Post-PCT bits and bobs

It's now been 11 days since I finished, and in the meantime I've gone back home to Oregon and resumed normal domestic life with my girlfriend--running to the store to pick up milk, vacuuming the living-room carpet, drinking beer with the geology grad students, etc., etc. But the trail experience isn't quite over yet. For instance:

- I've managed to upload some, but not all, photos that were not available to put on the blog because they were taken with other cameras. The best one came from the day I was stung by the scorpion (Day 9: Monday, May 13) and I actually got a picture of that little bugger crawling on my sleeping back before I flicked it into oblivion. I added that image to the blog post retroactively. Once I get all pictures from all cameras/phones into one place on my computer, I will make a big photo album somewhere and share it on this blog.

- Also from that same day's entry came my first encounter with Rocket Llama, who as of this writing is missing, presumed somewhere before White Pass in Washington. She was supposed to check in with her dad on Monday (but whether this means she was supposed to reach White Pass then, I'm not sure), and it is now Friday. Search and rescue operations have been active for the past few days, and reports started to come in this afternoon that footprints were spotted in the snow leading to a stand of trees somewhere "south of the Goat Rocks." She was hiking alone into the hellacious storm that hit the Northwest last weekend (leading to the wettest September on record in some places), and might not have been outfitted with much winter gear, not that it would help a lot in such historically bad conditions. Two other hikers, whom I also met briefly in the desert, were rescued by a helicopter three days ago and another one was rescued today in another area farther north.

As is typical these days, you're missing out on the most up-to-date information (and sometimes misinformation, like "Rocket Llama was spotted by a hotel clerk in Packwood on Thursday") if you're not on facebook. There have been virtually live updates for the last two days about the activities and findings of the SAR effort, and now the PCT 2013 facebook group is being used to mobilize a ground search team made up of PCT hikers in the area with winter backcountry and mountain rescue experience. Over on WhiteBlaze.net, where people usually love to speculate upon and criticize all search-and-rescue situations involving long-distance hikers, the farthest this story has gotten is someone who wrote a blurb, in Comic Sans, accidentally on the Pinhoti Trail forum instead of the PCT forum. WhiteBlaze ftw again.

I wrote a comment to the following effect on the facebook page: with no disrespect to Rocket Llama, PCT hikers have an undeserved feeling of invincibility by the time they get to Washington, when in truth all we've done is hike in near-perfect weather on an impossible-to-lose trail for a few months. Nothing from hiking the PCT in the summer of 2013 would prepare anyone to head out into winter conditions in the Northwest high country; they would have to have experience with those sorts of conditions from some previous adventure before they could responsibly go forward.

- Many people in different parts of northern Washington wisely did not head out into the bad weather last week, and others did but turned around before they got themselves in a pickle. My old pal Spit Walker sent me an e-mail saying he hiked 50 miles southbound to get out of the Glacier Peak Wilderness; he said it was "the best decision of my life" and "I was about an hour away from big trouble." Very few hikers are going to end up finishing at the monument after October 1, and some that do will have road-walked around the mountains (as Andy and Cream Tea, whom I knew back in the desert, are currently doing, according to their posts in the facebook group). Muk-Muk and Myla from Carleton are hiking/snowshoeing either together or very close to each other on the PCT proper, along with maybe 10 other hikers, between Stehekin and the finish at the moment.

- Finally, I updated the FAQ page to include some new questions and better answers to the old ones, now that I've actually finished the hike (all the previous answers were written in March and were based off my AT hike and things I'd read about the PCT).

