic self isn’t always roses and for me that means the letting go on the tight grip of control over the “bad emotions”. Just let them be what they are and process. I was lucky that no one walked by. I managed to have 10 minutes on the trail alone.
After my Big Cry ™️, I put on some distracting podcasts and shuffled to camp…which was full of people. I found a slanty spot that would do and went to wash in the stream. I whimsically thought that maybe the mountain water would wash away my anger and fear along with the sweaty salt and tears. I know that’s illogical and just a little bit naive but I did feel better and fell asleep quite easily.
Day 164: 19.5 miles
I woke up 0230 this morning to the intense smell of smoke but in my sleepiness paid it no heed. When I woke for real it was hazy and the smell had worsened. I got up to the ridgeline and the view from where I came was whited out with smoke. The winds had shifted and now blew the noxious fumes northwest.
I watched as smokey tendrils crept their way up the valley, filling every nook and cranny. It was creepy in way, like a ghostly mist destroying everything in its path. The trail turned down into another valley towards the northwest and was clear of smoke. The sky still had a haze but nothing too worrisome.
There was a never ending climb up and out into a wide expanse of Alpine hillside. Once again I had to stop and have a what is fast becoming a routine afternoon cry. I sat up high on a rocky slope looking down on the pine valley below and just bawled. This time I’m not even sure about what. I just let it happen though and like last time felt simple relief.
The trail obliged afterwards by continuing down into the valley in a gentle manner. Streams the were milky with glacier silt splashed down along the trail and the shaggy bark of the Sitka Cypress welcomed me back into the safety of the canopy. I turned one bend to find two hikers, Caps and Chimney, who I’d been bouncing around. Caps asked if I wanted the bad news, but I couldn’t even hear her over the rush of the creek nearby.
Well apparently the trail after Harts Pass was closed which meant that you couldn’t hike to the border and finish with a picture at the monument. The big goal that everyone had been working towards for months was snatched out of reach. And for me, I felt quite suddenly rudderless. Now I know it’s “all about the journey not the destination” but to be denied the final leg of the trip and the closure of tagging the terminus is the worst.
I’d been wanting to quit for some time now. My hips hurts all the time, I’m not having any fun, and everything is hard, like moving through molasses. The only thing keeping me going was the distant goal of reaching the border. The pride in getting my picture taken at the monument. Now that was gone, what was the point? I couldn’t go back though, that way was covered in smoke. I decided to continue on and end at Rainy Pass, after hitting up Stehekin’s famous bakery for their cinnamon rolls of course.
The PCT’s Class of ’22s motto should be “womp womp”.
Day 165: 16 miles
Well now that I’m not trying to get anywhere fast I decided I’m going to enjoy as much as I can of what’s left. Today made that real real hard. It was all climbing all day. Once at the top the views were socked in by fog and smoke. I stopped early and just flopped into my tent.
Day 166: 18.6 miles
After a mild 2500 foot climb the views opened up and it was actually sunny and nice. I’m reminded that the weather can directly affect your mood, as well as food intake and hydration. It was like I was on a different trail: there was slight comfortable breeze with no hint of smoke, the sun was bright but no overbearing, and the sky was a clear pure blue the contrasted nicely with the green earth. Glacier melt sent streams of icey water everywhere. I could see the trail wind its way through this slope of rocky waters and rich greenery and I felt light, like I could be better.
At the top of one grassy hillside I saw a marmot hanging out and after inspection saw that it’s little hidey hole was the best seat in the house. I sat there for awhile waiting for the little creature to stick it’s nose out while soaking in the sheer grandeur of the mountains before me. We played this little game and I thanked it letting me share its spot. Clouds were rolling in and I wanted to get below tree line. On the way down, the trail was lined with blueberry bushes which of course slowed my progress.
I made it to the trees and entered an old growth of huge Cedars and Cypress. The blow downs here didn’t even bother me because it was like playing on a jungle gym. The still standing old trees had massive trunks that were cemented into the ground. These trees seemed to say We are here and we are not going anywhere. The Suiattle River was close by and offered a pleasant hum of rushing water, and added to the soft whir of leaves in the wind. After clambering up one fallen trunk that was over 6 ft tall, I sat down. I reclined against my pack and looked up into the canopy where barely any sky shone through. In my peripheral vision were monumental tree trunks and under me was one of their downed brethren soft with decay. It was a swirl of cashmere brown and jeweled greens. For a brief moment it felt like I was being cradled by these ancient beings and I could breathe easy. But then just as fast the moment fled when I realized the moisture from the tree below me was seeping into my clothing.
I reluctantly continued on to camp that had a creepy lean-to pit toilet. One comment said it looked like the Blair Witch hide out and others compared it to the Iron Throne. I’ve never seen Game of Thrones so I leaned towards Blair Witch.
Day 167: 19.1miles
It rained overnight and everything at my feet got wet. It was no fault of my tent though. I usually put my socks on the mesh part, which is usually not a problem, but in rain it drags the tent walls down and lets in water not to mention got all my socks wet. Like soaking wet. Like I just walked through a river wet.
Also I had some weird dreams about a scraggly old witch (like the one from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves) scratching on my tent and I was immobilized. I think that comment about the Blair Witch toilet seeped into my subconscious.
I got going with wet feet and got even more wet with the overgrowth on trail turning into a car wash. Luckily I found a sunny spot for lunch and had a pack explosion to dry everything out. Afterwards it was a beautiful walk down to camp. All sheer rock mountain slopes, tall pines and clear cool streams. I thought that it’s a shame my trip was ending when it just starting to get good. I began to think there might be a point to this whole experience.
Day 168: 14.5 miles
Today was town day…well kind of. I got up at 0400 to wall the 10 miles to the shuttle pick up to go into Stehekin. I managed to get 10 miles done before 1000, a first! I’ve never had a real interest in doing 10 before 10 but the lure of huge Cinnamon Buns picked my feet up.
Stehekin is a tiny hamlet of a resort town that is only accessible by boat or foot. There are no roads there. The bakery is much touted as having the best baked goods and the Cinnamon roll above all. And the shuttle stops there for 10 minutes before continuing onto town. I decided I was going to sit there for longer and just walk the two miles into town. I sat there with another hiker friend Sprocket and enjoyed the cozy fug of coffee and food.
On the walk into town is an organic garden where you can pick up fresh veggies and goats yogurt. There Dahlias of every color and had trees frogs sitting in them. The road skirted the lake and a bunch of old vehicles parked along it. Like they bought that car the year it came out, got it on the barge to Stehekin and then never left. The lodge in Stehekin proper had a post office which is where I sent my resupply that I no longer needed. I kept all the Welsch’s Fruit snack and the M&Ms but put most of my food in the hiker box.
I sat at a table overlooking Lake Chelan and drank cold drinks while chatting with various hikers. I saw a couple if nurses I’d been bouncing around and we had a long hilarious discussion about the mold in one the water bottles (Healthcare humor).
I got on the shuttle back to trail around 1600. I had contemplated staying the night but then soooooo many hikers kept showing up. Once back on trail it was a huge and sweaty climb up (always up). I got to camp and ate the sandwich from the bakery I’d packed out. I lay in my tent, this was my last night.
Day 169: 14.5 miles
Today was my last one on the PCT. I “slept in” which means I didn’t set an alarm and woke up at 0600. I dawdled over breakfast and packing up, in no rush. The trail up to Rainy Pass was a forever climb up but nothing unbearable. I crossed a wobbley bridge and stopped frequently for snack breaks. My mind kept shying away from the reality that I’d be done today, so I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it.
