Day 168: Seattlites, Larches and a Great Finish

10/5/2024

Section: Milepost 2588 to 2594.1

Total Trail Miles: 2661.1 Miles - all wrapped up

Distance: 5.61 Miles

Moving Time: 03:22 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 1379 Feet

Today is the day. The last puzzle piece falls in place and we can call the Pacific Crest Trail complete. One uninterrupted line from Mexico to Canada along the crest of the Sierra and Cascades. 

We slept in this morning. I had been able to get a signal out with the Spot to my parents at North Fork yesterday, when we were sure we could cross the creek, to come get us today. That was the good news. The bad news was that, because we don’t have a fancy In-Reach, I couldn’t actually send more than a binary message which means I could only tell them to get us on Saturday or Sunday. I couldn’t communicate exactly when on Saturday to come get us so I had pre-record the message to come get us on Saturday in the PM. My only hope was that my parents were watching and could see how close to Highway 20 we had camped last night. Otherwise, we would be sitting there for a while and with limited service in the pass, we would have to stay and wait for them until they arrived. So, given all that - we decided we didn’t need to depart all that early and slept in a little bit. Even still, we were up around 7 and underway just after 8 am. My Suunto has done incredible things with very limited battery life. For the last few days it has been surviving on single digit battery percentages and, presumably, still recording my location with the satellites. 

Our final stage of the PCT looks like an upside down scythe. It begins where we left off last night and heads due east, following Bridge Creek as it winds its way north, parallelling another path we followed in 2017 on a backpacking trip around Stiletto Peak. At a little over 3 miles in, the path converges with Hwy 20 and parallels it, turning briefly west before striking due north for the last half mile, where it comes to a close at the Rainy Pass trailhead. 

Amanda and I were cruising north by about 8:20 AM. The entire stretch today is just slightly uphill. A perfect grade to hold to a quick pace. The day was cloudy and moderately cool as we made our way along Bridge Creek. We passed the turnoff for Fireweed Camp and headed north. About 2 miles out we began encountering overnighters making their way into the backcountry. We stopped and talked to a few of them before continuing on. As we continued north, I looked to my right and was able to catch a glimpse of Stiletto Peak. 

A bit further on, we started to hear the subdued roar of cars making their way up and down Rainy pass. “Getting close,” I said to Amanda, excitedly. We eventually caught sight of the road and I noticed a few cars parked along the berm. At the time I didn't think much of it, figuring people were just jumping on the trail a mile or so down as a head start. We were still a mile from the main trailhead but I thought perhaps they were just people doing Stiletto that didn’t want to park all the way back at the main trailhead. We continued on and passed out of sight of the road for a while. At the Bridge Creek trailhead I started to get a little more curious. At the turnoff we got a view of the highway and I noted cars parked all along both medians of Highway 20 as far as I could see in each direction and there were people walking the road back up towards Rainy Pass. “What’s going on?” I asked Amanda, like she had any better idea than I did. “Not sure,” she replied “maybe Rainy is closed for some reason?” 

The final mile and half went by quickly as we cruised up to the Rainy Pass Trailhead. Every time I looked back at the road through a clearing in the trees I could see cars parked end-to-end up both sides of the highway. We arrived at Rainy to find it not closed but a cluster-fuck of activity. Horns, alarms, excited chatter - everything. Amanda and I looked at each other in our continued bewilderment, reiterating the question I had asked an hour before - what the hell is going on?

Rainy pass is a popular trailhead, for sure, but it’s on the far side of the mountains and all the times we had been to it we had never seen it more than a quarter full. We made our way to the Rainy Pass sign, wanting to get a picture of it as a pivotal mile marker of the trail. Droves of people decked out like they were in an REI ad gave us strange looks as we made our way across the parking lot, like we were the ones out of place. In front of the sign we were able to snag someone to take our picture. He happily obliged. Once he was done we asked him what was going on. A girl passing behind him that must have been part of his party chimed in with an accent that felt like it was more at home in Orange County saying “It’s the LARCHES.” Amanda and I looked at each other for a second, bewildered and then it clicked; it’s early Fall and all of the Tamaracks are turning yellow. It was the making for a natural backdrop that would make any hyperactive, King County Instagrammer uncontrollably cream themselves. Images of the I-5 exit for Mt. Vernon during the Tulip Festival and Leavenworth during the Christmas Light Parade flashed through my head. I turned to look East down the pass at the four-wheeled Seattle carnage that had choked a typically empty North Cascades highway to a standstill. “Fuuuuuuuuck” I quietly let out. Amanda turned to me “Your parents are never going to find us.” 

Both of our phones were dead but, honestly, that didn’t matter, we wouldn’t have had service anyway. I recalled that I had sent my mom directions to the north side of the pass, where we had left almost a year before to finish the segment north to Manning Park. I told Amadna that’s where we should wait and we were about to head that way when a kindly old man asked if we wanted some chips and gatorade. He had recognized that we were just coming off the PCT and was offering a little trail magic which, honestly, we were both in need of. He had his car parked just a few spots up the road and we walked with him to it where he opened the trunk and produced some oranges, chips and gatorade. We thanked him profusely and we talked, in wonder, about the madness all around us. “Yea, it’s crazy,” he said, “my group is doing some loop to the south but I'm not in shape to go with them so I offered to drive and stay by the car instead.” We stayed and talked to him for a while. Hundreds of people were crossing the road on both sides, some heading to the north side of the pass and others to the south. We talked to the guy for a while but I was getting anxious that my parents might be waiting or trying to find us. After a while, we said thank you to the kind gentleman and headed across the road. It was a short walk to the north trailhead. I looked at every truck and car that looked like my dad’s truck or sister’s Subaru but came up empty each time. 

We arrived at the north side trailhead of Rainy around noon and sat down on the retaining wall just in front of the kiosk. “How long do you think we will have to wait,” Amanda said to me. “Honestly, I have no clue babe - could be hours if they don’t come ‘till 4.” A groan was all I got. “Hey, tell you what,” I said “we got some StarLink in our van when we were up here in June, why don’t I go see if there are any #VanLifers in the south parking lot that could let me send a message out.” I still had a little juice in my phone, just enough to get a message out to them if they were still in Bellingham to make a better plan. She agreed and laid back while I walked off down to the main parking lot. I circled for about 20 minutes without any luck. No vans seemed to have the tell-tale panels that signified the WiFi-from-anywhere I was looking for. I returned to Amanda and we hatched a plan to wait until 2 pm, at which point we would consider trying to hitch down the pass. 

The good news was we only had to wait about 30 minutes before my sister’s Subaru pulled up and we let loose a cheer about the same time they did. Thank god they had decided to ditch my dad’s giant pick-up truck - it would have been brutal. I was also glad to see my sister, who had just recently moved to Bellingham, behind the wheel. I had no doubt that navigating the mess out on the pass took all of her mid-twenties patience. I gave both her and my mom huge hugs and explained to them what the mess was. “Larches?!” my Mom said “are you serious!?” Making a few heads swivel towards us. We loaded up our things, got one final picture and got into Claire’s Subaru Forester. I took one look up the trail to Manning Park, remembering the cold morning almost a year before we had set out to finish that final section. I gave a look to Amanda and we both turned our heads south, back on almost 2600 miles of trail that we had now finished between here and Mexico. The journey had finally come to a close. 

Day 167: Past Connections

10/4/2024

Section: Milepost 2569.5 to 2588

Total Trail Miles: 2636.5 Miles

Distance: 16.9 Miles

Moving Time: 08:00 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 2164 Feet

Had some more traffic along the trail this morning in the early hours. I forgot that we are about 5 miles from High Bridge where you can catch a shuttle into Stehekin, so any PCTrs behind us which, evidently there were a few, were racing to get there before the 8 am pick-up. The French couple were up and out long before us. I had forgotten this flavor of the trail - the go, go, go attitude where hikers walk until they drop, hours after dark, only to wake and get going long before the sun comes up. We had had our fair share of that last year and I was glad to be taking it a little slower on this segment. We woke up just after sunrise and got out of the tent, moving a little slowly. We were lower today and so it was a little warmer but the puffy pants were still very much appreciated. I put on some socks, which I had gotten a little too close to the fire yesterday and managed to burn a hole through, before moving to the firepit to organize my things. An Australian guy came through and I talked to him for a while before he dashed off to catch the shuttle.

Amanda and I got a brown blaze in at the camp toilet before regrouping at our packs, doing our warm-ups and heading off down the sandy trail. The stage today doddles along Agnes Creek, dropping slowly, before a steep descent to the confluence with the Stehekin river at Agnes Gorge. Here the trail intersects with an old forest service road - The Stehekin Valley Road - and crosses the river to arrive at the High Bridge Ranger station. From the station, the trail climbs the rest of the day, in undulating fashion. Along the way, it passes Howard Lake and follows the Stehekin river until just before mile 10, when it turns off into the Bridge Creek Drainage. Around Mile 12, the trail crosses Bridge Creek at North Fork Camp and continues to climb the long, gentle sloping valley of Bridge Creek, occasionally gaining and dropping elevation to avoid cliff bands. The day ends at Hideaway Camp along the creek.

We hiked through the early hours of the day, the sounds of Agnes creek below us. Occasionally, we would ascend to a nice, granite bench above the creek and get a view down into it but otherwise we were in the trees. It was quiet, all the PCTrs behind us that were going to catch us today likely had, in order to make it to the shuttle. At around noon we reached High Bridge and turned on to the Stehekin Valley Road in order to cross what was, indeed, a high bridge. A beautiful river raged below, cut out of the stone in epic relief. The rain started to fall just as we arrived at the Ranger Station. We briefly stopped at a picnic bench and ate, but sitting in the rain sucks so we didn’t stay too long. We contemplated picking up the phone that is stationed at the ranger station to call a ride into Stehekin up for us - it was only 50 dollars - but we ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it. One of the biggest regrets from 2023 was not making it to the Stehekin Bakery for a cinnamon roll. That being said, we had been to the bakery on a backpacking trip in 2014 so it’s not like we had never been, it just wasn’t logged as a PCT trail experience. 

From the ranger station we began to hike up the Stehekin River valley. From here, it is pretty much a constant, mellow climb up to Highway 20 from today through tomorrow. We caught more epic views of the river at various outcroppings along the way. We ran into a few groups of retirees that were obviously on a day hike out of Stehekin and said hello to all of them. As is often the case with retiree groups, the weather came up as the rain was constantly falling. Based on their report, we can expect rain into tomorrow which didn’t do anything to brighten our spirits. We continued on and the retiree’s eventually dropped off.

Eventually, we reached Bridge Creek Camp, which is a very nice campground just before the confluence with Bridge Creek along the Stehekin River. Because this camp can be serviced by car from Stehekin it is very well kept and features some large group campsites along the river. It is also the demarcation point beyond which you need permits to stay within the North Cascades National Park. We hiked through Bridge Creek Camp which was totally deserted, and turned off into the Bridge Creek drainage.

An hour beyond the turnoff into the Bridge Creek drainage we reached North Fork Camp. This was the last element that I was unsure about along this section. The old bridge was, supposedly, out and being worked on by the forest service. Evidently, while they were working on it, the temporary suspension bridge had also been taken down, which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me but the NCNP website had been very vague about what was available to make the crossing. Dave, whom we had talked to at Milk Creek, had also been vague about the situation here. The ramifications of not being able to cross were pretty severe. We would have to hike back to HIgh Bridge, go into Stehekin and hike north from the north side of Lake Chelan to get through to Highway 20. The good news was, as we were walking, I kept glimpsing down at Bridge Creek and it looked fordable but we weren’t going to know for sure until we reached the North Fork Camp. Fortunately, the uncertainty was answered immediately upon arrival. The suspension bridge was still very much intact and we quickly crossed it to the other side before stopping for a break.