- Scrub

Day 142: Monday, September 23

Finished the PCT today at the U.S./Canada border and then exited at Manning Park, BC (PCT mi 2669.0), walked 15.1 miles today

As Jesus once said, "It is finished." I made it to the end of the PCT at about 10 this morning, and now 12 hours later I'm at my Carleton friend Aaron's house in Seattle. It started with a lot of snow ... It snowed all night, although there was only a dusting around my tent because I was thoroughly sheltered by trees. Woke up to Blur and Goodall chatting outside my tent at 6:30, Goodall saying something like, "We're really finishing today, right? Because my sleeping bag is soaked, I'm wearing all my clothes, and I won't have a crumb of food left by this afternoon." They left and apparently did a very good job finding the trail through the untracked snow for the first few miles, because all we had to do later was follow their footprints and no one got lost. Shortly after their departure, my tent pole collapsed (again), and I spent the next 20 minutes packing most of my stuff up and changing clothes with one hand while the other supported the pole and the tent ceiling--a maneuver only recommended for experienced thru-hikers. I felt like I had passed some kind of final exam when I pulled it off successfully. When I finally escaped out the door, the tent collapsing behind me, I could see Spark and Instigate were almost packed up, so once I had stuffed the tent away I left with them.

There was around 3 inches of snow on every surface once we left the shelter of the trees, and it stayed that way for about two miles. The trail was descending the whole time, though, so eventually we entered a thoroughly miserable slush zone, wherein the tread was sunk in 6 inches of frigid water from time to time. Then below that, it was just the usual rainy wet Washington forest. I fell behind the whole group and started running quite a bit over the last mile to catch up ... Eventually I heard hootin' and hollerin' coming from the woods down below me and I knew I was close to the monument, and just a minute later I rounded a bend and there it was, with Lotus, Hermes, Spark, Instigate and Jackrabbit all standing around. At first everyone was kind of quiet and subdued--people posed for pictures, Hermes passed around the bottle of Moët he'd been lugging since Stehekin, some of the ones with stoves and fuel remaining heated up coffee and tea, everybody had a look at and signed the trail register, which was nearly impossible to access stuck as it was inside the heavy silver monolith. Everyone, myself included, got more comfortable with actually being there and got more talkative as time went on, but we also all began to freeze our asses off and everyone moved on into Canada after about 45 minutes total at the border. Robin Hood and Carrot still hadn't made it at that point, as were hoping they would, so Instigate scratched a note in the dirt that said, "RA HO AND CARROT, WE GOT COLD AND LEFT. SORRY. MEOW."

It had been 6 miles at that point but there were still around 9 to go to get out of the woods at the Manning Park Ski Resort along Highway 3 in Canada. Again, I fell behind and did those last miles entirely myself, just as 90% of the other miles on the trip have been. They went up and over a gentle climb of Windy Joe--such a Canadian name for a mountain. The last bit was on a sort of jeep track, then a paved road, then suddenly I found myself wandering around in the rain on some mowed lawns next to funny-looking lodge buildings, looking for the main one where they would have my box of dry clothes, a restaurant and a place to sit for a few hours to wait for Kristin. I felt so out of place--more than I usually do when I stumble out of the woods alone and into civilization--but I did find the main lodge and was able to change into jeans, a t-shirt and a wool sweater and have a decent meal in the restaurant with a bunch of other hikers. Robin Hood and Carrot dragged in at 4, saying they'd spent the night before Woody Pass and had to do the climb up to 7100 feet this morning (by comparison, the rest of us started at 6200 and went down from there), and that "it was full-on winter already up there." Around 4:30, Kristin arrived and Robin Hood, Hermes and Lotus piled in and I took us on a savage journey west and south back to the I-5 corridor in the good old U.S. Surprisingly, the border people at Abbotsford did not bat an eye at a carload of young dirty people claiming to have walked into Canada that morning and let us pass without extra inspection. We dropped Hermes & Lotus off in Bellingham at the downtown food co-op, where they were planning to meet an acquaintance of theirs. Then Robin Hood and I got in our last junk meals for awhile at Wendy's--no more crap like that if I'm not hiking it off the next day--and we made it to Seattle by 9:30. Dropped Robin Hood off at a friend's house, said my goodbyes to him and wished him luck on his upcoming season of work at McMurdo in Antarctica, then 10 minutes later Kristin and I were here, at our friend Aaron's place. The hike is really over, but it'll be hard to really feel that until I get up tomorrow morning and realize there's no walking, no intense physical exertion to do, and there won't be for a long time.