The trail made a turn and then suddenly I was walking near HWY 20 and hearing the sounds of cars. The end was immenent. I got to the road crossing and then the sign that says Rainy Pass. This was it. I got my picture taken and then a random couple asked if I needed a ride. It was all very quick and anticlimactic. After being whisked to the quaint western looking town of Wintrop I took a shower and finally had a moment to process.
I didn’t start this trail to have big revelations or figure out the big questions. I already knew from the AT that was a fool’s quest. You just end up with more questions. I wanted the movement, the constant change of scenery to soothe something in me. I wanted to bathe my nervous system in nature and let it reset my alarms. In some ways this was successful, but also in others that were unexpected.
A lot of Hiker culture will tell you “Its about the people” when you thru hike. That the people you meet and connect with will renew your faith in humanity. Well this may be a hot take (it’s most certainly unpopular) but I don’t think it’s the people. It is your self and how you react to this world. I may write a whole other post about this, but on the whole, I didn’t connect with people. In fact most of them annoyed the hell out of me. There were about 20 hikers I’d want to talk to again (you know who you are, and if you don’t then you probably still are; I’m horrible at communicating).
For me the trail experience wasn’t the big grand views or feeling connected. It was the little things. I caught a glimpse of this on the AT and it only solidified on the PCT. The litte steps it takes to add up to a 2000+ mile journey. I started fat and dangerously out of shape, with nervous system screaming for relief and a emotional blockages that created baggage for my baggage. I can’t say that I’m a fresh new person now, but the little lessons I learned with the little steps I took shaped something inside me into a softer gentler version. Someone who can say I feel happy and then mean it.
Someone who has experieced:
The bursting flavor of a sun ripened blueberry straight off the plant. The seeming suspension of gravity on Mt Whitney, like I could fly straight off and into the sky. The quiet peace of Old Growth Cedars. Seeing the rounded horizon high on a pass and think that I could feel the earth turn. The humor of observing chipmunks, pikas, and marmots going about their daily lives. The comfort of knowing I’d never be hungover on trail. The strength in climbing 2000 ft without stopping. The brilliance of the Milky Way arched overhead as I fall asleep. The grinding whirr of windmills. The blankets of moss and lichen on granite. Sunlight drifting through the leafy canopy. City lights twinkling in the distance as I look out from my midnight pee. Walking through the cool pines after exposure and feeling my breath quieten and slow down like I’m falling into sync with the forest. The fireworks of wildflower colors and figuring out their names. Meeting my physical needs in a concrete way. The color explosion of a desert sunset. Meeting someone that I feel at ease talking with.
Those are just a few little moments. Some I haven’t even parsed yet and most I’ve futilely tried to grip too tight. So what does it all mean? Not much. It doesn’t have to. I do know I’m extremely grateful though. The privilege of experiencing all that is something I can’t appreciate enough. Even that’s not a big lesson, it’s all about the tiny steps. They lead you were you need to go, which apparently wasn’t the terminus, but somewhere I was supposed to end.
Lots of people showed up to my lake side tent site after dark. I assume they stayed as late as possible at White Pass before stumbling out into the night. So what was a peaceful evening turned into a wait-and-see game of how many people who would up.
The morning dawned cool and misty. The lake and trees were shrouded in fog. Despite the chilly temp I was soon drenched in sweat from strenuous climbing all morning. The air felt heavy with moisture and I didn’t want to stop too long at any one spot. There wasn’t much to see anyway.
The sun make occasional appearances but didn’t fully show out until after lunch. And then it just got miserably muggy. As soon as I got out into the open though the humidity just became straight up heat. The climbs were big and giving me Sierra flashbacks. I turned one bend and then Smack! there was Mt Rainier right up in my face.
Camped near Anderson lake where I was able to wipe some of the sweat off and thankfully there was a light breeze to keep the mosquitos off. I ate dinner with some other hikers I’ve been bouncing around and I joked thay we should raise our drink pinkies to Mt Ren-yay, cuz it’s all French and fancy.
Day 152: 15.6 miles
The first climb up out of Dewey Lake (which would have been nice to camp at if I hadn’t seen the large poop right next to the water) was a beast. Long and steep. There were lots of wildflowers to enjoy on the other side though, coming down into Chinook pass. There were also loads of day hikers smelling all fresh and perfumey.
There was no sign in the wilderness to prove it but I had been walking the outskirts of Mt Rainier National Park. So when I got to the pedestrian bridge over the main road in, I had to get a picture. There was some trail magic (sodas and muffins) in the parking lot. It was next to one of the stinkiest pit toilets I’ve ever had the misfortune to smell.
After guzzling some ice cold Gatorade I marched back up into the trail with all the others. There seems to be a rather large bubble of people around me and it is a bit distressing. Of course I’m always the slowest and that makes for a stressful day when you are competing for campsites. I got some cell service and found out there is a Norovirus outbreak in the group of hikers ahead of me at Snoqualmie Pass. So that’s other wrinkle in my anxious brain meat.
Also I was just feeling slow and tired which didn’t help the 2000 ish foot climb I had to go over. I stopped a bit early because there was a campsite available next to a cold spring and also the next 8 miles were a burn (which I wouldn’t want to camp in).
Day 153: 26.8 miles
Today I shot out of camp like a bullet. I credit the instant Folgers for the burst of caffeine that enabled me to get 6 miles in 2 hours. I skimmed through an old burn area and in the early morning light the trail was bearable. The scarred toothpicks of old pines were spread out amongst the outrageous bloom of fireweed. Pinks and greens went by in a blur. I stopped at Mike Urichs cabin to check it out, but didn’t stay long because hordes of other people started dropping in. They were from PCT days and had gotten back on at Chinook Pass. Probably carrying Covid to add to the mix of fun surprises on trail.
I managed to get 15 miles in before I stopped for lunch, which blew my mind. I felt strong and full of energy. I’m not sure what the right mix was to recreate this, because I need to feel that more often. I was thinking today how I can actually finish this thing. The end is nigh. And when it’s over and I’m back in my “normal life” how I’ll be longing to be back out on trail all dirty and tired. I’m getting nostalgic for the thing that hasn’t even ended yet. Lol.
Day 154: 23.3 miles
Today started slow. I don’t think the Cafe Bustelo instant packets work. You’d think they would have all the caffeine, but no. It was a lot of steep ups and downs in a green tunnel until I got to Stampede Pass. There was some trail magic there which I sat around for awhile. Then I took an alternate I’d found in the comments on Guthook.
Basically I’d walk down the Forest Service road to a bike/hike trail and then take that into Snoqualmie Pass. It was relatively flat and easy and I was in! Once down on the trail the walking was on cruise control. I zoomed past Purple Foxglove and Tansy, large rock walls and thick Pine forest, a low level lake and back country campsites. It was at one of these campsites I decided to stop, Cold Creek boasted of picnic tables and pit toilets. I saw a couple there that I met on the first day and hadn’t seen since Tuolomne Meadows! I fell asleep to the sounds of the creek and the hum of I-90 across the lake.
Day 155: 4.2 miles
I got going early so that I could get to town and have some pancakes. Snoqualmie Pass boasts of one diner attached to the hotel, two coffee shops, and one gas station. It was the gas station I’d sent my resupply and new shoes to. They charged $8 a box to pick up. I’m willing to pay my due, but that seems a little outrageous. Especially since the boxes were all out in the store where anybody could pick them up.