We sat for a while at the North Fork Camp, the rain came and went and some cheeky chipmunks pestered us for food. I broke down and gave one a peanut. It was clear that the forest service had been working here a while and these little guys had probably gotten more than just peanuts in the last week. Eventually, the rain started to pick-up and we decided to move on. Again, sitting in the rain just sucks all around. 

We left North Fork Camp behind, climbing up from the crossing. Far off we caught the occasional silhouette of another hiker and steadily made ground on her for about 45 minutes before passing. She was French and not super talkative. We passed the turn-off for Six Mile camp and considered turning off. Technically, I had gotten a permit to stay at North Fork this evening but we crossed ahead of schedule and decided to keep going. I doubted, in this weather, that we would be fighting anyone for tent spots. 

As the light started to fade in the late afternoon I looked around and got a feeling of familiarity. I turned to Amanda as we passed the turnoff for South Fork Camp. “I think we’ve been out here babe,” I said to her. “Really?” she said back. “Yea. Hideaway camp. We came out here in like 2014 or ‘15, got in, and realized we didn’t want to sit at the bottom of a river valley for the weekend and came right back out the next day.” “Oh yea!” she said, remembering “It gets darker in the mountains quicker” referencing the quote our friend, Maddy, had imparted on us shortly before the trip, talking about how light fades quicker if you are deep in the mountains. We both tried the quote out on each other again, which was strangely appropriate given it was late afternoon and we were, indeed, losing light fast.

We arrived at Hideaway camp in the late afternoon. Another PCT hiker was sitting on a log near the site we had actually slept at in 2014. We said hi and he asked if we had passed a girl on our way up the trail. We indicated that we had and that she was not far behind us. We proceeded further into the campground and found another nice spot where Amanda pitched the tent and I got everything else figured out. The camp had a bear locker which was nice for, if nothing else, keeping our stuff dry. As we finished setting up the tent, the rain started up in earnest and Amanda and I took the opportunity to set up the little vestibule canopies over the top. The stove gave me one last good boil which enabled us to have a final hot dinner. After we had eaten, I found a break in the rain to run the food to the bear locker. A little Durston tent was now set-up under the canopy of some small trees and the couple had already retreated out of the rain into it.
Amanda and I chilled in the tent, listening to the steady pitter-patter of rain outside before turning to our kindles and, eventually, falling asleep. This rain would have really sucked if we weren’t coming out tomorrow but, as it was, it was only a minor inconvenience.

Day 166: Fighter Jets

10/3/2024

Section: Milepost 2551.9 to 2569.5

Total Trail Miles: 2636.5 Miles

Distance: 16.9 Miles

Moving Time: 08:00 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 2164 Feet

The mice engaged in some more…erratic… behaviour last night. They really do make some outsized mischief and, given that Miners Creek Camp is already a bit of a spooky place, the occasional scrabbling against our tent fly was not appreciated. Despite all of this, we still managed to sleep well. I had almost forgotten how great the sleeping is on the PCT - your body just shuts down. Amanda says she is a little cold on these nights but, honestly, I think this girl would be cold if she had a negative 20° mountaineering bag with her.

This morning was damp and cold at Miner’s Creek Camp. Sad to say it but this might be one of my least favorite sites on the whole PCT. There’s nothing wrong with it, per say, but it just feels lifeless so, after our morning activities were wrapped up, we were happy to be under way. 

The stage today crosses over one of the final high points of the Glacier Peak wilderness, Suiattle Pass. The first 2.5 miles are committed to a 1500 foot climb from Miner’s Creek camp to the pass. From there, the PCT winds into a small cirque, drops 1000 feet and winds through a much larger cirque below Sitting Bull Mountain. From this second, larger cirque, the trail climbs 400 feet and traverses across a cliff band above the South Fork of Agnes Creek before entering into the third and largest cirque below Bannock Mountain. This marks the approximate halfway point of the day, from which the trail descends uninterrupted for 2300’ and 9 more miles, following the South Fork of Agnes Creek the entire way. Along the way it passes Swamp Creek and comes to a close at Five Mile camp. 

We climbed for a little over an hour before reaching Suiattle Pass. The day was clear and bright and we enjoyed the early morning sun filtering through the trees as we went. It did make picking the right layering configuration difficult though. Our jackets were in an almost constant state of being taken off or put back on. At the pass we stopped for a quick break and I snapped some pictures looking back at Glacier Peak. I kept trying to get a glimpse of Bonanza Peak which I have wanted to climb for some time, but I couldn’t see it. Suiattle Pass was one of my last worries coming into this 8 day trip. In October, a snowstorm is always a potential threat and this pass marks the most northern high point in the section so getting through it was a relief once it was behind us. That being said, it’s not really anything to worry about. The southern side is heavily forested and the south side has a few points of exposure but really nothing that is too concerning.

After the pass, we wound into the first cirque below Plummer mountain and then descended to the second cirque. On our way down, a mighty squeakening enveloped us as we began to cross through boulder fields. At one point, Amanda became engaged in a staring contest with a bold little pika who eventually decided it had more important things to be up to. It is October, after all,  he had foraging to do! Shortly after we found ourselves in a beautiful, amphitheater-style cirque with huge boulders littered all around us. We stopped and dropped our packs, finding a nice flat rock to sun-bath on. In a rare moment on this trip, we actually got to feeling a little hot! Turns out I had a few Sea Salt and Vinegar crumbs left, which I did seal the deal on and Amanda enjoyed some sweet snacks she still had. She’s very confident, now, that her sweet-to-salt ratio is too high and has mentioned a few times now that she needs to correct that in the future. 

After a short break we continued on through the boulder field. At the opposite edge of it we started a short, but very frustrating, climb. It was probably frustrating because I had kinda insinuated to other people in my group that today was pretty much all downhill after the pass and this climb was… not expected. In any case, we overcame it shortly after and traversed through more boulder fields before beginning what was truly, the uninterrupted descent of the day. 

As we started the second half of the day, we ran into a SOBO hiker coming up to the pass. He had a large pack and was listening to what appeared to be an early generation iPod shuffle. We said high and wished him luck before he continued on with a few words. 

Down and down we went. Below us we could start to hear the South Fork of Agnes Creek. As we hiked along, we would pass through sporadic avy chutes. Suddenly, I heard a low whistle coming up the river valley. Recognizing it as a jet, I looked up and ahead of the sound. We had been hearing them for the last 2 days and occasionally caught sight of them far above us but this one sounded way closer. Sure enough, as I looked up, a gleaming fighter jet streaked by about 800 feet above us, close enough to make out two helmets in the cockpit. The sound came shortly after and was deafening in the mid-afternoon silence of the forest. I waved, doubtful either pilot could pick us out in the midst of the overgrown avy shoot. “That was loud,” Amanda commented once the jet had passed out of sight. “It was,” I answered “poor Oscar II - I don't know what I would think was happening if I were a bear!” 

We plodded on and eventually reached the South Fork of Agnes Creek, crossing at Hemlock creek. At the crossing we met an older couple trying to figure out how they were going to cross. I used a skinny log over a deep pool while Amanda decided to ford just up from where I crossed. On the other side, we talked to the couple for a while. They were nice to talk to but didn’t have a whole lot to say. As they ate peanut butter spread over pita bread and we snacked on our remaining rations they told us how this was the last section of the PCT they had and had been working on the PCT for almost 20 years. They seemed a little scared of the weather heading into this section this late in the year, which I can't say wasn’t warranted but we wished them luck before heading our separate ways. 

The rest of the day was pretty relaxed. We walked along the South Fork of Agnes Creek in the deep forest. At one point I was able to look up through the Glacier Creek drainage and get a peek at what I think was Bonanza peak. We passed through Swamp Creek in the afternoon and contemplated stopping there as it was really nice, but decided to stick out the 3 remaining miles to Five Mile Camp and, boy, am I glad I did. We arrived at Five Mile camp about 2 hours before dark and found a beautiful, open set of sites on sandy ground. It felt like a very “Eastern Cascade” style campsite, like something you might find out in Bend. We tossed down our packs after agonizing for a bit on which of the amazing sites we should take. Amanda set up the tent while I dipped down to Pass Creek to top up on water. Once I was back I started boiling water for some of the last freeze-dried meals we had and got a fire going at what appeared to be a communal fire pit. Our little MSR Windburner is on its last legs. We got it for our wedding in 2015 and it’s boiled A LOT of water in it’s day without any maintenance. We burned through a canister of fuel that should have been good for about 10-12 days in less than 8 and i’m worried we may not be eating hot food tomorrow night - we will see.

That night, we ate our dinners next to a much more self-sustaining fire and looked up at the stars that would occasionally show themselves. A bit after dark, I went back down to refill the bladders for a quick departure in the morning and walked the bear cans way down to another site below us. We had just gotten into the tent when we heard voices down the trail and saw lamps coming up the way. A couple with a French accent stopped at the turn-off for the camp, which also felt a bit like the doorstep to our tent, and deliberated for a bit on whether to keep going. They decided to stay for the night and I called out that I could move our bear cans, below, if they decided to stay in that site. They thanked me and carried off before one of them came back and indicated that they did indeed want to stay in that site. I got out of bed and ran down to rearrange the bear can, which they thanked me for, before I said goodnight, gave the fire one more safety check and retired back to the tent. Once in, I read for a while before saying goodnight to Amanda and passing out. 

Day 165: Suiattle River

10/2/2024

Section: Milepost 2534.2 to 2551.9

Total Trail Miles: 2618.9 Miles

Distance: 16.95 Miles

Moving Time: 08:40 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 2585 Feet

We woke up to slightly better conditions than we had gone to bed with. The wind had died down but the sky was still very gray. We ate and enjoyed some warm drinks which always sparks intestinal movement. I went off into a strange little drainage to take care of it, taking along with me a cool aluminum shovel that we had found on the climb out of Milk Creek the day before.

For most of the PCT last year, we had carried a hard plastic shovel or, in some cases, just used our ice axes to dig cat holes. I had seen this shovel on other peoples backpacks and, while I wouldn't call the emotions I felt “shovel envy,” they did look pretty sweet. Can confirm though, after my experience this morning, they are very nice to use. One side of the shovel is serrated which helps cut a very nice plug out of the earth where there is usually an inch or so of hardened surface. Works super well! I came back and encouraged Amanda to take a shot at it with the shovel before heading back to my backpack and making sure everything was in its place. Soon after, she returned with a similarly glowing review of our new shovel. We did our warm-ups and were underway around 8:40, swimming through the low hanging clouds that still enshrouded our campsite. 