Day 141: Sunday, September 22

Tenting at Hopkins Lake (PCT mi 2653.8), walked 23.7 miles today

Woke up at 7 to every hiker's favorite weather--35 degrees and wintry mix! Fortunately none of it had drifted onto or puddled underneath my sleeping area, so I packed up dry and put on enough clothes to keep warm for the breakfast/standing around period. Serpent Slayer was already up and busting his ass in some really really awful weather to make pancakes and sausage and coffee for everybody ... Watching people labor at food prep always impresses me, because personally it's possibly my least favorite task in the world, but watching him do it in 35-degree rain I could barely believe it. Everyone, not least me, was eternally grateful for having fresh, hot, high-calorie food on such a wretched morning. Filled up on pancakes and sausage, then stood around the fire to keep warm, not enthusiastic about being the first one to leave. Around ten the crew started to trickle out, so I followed suit ... We climbed a little at first to get the blood warm, and after that it was gentle up and down for long stretches. Never had any thermoregulation issues today, thanks to my rather unconventional, but standard for the past week, layering system of fleece-windshirt-raincoat on top and thermals-hiking pants on the bottom.

We had all been wondering aloud if there were something like 10 horses on the trail in front of us, because we were stepping in fresh horse poop unusually often right off the bat, but I don't think anyone actually expected 10 horses. We were more right than we knew: a 12-horse train passed by right during the worst part of the rain, in the lower-elevation forest in the middle of the afternoon. No idea what you need a huge pack train for in the middle of the northern mountains during a fall storm, but I didn't ask any of the riders, who were all men, because I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer. After that very wet stretch in the forest, the trail climbed up to the exposed area near Rock Creek Pass and Woody Pass, around 7,000 feet, and it started to snow on Hermes, Lotus and me for real this time. Between those two passes, we knew there was some serious damage to the trail from washouts, but I didn't really know what to expect because I couldn't picture a washout in my mind. Now I know--imagine a 10-15' wide, 10-15' deep canyon that suddenly gets carved into a hillside in one catastrophic slide. There were 7 of them in one half-mile stretch, varying in size, all requiring some scrambling to get through. After Hermes, Lotus, Spark, Instigate and I made it past the obstacle course, we made our last real climb of the whole PCT up to Woody Pass and then to the unnamed high point two miles beyond that. All the way up to Woody, it was snowing but not enough to really stick, and it was freaking spectacular all around in every direction ... I had to stop and have a 5-minute take-it-all-in break close to the top. And then in the high stretch afterward, there was real live snow on the ground, on all the trees, all around us for over a mile. We talked about how we were so happy that we'd timed the finish just right, where we got to see a little winter, a little snow, but didn't have to slog through the cold and wet for weeks just to make the border.

The trail started its gradual descent down to the monument and the winter wonderland ceased after just a few hundred feet of elevation loss ... After a mile and a half we made it to this lake, our home for the night. Lots of good sheltered campsites scattered amongst the trees; Blur and Goodall were already here set up. Pitched camp for the last time myself, and Carrot's tarp-door thing is working to good effect again because I accidentally left the open side facing the wind (2650 miles and I still don't have this stupid tent figured out). Ice is falling on the tent and there's probably going to be a freeze tonight. Tomorrow it's 6.2 miles to the border, then 9 miles to Manning Park, then Kristin's picking me and Hermes and Lotus and Robin Hood up at 5, and literally every single thing after that point, from the very short term (where are we spending the night? where are we dropping them off?) to the long term (what am I going to do with the next several years of my life?) is a complete and utter mystery for me. I'm going from a world where I have established very good control of the very small number of variables--what's in my pack, what I'm eating, how far I'm walking today--to a world where I don't know if I have control of anything.