I ate my pancake breakfast and managed to get checked into the hotel early. I promptly wiped everything down with some Purell wipes because there was a GI bug or perhaps Norovirus blazing its way through all the hikers. No wonder, when it’s a badge of honor to not shower or clean oneself for weeks at a time. I spent the rest of the day napping and eating.
Day 156: 0 miles
I’d been feeling very tired and weary lately so I thought it might be time for a zero. I spent it eating, napping, and watching Sandman. Woah! What a good show! SPOILER ALERT
I thought it was weird that the show was so delicate around showing a baby’s death (not visualizing the body or the mothers reaction), but then they were brutal with the kittens. As soon as I saw what that douchecopter was going to do I threw down my phone in horror. But otherwise, I thought the whole show was well thought out and thoroughly enjoyed it.
Day 157: 14.3 miles
I kept dawdling leaving town. The lure of coffee was too strong. I got back on trail about 1030 and it was immediately a climb. It wasn’t too bad though – lots of switchbacks and a gentle grade. At the top was the famed Kendall Catwalk, where you could see both sides of the range and then walked along the ridgeline with a gorgeous open view to the east. There were lots of squeaky meeps from the Pikas and angry chittering from the Squirrels.
As the afternoon wore on, clouds rolled in and obscured all the views. And then it started drizzling. The trail got very rocky and started to get steep. It was an unpleasant walk and getting to camp became my all consuming goal. There were 10 tents there already but I managed to find a cove of trees. Slanted but cozy.
Last new pair of shoes!
Day 158: 20.5 miles
Everything was wet or damp when I woke. It was still drizzling and soaked into my bones as soon as I started walking. My hands got numb and my nose ran freely. Then it started raining in earnest and I seriously considered stopping and setting up my tent. I started to descend into a green valley and the rain came to a stop. The clouds still hung around, threatening to ruin a good time.
I started to climb up 5 miles and a zillion switchbacks to my lunch spot. The little pond was like many of the alpine lakes – clear and blue green. I set up my tent so it could air dry, but also had the added benefit of being able to eat in peace away from the infernal mosquitos. The walk down to Waptus river was easy, but long. I set up camp and met two other hikers who were nurses too!
Day 159: 16.4 miles
I’m still feeling exhausted. Today was okay, just slow and I couldn’t muster the energy to go further.
Day 160: 15.6 miles
Three big climbs today. Lots of alpine lakes. On the second climb I finally got a picture of a Pika. I saw it dart underneath a rock as I was rounding the corner and for some reason (read: I was out of breath) I thought to stop and wait for it return. Sure enough a little nose poked out of the hole. It kept darting to and fro and finally crossed the trail to another hidey hole. Also on this climb was a hillside of blueberries, all fat and juicy. I learned the value of a sun ripened blueberry straight off the stem.
The third climb was horrendous. Mostly because it was steep and in the full sun. Also I’m just so so tired. I feel like a clock winding down. Making the miles seemed to be easier a couple of weeks ago, and yet again I’m fighting my body. The only real reason I keep going now is that I want to finish.
Day 161: 4.2 miles
Today was town day so my feet should have been feeling swift. But then the trail was overtaken by blueberry bushes and I had to keep picking them. THE ANTIOXIDANTS! They are so sweet and four hikers ran by me before I finished. Incidently 2/3 of the Ultralight Bros will offer asinine commentary on what you are doing. Can’t get any hiking done if you’re picking berries! Hurr. You sure do have a lot of berries! Hurr Durr. Whatever. They’re just jealous they don’t have a bag full of juicy bois.
I got down to Stevens Pass and picked up my resupply box. I had planned on hitching in Skykomish (which sounds like it is a town that belongs in Michigan) and had a ride offered as I was about to head down to the road. Anthony owns the outfitters and serendipitously was also who I’d contacted about a place to stay. I now have a nice travel trailer to stay in and fried chicken in my future. Things are looking up.
I caught the bus back out to Cascade Locks, after eating something called a cruffin from a place called Twisted Croissant. It was a croissant in the shape of a muffin and filled with apricot custard. It was a mess to eat, but quite tasty. After I got back to the trail, I began my walk across the Bridge of the Gods. It was made famous by the book and movie “Wild”, being the end point to Cheryl Strayed’s PCT hike. What they don’t tell you is that you are literally walking in the road and there is nowhere to have life altering revelations or poetic recaps of your journey. Also it was very windy and my hat kept trying to start its own journey away from my head. So I just walked quickly across the Oregon-Washington border and took a bunch of pics on the other side.
Back in the woods I could still hear traffic as I walked along the path bordered by large amount of berries. I’ve often wished I enjoyed any berries other than blue and straw, because I’d have a veritable feast. But I don’t like them, the seeds get stuck in my teeth and their flavor is just meh. I made it to a nice little campsite next to a lake and set up early. I wasn’t really planning on going far today anyway.
Day 142: 15.4 miles
My sleeping pad apparently had a hole in it and kept deflating through out the night. I got about 4 cumulative hours of sleep. I had to go down to the lake to see where the hole was in my pad which made me late getting started. It was all uphill and so so humid. I was drenched in sweat and miserably sleepy so I stopped early for lunch and took a nap. I got to Rock Creek early and claimed a pretty sweet spot right next to the swimming hole. It would’ve been sweeter if a huge group of SOBOs hadn’t hung out in front of my tent for hours, but once they left it was peaceful.
Day 143: 19.5 miles
There was a traffic jam on trail this morning. A mama deer and her fawn were in the trail. I stepped forward and the mama deer daintily picked her way into the foliage but her fawn stubbornly remained behind on trail giving me a side eye. I stepped forward again and the fawn bounced down the trail a bit and stopped to pick at some snacks. We kept up this routine for a couple minutes with the fawn getting further and further down the trail. Meanwhile mama deer is placidly munching in the greenery, seemingly without a care in the world. Eventually we came to a bend that formed a gully where the fawn flounced down into the underbrush and back towards mama, who I’m sure didn’t even know her child was gone.
The restof the day was unremarkable. More humidity and more climbing.
Day 144: 19.6 miles
The days are starting to blend together in one long walk in a green tunnel. I don’t mind the trees, I love them. But it makes for unremarkable notes on my day. More walking. More podcasts. My sleeping pad is still leaking despite the patches.
Day 145: 18.6 miles
Miles went by fast today. Not much thinking, just walking in the humidity.
Day 146: 6 miles
My sleeping pad continues to defy efforts at fixing it and deflated five times last night. It made it quite difficult to get any rest with numb arms and painful hips. I didn’t get an early start like I wanted to either. Today was town day and there was a shuttle to Trout Lake at 0800. It was five miles away. I thought I might have to wait for the 1000 shuttle, but I somehow managed to hike those five miles in under 2 hours.
In Trout Lake I laundered, showered, and picked up my resupply box. The General Store caters to hikers and had a hiker hang out spot with a charging station and shade. I hung out in the grass, all clean like while I waited for my battery to charge. I also got some super glue to plug the hole in my sleeping pad. After it dried, I blew it up and lounged on it to make sure it’d stay inflated.
A lot of hikers came and went. Everyone is talking about the PCT trail days. It’s a festival type event held at Cascade Locks. Everyone is trying to figure out rides back there and mileage, etc etc. I’m excited because it means the trail will be less crowded and if I time it right I might be able to maintain a smaller bubble for the rest of the trip.
Around 1530 I gathered my things and got on the shuttle back to trail. I only went a mile to a nice little creek full of frogs. Or toads. I’m not sure which. I spent the afternoon napping and reading on my fixed sleeping pad.