Today's segment looks like a big W with a very small middle hump. The first half is entirely defined by a 3300’, 8 mile descent from Vista Ridge to the lowest point in the Glacier Peak Wilderness at the Suiattle River crossing. It begins with a stiff set of switchbacks off the ridge, crossing a small drainage, before reaching Vista Creek. From 3600’ on, the trail follows Vista Creek down the drainage for about 3 miles before reaching the confluence with the Suiattle River. Here, the trail does one of its stranger “kick-outs” heading nearly due west, away from the day’s destination to cross the Suiattle river on a very nice bridge and adding about 7 extra miles to the whole endeavor. After the crossing, the trail heads back east along the river, making a small ascent up to the Miner’s Creek drainage, where it turns back up-hill in earnest and climbs into the drainage. The stage climbs 2000 feet in about 4 miles to its resting place at Miner’s Creek camp along its namesake creek. 

The area we are hiking through today was one of the reasons we weren’t sure we were going to get to finish this year. Fires had sporadically popped up throughout the Glacier Peak Wilderness throughout the summer but the Miner’s Creek Complex Fire was deep and wasn’t fully put out until about 2 weeks before we were scheduled to make this second attempt. I had called and emailed the forest service several times but had never really gotten a “hard-and-fast" confirmation that it would be open until the week before we set out and despite being cleared by the the forest service, some beta on the stage ahead had suggested making a small bypass using the Miners Creek Cabin bypass. Fortunately, we had been able to talk with Dave who had told us the section was very small and stable so we didn’t have to take our chances with a potentially very overgrown side-trail. 

From our site we sped downhill, engaging in a seemingly endless series of switchbacks. Before long, Vista Creek could be heard below us. We reached it soon after and continued heading downhill and northwards. The sky opened occasionally, spreading light through the tree limbs above us. We sporadically caught whiffs of smoke in the air and, looking back up at the ridge on the opposite side of the drainage, I could see little smoke columns puffing into the air. We sped downhill, keeping Vista Creek on our right side and quickly made it to the confluence with Suiattle River, turning west once we arrived at the intersection. The trail got even faster here and we made our way west, overcoming occasional blowdown and trying not to think about the fact that we were heading the wrong direction. The Suiattle River area is deep and notorious for uncleared trees down across the trail because it’s difficult to reach for the forest service. 

The trail got maddeningly close to the Suiattle River without any sign of a crossing but, eventually, we did turn right down to the river and a beautiful bridge came into view. We crossed out onto it and put our packs down. The sun came out and we frantically brought out all of our damp articles to try and get them some drying time in. I perched mine precariously close to the edge to maximize sunshine and a small draft that was coming up the river. Amanda stripped down to her underwear and sat on the bridge munching on Cheetos. I enjoyed the last remnants of my kettle chips and put a pretty serious dent in my bag of WINCO chocolate-peanut butter cup trail mix. We relaxed for some time on that bridge. No one came or went across it as we sat there, just enjoying the short bursts of sun that would occasionally pass over. 

After about 45 minutes, we got up, stretched and put our things away into our backpacks. We took some last looks down at the Suiattle River before completing our crossing and turning back east towards the Miner’s Creek drainage. We climbed softly along the Suiattle River for another hour, occasionally walking through some overgrown areas along its banks. For whatever reason, the Forest Service seemed to have been able to get in on this side and clear what would have been some really nasty blowdown. I am guessing they had to do this to get into the fire. Eventually, we reached the turnoff to begin our climb into the Miner’s Creek drainage and stopped to rest for a few minutes.

We started our climb around 4 pm. We had considered sleeping down by the Suiattle River but decided it was worth getting some climbing out of the way. We made our way up the drainage, our legs tired from a long downhill segment in the morning. About an hour into the climb we came to the burned section I had been a little worried about and quickened our pace to minimize our exposure. It wasn’t bad, but it was on a fairly steep slope so we tried to minimize our time in it. We climbed on and soon reached a wide, open area dotted with young trees. We stopped here at Miner’s Creek camp and set up for the night. I got water and attempted to make a fire while Amanda set-up the tent. I know - PCTrs don’t usually make fires. It’s not “the PCT way” but the camp was honestly a little depressing. It was shady, damp and cool and much of our stuff was still a little wet. I did what I could but, even with a lot of help from the fire starters I had brought along (also not the PCT Way), I couldn't get anything to catch for very long - it’s all just a little too wet. None-the-less, Amanda and I enjoyed a few minutes by the fire and put our socks out to get some dry-time but we eventually abandoned the fire prospect, cleaned up our things and ducked into bed. Just wasn’t worth the pain of sitting out in a camp that the mushrooms looked to be about a week from overtaking completely. 

Once in the tent we relaxed and read for a bit before falling off to sleep. Tomorrow was the last climb of this section and, for us, of the entire PCT. After Suiattle Pass it was all easy hiking out to North Cascades Highway.  

Day 164: OKTO-BEAR

10/1/2024

Section: Milepost 2518.4 to 2534.2

Total Trail Miles: 2601.2 Miles

Distance: 15.66 Miles

Moving Time: 06:22 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 4187 Feet

Along the 2600 miles of the PCT there are many low points as well as days of incredible elevation gain and loss. Today was one of those notorious days. We knew it was coming. Everyone talks about the incredible highs of the Sierra but one “low” in particular gets a lot of attention and that is Milk Creek in the Glacier Peak Wilderness. I recall looking at the elevation trends on Gaia in January of 2023. I had the whole thing just about totally plotted out at that time and I remember scanning from the deserts of southern California all the way up to the Pasayten and I distinctly remember seeing this insane elevation profile one day. A day where you drop waaaaaay down only to climb straight back out of the pit. Today…was… that…. day. It has such a stupid name too - Milk Creek? Like, couldn’t have given it a better name? 

In any case, we got another slow start in the early hours of what was another gorgeous day. I don’t know - it’s Fall and maybe our ancient human roots are telling us it’s time to hibernate. Whatever the case, we were up, packed, fed and caffeinated by 8:30, on the trail headed west. 

The path starts today headed away from Glacier peak. An arm sticks off the northwest side of the mountain that creates a challenge to get around and so the path starts heading west to circumnavigate this feature, the Milk Lake Glacier arm. It soon turns north, descends to Fire Creek Pass and then engages in a 1000 foot climb which achieves the high point of the day above Mica Lake. From this point, the trail descends to Mica Lake and then begins what many consider the most epic descent on the entire PCT. The trail drops 3000 feet in 6 miles - all the way to Milk Creek at 3200 feet, only to then cross a sad little bridge and immediately climb nearly 3000 feet back up to the East Fork Milk Creek Cirque which it slings its way around to the adjacent Dolly Creek Cirque. Here the stage ends on the extreme north side of Glacier Peak. 

We plodded west, again, dipping in and out of little drainages as we made our way around the Milk Creek arm of Glacier Peak. It was slow going - lots of little ups and downs that are not conducive to making good time. We overcame a little rise and committed to a short descent. As we did so, I took a moment to look across another drainage that we were about to enter into and noticed a stark, black shape against the green backdrop of the opposing ridge. “Amanda,” I said, pointing across the little drainage. It took her a second before she replied “Oh! A Bear!” “I think so,” I replied. Sure enough, as we stood and watched, the little black shape began to move across the ridge. We could see the trail about 30 yards above him and so continued on. 

We wound around the little drainage and quickly closed the quarter mile to arrive above the shape which I had immediately named Oscar II. Side note, seven years ago Amanda and I completed the Copper Ridge Loop off of the Mt. Baker Highway and had come very nearly face to face with a little black bear, which we had called Oscar. Now this, much bigger black bear, I decided to call Oscar II. I completely recognize this isn’t that original but i like that name for a bear and it stuck, okay? We eventually got to a point where we were about 20 yards from Oscar II. We talked the entire way to make sure he knew we were there but he still didn’t recognize our presence until we were pretty close to him. He turned to look at us as we stopped to look at him. I got my iPhone out and turned it on. I had no way to recharge it but, hey, this was totally worth the risk of running out of battery. I snapped a few pictures before Oscar II decided we were too much of a threat to stick around and began running down the ridge away from us. Someone told me once that bears can’t run downhill - let me tell you right now, that is total bullshit. They run very fast downhill. 

We watched Oscar II for a while until he disappeared into a copse of trees. He had such a shiny black coat we could pick him out for a long time. After he was gone, we turned and continued our traverse around the Milk Glacier Arm. 160 days of walking last year and we had never seen a bear. As Amy Lu had so eloquently put it, we were always “bear adjacent” but never actually saw one. Well, one year later and 2600 miles into our hike that had changed, we had finally seen one. I mean, we have both seen bears in our lives - many bears - but hiking 2650 miles, you expect to see at least one!

From our bear sighting we climbed 1000 feet to the top of the Milk Glacier Arm. We reached a broad saddle and stopped to take it all in. Way to the north we could see the impressive Dome Peak Massive and its Chickamin Glacier. We ate a little and I wrangled Amanda into a few selfies with the grand vista behind us. After, we descended to Mica Lake - a gorgeous jewel nestled in a small cirque. We stopped again at the lake, just trying to put off what we knew would be a pretty terrible descent below us. I put down some more chocolate trail mix from WINCO but we didn’t dally long. 

After the lake, the trail went down…and down… and down. It seemed to go on forever. I don’t know what it is about the way these sections of the Cascades were formed but they just seem to have some really deep cuts and this is one of those. On we went down. In the beginning it was clear, and the trail was nice, soft and spongy but, as we dropped lower, the trees started to give way to patches of slide alder. The weather also started to degrade. Clouds that had been forming far off now moved in and the sun had a harder and harder time getting through to us. As we continued on, the avy chutes covered in alder became more common and thick. We fought on, cutting through severely overgrown trail. Just when I couldn’t take it anymore, the bridge across Milk Creek came into sight. We descended for another 30 minutes but eventually reached it. Once there we stopped and threw down our packs - completely exhausted.

We hung out on the bridge for quite a while relaxing after our downhill battle. We weren’t really paying attention to anything besides our tired legs so, it was a little startling when a middle aged guy showed up and crossed the bridge. “Hello,” I said, mouth full of Cliff Bar. “Hello” he answered back in a vaguely Eastern European accent. He introduced himself as Dave from Prague and told us that he was a forest ranger back in the Czech Republic which gave him time in the Fall and Spring to come do sections of long trails like this one. He had been in the Sierra earlier this year and last year and we commiserated with him for a while about the massive snowpack from 2023. 

We talked for a little longer but eventually, Amanda and I knew that we had to get going or we were not going to get up to the top of the opposing ridge before sunset. I didn’t really have a campsite picked out, I just knew we were going to stop “somewhere up there.” We said goodbye to Dave as he began up the opposite side we had just come down. He was thinking of staying at Mica Lake this evening which, if i’m being honest, i’m a little jealous of. We got underway and, annoyingly, seemed to drop a little more elevation after the bridge, but soon we were headed back uphill. We climbed, fighting through more avy chutes and eventually passed a cut-off for the Milk Creek Trail. It’s possible that, here at the Milk Creek Trail, we are in the midst of one of the most desolate places along the PCT. Like, no joke, it’s a loooong way to anywhere from here. The Milk Creek trail would take us out to a parking lot that is way off the Mountain Loop Highway, which is a ways off from Darrington which is even farther from I-5. The Glacier Peak wilderness is no joke - definitely makes the so-called “Desolation Wilderness” feel ashamed of its name. 

We climbed up and eventually got out of the horrid avy chutes. I hate slide alder. It’s always funny to see them all grown up as big trees, but as little saplings they are really annoying. They make keeping a trail clear almost impossible. As we cleared the last patch, the rain started coming down. We ducked into the shade of a grown up alder and got our rain gear on. An hour or so more brought us to the last 10 switchbacks. Amanda was running out of energy so we counted out the number of switchbacks we had left and counted them out loud as we rounded out the last of them.