Day 140: Saturday, September 21

Sleeping under a big tarp at Hart's Pass Campground (PCT mi 2630.1), walked 26.9 miles today

Alarm went off at 6:15 this morning and when I woke up, rain was POUNDING on the tent, making me wonder just how bad today was going to be. But it subsided completely by the time I had stepped outside to finish packing up, and there actually wasn't any rain for the first several miles as the trail climbed up to Cutthroat Pass, and there was even a view of sorts around the top. The trail was super-high-quality, wide and rocky and not puddly despite the night of rain, and it stayed up high for awhile after the pass and put out views to all directions, which I could kind of see with the clouds. Rain did come back in the middle of the morning, reaching peak intensity right as I ran into two people with their three pack llamas ... They said a) that they expected to see no one out in this weather (but then I explained that I was a thru-hiker and told them they'd be seeing at least 8 more of us in short order), and b) that they had been snowed upon at their camp, which was above 7,000 feet, and the precipitation that was falling on us as we talked was even a little slushy. Got down from high elevation after Methow Pass starting around 11, and suddenly all signs of bad weather disappeared and it was sunny, gloriously sunny for the rest of the afternoon. I had been leapfrogging Blur and Goodall, two Reed alums, all morning and we frequently remarked on our distrust of the windows of blue sky we were starting to see, but by noon we had to concede it was really happening. Dried all my stuff out and walked alone for an hour or so through the valley, then took a break before the big afternoon climb up 2500 feet to a pass that, as far as I can tell from the maps, didn't even have a name ... we'll call it Doodles Pass for reference.

After summiting Doodles, the trail did another spectacular traverse of some very high ridges ... By this time, me, Spark, Instigate, Jackrabbit, Hermes & Lotus and sometimes Blur and Goodall were all within a few minutes of each other and we ended up taking a highly entertaining break at a spring together. Despite the sun, it was starting to get brisk (40-45 degrees) in the late afternoon at such elevation, and we all had trail magic in a few miles at Hart's Pass to look forward to, so no one tarried long. I made it to the pass about two minutes before everyone else did, thereby winning, and told the trail magic providers that there was a crowd on the way. The providers were Serpent Slayer and Slick, both former thru-hikers from Bellingham, WA who had independently decided to do trail magic this weekend at this pass, ran into each other up here and combined forces. Slick had more traditional food offerings (grilled bacon cheeseburgers) and Serpent more new-fangled (rice and lentils with pineapples and raspberry chipotle dressing), but they both had plenty of soda and beer and wine and little extra goodies like stuffed olives and clementines that everyone, myself included, really enjoyed and appreciated. They also had a cracking fire going the whole time, and I pretty much never moved from it. After awhile Slick broke out his guitar, played and sang a few tunes, then asked if anyone else knew any lyrics that he could provide accompaniment for. I made a stab at "El Paso" by Marty Robbins, recalling about 90% of the lyrics and never even coming close to hitting his high notes, then later did Bryan Bowers' "The Scotsman" and Johnny Cash/Shel Silverstein's "A Boy Named Sue" both without instrumental accompaniment but with more lyrical success. Another hiker named Runs With Elk recited all of Robert Service's "The Cremation of Sam McGee," which I still recall most of and had actually had stuck in my head for awhile the other day. Carrot and Robin Hood showed up after dark, as usual, then the crowd thinned out and some people told jokes around the fire and by 10:30 it was just me, Burrito Grande and an old-timer named Let It Be still up. I called it a night, not caring for Let It Be's drunken platitudes about America and the world and the old days and whatnot, and since I didn't feel like dealing with my tent and having it get wet all over again tonight, I took some space under a big tarp they had strung up in the trees and lay down here. Burrito Grande later joined. He was so drunk that he forgot to put his sleeping pad down underneath him and then finally said, "Ach, I knew I was forgetting something!" Tomorrow the plan is to eat a huge hot breakfast here, then strike out into the maelstrom (or the sunshine, they seem equally likely) and get 20 or so miles done, to be within 10 of the border for the final day. It's almost over. I refuse to do any reflecting because I don't believe in that without the benefit of months or years of hindsight, but I will at least say that I'm making a concerted effort to soak in everything--every view, personal interaction, minute around the campfire, etc.--before it's all done.

Day 139: Friday, September 20

Tenting at Campsite CS2603 (PCT mi 2603.2), walked 23.0 miles today

Woke up at 7 and soon got down to the Lodge to wait for the 8:00 bus, which left around 8:10. There were 10 hikers on the bus when it started and two more joined when it stopped at the Stehekin Ranch, meaning the hike-out crowd level was like something from the AT, or the SoCal desert after Kickoff. All the hikers plus some of the non-hiking passengers sprinted out and mobbed the bakery when the bus made its "5-minute" stop there ... I purchased many, many items from the day-old shelf, most of which I couldn't even identify beyond "tasty-looking bread/pastry product," and stashed them in my pack to finish off what has become easily the most extravagant and unhealthy resupply of the whole hike. The bus dropped the hiker posse off at High Bridge, we posed for some pictures, then everyone fizzled out into the woods.