Day 147: 19.6 miles
About a mile into my day I came upon a huge hillside of huckleberry bushes. I had to stop and pick some. I kept narrating to myself like I was on a TV show. This season on Alone…But Not Really, Compass is in huckleberry heaven. Will they help her survive the harsh terrain? Tune in to find out! Lol. Picking berries really slows down your pace, but totally worth it.
The trail climbed to an alpine ridge that skirted the base of Mt Adams. All day it loomed to the east as I went in and out of tree line to lava rock fields. I crossed a muddy river that was raging with snow melt. It was actually worse than anything I ever saw in the Sierra. After that I put myself in cruise control and listened to podcasts.
Camp was at Lava Springs, a lovely site with the clearest and coldest water in Wahington so far. It was snow melt filtered through lava rock and delightful.
Day 148: 22.9 miles
Today started out fast and stayed that way all day. I’m not sure how I maintained my pace but I did and even passed someone, a first! The bugs were bad, like real bad. Mosquitos kept trying to fly into my eyes and ears and flies would swarm any unprotected skin the second you stopped. I set up my tent to eat lunch in peace. I saw a huge line of hikers that filed past, all hurrying to White Pass so they can hitch back to Casacde Locks.
In the afternoon the trail started climbing ever upwards. The sun beat down on my hood. The trees began to thin out as I rose in elevation. At some unnamed pass, I crested the top of the ridge and the spectacular vista of the Goat Rocks spread out before me. The imposing towers of lava rock and sandstone rose up sharply reflecting the sinking sunlight.
The trail climbed along the valley wall to Cispus Pass and crossed over to another valley. Wildflowers dotted the hills and creeks flowed down the rocks to the basin below. I found a campsite next to Cispus River with a glorious view of the mountain crest above. I had it all to myself.
Day 149: 14.5 miles
I didn’t wake up until late which is just as well because walking in the dark would have been a crime in this section. I kept stopping to take pictures and using my plant app to figure out the wildflowers exploding on the hillsides. The usual suspects were in abundance: Lupine, Asters, Columbines, Corn Lillies, and an usual shade Indian Paintbrush. It was a stawberry pinkish red that seemed to glow. New flowers I observed were Sitka Valerian, Braced Lousewort, Ranger’s Buttons, and Bistort. I also saw a Dr Suess puffball looking flower that I later learned was a White Pasqueflower. I think they should be renamed.
The huge spires of Goat Rocks stood guard over the lush forested valley below. Glacier fed streams tumbled over lava rocks into waterfalls and the air was heavy with moisture and the smell of pine tree needles. I rambled along the trail barely noticing the climb. The trail wound into a large alpine meadow with the last views of Mt Adams behind.
The trail started to get steep with a small patch of snow that was a bit butt clenching. I got to a trail junction where you could choose to go the lower easier route, but there were two more snow passes. Or you could take the high route with reportedly spectacular views. There was already a wide open view of Mt Ranier, and I didn’t feel like more unnecessary climbing so I chose the lower route. The snow wasn’t that bad, I just went slow and didn’t look down.
On the other side was the “Knife’s Edge”, a bit of trail that straddled the mountain tops where you see both sides. Mt Ranier was off to the northwest and slowly got closer. The trail got positively Appalachian with its extremely steep elevation changes but the exhilarating feeling of being up high with 360 degree views made the work seem like nothing.
Eventually the trail went back down into the trees where I started to hike faster. Incidently I also saw Jupiter of YouTube fame. I just kinda waved as I went by. There were more huckleberries to eat which slowed me down a little, but mostly it was a cruise to camp which had the coldest water ever! Yum!
Day 150: 8 miles, prolly more
Woke early because today is a “town” day! It was only 8 miles to the White Pass Kracker Barrel where I’d pick up my resupply. Word on the trail was that you had to get there early to get in the list for showers and laundry so I wasn’t counting on it.
On the way up that last climb was an absolutely breathtaking (both literally and figuratively) view of Mt Ranier and the surrounding mountain ranges. At the top I met two horsemen who’d I bounce around on the way down. They were slower on the rocky slopes and overtook me on the forested bit.
I made it to the highway and cruised into the store where to my delight the list for showers and laundry was very short! Huzzah! I get to be clean. I love that.
Now I’m sitting here waiting for my laundry after which I’ll probably head back out onto trail.
Our ride out to Timothy Lake was rather late which resulted in us getting back to trail later than planned. It also didn’t help that I insisted we stop at the last Blockbuster on the way out. Riding in a car puts me to sleep (like a baby) so when we did get back to the trailhead I was feeling rather drowsy and unmotivated. Luckily Lindsay had the genius idea to only walk a couple of miles to a lakeside campsite and go swimming. So that’s what we did.
Because I ended up skipping basically all of Oregon, the pressure to crush miles into Washington had lessened. I don’t like skipping so many miles but thru hikes often require adapting to sudden changes and releasing the need for tight control. Besides I had a beautiful afternoon by a gorgeous lake with great company and I doubt that would have been possible had I been so intent on making miles happen.
We ended up finding a perfect spot next to Timothy Lake where there was easy access to the shoreline, but felt like it was secluded. Apparently some planes use this lake as a waterway airport to practice their water landings because there were two of them that flew over repeatedly. This didn’t stop us though from blowing up our sleeping pads and using them as floats on the lake. After drying off and eating we retired to our respective tents and I lay there watching the late afternoon sun shimmer on the water as a mama duck and her ducklings floated along the shoreline. It was a nice day.
Day 134: 18.5 miles
The temperature overnight was perfect! It was chilly enough to actually use my sleeping bag and not overheat! I slept great. A side trail went by Little Crater Lake which was beautiful. The deep green and blue of the lake reflected the sky above and the meadows around it were filled with a fragrant Rose Spirea. I also found out was a Corn Lilly looks like after it blossomed.
I was cruising along the trail and looked to the left and Bam! there was Mt Hood. I guess I should have paid more attention because shortly after I fell and rolled my ankle pretty badly. I limped to my lunchspot and saw Lindsay. We were soon surrounded by at least 15 other thru hikers. I’m now a part of the “fire bubble” that is full of all the hikers who had to skip around the recent fires. Some even had to hitch from as far away as Truckee.
Lindsay and I planned to camp along the ridge before Timberline Lodge. There was a designated campsite right behind the Lodge but we figured it’d be full of people by the time we got there. Besides the spot we picked had a front row seat to Mt Hood. The only issue is that apparently the mountain is made of sand and it was windy.
We cowboy camped (I wouldn’t have been able to keep my tent up anyway) and I ended up with sand everywhere. But it was worth it. I spent the night watching the stars come out and then the Milky Way emerge. Mt Hood loomed off to the left and the Milky Way formed an arch over me like an umbrella. Laying on my back and looking straight up, the dome of the night sky filled my vision, no earth at all. I let my thoughts wander and it felt like I could be floating in space of it weren’t for the tether of my body. Eventually my mind calmed and I felt peacefully insignificant in the light of the vast universe. I fell asleep with the dust swirling around me.
Day 135: 11.4 miles
I woke to a glorious sunrise, all vibrant pinks and sherbert oranges. Then I curled up shrimp style and went back to sleep. Me and Lindsay were going to the Timberline Lodge’s famed breakfast buffet and it didn’t open till 0800 anyway. We got going after awhile to get out of the dusty wind though and it was only a mile walk to delicious food. For some reason I kept thinking that I didn’t deserve it because I didn’t work hard enough. WTF? I shut that voice up and got to eating a variety of delights. Near the waffle making station was a plate of what I thought was butter. I put some on my waffle and found out after a bite that it was whip cream. It was so good I went and got another waffle just to slather that ambrosia on. After eating way too much and drinking a carafe of coffee, we went out to the sitting area to digest.