Ten switchbacks brought us to the top of the ridge and we threw our hands up in celebration. We were tired, it was raining and we were ready to be done…which brought us to our little problem. We had no water and we were now back above the treeline. It is always ironic to me when we have to search for water in the midst of a rainstorm but, indeed, that’s where we were. As we continued to progress up and down along an unnamed, northern ridgeline of Glacier Peak I scoped out the water in front of us. There were good camping spots on this ridge, but no water and we were out. We had decided that the climb out of Milk Lake was bad enough and we didn’t need to add 4-5 pounds of water to that ascent so we had carried on. 

The next water was at the East Fork Milk Creek cirque. We arrived at the first drainage in heavy rain which was also blowing sideways. I told Amanda to continue on while I stopped to fill bladders. I caught up to her about 10 minutes later, cold but continuing on down the trail. We looked everywhere as we continued to sling ourselves around the cirque but every potential spot looked very exposed and miserable to spend a night in, so we continued on. Eventually, we left the cirque behind and climbed onto another ridge adjacent to the cirque. I knew another large descent was just ahead of us down to Vista Creek, but we were in no shape to take it on tonight. Hurriedly, I flipped on my phone and saw that there was supposed to be a very nice campsite just below us. “How much further,” Amanda groaned. “I think we have something just a few hundred feet beyond,” I replied half heartedly. Honestly, I had no reason to believe it would be any better than the other places we had seen - very exposed, very wet and downright awful, but I hoped it would be better.

We descended a little towards the treeline and, blessings from on high, a sturdy copse of trees came into sight off the side of the trail with a beautiful flat and dry pad for a tent, sheltered from the now blowing rain. “Oh thank god,” Amanda and I said in unison. We dove into the trees and quickly got things set up, taking care to keep everything as dry as possible. We could see the wind whipping by outside the little stand of trees and said another thank you for this little haven from the storm. I put the guide-lines out on the tent, though it probably wasn’t necessary given the shelter the trees were providing, and made dinner while Amanda got things organized in the tent. We ate inside - the hot food revitalized us quite a bit. Afterwards, I made a half-assed attempt to get the bear cans away from the tent before returning to dive inside. Once inside, we relished our wonderful little shelter and cuddled till we fell asleep, listening to the wind howl over top of us. 

Day 163: Mr. Blue Sky

9/30/2024

Section: Milepost 2502.9 to 2518.4

Total Trail Miles: 2585.4 Miles

Distance: 15.5 Miles

Moving Time: 07:18 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 3694 Feet

Note: Strava says Day 164 because it is counting a failed attempt at this section in June. I didn’t want to write about that so i am picking up where we left off in Fall of last year, on day 161. Just FYI.

We woke to a stunning blue sky this morning around 7 am. Our grouse friends were either still sleeping or had already awoken and weren’t interested in pestering us for food this morning. I had a …delicious breakfast puck and some coffee while enjoying the brightening morning. After breakfast we did our morning warm-ups by Reflection Pond and were underway around 8:30. 

The first 3 miles of today’s stage are dedicated to a 1000 foot climb up to Red’s Pass, crossing under the watchful gaze of White Mountain. From the pass, the trail turns east and makes a 6-mile descent into the White Chuck river valley. At a little over 9 miles in, the stage bottoms out at 3800 feet and slowly starts its ascent up the north side of the valley. At the crossing of Kennedy Creek, the trail turns sharply uphill, pulling out of the valley. The PCT works its way up below Glacier Ridge, eventually topping out at 5800 feet, where the day ends at Pumice Creek. 

We were on the trail by 8:30 this morning which was…eh, could have been better, but whatever. The sky was still crystal clear and we made our way up through the glowing alpine, views of Glacier Peak standing in stark relief out in front of us. I have my Suunto in Eco Mode because there was no way to get it charged with the epic failure of our battery pack. Really glad I'm carrying like 2 pounds for absolutely no reason on this venture. Hope the watch still picks up some details of our day because, otherwise, what’s the point!

We cruised through green meadows, feeling good despite being out of practice for over a year. We’re both really happy with how well our bodies are managing the distances despite the time off. Eventually we reached the short section of trail we had done 5 years before on our way to the southern climbing route of Glacier Peak. A small copse of trees denoted White Pass Camp where we had contemplated stopping on our way down after summiting. Shortly after, we came to the intersection with the North Fork Sauk Trail and left the short section of shared memories behind as we made our way north.

We traversed north across the steep southern slopes of White Mountain. Neither of us said it but we were both thinking it - this section would have been absolutely shitty in any amount of snow. The slope had to be 45 degrees at least and ran out below us over a thousand feet. Maybe not as harrowing as the knife-edge but damn near it. I sinched my bear can down a little tighter - I was in no mood to descend 1500 feet to go get it. I am, overall, happy with Hyperlight’s design to handle a bear can but I'm constantly worried it’s going to get free and fall way below me.

Eventually, we reached Red’s Pass where we ducked through a small notch in the headwall between White Mountain and Black Mountain. Who TF was naming these? Glacier was in full view before us and looking HAWT! From the pass, it was a steady descent through high alpine meadows, made insanely annoying by the slippery nature of the early morning trail dirt. The sun had hit the trail just as we were climbing towards Red’s Pass and by the time we reached it the frost had melted, leaving a very slick trail behind. Amanada and I both ended up on our butts more than once which slowed us to a crawl for a while. Occasionally, I would look up at the lower slopes of Glacier Peak, searching for the basecamp most climbers stay at the night before heading to the summit but i didn't have any luck finding it. 

We made it below the tree line before noon and learned to trust the trail again. We noted one tent off in the woods but didn’t see or hear any occupants. The descent from here was very steep but had been well outfitted with a serpentining series of switchbacks, making it manageable. Just as our knees were starting to scream, the grade gave out to a nice cruise and our pace accelerated. We sped along the White Chuck Valley floor, enjoying the feeling of miles melting under our feet. Occasional blow-down would slow us from time to time but we were always quickly back up to speed. The grade was perfect. Before long, we reached the turn-off for Fire Creek Pass and stopped for a break. I’m really nursing this bag of Sea Salt and Vinegar Kettle chips along as best I can but it’s not going to last forever. I’m mentally preparing for the moment when all that remains is crumbs.

We rested for as long as we could stand before committing to our climb. We both knew it was a long ways up - almost the entire amount we had lost on our descent from Red’s Pass. Again, while daunting, we found this climb reassuring in its consistency and made good time, eventually pulling our way out of the woods and into the alpine. We crossed Alpine Creek in the afternoon and continued to climb, bobbing and weaving in and out of little tributary creek valleys and gaining amazing views into the White Chuck Creek Valley which continued on far below us.

We crossed over Glacier Ridge and wound our way back into the Pumice Creek drainage where we found a rocky outcropping to stop for the night. Again, we were able to stop before the sun sank too low in the sky which kept the twilight scarys from our time on the trail last year at bay. I did a little scouting up the trail to make sure there wasn’t a more optimum spot to stop as well as up the creek a ways, but the spot we had was a nice promontory above the creek with a direct view down the valley and pretty tough to beat. A little “slopey” maybe, but really good views. I went off to grab water while Amanda got our tent sorted. We made dinner as the sunlight began to fade. Coming back, I noticed a huge bear crap about 20 feet from our tent. Amanda hadn’t seemed to notice despite walking around the camp a bit and I decided it wasn’t necessary to tell her before bed - I mean, what’s that gunna do? Absolutely nothing. We watched the sun set and stayed out a bit to enjoy the stars as they began to show up but eventually the cold got to us and we escaped inside.

Day 162: Friendly Grouse

9/29/2024

Section: Milepost 2485.3 to 2502.9

Total Trail Miles: 2533.9 Miles

Distance: 18.08 Miles

Moving Time: 07:37 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 4173 ft

Note: Strava says Day 164 because it is counting a failed attempt at this section in June. I didn’t want to write about that so i am picking up where we left off in Fall of last year, on day 161. Just FYI.

We woke in a cloud the next day on the banks of Pear Lake. No owl sighting this morning but I guess it was now her nighttime so that’s probably why. There had been limited mouse-tivity last night though, so she had obviously been busy, which we were thankful for. We rousted ourselves out of bed into the damp morning. There was no outright rain but the humidity was up. We got warmed up with some breakfast. I was just going with the breakfast pucks for this section. My pallet had recovered from the PCT last year, so I was in a place where I could enjoy some of the trail staples again. Amanda wasn’t quite there. We sipped our warm beverages for a while before committing to our warm-ups and getting underway.

Today’s stage will take us to the southern slopes of Glacier Peak. It begins with a short climb up from the lake to a ridgeline which traverses north. At the two mile mark, the trail begins a long descent, 1500’ in 4.5 miles. On its plummet, the PCT crosses Saddle Gap and bottoms out at Pass Creek. From the creek, the trail begins a consolidated, 1500’ climb out of the creek drainage. It crosses Caddy Pass, then switchbacks up the southern end of a ridgeline, running north towards Skykomish Peak. The path completes it’s climb of the day by crossing the eastern slopes of the peak before coming to a small lake, Lake Salley Anne. The stage then crosses over a small col above the Caddy Creek valley. The PCT continues along another north-running ridgeline, crossing Dishpan Gap at around 12 miles in, then crosses Sauk pass a mile later. A short distance on, the stage hits it’s high-point at 5700’ and descends to Indian Pass. The final climb of the day ends at Reflection Pond under the impressive gaze of Indian Head Peak.

The weather was looking pretty promising as we made our way out this morning. A little bit of blue sky over our heads put some extra spring in our steps. I am loving this new backpack - sometimes all the hype is warranted and, gotta say, this Hyperlight fits squarely in that category for me. I love the wide open top, the important stuff I can secure to the outside and it rolls up and down as the load warrants. I will say, I had to swap Amanda's bear-can with the one I was carrying. The old-style barrel doesn’t have the little friction bumps they put on the new style cans and, during our attempt earlier this year, it ended up sneaking out of the top straps a few times. I never lost it on a steep traverse, thank god, but the alarm I felt each time was enough to just make the switch from the start of this attempt. Amanda was still using her Gregory so she put the old style can inside her bag.

We climbed to our early high point and descended to Pass Creek. This was where we had decided to bail two months before, after slogging through snow at a mile per hour for 2 days. It’s also where Amanda had accidently thrown her shoe into the creek trying to pass it across to me. Like, no joke, she went to throw it to the other side, held on to it a little too long and sent it sailing wide left and into the creek. We had looked at each other, dumbfounded, for a split second before I had jumped in to save it. 

We stopped at the creek, which was much more cross-able now, for a few minutes to take our first snack break. The weather had deteriorated on us, but the sun was making a short showing and we laid on some large rocks to soak it up a bit. The switchbacks down from Saddle Pass had been gruesome and I could hear two voices from way up and back coming down, but they were still far off. After topping up our calorie tanks we reshouldered our backpacks and, still catching snippets of conversation from up the hill, carried on. The descent had been huge, but the climb before us was 30% bigger. We put our heads down and climbed, and climbed, and climbed.