Hermes, Lotus and I after a few miles had outpaced everyone and were rolling together; Jackrabbit and Blur caught up to us while we were breaking at a cascading river in the sun and the five of us were around each other the rest of the way. Said break was probably the last time on this trip that I will be warm--I was thinking to myself as I sat there eating how the difference between hiking in sunny weather and in rain is so extreme that they almost shouldn't even count as the same activity. You don't have to worry about ANYTHING hiking when it's warm and dry--just sit wherever you want, eat wherever, go wherever, camp wherever, whenever. That's why, day to day, I haven't found most of the PCT especially difficult, because so much of it has been in nearly perfect hiking weather. In the afternoon the temperature dropped a bit, although it still wasn't quite what you'd call cloudy, and from high vantage points it was easy to see a front off in the distance to the south, the one that's supposed to bring all our awful rain/snow/what have you. But as Carrot kept saying today, we're just out on a 3-day weekend hiking trip, and on Monday it'll all be over .... A little bad weather won't hurt anyone! Also there's a hiker feed at Hart's Pass 27 miles from here, so it's conceivable, if they are well-organized and have good shelter, that we will have somewhere dry to stay tomorrow night (the bathroom buildings at Hart's are another possibility).

Arrived at this campsite and found a passable tent spot, but it was far away from everyone else so I hung out with them (them being Hermes, Lotus and Jackrabbit) through dinner and then retired to set up my tent at dark. Figured I had the whole area to myself when Carrot and Robin Hood pulled their now signature move and staggered into camp after dark and set up nearby. They said there was lightning on the horizon, so I got out and battened down my tent a bit more and Carrot was nice enough to lend me a triangular cuben-fiber door/tarp contraption that is meant to go with the Hexamid tent, which she also owns ... I had no idea this existed but I strung it up in my tent and I have more peace of mind than usual when rain is in the offing and I'm lying in the Hexamid. They're good camping neighbors because they have absurd senses of humor, particularly Carrot, and are very good about remaining upbeat about the two-day shellacking we are about to receive. Tomorrow is almost certain to be a 27-miler to Hart's pass for the hiker feed. Keep calm, carry on.

Day 138: Thursday, September 19

Cowboying at the campground in Stehekin, a zero day

Today was one of the best days ever. I'm not sure anything else on the trail competes with it, and I'm not sure I ever want to come back to Stehekin because not everything will just fall together so perfectly again. Slept til 8:45 in our very dark room, and after some loafing and moaning set out into the bright world to get the lay of the land--where the one phone in town was, the showers, laundry, "community building" with internet, etc. Located the phone first and with help from Robin Hood's phone card made two calls, one to Kristin to organize a Manning Park pickup for Monday, one to my dad to wish him a happy birthday. He said he had been in Stehekin in June 1973, more than 40 years ago. The way he described it made it sound like not much has changed since then. After using the phone, I found the other essentials, including the community room which turned out to have all kinds of plush new couches, a big TV and a very fast, reliable internet connection, which was a great surprise to me knowing how Stehekin seems to pride itself on detachment from the outside world. Went to the PO when it opened at 10 and picked up two packages, one with nearly enough food for the final 90 miles plus my passport and border documentation, and one from A-Game in Maine with a TON of toll house cookies and a friendly note. Drank nearly a half-gallon of whole milk to accompany said cookies and called it breakfast, and then it was time to catch the bus to the Stehekin bakery, which is maybe the most legendary single food establishment on the PCT (competing with Timberline).