We talked with another lady named Alaska who was a park ranger. We all kept saying we’ll get going in a minute and then not doing it. Around noon I’d sat for long enough and started back on trail. The path around and leading away from the lodge was filled with hordes of day hikers and overnighters. It was like trying to to walk around at Disneyland.
My pace apprently has gotten better, because I soon left them all behind and ate up the trail. After every bend there was another view of Mt Hood to the right. I almost got lost near Lost Creek which was apropos and gave me flash backs to Mission Creek. The trail had gotten washed put at some point and now you just sorta winged it to get around the water.
Not long after finding the trail I ended up at Ramona Falls. It was reminiscent of Burney Falls where the water is pouring out of volcanic rock in multiple lacey falls, but on a more immediate and intimate scale. You could go right up to it and get a cooling shower of mist. I sat here for 30 minutes eating snacks and resting my feet.
There was a nice log bridge on the trail after I got going that I fell on for no discernable reason. I just fell out like an old person with low blood pressure. I landed on my left knee with the full force of my whole body and pack. I crawled to the end of the bridge and sat there crying in pain and frustration. Why do I keep falling? Is this a pattern?
Other hikers walked by, asking in concern if I was okay, making me feel even worse. Now I’d be that crying hiker. Lol. I pulled myself together and limped to the closest campsite which actually turned out quite nice. It was a mossy enclave next to a chilly creek. I set up camp and called it a night.
Day 136: 27.1 miles
I got going early because I’d have go make big miles in order to get to Cascade Locks on time for my friend to pick me up. It was a mix of forest and wide open ridges. After lunch were a bunch of blow downs that handed me my whole ass. I had to stop every 25 feet and crawl under a tree. It was frustrating. That combined with the heat and the overgrown trail I was starting to feel overwhelmed. The great thing about being out here is that I can just let it out. The trees don’t care that I’m alternating between crying and screaming. And I don’t have to bury those emotions for later processing (though to be honest, they’ll probably just stay butied.) I can just feel my feeling and excrete them like the copious amounts of sweat I’ve been drenched in.
Eventually the trail opened up to a view of the mountains to the north. I asked a passing day hiker if he knew their names and he told me they were from left to right: Mt St Helens, Mt Ranier, and Mt Adams. I made it back into the woods to the lovely and soothing walk into Wahtum Lake where I’d get back onto the Eagle Creek trail alternate. It was a true green tunnel, but it was well maintained and a delightful walk. I got into a burn area near sunset and the campsite I was planning on staying at was already full. I found a little spot nearby next to some charred but live trees. It was late and my feet hurt, but I walked over a marathon!
Day 137: 12ish miles
I had to walk down the trail a significant distance to do my morning business because a man had set up camp right next to the trail (and kept his white light on for over an hour when he was making camp well after 10pm). There was nowhere to go that wasn’t in view of him. So my steps were quick until I found a suitable spot.
I slowed down when I got to the creek. It was a cool cliffside walk next to the water down below. There were a couple of spots that made the perfect swimming hole, literal pools in the shelves of rock. There were some amazing falls – 7 mile and Twister. The coupe de grace though was Tunnel Falls. You come around a bend and there it is, a huge narrow waterfall into a pool below. The trail is cut out of the fern covered rock and goes underneath the falls itself. The tunnel is full of verdant green plant life and it feels like you’ve gone back in time to another world. I had this special spot to myself for about ten minutes (a true miracle!) before someone else showed up.
The trail down to the trailhead soon got crowded with day hikers as it was a Saturday. I was categorizing them by their smells: detergent, perfume, or soap. I’d hate to think what category they’d put me in. I got down to the trailhead and started the walk on the old highway into Cascade Locks. I put on some Dolly Parton and cruised. By noon I was walking under the Bridge of the Gods and heading to Thunder Island for a burger. I saw Lindsay there and we chatted while I waited for my friend Sally to pick me up. I was sad that Lindsay would be going ahead because it’s so rare that I find someone that easy to talk to. But I already made plans to visit Portland and my friends there and I still needed to send out my resupply for Washington. Also it’s been a long time since I’ve seen some of these friends so this was a welcome respite.
Days 138-140: 0 miles
I ended up staying longer that I’d originally planned. I got to see some friends I haven’t seen in years. I got my resupply done for Washington. I ate a bunch of food and took a bunch of showers. I hung out with my dear friend Sally and her David, who valiantly made Eclair Cake. I’ve gotten the itch to get back out on trail though. Not to keep any schedule, but just to get it done. I’m cautiously excited to see what new lessons and experiences Washington will offer.
My first full day in Oregon was sunny and breezy. It mostly still looks like Northern California though and there are still views of Mt Shasta. At one point I came upon a toilet seat with a really great view. I think it’s purpose was for campers who would bring a bucket, because there was no hole underneath.
I reminisced about California as I walked and tried to make a little sense of my journey so far. It was only four months ago that I took my first step into the wild possibilities of the PCT. The desert seems so far away, what I started with and who I was feels distant. But it slapped me around physically and hardened my legs. The Sierra feels like a fever dream that scraped me raw. It cleaned up some of my mental and emotional filters. The Sierra also kicked my butt into more shape and steeled my mental resolve. Northern California, although a more gentle terrain, became an endurance challenge. California seemed to never end, stretching out forever into the horizon. It was also hot. Very hot.
All three sections built on the same lesson though: it’s about the journey, not the destination. The little details and the side quests. The pancakes. The amazing trail angels and the random trail magic. It was never about the end point, but the experiences along the way and how I could let it change me if I wanted to. I managed to have this clarity while sweating up a climb in the full on sun.
The whole day was full of trail magic at every turn. Near lunchtime, two ladies had left some cold sodas and watermelon. About two hours later at the top of a hill, a trail angel was restocking two coolers full of sodas. On the way down from this hill a group of children (with their parents nearby) were giving away popsicles. I think all this trail magic is possible because of all the dirt roads we’ve been crossing.
High on sugar I ran down the mountain, through all the overgrowth of wildflowers and shrubs to getting closer to Ashland. Close to camp, my feet started to cramp up and I started to get shooting pains. I’m certain that my shoes are to big and will have to remedy that in town as well. I found camp occupied by two other hikers and we chatted a bit while fighting the blood sucking mosquitos. Also there were 4 bars of 4G! I was planning to watch some Netflix, but as soon as I lay down I fell asleep.
Day 124: 3.1 miles
Town day! I woke late because it was a short walk to I-5 where I’d try to hitch into Ashland. As soon as I hit the main road there was already a guy stopping to see if I needed a ride! He picked me and few others up and even offered to drive us up to the REI in Medford. (Ashland’s outfitter was closed because of a fire.) I managed to get most of my chores done by 1500! I even bought all the resupply I’d be sending ahead.
On the way out of Shop N Kart, a stranger asked if I was a PCT hiker (what gave it away? Was it the smell?) and did I need anything? A little known fact is that we’ll walk 2000+ miles in the woods but not one mile in town. I asked if he’d give me and this other hiker I was with a ride back to the hotel. It was hot and bright and the Uber pickins were slim. Matthew agreed to cart us about and even ended up giving us a tour. We got milkshakes at Zoeys Cafe. I got Peach in case you’re wondering and it was gone in about two minutes it was so good! I gave him the trail angel name Rogue which I think he liked (he’s from the Rogue Valley, was a river guide on the Rogue River, and Rogue Pears are his fav fruit).