Everyone thinks climbing is the worst but, honestly, if it’s consistent, a climb isn’t that bad and this one was no exception. It’s like a nice big wheel you can turn against, constant and comforting. We climbed on. The sun fought hard but, ultimately, lost the battle and a thick cloud front set in. Towards the top we were just walking in the clouds. Within an hour long period, as the trail started to level out, we walked through rain, sleet and pellet snow. The joys of hiking in late September I guess. About an hour after the top, we reached Lake Sally Ann, which I'm sure would be a beautiful lake if it wasn’t coated in grey tones as we currently found it. We stopped and I hammered down some WINCO Chocolate Lovers Trail Mix. This shit is the best. It has little peanut butter cups in it and all sorts of other goodies. I got a little sick of it towards the end of the trail in 2023, but it’s made a solid comeback for me now. We chilled at the lake for a while but the weather being suboptimal, we weren’t interested in loitering for long. I helped Amanda put her pack on, before getting my own on and we headed out. 

The rest of the afternoon passed without too much incident. We doddled along at around 5600’ for a while. The sun got progressively more social as the late afternoon wore on, which was much appreciated. We crossed under Kodiak peak and descended to Indian Pass. The wind was up, rattling the trees as we stopped to take a quick break at the intersection with Indian Creek Trail before we made a final climb to past Indian Head Peak. The skies cleared and we were treated to some beautiful views of the snow capped mountain on our right as we climbed to the tree line. We came to an unnamed saddle and climbed through high meadows before reaching a small and stark pond which we chose as our stopping point for the evening. 

We made camp in a dense copse of trees on the banks of the pond. Behind us was a stunning view of Johnson Mountain and down Red Creek Valley, which we had come up 5 years before to climb Glacier Peak. Amanda and I set up the tent, bundling up as we did. Things were getting cold above the treeline, very quickly. I got some water and came back to Amanda smiling as she pointed out two very friendly grouse making their way around our tent. I grew up with chickens and they were basically our pets, beloved by the whole family. Grouse are just chickens of the forest and I always enjoy running into them, but they are usually very shy. These two were definitely not so. We sat down, wearing every layer we had packed, to make dinner, and these two stripedy birds came right up to us as if to ask, “what do you have for us?” They stuck around for a solid 10 minutes as we let our freeze-dried meals saturate until they must have realized that they weren’t going to get any hand-outs and slowly disappeared into the trees. The sun set and things got dark. It had been nice to stop before sunset, because we got some time outside the tent, but once the sun was gone we quickly packed things up. I went about 50 yards away to ditch the bear canisters. Walking back, I had a momentary panic when a sudden flurry of noise went off from my left but I quickly realized it was just our two friends flapping up to their beds for the night. 

Once in the tent, Amanda and I both contributed to her trail notebook and then read for a bit. We talked some - I was excited to get to the intersection of our approach to Glacier from 5 years ago tomorrow - and then we passed out. I could still hear our birds knocking around in the branches above, but they eventually settled down and we were able to pass out, now fairly deep into the Glacier Peak wilderness.

Day 161: The Missing Piece

9/28/2024

Section: Milepost 2466.9 to 2485.3

Total Trail Miles: 2533.9 Miles

Distance: 18.67 Miles  

Moving Time: 07:57 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 4098 ft

Note: Strava says Day 164 because it is counting a failed attempt at this section in June. I didn’t want to write about that so i am picking up where we left off in Fall of last year, on day 161. Just FYI.

Ahh, back at it again. It’s been almost a year since my last post, since we skipped up to Washington Pass to walk to the northern terminus of the PCT and finish our 2023 efforts on the trail and a lot has happened since then. We bought a house in March in our hometown of Bellingham and we attempted this last section 3 months ago, at the end of June. That’s right, a first attempt of the Glacier Peak wilderness in June resulted in a bail-out by Amanda’s Aunt and Uncle after 2 days traversing endless snowfields in the area. On the second day we were averaging a mile an hour again, which was just a little too reminiscent of the Sierra in 2023, so we called it quits and decided to come back after the fires were out. We thought we might not even get a chance to do this this year but, in late September, the Forest Service re-opened some key sections of the Glacier Peak Wilderness and we scrambled to get things together to close this last section out.

Our friend, Keith, picked us up early on this Saturday morning at our house in the Lettered Streets neighborhood of Bellingham. He had said he didn’t have much planned today and wanted to see the pass, and we gladly took him up on it. I smiled and wished him a good morning as I slung my new Hyperlight backpack into the back of his Toyota - that’s right, I'm part of the cool kids club now, with my Jet Black Southwest dyneema backpack. No Smart Water bottle yet, but… baby steps. We cruised down I-5 and eventually reached the turn-off to head east on Highway 2. We stopped in Monroe at a family favorite coffee shop for some caffeine before continuing up the pass. It was clear this morning, not a lot of people going into or coming out of the mountains. The day was gorgeous as we neared the top, arguing about whether SAP was a good program or not. 

We reached the crest just before 10 am. The day was beautiful as we unloaded our gear onto the parking lot. We peered across the road to the south side of the pass where we had come down on weary legs, in the dark, almost a year ago, to be whisked further down to Leavenworth by Amanda’s parents. “We’ve walked that whole distance back to Canada from here,” Amanda commented, following my gaze. “Indeed we have, that’s an amazing thought,” I responded “let’s hope we can get the line completed this time.” Keith chimed in with assurances that he would come save us if we needed it. We laughed and thanked him. This section is not a fun one to bail on, and we know first hand that fact, so we both hoped that no saving would be necessary. We did our classic warm-ups and each gave Keith a hug, despite the fact that he is not a hugger. Then we snapped a picture in front of the Trail #2000 PCT sign, wrote our names down on the log and sprinted into the trees. 

The stage today is a similar one to what we began with earlier this summer. It begins by paralleling the highway east for a mile and a half, heading slightly downhill before turning north and heading up the Nason Creek valley then committing to a 2 mile, thousand foot climb to lake Valhalla, nestled below Mount McCausland. The trail rises over a small pass above the Lake before plunging 1000 feet to the head of the Rapid River Valley, which it circumvents, heading Northwest as it climbs past lake Janus. Past the lake, the trail commits to a second climb, 2 miles and another thousand feet to a small plateau. Here it traverses past the banks of Glass Lake, which should be called Butterfly Lake, and eases into its final, short climb of the day, to Grizzly Peak. At the peak, the trail makes a final descent, down the arm of Grizzly Ridge, to Wenatchee Pass, coming to a rest at Pear Lake, where things end for the day. 

The day was bright and full of hope as we took-off east, enjoying the momentary bliss of hiking at a slight decline next to the highway. The roar of cars could still be heard but we eventually turned north and began our first climb of the day. It was quiet today, only an occasional person coming down from the very popular Valhalla Lake as we dropped into our climbing gear and began gaining altitude. Around 2.5 miles in, we heard our first Pika and both responded with our own interpretation of their hilarious, high-pitched squeak. We stopped for a quick snack and then continued on up. I am LOADED with potato chips on this trip. They are my favorite - truly the MVP of trail snacks. 

Eventually we reached the lake, and the groups became more numerous. There is a more popular approach from the north, via the Smithbrook Trailhead, that gets a lot of travel and today was no exception. At around 1 pm we reached the small saddle above the lake and stopped, just as we had 2 months before, to have another snack. It had been even more busy in June, like masses of people coming up to the lake, despite spots of snow, so it was nice to have a bit more peace later in the summer. A couple with a bunch of dogs that we had been hoscotching with caught up and continued on past the saddle. I’m guessing this section is a good one for car shuttling. 

After our snack, we continued on, this time heading downhill on the first major descent of the day. The crowds disappeared at the turnoff for the Smithbrook Trailhead and we descended further into old growth forest, massive trees rising all around us as we zoomed down the curated switchbacks. We reached the bottom, near Janus Lake, and I turned to Amanda joking “Okay, don’t fall in this time.” 2 months earlier, we had reached this part which, at the time, was in a much “muckier” state and Amanda had slipped attempting to cross the outflow from Janus Lake, falling in. She crossed it without issue this time. 

From Janus Lake, we continued upwards. There were tons of rotting mushrooms beside the path from which emanate a constant underlying scent of decay. We commented on it several times as we climbed higher. They were everywhere. An hour of climbing brought us to Glass Lake, which we stopped briefly at to admire and discuss our options. It had been a bit of a late start today and we hadn’t been sure how fast we were going to be able to move after a year off, but we were cruising and feeling good. We decided to check in after the next climb up to Grizzly Peak, where we had ended our first day on the attempt earlier in the summer. We dawdled along a bit further before committing to the final climb of the day up to the peak. The light was starting to fade a bit as we overcame the last few switchbacks and arrived at the top. We took a look at where we had crash landed in June. A sad little outcropping on the north side of the peak where we had been able to find a small patch of snow-free space to haphazardly pitch our tent. Conditions were a whole lot better now. We stopped and discussed for a bit before choosing to go a little further on, to Pear Lake, where there would be good water and some excellent camping spots, if FarOut could be believed. 

From Grizzly Peak we descended. It continued to be crowdless. We hadn’t seen anyone since the trailrunners we had encountered just beyond the turnoff for the Smithbrook Trailhead. We likely wouldn’t see many people the deeper we got into this incredibly remote section of the PCT. We made the long descent to Wenatchee Pass in just under an hour, remembering how we had done much of it on snow just a few months before. It was much nicer now to be able to fly on a clear and defined trail. At the pass we turned back-up hill, now starting to feel the full gravity of the 18 miles we had committed to. None-the-less, we climbed quickly as the sun began the final stages of its retreat. We cleared out a few small switchbacks and our lake came into view in the dim light. Just beyond we took a small side trail to get us down to some wonderfully flat and open pads beside a classic Cascades lake. The sky was overcast, contributing to the acceleration of darkness. 

Despite being out of practice, Amanda and I split into our typical camp duties. I went and collected water while she set-up the tent. I came back and she went off to use the restroom. At this point a silent shape made her first swoop about 10 feet above my head. A very friendly owl came out to say hello in what was probably the first hours of her morning. She swooped low several more times, completely silent, before choosing a lone tree-top right above us to roost and watch. “She must know we bring the mice out,” I said to Amanda. “In that case, she can stay there all night, because I am not looking forward to their antics this evening.” We ate, discussing how much better things were this time of year before deciding to turn in. It was at this point I realized something pretty terrible. Just ahead of this trip, I had invested in a new, larger battery pack to support us through the 8-9 day stretch. This was the first time I was going to attempt to charge something and it was at this point I found the pack to be completely dead, despite having sat plugged into the wall the night before and despite displaying a full charge status earlier today. “This piece of shit!” I exclaimed, explaining to Amanda what I had found. “Do we have to go back?” she asked. We both thought about it and agreed that, no, we wouldn’t have to go back. We wouldn’t need our headlamps like we had in the latter days of the PCT last year and we could nurse our phones along well enough to get through, no we wouldn’t have to turn back but I was going to miss recording some days, which I wasn’t happy about. 

We turned in, listening to the soft patter of rain-drops on our fly. That part sucked but the weather had looked like it was going to be a bit of everything. Amanda wrote in her diary and I added some things before we committed to some light reading and called it a day. Our first day back on the PCT!