The weather was perfect this whole time--70-75 degrees and as clear as possible, the good side of autumn in the Northwest. At the bakery I ate and drank my fill of espresso and savories with Carrot, Robin Hood, Hermes and Lotus, leafing through a Calvin & Hobbes book in the process. Took the bus back and then spent the afternoon on the porch of the Lodge, sipping San Pellegrino soda, people-watching, and, once all the people left on the ferry down Lake Chelan, finally reading the articles Kristin had sent me two packages ago at Snoqualmie. Did laundry after that and, while it washed, went up to the community room to use the internet briefly, including looking at all of Bow's great pictures of the PCT on his facebook page (he, Matan, Gangster and Siesta all finished on the 5th). All my chores thus accomplished, I went back to the Lodge and had another pasta dinner that couldn't be beat, this time with Coca, Sailor Moon, Egg, Laptop and Leftovers, who had all just arrived today. Carrot sat down at our table at the end and the subject of Garth Brooks' "That Summer" somehow came up, which prompted Carrot and Me to regale the table and pretty much the entire restaurant with the entire song in all its steamy glory. Out on the porch beforehand, someone had discovered a package intended for Uncle Famous and Miss Maggie, whom we all knew were here days ago; group reasoning determined that it probably contained their celebratory booze and that since they would never see it, they would of course want us to drink it. Postal laws be damned, we opened it and it turned out to be a liter of Black Bush Irish whiskey, and everyone got a swig or two.

We all retired to the campsite after that, the whiskey not yet finished, and listened to music primarily from mine and Spark's phones that fit with the "That Summer" vibe--novelty tunes with well-known sing-alongable lyrics from the '90s or early 2000s. Egg, me, Coca, Hermes and Lotus, Robin Hood, Carrot, Leftovers and Instigate all crowded around one picnic table for an hour or so in the dark and just sang and talked and reminisced about everything, trail-related or not. Once people started turning in, I walked out onto the dock right in front of the campsite, underneath a full moon in the middle of this unbelievable gorge with a lake at the bottom, and realized that I had it pretty good. Starting Saturday, the last three days of hiking are undoubtedly, according to every weather forecast, going to be a very cold, wet, maybe even snowy slog, and everyone knows that, but today was so ideal and perfectly paced and convivial that no one could be bothered to worry about it. Now I see why everyone raves about Stehekin.

Day 137: Wednesday, September 18

In a room at the Stehekin Lodge (left PCT at mi 2580.2), walked 22.6 miles today

Woke up initially at 6:10, thinking that if I got started then, I could easily make the 3pm bus, but then I looked out of the tent and it was still pitch dark and raining and I decided against any such notions. At 7:15 I was awake again and left by 8 ... It was still raining, a colder harder rain than in the past few days, and it stayed that way for the first 5 miles or so. The first 3 miles were a climb that had many vista points that doubtless overlook something awesome on a clear day, but I'll never know what they were because it was socked in. Eventually I did get to a spot that had a ridiculous view, even with the clouds, of a massive wall of glaciers and peaks all around, with fresh snow at the top just a few thousand feet above the trail ... Couldn't take a picture of it because I didn't want to get the camera out in the rain, but it was one of the most spectacular points of the whole PCT. Later, the trail went through a similar valley and the sun was peeking out for a second, making a faint rainbow, and I did get a picture of that, plus video on the real camera (i.e. not immediately uploadable to the blog). So the morning wasn't a total loss.

With about 10 miles to go the sun came out and stayed out, and the rest of it was a pretty nondescript amble through some low-elevation forest next to a river. Caught up to Robin Hood and Carrot and passed them after some leapfrogging. Around 4:30, made it into North Cascades National Park, the 7th and final one of trail, and across the bridge (pictured below) to the High Bridge Ranger Station. Hung there, by myself at first then later with Carrot and Robin Hood, for an hour and a half, got my stuff all dried out in the meantime, then at 6 caught the bus to Stehekin. The driver had to stop to refuel the bus and told us that right next to the fueling station was a kind of town dump/charity clothes heap that was usually worth sorting through and we could feel free to take whatever we wanted. So we walked into some big dark warehouse in the middle of the Washington woods and came out with some fly threads: me a white fleece sweater-vest, and Carrot a wool peacoat and a "70s clown blouse" (I asked her to describe it personally, I can't really improve on that).