I decided a couple of days ago that I wanted a hotel room to myself. I really like the group I’ve been hiking with but when it comes to staying in towns, it seems like we are all piled on top of one another. I’ve been missing my privacy which you’d think would be easy to find out in the woods. But not as easy as it sounds. So I booked a hotel room and savored the ability to be totally alone in my own space. I took a long hot shower and used TWO towels! I spread my gear out with no concern. I kept the TV off. And I slept in the middle of the bed. It was nice.
Day 125: 0 miles
TJ and Genna made it into town early and I met them for breakfast at the Morning Glory Cafe. Their pancakes were huge and delicious. We went walking about and I picked up my glasses at the post office. I can see normally again!
They came back to my hotel to swim in the pool and enjoy the A/C while waiting for Froggy and Grampa to get to Medford. They were staying up there and I forgot that tomorrow was Genna’s birthday. They left with my well wishes to get on the bus. I spent the rest of the day wallowing in the comfort of the A/C.
Day 126: 12.4 miles
I woke eager to get back on trail. After having a cinnamon roll and coffee of course. My hiking group was going to be staying in Medford and I felt kind of bad for leaving (especially on a birthday, though to be fair, I don’t remember them telling me these plans before we left Etna.) That all melted away as soon I stepped on trail though.
It was already hot and humid. I walked in an inquisitive daze. Small things kept capturing my attention. Like the new plants dotting the trail – Sulfur Buckwheat and Oceanspray, or the family of grouse crossing the trail ahead of me, a long line of little dinosaurs. There was an electric hum in the air, partly due to the industrious bees darting to and fro among the Giant Hyssop, but also because the air felt heavier. I hiked slow and dreamy as I pondered the trail before me. It kept going from green tunnel to volcanic desert, to lively meadows and back again. Pilot rock jutted over the landscape and a hazy Mt Shasta lingered in the background. I wasn’t worried about getting in miles for some reason, so I felt no rush and no shame in my constant stopping.
I broke to have a siesta in the shade of a Cedar next to a ice cold spring. A bunch of hikers bottlenecked here to escape the oppressive heat. I met the famed Sticky who would write comments on the Guthook map app in haiku format. Everyone was talking about blasting through Oregon and how the trail is getting hard mentally. For once I felt that was on the other side of this, but I’d be more excited to challenge myself physically if wasn’t so dang humid.
After being lazy in the shade for too long I shouldered my pack to continue into the still very humid afternoon. The first mile was all uphill and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. The air weighed down on my face and shoulders with a fierce intensity. I made it another mile to the next water source and heard thunder. That clinched it for me. The intense heat felt boiling and if it was going to rain also I was going to put up my tent. No sooner than I had crawled into my Dyneema oasis, it started pouring rain and then hailing! The air released it’s moisture and cooled quickly. I spent the rest of the afternoon reading and then watching the Quivering Aspen leaves flutter in the wind.
Day 127: 20 miles
I started early to hopefully walk in the cool morning air, but it was already a steamy wool blanket of miserable humidity. The sunrise was beautiful though. I could see the colors through the trees and finally made it to an open spot for even brighter illumination.
The trail got overgrown and was irritating me. With the already intense heat also overwhelming me, I took the opportunity to walk a nice wide open gravel road instead of the trail. After I crossed over Hwy 66 the trail crisscrossed with a bunch of back country roads and so I decided to follow one until it met up with the PCT again. Shade, flat gravel, no touchy feely plants, what a treat.
I got to a trailhead that also led down to Hyatt Lake resort and it was lunchtime! They posted a sign with their number advertising to PCT hikers that a ride down to the resort was possible. After a short wait, I was down at the resort tearing into a cheeseburger. The heat seemed more intense down in the valley near the mostly dried up Hyatt Lake. Me and some other hikers decided to hang out around the restuarant for a long while. I chatted with Sticky (the haiku writer) for an hour while it just seemed to get more oven like.
At some point though you have to get walking and my first step back onto trail after the noon siesta was done with great reluctance. It had to be in the upper 90s low 100s with a humidity index of a 1000%. I stopped for many breaks under shade trees and drank almost a liter in the first hour. I got to a road that would take me directly to camp for the night. From the east I could see dark storm clouds rolling over the mountains. There was an occasional rumble of thunder.
Camp was an old seemingly unused drive in campground. I say unused because the lake nearby was dried up and there was absolutely no one there. But there was a shower! The water was tepid at best, but I didn’t mind after the heat I just walked through! There was also flushing toilets, picnic tables, and water spigots! Such luxuries seemed unearned after leaving town only two days ago.
I took a chilly but refreshing shower and set up my tent. I was sitting at the picnic table when the encroaching storm finally hit. It rained for an hour or so and cooled the air. I laid down with the smell of rain and green and wet earth to lull me to sleep.
Day 128: 23.1 miles
I got a whole two hours of walking in the cool morning air before it returned to the normal programming of heat and humidity. I saw some new plants by what looked like a lazy river, but was probably an aquaduct of some sort. It was fenced in by Showy Milkweed, Bull Thistle, and Great Mullein.
I saw the great sitting rock of Guthook fame. Many hikers have noted in the comments of a nearby road that there is the best of sitting rocks nearby, and it is not to be missed! One hiker even commented they wanted to take this rock home to meet their momma. I sat on it and ate my second breakfast. It was, indeed, a sitting rock for the ages.
The trail was a flat straight shot for most of the morning. I made it to the lunch spot I’d planned quite early. It was an old cabin with a hand pump water spigot and a picnic table. It was too hot to sit inside the cabin, but there was some nice shade around the picnic table. The water from the well was deliciously cold. I had to show a younger hiker how to work the pump. He had just moved the handle once and expected water to come pouring out. I told him he had to put some arm work into it and he looked at me like this was a foreign concept. I thought it was pretty obvious.
After lunch I shot off into the afternoon heat. I drank some of my caffeine Mio and went on a tear. The trail wound in and out of forests and lava rock fields. Every time I hit the open rocky path the heat assaulted me from everywhere. So I tried to hurry back into the shade. I was drenched in sweat.
It wasn’t all unpleasant though. I got some views of the pointy Mt McLoughlin. I listened to some funny podcasts. I managed to make some miles and not die of heat exhaustion. I made it to camp and snagged a spot right next to the creek. I even managed to get in a creek bath! Not bad for the day.
Day 129: 22.7 miles
It is so hot all the time, even at night, which makes it hard to sleep. I knew I should get up early, but it was already muggy and I felt groggy anyway. My clothes were still damp from yesterday’s sweat.
Most of the day was walking in the coverage of the forest. The trail skirted Mt McLoughlin and headed a northerly direction into some old burn sections. I napped for two hours at lunch near a cold spring. It’d be the last good water for a long while.
I got to a rocky ridgeline that overlooked some mountains to one side and a valley of lakes to the other. Up top where I was, a backbone of charred trees did little to block the late afternoon sun. I made camp next a relativley clear pond. The mosquitos were considerate and waited till dusk to appear for their blood donations. Luckily I was already zipped up in my tent.