Day 160: Here, At The End of All Things

10/23/2023

Section: Milepost 2644 to 2663.2

Total Trail Miles: 2533.9 Miles

Distance: 19.8 Miles  

Moving Time: 07:57 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 2064 ft

The mice were at it again last night. Hate to keep bringing it up but they wont stop either. Think one or two actually got up on top of the tent but at least none of them decided to try chewing through the side wall. Everything was frost covered when we finally got outside. As had been the case on so many mornings, I expressed a deep gratitude for my puffy pants which are perfect for these early-fall starts. We were getting out today so packing up was a little less careful than in past mornings. We weren’t just getting out today - we were finishing. 160 days after leaving Campo, we have come 2600 miles to finally cross into Canada and complete the greatest journey of our lives.

We ate and cleaned up, as we had so many times before, and worked together to get the tent put away. It had accumulated a thin layer of ice throughout the night and we whipped it up and down to try to remove it before rolling it up. Powder Mountain was beginning to light up as we took a last look around, completed our warm-ups and got underway.

The final stage of the PCT starts with a short climb to Woody Pass, before continuing up along the western slopes of Three Fools Peak, finally reaching the high point of the day on the north end of Lakeview Ridge at Devil’s Staircase. From here, about 3.5 miles in, the trail descends 2800 feet over 8 miles. On its way down, it passes Hopkins Lake, Hopkins Pass, and parallels Route Creek all the way to the low-point at the US-Canadians Border. From the border, the stage makes a slow ascent along the lower reaches of Frosty Mountain Ridge until it reaches the top, at Pacific Crest Campground. From the campground, the trail makes a two mile descent to the banks of Similkameen Creek which it follows an additional two miles to the end of the PCT at Gibson Pass Road.

The morning was incredibly brisk as we made the short climb up to Woody Pass. Most of the trees were encased in ice and glittered in the early morning light. The sky was cloudy and the early fall light just barely put a dent in the growing darkness of the season. At the pass, we turned north and continued along the ridge. The morning light illuminated the eastern faces of Joker and Freezeout Mountain. Ninety minutes more brought us to the top of Devil's Staircase, at which point we began the long descent to the border. 

For such a momentous stage of the trip, the day was fairly bland. The forest in this section of the Pasayten is like much of what we have been in since Snoqualmie. We hiked on through younger growths of pines. The day was quiet and we saw no one as we made our final descent to the terminus and then, just like any of the other millions of steps we had taken before, we rounded a nondescript bend in the trail and came face-to-face with a wooden monument, the likes of which we had not seen in over 5 months. 

Like the southern terminus, the northern terminus is a series of 12x12 wooden pillars, decorated with an American, Mexican and Canadian flag. We hugged and congratulated each other, huge smiles on each of our faces before breaking out a set of airplane shots we had picked up in Winthrop. It’s customary, at the end, to take what is called a shoey. In completing a shoey-shot, a hiker completing the Pacific Crest Trail pours a shot into their shoe before taking it, usually sitting on the top of the monument. For this occasion, Amanda had packed in a Screwball Peanut Butter Shot and I had brought in some Tequila - shout out to the southern terminus! I fired up the GoPro and we celebrated our triumph in the growing light of the late morning with a very gross feeling shot out of the soles of our shoes. After grimaces still on our faces, we removed our clothes and took some bare pictures on the monument before, re-clothed, we ate some snacks and perused the terminus log. We found Amy Lu’s signature as well as many of our other friends reporting in at different points throughout the late summer and early fall. 

Eventually, having spent all the time we could at the great closure of our journey, we reshouldered our backpacks and continued on into the great wilderness of Canada. I took one look west at the great swath of cleared timber before we disappeared into the woods on the northern side. We hiked on, crossing a sketchy bridge at Monument 78 Campground, an ode to the 78th Monument at the PCT’s crossing point, and then continued on. We hit heavy blowdown as we made our way through the last 5 miles of trail. The Canadians, evidently, did not have the same interest in keeping the path clear as we do. 

In the afternoon, we finally reached Pacific Crest Campground after a surprisingly annoying ascent through very dense forest. We stopped here briefly and I put down the last crumbs of the bag of potato chips I had been nursing the last 3 days as well as some jerky links that I had been keeping in reserve. We took some time to read the informational signs that the Canadian Government had been kind enough to bring out to the campground. We left 7 hours after starting the day, snow beginning to pour out of the sky.

We descended on trail that quickly turned to an old road grade, wide and clear. Still, we saw no one as we dropped further and further down to Similkameen Creek. The snow began to fall harder and we eventually began encountering side trails associated with the resort. It was not much farther on that a brown shape came bounding through the snow. It was Ted, whom we had left 3 days before when Ray and Sandy left us off at Washington Pass. We laughed as they came into view and gave them hugs before turning back down the trail with them and continuing our descent. We descended further, eventually running parallel with Similkameen Creek. 

Thirty minutes more brought us to Gibson Pass Road, the end of the PCT in Canada. There, Ray dolled out some classic Canadian beer - Molson, the finest beer of the great white north. We cracked our cans open and got some pictures in front of the informational kiosk before loading our things up in the back of their great beast of a truck. After, Ray drove us back to the resort where Amanda had secured two rooms, one for us and one for her parents. We unloaded our things in the room and got cleaned up. Afterwards, we headed to dinner where I enjoyed some extremely burned nachos. Definitely had the D-team working at this ski resort in the early fall. After, we returned to the room where we turned in - totally exhausted from what is an incredible journey and finally able to revel in the joy and sadness of being done. 

Day 159: Old Memories

10/22/2023

Section: Milepost 2619 to 2644

Total Trail Miles: 2514.7 Miles

Distance: 23.1 Miles  

Moving Time: 09:42 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 4384 ft

The mice were literally cartwheeling off of the tent last night - little dipshits. They have really been part of the theme in Washington and I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why they get so bad just north of the Columbia. Sandy had reloaded us with granola when they picked us up at Stevens pass so we were flush with the breakfast yummies, which lifted the generally soggy mood we woke up in. It had also poured last night - hard enough that mud was speckled on the underside of the tent rainfly. We were packed and fed before the sun was up and were underway just after first light, around 7:30. 

The day’s stage starts where it left off, under the watchful bulk of Syncline Mountain and continues it’s traverse north along the ridgeline, passing below Tatie Peak as it windes east and eventually back north around Cane Mountain. At 3.5 miles, the path passes through the Brown Bear trailhead, which is the first sign of Hart’s Pass, which the stage eventually reaches 2 miles later after circumventing Hart’s Peak. From the pass, the trail ascends 700 feet and traverses northwest along Slate Peak Ridge, reaching Buffalo Pass at just under 10 miles. The path continues due northwest, descending to Windy Pass and then making a short climb over a prominent shoulder of Tamarack Peak. The trail descends a mile to Foggy Pass before meandering northwards through Jim Pass and around the Oregon Basin. At 16 miles, the PCT makes a short descent to Shaw Creek and then commits to a long descent down to Holman’s Creek. After the creek, the PCT then makes a steep ascent, 3 miles and 1500’, to Rock Pass before dropping and regaining 500 feet and ending just before Woody pass. 

The day looked like it was going to be highly variable as we started out in the early morning light. Definitely one of those days where the jacket goes off and on many times throughout. It started raining just after we began and we quickly shifted into our rain gear. About an hour in, the rain shifted to snow and then, about 30 minutes beyond that, we were treated for some sunshine. 

We reached Hart’s Pass around 9:30 am and stopped for some pictures. We had come here in 2014 to do a 4-day loop around Buckskin Ridge and we were back now finishing our epic walk from Mexico to Canada. Lots of incredible memories from this part of the North Cascades. It was amazing to retrace some steps we took almost 10 years before. After a quick break and a bite to eat, we departed, making a short climb out of Hart’s Pass. We ran into 2 guys, a German and an American, coming back from the border and congratulated them on their accomplishment. They told us the trail ahead was clear and we shouldn’t have any trouble. This year, because of the late lifting of COVID regulations that temporarily blocked PCT hikers from passing into Canada, a lot of our compatriots are making what is known as the “Victory Lap” back from Canada. Basically, it's the last 30 miles from the border back to Hart’s pass, high fiving everyone all the way. We had plans and permits to go into Canada but we had heard it was actually kinda fun to do the 30 miles back and see everyone behind you. 

We continued on from Hart’s pass. Heavy snow began to fall on us as we made our way northwards. At one point, I saved my 4th balloon on the trail. Really sad to think that many of these things probably land all over our public lands, but I save the ones I can whenever i swee them! Bonus - saw a lil’ grouse shortly after. Love these little mountain chickens! As we traversed further along the Slate Peak Ridge, we ran into a group of trailrunners coming back through the snow and gave them a “Hello.” They smiled and kept going. Must be nice to get back to a warm car, cold beer and a roof over your head at the end of the day. 

We walked on and on. We aren’t really taking breaks any more. It’s kind of like the last 50-100 yards of a long race where you have a little energy left and you just burn it to sprint to the finish line. That’s where we’re at  

Towards the late afternoon, we descended to Holman Creek and began the long climb up to Rock Pass, reaching it just before sunset. We made a quick stop to top up our calorie reserves before the last small section to our camp spot just before Woody Pass. Shortly after, we descended down Rocky Pass which would have been very spicy in the snow. Definitely some exposure and traversing above bad substantial cliff faces which you eventually pass back below at the bottom of the descent. By this time, the sun had set and we began our climb back up to Woody Pass. We crawled up a few switchbacks and found our target campsite among a few small, shallow basins and some patchy tree copse. 

It was cold and windy as we set-up the tent. We made dinner and ate quickly. It was already below freezing with the sun now down below the horizon. It’s quickly transitioning to wintery conditions. After dinner, we haphazardly cleaned up, keeping in mind the varmots that had already taken a few charges at us. After a hasty dinner and a quick peek up at the stars, we got into the tent and out of the wind. Once inside I did some typing while Amanda did some reading and we both listened to the wind above us, occasionally buffeting the sides of the tent. Shortly after, we were both passed out, willfully ignorant of the sounds of little pawprints trying to get to our stuff. 

Day 158: The Last Big Climb

10/21/2023

Section: Milepost 2594.1 to 2619

Total Trail Miles: 2489.7 Miles

Distance: 25.46 Miles  

Moving Time: 10:23 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 5236 ft

I slept so well last night. We are running on fumes here at almost 2500 miles in and any sleep I get now is clutch! We woke this morning with no small amount of trepidation. The days are dark and the nights are full of terror but at least this morning we got to start with some continental breakfast! So begins the final stretch of our 2023 PCT adventure.

After we had eaten and Ray had run the dogs a bit, we meandered out to the truck and loaded up. Ray and Sandy then drove us west into the pass, making our way up the long grade, eventually cruising by the iconic hairpin turn under the watchful eye of North Early Winter Spire and arriving at Washington Pass just after 7 am. We unloaded and got our things in order, the Porters’ dogs sprinting around the parking lot in the early morning light. We completed our warm-ups and, with a small amount of ceremony, headed up the trail. 

The stage today starts with a heady climb up to Cutthroat Pass, running briefly parallel to Hwy 20 in the early parts of the climb. The trail crosses Porcupine Creek about 1.5 miles in, at 5300 feet, before continuing its charge upwards, eventually scaling the north side of the creek’s cirque and arriving at Cutthroat Pass at 6900’. The PCT then winds across a ridgeline and descends on the northside, below Granit pass, and makes another small ascent above the vast Swamp Creek valley, to Methow Pass. Beyond Methow Pass, the PCT plunges 2200 feet into the West Fork Methow River Valley, eventually following the river to near its confluence with Brush Creek. At 17.5 miles, the PCT hitches west briefly and begins a climb up Bush Creek, eventually leaving it behind to scale the lower flanks of Grasshopper Peak to Glacier pass and then Grasshopper Pass, climbing 2500’ in 5 miles. The stage ends in a small basin below Syncline Mountain. 