We got to Stehekin and it's too beautiful to describe. Immediately we went into the one restaurant and I had a rather steeply priced but very high-quality pasta dish with a quesadilla on the side. Afterward, it was dark and the hotel office was closed so we wandered around for awhile hoping we'd run into Hermes and Lotus, who we thought had a room ... Another hiker told us they were actually camping for the night, so we went to purchase a hotel room for ourselves, getting special after-hours entry to the hotel office through our new friend the waitress at the restaurant. The room was exorbitantly priced for what it is, which is tiny and devoid of normal amenities, but no one cares, we're dry and happy and full and cleaned up. We have a no-alarms pact for tomorrow morning. Almost certainly going to be a zero tomorrow.

Day 136: Tuesday, September 17

Tenting by Miners Creek (PCT mi 2557.6), walked 29.1 miles today

Woke up feeling very warm and dry, but one look outside was depressing because it was just as dark and foggy as the day before, although not raining, which was a plus. The real thing that has motivated me the past few days is that I barely have enough food to get to Stehekin tomorrow ... If I had been flush with good food this morning, there's no way I would've found myself putting on wet clothes at 7 a.m. to step out into a cloud and go hike 30 miles. I would've been doing what Spark and Instigate were doing as I left and discovered them in an adjacent site--snoring my ass off. Carrot was there too and, as the only one awake, was the spokesperson for the group ... She said they had gotten in at 9:30 last night, borderline hypothermic. Fun times in Washington on the PCT!

Got started around 7:30 and for the first few miles, the trail was still an overgrown rut. Past about 5 miles, however, it was clearly a brand-new, fresh-out-of-the-showroom tread, and I felt like I was flying downhill and then up past Milk Creek. Halfmile's GPS disagreed and told me I was going less than 2.5mph, which makes me wonder how accurate his mileage figures are in this section, which he admits on his maps that he has not personally hiked. At the top of the steep 4-miler out of Milk Creek, I ran into Hermes and Lotus and they said they were repeating roughly the same mantra today as I was--"It's not nearly as shitty as yesterday!" It really wasn't bad at all, except for the dearth of good views ... There was only one spell of real rain around noon, and aside from the first 3 miles, overgrowth levels never reached yesterday's. Leapfrogged with those two the rest of the day, and hiked with them at about 4mph for the brand new section of trail south of the Suiattle River, which was wide and flat like a sidewalk, and passed easily the biggest trees of the whole trail so far. After the Suiattle bridge--also brand new because the old one was wiped out several years ago in a flood--I got ahead of them for the last 8 miles up to this site, which had two frisbee bros from Portland camped at it already (I saw their disc lying on the ground before I even saw them). Found a well-sheltered but, it turns out, kind of lumpy spot among the trees, set up, even let some things hang out to "dry," and fixed up my now standard meal of potatoes with hunks of sausage. After getting in the tent for good around 7:30, it did start to rain a little, but if it's going to rain, that timing is fine by me. Stehekin tomorrow; whether it's the 3pm bus or the 6pm depends on my start time.

Day 135: Monday, September 16

Tenting near Fire Creek (PCT mi 2528.5), walked 23.9 miles today

There was a hellacious storm around 8 last night that blew right over the camp ... Thunder and lightning every few seconds, a fair amount of rain, some wind. I was cool with all of it because of my strong tent position until a few minutes after the worst of the thunder and lightning passed over, when all of a sudden an insane downdraft came and almost destroyed everything. I have no idea how hard the wind was, but I would guess something like hurricane-force (75mph) ... It lasted 30-45 seconds, completely caved in the tent, made the tent pole flex 90 degrees, and I figured that either the tarp was going to be torn to shreds, the pole was going to snap again, or failing that a tree was going to fall and crush me. But miraculously, none of that happened, and all the guylines and stakes held, and I lived to see another day. That was the most scared I've ever been on the whole trip so far, probably ever in the outdoors. I had been all ready to nod off before that, but sleep was forestalled for half an hour or so afterward. The wind never even came close to that intensity again.