Day 130: 17.5 miles
Today started out dramatic. I could smell smoke, like from a campfire and the view to the south was hazy. As I crested a wide open ridgeline the wind picked and knocked me around. From the northeast dark clouds rolled in and it started raining, chilling my already damp skin. Walking around Shale Butte, Lucifer, and Devil’s Peak was a quick act of hopping from tree to tree for coverage. As I reached Devil’s Peak the rain died out and I was treated to a striking view of swift moving clouds and the sun trying to peak out over a barren volcanic landscape.
I came down into the valley and the temp rose immediately. There were a few cold streams to gather water from, but they wouldn’t last long. It would mean a long water carry into the next day. I hauled out five liters and the sun started to bake the land. Near lunch I was slowly climbing and it was very hot and exposed. I made it a shady campsite and fell out. It took a good ten minutes to even be able to set up for lunch. I decided to set up my tent and take a long nap and get away from the mosquitos.
Four hours later I felt better. I’d slept off and on but was out of the sun and if I didn’t move too much it wasn’t a sauna. I wasn’t going to move until 1600. After eating some salty chips and chugging a bunch of caffinated water I set out.
The large burn area I walking through was truly apocalyptic looking. A current fire further off was giving the sun that hazy red glow and there was an eerie wind whistling through the blackened pine skeletons. Thunder rumbled in the distance and there was the constant crackle and pop of tree limbs falling. The air was heavy with humidity and volcanic ash coated my legs. Once again I was sweating buckets.
I hurried through this unsettling landscape to find a suitable campsite. The first stand of live trees I found were an oasis of green amongst the imposing charred remains of their peers. I set up quickly because the skeeters were out for business. Funnily enough I wasn’t sleepy though and ended up reading late into the night.
Day 131: 7ish miles
The trees snapped all night which kept waking me up. I didn’t sleep well, but was late in starting. The air was still hazy in the distance which was worrisome. As soon as I entered Crater Lake National Park the mosquitos got vicious. Even though I had a bug net on and was wearing bug spray, the skeeters had no mercy for my legs, especially my ankles and knees. I had to jog to keep them off me because if I walked at even a fast pace they were on me.
I eventually got to the road and started towards Mazama Village which would be were I picked up my resupply package I’d mailed in Ashland. I got to the general store and was immediately asked by other hikers what are your plans? Confused I showed them my Coke and ice cream and said this was my plan. But no, apparently there were new fires north of Crater Lake and the trail was closed. I didn’t have any cell service and the wifi at the store was truly useless.
Stumped, I went out side to sit on the sidewalk and contemplate my future while I mowed down a Strawberry Shortcake bar. The trail was only closed for about 50 miles and one could try to skip around it, but there was another closure ahead that would require more shuttling. It seemed like the best option was to skip to Bend and reassess. There was another hiker named Lindsay that I’d been bouncing around that I liked talking to and we formulated a plan to hitch to Bend. We got the trolley to the actual Crater and had out views (they were hazy) before sticking out thumbs out. A mom and daughter on their way back to Portland picked us up and drove all the way!
Once in Bend we found a very cute hotel and managed to score a ride up to Timothy Lake in two days. So things worked out, mostly. I’m just bummed that I wasn’t fast enough to get through Oregon before the fire season. I’d finally gotten excited about testing my strength and endurance and “putting it all out there”. Now I kinda feel a little derailed. I was thinking that thru hiking the PCT every single mile may not be possible anymore.
Day 132: 0 miles
There is a Black Bear Diner in Bend! I introduced Lindsay to the wonders of their pancakes and then we spent the day wandering around doing things.
I think what is so disappointing about having to skip is that I’ve felt like I was on the precipice of something meaningful. Like I was about to get some clarity and now it is going to slip away. Like all the disorganized whirlwind of change is going to scatter those precious thoughts to the winds. But then I remember to let out my breath – that deep breath that is constantly caged in my throat.
I remember that being in nature, walking and pushing myself, brings me back to my body. It grounds me in my own life, to say I am here now. I can hear my breath and feel my heart. I am reminded of Mary Oliver’s poem “When I Am Among The Trees” and the line “never hurry through the world but wall slowly and bow often”. It all seems so choatic and is not what I planned but I am here now and that’s enough.
I slept in past 0800 and still felt groggy. I took another shower and lazily started packing up, but mostly layed in bed. Everyone else went out for food, but I figured since we’d have about two hours to kill I’d go back to Black Bear Diner and have a last plate of pancakes. I am obsessed with them!
There was a free bus that would take us back to the trailhead and it was on this bus that I observed some local flavor. One man was munching on a bunch of dill like a carrot. Just going ham on it. Another fellow was twitchy AF and seem to have trouble staying awake. His skin was covered with scabs over his white pride tattoos which made me think he might be addicted to opiates. I was quite relieved when he got off the bus as I had to sit next to him, the bus was so full.
Back on trail I was immediately drenched in sweat and everyone in my group pulled ahead quickly. Froggy and Grandpa were back in the gang. They had gotten off trail because of Covid. We’d planned to only go 6 miles because there was a gnarly climb right after this that we didn’t want to do in the afternoon heat. So I’ll be tackling that in the morning.
Day 115: 22 miles
Thr dreaded climb wasn’t so bad in the morning. It’s gentle slopes were just long and near the end the heat was ramping up. The continual and varied views of Castle Crag added some drama to the landscape. Their sharp spires and cliffs seemed imposing.
My feet have been feeling better which has been surprising. I’m used to everything falling apart. It got me to thinking about how my body is healing and is now at a point to focus more on my mental game. I’m making it a priority to ask myself what I can to do make myself happy each day. Even if it is a small thing. And then be deeply grateful for it. Today it was ice cold water with Country Time Pink Lemonade flavoring.
Also I realized this morning that my hip belt buckle is broken. Again. I’m not entirely sure I can recommend Gossamer Gear anymore.
Look at these little weird bean balloon plants. Look at them!
Day 116: 20.4 miles
Camp was a rocky slope that had a great view of Mt Shasta to the east. I woke up early but didn’t feel motivated to get moving so I opened the vestibule of my tent and lay there watching the sun rise over Mt Shasta. With the sun eventually full force in my face, I still didn’t feel like moving so I was slow to get out of camp. I heard Genna’s alarm go off (which is a little ditty lives in my head rent free) and pushed myself to move.
It was a day of long stretches of flat ridgline walking. Perfect podcast listening trail. I had lunch at Parks Creek Trailhead next to the cleanest smelling pit toilets ever. A nice lady brought fresh juicy peaches as trail magic. They were just the right amount of ripe. I sat in the shade eating and listened to the other hikers talk about all the miles they’ve been crushing. I’m not sure when this happened but doing 30s is the new 20. Which is wild to me. And everyone just acts like this is a normal acceptable thing. I only point this out because in my new found “happy to be on trail” mindset, doing 30 miles a day is the quickest way to get me off trail. Not cool bro.
I was putting on my shoes after lunch break and broke off the hook thingy on one of my gaiters. So I left both of them off. It’ll be an interesting experiment to see how dirty my feet get. The miles after lunch were still cruisey, but also very hot. For some reason I had to keep stopping and stretching. I think flat miles are harder on my feet.
Surprisingly I made it to camp first. This is a truly astonishing feat, as the group usually passes me about 1000 in the morning. I got first pick of the sites! The water source was a slow spring, but apparently abundant because there was a large amount of California pitcher plants, or Cobra Lilies. They are carnivorus and poisonous to animals but a good indicator of water nearby. I ate dinner with the group once they caught up (lol) and watched the sunset light up my tent.
These three look like they’re having a meeting that you just interrupted.