Amanda’s parents walked with us for a bit, going about ¼ mile before giving us big hugs and well-wishes for Canada. Our plan was to meet-up with them in 3 short days at Manning Park, so it wasn’t too long of a goodbye. After going our separate ways we started our climb and cruised. The trail was immaculate and at a grade to make some good time. Quite spectacular. 

On our way up, we saw a group of chubby ptarmigans and stopped to give them words of encouragement in their ptarmigan-related activities. As we approached the upper elevations we began to see the Tamaracks. Also called larches, these trees turn a beautiful orange color in the fall and that color was on full display above 5500’. We continued to cruise upwards, passing some day hikers out also enjoying the colors. We said hello to them and continued on. 

At Cutthroat pass we stopped and had a quick snack. I am really done with any and all energy/granola bars. Just can’t do them anymore. Even the Peanut Butter Filled Clif bars are slipping to my shit-list for backcountry food. Good thing the potato chips haven’t - I can still put down some chips! Could probably eat a whole bag in one sitting tbh. 

After our mid-morning break we continued northwards. The vantage from the ridgeline beyond Cutthroat Pass is gorgeous and I tripped a few times looking out toward the east for too long. We also passed a few sections that would have been a little spicy in 1-2 feet of snow, further confirming our decision to skip northwards. Beyond Cutthroat, the dayhikers dropped off quickly and we carried on into the wide open country and crisp, cool air of the Pasayten.

As we hiked, Amanda and I discussed going back and doing the Glacier Peak wilderness, if conditions allowed. We agreed that, if they were adequate, we would go back and do it this year otherwise it would have to be 2024. We both agreed there was no way we weren’t going to go back and get it done at some point. We reached Methow Pass and the Methow River valley opened below us, an incredibly vast river valley that we now stood at the head of. We stopped for a bit to admire it before beginning the descent. 

Through most of the midday we descended down along West Fork Methow River in the sturdy trees of the North Cascades before we reached Bush Creek in the late afternoon. We had not seen another soul since leaving Cutthroat pass and felt especially alone out in the vastness of the Pasayten. At Bush Creek we took a break and ate a late lunch then began the second big climb of the day. Shortly after restarting, we ran across the first of several large piles of bear scat. “I wonder if they are asleep yet?” Amanda said tentatively. “That’s a good question, guessing not because this looks pretty fresh.” The Pasayten is the only place Amanda and I have seen a Grizzly bear west of Montana. We had seen one in 2014, near Harts pass just 20 miles north of us, and so knew they were out here. 

We carried on up the hill. I have decided that 3 PM to sunset is my least favorite time on the trail this time of year. The fading light is brutal on the psyche. I don’t know why - maybe it goes back to our early ancestors. It just feels like we should be hunkering down in preparation for darkness and hiking up to and into it is, at this point, just depressing. Up and up we climbed. The battle cry of pikas echoes all about us as the last rays of light disappeared behind the hulking masses of mountains. We climbed from Glacier to Grasshopper pass in the dark which was especially unnerving given the numerous loads of bear scat we had passed on our way up. We had complained earlier about our lack of bear sightings but I swear, this was not the place I wanted to run into one.

At Grasshopper pass we stopped briefly to rest. About half a mile off we spotted two little specks of light making their way up to the pass in the opposite direction. We started off and ran into them about 5 minutes later, briefly stopping to say hello. Neither group was in much mood to talk but we congratulated them on getting to the terminus and I thought I recognized one of them from somewhere in California. After this encounter we descended another mile to a small basin where FarOut had reported a spring was still running. We left the trail there and hiked about a hundred feet or so to an open campsite where we dropped our bags. Amanda got the tent going while I went to get some water, whipping my headlamp up at every rustle out in the darkness. 

After getting set-up we ate dinner under a marvelous canopy of stars and tried to stay warm now that we weren’t walking. The mice were back out and we would occasionally catch them trying to chew through our food bags. At this point, we are very disciplined with food. They don’t miss any opportunity to get into something so we don’t give them any. 

After admiring the stars for a good while we decided to get into the sleeping bag. It’s really starting to get cold and, when not under way, there isn’t much incentive to be outside the tent. Inside I wrote up some notes and Amanda read a little of her kindle but not too long after we had gotten inside we were already passed out.

Day 157: The Flip North

10/20/2023

Section: Milepost 2466.9 to 2466.9

Total Trail Miles: 2464.8 Miles

Distance:  0 Miles

Moving Time: 0:00 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 0 Ft

Decisions, decisions, decisions. We woke up the next morning in Leavenworth and the first thing I did was look at my phone. I had taken a peek the night before but was hoping for some better news this morning. We have two sections left but one of them is considered, by some, to be one of the more gnarly sections of the PCT - the Glacier Peak Wilderness. 127 miles through one of the more desolate areas of the Pacific Crest Trail, 5-7 days at our current mileage average and all of those days would start and end in the dark. Beyond that is the Pasayten Wilderness - 70 miles from Washington Pass to the Canadian Ski Resort of Manning Park and the Northern Terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail. We are 8-10 days from finishing. The only problem is what is coming in 2-3 days. 

According to NOAA, the first major snowstorm of the year is set to hit the Cascades on Wednesday night (2 days from now) and drop 6-16 inches of snow below 5000 feet and 1-2 feet above. “Damn,” Amanda sighed as I finished reading the NOAA report, “That’s not good.” “No it is not,” I agreed. We talked a bit about it but, in reality, we both knew going out into the Glacier Peak Wilderness with potentially 2 feet of snow on the way would be ridiculous. “We might be able to get to Washington Pass,” I mused, “but I'm worried we might get cut off from the border.” “Yea,” Amanda replied, “and, honestly, i’d rather skip this section and do it next year if it allows us to finish off at Manning Park.” “Agreed,” I said, “I want to touch that monument!” 

The other aspect that worried us was the White Mountain traverse. Glacier Peak is not unknown to us. Four years ago we climbed Glacier Peak on a long weekend in July and we distinctly remember hiking a short section of the PCT on our way to it. What we remembered distinctly was a long, exposed traverse below White Mountain that dropped over a thousand feet into the Sauk River valley. No trees and a trail that was barely able to crimp itself to the side of the mountain. We could prepare ourselves better than we were prepared for the Knife Edge, but we knew it would be slow and exhausting, and that was just the one spot we knew would get ugly in the snow, not the many others to the north and south.

So, it was with a heavy heart that we made the decision to take the day to rest in Leavenworth and start back north at Washington Pass the next day, leaving the Glacier Peak Wilderness for 2024. It was a tough decision to not complete the PCT in a year but with 2 sick days and a number of other obligations, we had run out of time. The good news was that this section was in our backyard and would be easy to make-up the next year. We decided to call our climb of Glacier Peak a temporary placeholder for now.

Amanda made some reservations for us and her parents in Winthrop that night and we walked down to ACB coffee, which is our favorite coffee shop in Leavenworth, before joining her parents at Sandy’s Waffle House for some breakfast. We let them know the plan and they agreed to take us up to Winthrop. Afterwards, we window shopped in Leavenworth. That town is beautiful in the Fall. Some signs of last weekend’s Oktoberfest still persisted and I took one opportunity at lunch to get a beer that celebrated the season. 

After lunch we loaded up the great, lumbering F350 and Ray drove us up to Winthrop. We stopped at Hank’s Harvest Foods in Twisp, on our way, and resupplied, selecting some airplane shots for our “SHoe-ee” at the terminus. In Winthrop, we checked into the hotel on the east side of town, the Winthrop Inn, before heading into town for a burger and beer at the Old Schoolhouse Brewery. We enjoyed some great beer and our last hot meal before our final 3-day stretch to the terminus, and then made our way back to the hotel. Once back, we organized our things, making sure everything looked good so we could get a quick start in the morning and, with that, went to sleep on the final american mattress of the PCT!

Day 156: Stevens pass

10/19/2023

Section: Milepost 2441.2 to 2466.9

Total Trail Miles: 2464.8 Miles

Distance: 27.1 Miles  

Moving Time: 12:34 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 5538 ft

I slept sooooooo well last night. Basically did a hard restart. Amanda said I was talking a million miles a minute in my sleep, so that’s confirmation that my body was getting what it needed. I’ve said this before on this blog but will say it again, one of the most overlooked and underappreciated things about true thru hiking is the sleep you get on the trail. It might take a month or more to get to that point, but your body eventually goes into caveman mode and when it does, the sleep is immaculate.

My stings itched this morning. I have about 7 of them in total and they’re already starting to scab over, which is making them itch like hell. Amanda just keeps telling me not to itch them - good luck on that. It was a beautiful and surprisingly warm morning. Don’t think I've been able to get under way without my puffy pants for a while but that was indeed what I did this morning. The soft glow of early light filtered through the trees as we finished up our breakfast and got under way. Today was the last stage before hitting Steven’s pass and marked the first ending of the final three stages - Snoqualmie -> Stevens, Stevens -> Rainey Pass, Rainey Pass -> Manning Park. 

The stage today starts with a 1400’ descent to towards the bottom of the Cle Elum River Cirque before climbing back up the north rim, crossing the river and passing over Deception Pass. At the pass, the PCT flattens for about a mile and then begins a second stage climb up to 5900’ on the western shoulder of Surprise Mountain. On the 3 mile climb there, the trail crosses Deception creek and passes Deception Lake. On the northwestern corner of Surprise Peak, the PCT winds around the northern slopes of the mountain and descends to Glacier Lake before climbing out of the basin to Trap Pass between Surprise Lake and Trap Lake. From here, the path makes an undulating descent to Hope Lake where  the Tunnel Creek Lake trail joins from the west. From here, the PCT makes a 4 mile up-down maneuver and passes above Josephine Lake before climbing up the backside of Stevens Pass ski resort and descending to Highway 2 under the Jupiter Express lift.

We got a 6:30 start this morning, which is pretty good considering our recent slide to later and later starts. We are meeting Amanda’s parents at Hwy 2 this evening and don’t want them to have to wait for us too long. No stings this morning as we made the first descent down toward the Cle Elum river cirque. At the bottom, we turned back uphill and began climbing. As we neared Deception Pass we saw a face that we had only briefly seen in the first few days on the trail. Peanut Butter was a young hiker we had run into in Lake Morena on Day 2 of the trail. He was the one who had come off the Arizona Trail to start the PCT in May and we had talked to him on a park bench for an hour before he had left to carry on into the night. Now, 5 months later, we ran into him again in the early fall, on the northern stretches of this amazing trail. “Peanut Butter!?” I said to him as he and his hiking companion approached. “Yes?” he said, not recognizing us immediately. “We saw you in Lake Morena,” I responded. “Oh my god, yes, I remember now!” he said “how have you been?” We continued to summarize, in very short fashion, the last 5 months of our adventures. The Sierra, the fires, all the things that had made this year so interesting. Peanut Butter was finishing up this last section between Stevens and Snoqualmie that was now open again after the fires. We talked for about 5 minutes but eventually said our goodbyes and continued on down the trail. Really cool experience to see someone for the first time in 5 months on this thin, 2600 mile line that keeps us all connected.