Slept until 7:30 because I had earplugs in and was therefore out of touch with the world around me. Got going by 8:15 and even with the late start figured I had an easy shot at reaching Mica Lake, 26 miles away, by the end of the day. But I had not accounted for the extreme treachery of today's trail. It being relentlessly up-and-down for the entire day is one thing, but the tread being in horrible shape and frequently overgrown is another, and then the rain that came off-and-on at first, then just on for the afternoon, was another. So I couldn't go _anywhere_ today, no matter how hard I tried. Only took one sit-down break, for about 20 minutes in the late morning when the weather was almost clear and the views were exceptional, but I still only got 24 miles done in about 10.5 hours of walking. There were very nice views at times in the morning ... I was really enjoying being in the foggy/cloudy hills, in sort of the same way I enjoyed the fog and wind on Mt. Washington on the AT, because I know it's completely natural for the scene to be set that way, and it's still beautiful. However, the beauty more or less disappeared when the clouds intensified in the afternoon, and then it rained for a good 3 hours straight, and I wasn't so thrilled with the environment anymore. Not going to go into all the ways that the washed-out overgrown trench of a trail exacerbated problems, but suffice it to say I was thoroughly soaked, cold and very tired when it came to be 6:45 and I spied some campsites near Fire Creek, almost 3 miles short of my goal. All day, every time I looked up the remaining distance to Mica Lake and calculated an ETA, it got later and later because I could never get close to my usual 3mph. Had a brief rain-free window to set up camp in, which was the most helpful break I got all day ... I'm now dry and, if not toasty, then at least not cold, in my sleeping bag, helped by a fat meal of potatoes and sausage for dinner. Tomorrow the rain might, key word might, clear up, and with any luck I'll be at High Bridge in time to catch a bus to Stehekin Wednesday afternoon.

Day 134: Sunday, September 15

Tenting at Lake Sally Ann (PCT mi 2504.6), walked 23.0 miles today

Slept longer and better than I have in weeks and woke up at 7, didn't leave til 7:45. Didn't really see anyone all morning besides weekenders still in camp ... Eventually I caught up to a fellow named Brownie whom I first met a few days ago and leapfrogged with him the rest of the day. My legs, to my consternation, still were not in 100% hiking mode, so the morning was more of a struggle than it might otherwise have been ... It was largely forested at first, the sun was kind of out but often partially obscured by a high cloud layer, and it was more humid than normal, with occasional strong breezes that suggested incoming weather. Didn't always have my usual motivation to move forward ... The realization of how close we all are to finishing has started to sink in and I'm bittersweet about it, and there hadn't been any bad weather lately to crack the proverbial whip, so I was in the sort of mood to sit down and take the world in.

By the afternoon three factors had helped inspire me to movement: I could see more clouds moving in from a distance, my legs felt better, and for awhile I was very out of water in a 10-mile completely dry stretch, which I was not expecting at this latitude. The dry stretch ended when I heard water trickling under some boulders off the trail, went to investigate, and discovered the purest, most ice cold spring water just barely in reach between the rocks. Sat and enjoyed that moment with a liter of ice-cold Gatorade for at least 30 minutes, then pushed on ... I had a campsite in mind that was two miles past here, but about 15 minutes before I reached old Sally Ann, the low clouds that I'd been seeing in the distance invaded and started pouring over the ridge I was walking. Within a few minutes visibility was down to 100 yards or so and I figured camping sooner rather than later was advisable in case rain wasn't far off--I wanted a site that had a lot of tree cover and wind shielding on both sides of the tent, lest I suffer a repeat of the Goat Rocks night, and also didn't look like it would get really puddly in the event of prolonged rain. As soon as I got to the lake the first site I saw was nearly perfect in both regards, so it was an easy decision to set up here, although execution was challenging because this tent, with all its guylines and odd bloopy shape, does not fit into small nooks very well. While I was getting situated a guy named Super, who runs the Mt. Laguna outfitter (mile 43) came by southbound and chatted me up about the tent and my hike. Once he'd moved on, I got everything inside the tent just in time for random, very short (on the order of 1-2 seconds) splatters of rain and hail to start bouncing off of it. Should be a long night, but I've rarely been this confident about having a weather-worthy setup with the Hexamid before.