Day 117: 19.1 miles
I spent the morning ruminating on recovery. Because that essentially is what this trip is about. Recovery from trauma. Recovery from depression. Recovery from alcohol. It takes time, and I was thinking on ways to allow myself grace. I expect so much of myself, too much, and of course get angry when I don’t meet my own impossibly high standards. But recovery doesn’t have a time frame or rigid schedule. I just have to gently keep reminding myself that I’m exactly where I need to be, doing exactly what is necessary. And here’s the essential part: forgive myself when I forget that.
I spent the 10 miles down to Hwy 3 thinking about this. Also thinking about how I could get a sandwich at the Callahan Emporium if I could just find a hitch. It became my happiness goal. Its dangerous, I know, but it flung a craving on me as my Dad would say*. I had told the others about sandwich obtaining but they didn’t seem as enthusiastic. I arrived at the crossing to see that it was a slow traffic road but patiently waited. Ten minutes later a line of motorcycles went by but still no cars. I was about to give it up as a bad cause until another bunch of motorcycles passed this time with a car following.
I flagged down the car who probably thought I was having an emergency in hindsight. Judd and his dog Wigglebutt agreed to drive me down to Callahan. He was on his way to check out a Fifth Wheel to buy and possibly put on his property. 10 minutes later I stood before one of the three buildings in the hamlet of Callahan. Inside I quickly ordered to sandwiches and bought cold drinks. It was almost lunchtime and locals(?) started trickling in. I gobbled down one of the sandwiches and began the task of hitching. I didn’t want to get too far behind my group. Three nice ladies on their way back from a backpacking trip offered me a ride back to trail. All in all it only took an hour and ten minutes. And I packed out a sandwich for dinner!
The next 8 miles were an afternoon slog fest in the direct sun and humid heat. I entered the Trinity Alps and had some more interesting mountains to look at. But always there is Mt Shasta lurking in the background. First we went north, then west, the south for a bit, the east again. ALWAYS Mt Shasta is somewhere on the horizon. It feels like we’re walking circles around it…or that we never left. OoOoOOooo. Spooky.
I got to camp and my group was surprised to see me so soon. They kinda thought I’d get stuck down in Callahan. I laughed and told them it took less time than normal lunch. Then my glasses broke. I feel like maybe I’ve been cursed by Mt Shasta?
*I also tried to remember all my Dad’s favorite sayings, these are just a choice few:
Crazier than a run over dog
Finer than frog’s hair
Good enough for government work
That dog won’t hunt
I’ll bet you ten dollars to a donut
If I tell you a rooster dips snuff, you ask what brand
Don’t start me to lyin
That’s for sure and that’s for certain
(When going home) Quicker than a barn sour mule
[Some influence] flung a craving on me
Froggy, Grampa, TJ, and Choo choo
Day 118: 22.1 miles
Today was rough. It had all the things I hate. I kept picturing Stefon from SNL listing it out. If you don’t know who that is, go Google it real quick and then come back.
Let me tell you about the PCT’S newest trail. It’s got everything! Downed trees, overgrown trail, steep exposed climbs, burn areas, and everybody’s favorite: hot blasting sun!
Got to camp and met a guy from Hiawassee and we talked about accents for awhile. A totally unbothered deer wandered around camp for most of the evening. I set up on a slope, so not much rest was had.
I got long legs now!The trees were bleedingnthis red sap. It was sad.This climb took forever. I didn’t take many pictures today. Night night.
Day 119: 8.7 miles
I realized my sunglasses were broken this morning. This must be the part of the trail where things just get slightly annoying. Or the Mt Shasta curse is real. I didn’t take any chances and the next time I spotted it to the east I offered it a formal apology for possibly offending by telling everyone the stories about the Lemurians.
Shortly after that it was a short 2 miles to the trailhead that would take me to Etna! The hitch there, we all sat on the driver’s camping stuff and before he got in the cab he told TJ “we don’t got brakes so we’ll be taking it slow” lol.
Town day! Etna had $5 camping in their city park, toilets/shower, cheap-ish food, an awesome outfitter, and a free pool. It’s is a cute little town that really likes hikers. Got some resupply here and did some laundry. I saw that fella who wasn’t taking a shower or laundering for the whole trip and his shirt looks GROSS. I don’t know why, I didn’t ask. That would require getting near him.
I also saw a Ford Courier! It’s the same truck that I inherited from my Grampa at 16. It was constantly breaking down and had a Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass cassette stuck in the 8 track player (which didn’t work anyway). It’s the first time I’ve EVER seen a Ford Courier other than mine out in the wild. I kinda lost my shit and TJ and Genna were flummoxed I’m sure.
So this and finding a working telephone booth has made me think this town doesn’t exist in the “normal” space time continuity that the rest of us live in.
I’m the first one to pin Columbus!TJ and Genna finally get their matching Pokémon hats.This shirt was the same color as mine.A mother flippin Ford Courier!
Day 120: 0 miles
We took an unexpected zero. Genna is waiting on pretty important package that won’t get into Etna until tomorrow. Me and TJ are staying with her, while Froggy and Grandpa had already gotten back on trail. To be honest I wasn’t very mad about it. We got to eat more and go to the pool. I meandered around the thrift store. Ate some pizza and got a foot massage. Not bad for an unplanned zero.
I rung the hook! Genna repackages her butter.
Day 121: 0 miles
We decided to skip up to Seiad Valley so we could keep together with Froggy and Grampa. But then TJ and Genna went ahead to the river to wait out the heat while I stayed at the General Store. Some locals came by and asked if anybody wanted a ride to the top (it would skip a 6000 ft climb) and I took them up on it. My pals didn’t want to go. I’m not above skipping a hot nasty climb though.
Another hiker Lindsay went with me though and we had a harrowing ride up a bumpy mountain road that I’m not entirely sure the driver could see. Setup camp and realized that I could be in Oregon the next day. So I told TJ and Genna I’d go ahead and I’d see them in Ashland.
Day 122: 21.4 miles
I woke up excited to get going for once. The climbs were easy in the early morning air. I kept slowing down to take pictures of all the wildflowers in bloom. They’re mostly the same as what has come before. There are more Lilies though and I can’t stop marveling at all the wild beauty. Bees buzz on long mountain slopes of Horse Mint and butterflies flit from Mountain Pennyroyal to Yarrow. I walked along wide open ridgelines with the ever present Mt Shasta in the blue distance. My happy today was just stopping when I wanted to photograph the little things without feeling guilty of “losing miles”.
Late in the afternoon I made it to Donomore Cabin which to be honest was kinda creepy. It had a picnic table and fresh cold spring water so I cooked dinner and contemplated my immediate future. I sipped some Sonic brand Cherry Limeade (added to water, seriously the best!) and evaluated the pros and cons of continuing vs camping in this creepy spot. The inside was crowded with cots and camping detritus and the surrounding ground was all sloped which would make tenting uncomfortable. When some SOBOs showed up wanting to camp there I made my decision: to Oregon!
It was only 1.7 to the Oregon border and I felt the excitement push my legs up the hill. I was finally going to get out of California! When I got to the marker I was all alone. The trail log was full of hikers marking their passage and I think I might be in a bubble. There were at least 40 names on this day alone. I took some pictures and a moment to congratulate myself. It was only a little further to camp and I’d be getting there relatively early! I treated myself to eating absurd amounts of candy and reading a book. It was fitting end to the day and a huge chunk of the trail.
A seat with a view, and yes that’s Mt Shsta in the distanceFirst campsite in Oregon!
A Worthwhile Adventure 