We continued on north. Occasionally, I could hear voices behind us and a few times I saw the figures of 2 hikers but they never seemed to catch us as we carried on, even when we stopped near Surprise Peak for lunch. Shortly after, we put in our audiobooks and put our heads down. I could see that we were going to be a little late to Stevens but, without much in the way of service, it was impossible to get the word out to the Porters.

We hiked into the late afternoon. The trail in the final 3rd of the stage was like an annoying seesaw. Tons of little ups and downs that never let us settle into a sustained climb or descent like we typically want to. Eventually, about an hour before sunset and very exhausted, we reached Josephine Lake. We took a small break here and ate the rest of our food, before committing to the 1500 foot climb up to the ski resort. 

We climbed up and up. Despite this being a small climb relative to what we had done in the thousands of miles south of us, we were beat. The day had been nice, but we are running on fumes. The sun set on us as we climbed and the lights on the top station of the Jupiter Express lift came on. It looked like an alien spaceship sitting at the top of our target ridge, waiting to abduct us. We reached the top around 6:30, the ridge illuminated by the station. No one was home though, which gave it kind of an eerie cast. At this point Amanda was done. This might have been a top-5 “Done” moment for my girl. The day had been long, meandering and very stony - a combination of trail conditions that she really doesn’t enjoy. We were both tired but not tired enough to stop at the top. Instead, we continued on and began the long descent through the ski resort. Far down below we could see the main ski lodge and the road beyond. The trail was stony and Amanda was very frustrated as she carefully picked her steps down. The descent took about an hour but felt like ages. 

Towards the bottom we could make out the lumbering shape of Amanda’s dad coming up the trail with 2, much quicker, four-legged forms. He made his trademark “Coo, coo, cooooo” call as he saw our headlamps descending towards the bottom. We gave him a hug when we got down and the dogs almost knocked us over in their excitement. Ray had evidently walked up to the top of the ridge around 6:30, while we were on our way up the other side but had come down ahead of us. 

We descended through the village and eventually reached the Porter’s Beast of a 90’s F350 truck where they had beer waiting for us, which I excitedly popped open. We said hello to Sandy, sat and rested for a bit, apologizing for the lack of signal that had not permitted us to give them an update, then all got into the truck and headed down the east side of Stevens pass. 

We slept in Leavenworth that night. Amanda had reserved 2 rooms for us. There wasn’t much open that late in town, but we did find a bar that was still serving food and got a booth. We enjoyed a deep fried meal that both Amanda and I really needed and recounted our time since White Pass to the Porters. Eventually, around 11 pm, Amanda and I could barely keep our eyes open and we all walked back to the hotel to pass out knowing we had some decisions to make the next morning.

Day 155: Morning Stings

10/18/2023

Section: Milepost 2395.8 to 2417.2

Total Trail Miles: 2415.1 Miles

Distance: 21.4 Miles  

Moving Time: 11:31 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 5594 ft

Amanda had 2 coughing episodes last night. As the super supportive husband I am, I encouraged her to “try not to cough.” That advice was not received well at all, and there was still a little resentment lingering in the air this morning when we woke up. Speaking of getting up, we were able to rise and shine at the early-bird time of 5:40 this morning. At this point we are pretty much waking in the dark and hiking into the dark. It’s really starting to get gloomy on both ends of the day.

In other news - a mouse shit in my cup last night. Yea - just little mouse turds in the base of my cup and one of my supreme fears is Hantavirus so I boiled it for like 5 minutes, and still wasn’t convinced I wasn’t going to drop dead somewhere down the line. Despite the early wake-up, we didn’t quite get moving until 7 this morning, finally able to see where we landed last night. The camp was located on the bank of a tributary stream that feeds the Lemah River and, had we gotten some time in the evening to enjoy it, would have been lovely.

The stage today is a model Sine-Wave stage. It goes up, then down, then up again. That's about it. The day starts with a heavily switchbacked climb of 2200 feet to the eastern shoulder of Escondido Ridge where to sweeps around a small cirque below Escondido Point. The PCT then loses all of the elevation it gained in the first third of the day on a similarly switch-backed descent to Waptus Lake, which it then makes its way along through the end of mile 16, before beginning a 2300 foot climb past Mount Jerry Garcia and Deep lake to the base of Cathedral Rock on the other side of which, the stage comes to a close.

It was a rough start this morning. Maybe one of the rougher ones in the last 155 days. We had been walking for all of 10-15 minutes and were on our way to the first switchback of many, when my leg suddenly felt the first couple pin-pricks. I looked down to see an absolute shit-storm of winged fury bubbling out of a small hole in the ground near my right foot. Without time to even form an explanation I started hi-stepping it and pushed on Amanda's backpack screaming “RUN!!!” She was confused for a second before she started feeling the stings and started sprinting up the trail. The bastards followed us for a solid 100 yards before we came to a rest. Shortly after stopping, Amanda screamed and we started running again. She quickly realized that, somehow, the devil bugs had infiltrated a pocket on her pants and she was literally carrying the terror with her. She quickly extinguished the hornets in her pockets and all became still. “Fuck!” I said, “That was awful!” “You could have said bee’s” Amanda said “I literally thought we were being attacked by a bear!” “I really wasn’t thinking straight in that moment babe!” was all I had to say for myself, hands in the air.

After we had calmed down, we began the climb - roughest start to a climb I have ever experienced, that’s for sure. Through most of the morning we wound up and up and up. In total, it took us 2.5 hours to get up the 2300’ climb to Escondido Ridge. On the way there, we did encounter one Gossamer Gear tent set off to the side of the trail, which was encouraging because we were starting to feel like the only psychos out here! On the one hand, it’s nice to have this whole place to ourselves, on the other, it’s a far cry from the trail family days that we enjoyed in May and June. 

We broke out of the treeline around 10 am and hiked on a bit before finding a wonderful promontory to set our packs down and eat lunch on. Neither of us could believe it but, in the sun, we were actually starting to feel a little overheated! From the promontory, we had great views north and east, and way out I could see Mt. Stuart, which is one of the more amazing climbs in the PNW. 

From our lunch spot, we traversed along the lower flanks of Escondido point for a while before making a soul crushing descent down to Waptus Lake. From above, the beautiful blue lake stretched out before us. The sky was so clear and blue, it really lifted our spirits. It seemed like Washington was finally with us over the last two days. We were both feeling better and the weather was cooperating nicely. 

Three hours of descent finally brought us to our low point of the day on the northwest end of Waptus lake. Pretty much immediately from the bottom, we started a slow climb back up, which became steeper on the north shore of the lake. Waptus lake is 2 miles long and the PCT uses all of that length to make the beginning of the climb up to Cathedral Rock. Eventually, we turned north and continued the pain train under the watchful bulk of Mount Jerry Garcia. Along this section of the trail we encountered signs of pack horses. When I looked at the map though, this made sense as I could see a number of roads running parallel to the trail east of us. 

We eventually passed Spinola Meadows and then Deep Lake. The sun set on us as we climbed but we pushed on. Eventually we reached a nice, single tent spot that probably would have had some amazing views if it wasn’t pitch black. We set our things up and ate, before getting into bed. Before I did, though, I made sure that our cups were safely stowed away in a backpack. Not dealing with mouse shit again tomorrow!

Day 154: Kendall Katwalk

10/17/2023

Section: Milepost 2395.8 to 2417.2

Total Trail Miles: 2415.1 Miles

Distance: 23.6 Miles

Moving Time: 11:31 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 5594 ft

Day 153. We woke at 5:30, enjoyed some time together and got going - safe to say everyone was feeling a bit better. We got our packs on and walked down to Laconia Market where we purchased our last bit of creature comforts - coffee and hot breakfast. It was expensive but the coffee was incredible.

After our meal and delaying as long as we could, we finally meandered out into the parking lot, awkwardly did our warm-up and got underway. We made a few small wrong turns and ended up doing a stupid little loop trying to get back up to the trail we had left off on two days ago. Was not necessary but, eh, it happens. We made a short descent and got across the highway before reconnecting with the PCT on the other side and began our 3 day jaunt to Stevens pass.

Today’s stage starts from I-90 and immediately commits to a 2500’, 6.5 mile climb up the nose of Kendall Peak where the Kendall Katwalk awaits. The PCT makes an airy traverse along a ridge running north from Kenall Peak before winding between Collar Mountain and Ridge Lake. It then continues on the traverse around the upper reaches of the Alaska Lake cirque and passes under Alaska Mountain. The high, traversing ridge walk keeps things interesting by subsequently tip-toeing along the precipice between Joe and Edd’s Lake and then taking a U-turn around the head of Gold Creek Valley. Once around Gold Creek Valley, the PCT hits its highpoint for the day at just under 6000’ and continues southeast on the western slopes of a very long Chikamin Ridge, passing under Chikamin Peak and Four Brother’s peak in the process. At fourteen and a half miles in, the path climbs over a small, unnamed pass at the southern end of the ridge and hitches suddenly east. Here, at the end of the maneuver, it crosses the northern banks of Parks Lake, makes a final small climb and commits to a 2000 foot descent on an exceedingly switchbacked path. On the way down, the stage passes by Spectacle Lake and through Delate Meadow. The day ends shortly after, at Lemah Meadows.

Before we began though, we had to bid adieu to a very important implement that had been with us through thick and thin along the trail - our beloved poo shovel. During some frantic digging on our approach to Snoqualmie Pass, it had finally succumbed to the rigour of its work and fractured. No longer of any use to us in its current state we interred it to the depths of a USFS trashcan at the trailhead for Kendall Katwalk. Your watch has ended dear friend.

After the ceremony, we began our climb up, 2500 feet, to the Katwalk itself. The day was overcast, but mercilessly dry as we wound up and up out of the pass.

Nearly 3 hours climbing in the trees brought us away from the sounds of I-90 and to the Kendall Katwalk - a wonderfully airy traverse high above the Silver Creek cirque. As landmarks go along the PCT, this one is probably in the to 50ish and definitely one of the big ones in Washington, right behind the Knife Edge. We traversed the walk without incident, noting how wide it was to accommodate horses, and then began a long day of ridge traverses above gorgeous alpine lakes. From the Katwalk, we had an amazing vantage point of stunning peaks off in the distance. To be honest, of the passes through Washington, Snoqualmie is actually low on the list for natural beauty when compared to others like North Cascades or Steven’s. It’s the most used, but not a lot of iconic landmarks to make it stand-out. Turns out, the epic views are there, just on the other side of a 2500 foot climb. It was remarkably beautiful, looking out east at Alta and Hibox mountain, just to name a few.

We eventually left the stunning views of the Katwalk and headed north, winding our way through some truly inspired trail building. The stage manages to keep us out of the countless gravity wells of various cirques, all of which have a small lake nestled at the bottom. I gotta say, though, I wouldn't want to have to give right away to a horse on this trail. The way they are etched into the side of these slopes doesn’t give a lot of room to get out of the way.

We are now solidly in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness and, true to its name, there are countless little lakes up here. I was continually stunned at how beautiful it is. Snoqualmie, to me, is the dividing line between the more volcanically inclined South Cascades that run all the way south to Sierra City and the North Cascades which have much more stark and imposing peaks. The contrast was in high definition as we wound through the incredible landscape. Lemah mountain, in particular, was gorgeous in the distance.

The other thing that was especially noticeable was the squeak. The lil’ varmots were everywhere, cruising between their burrows and chiming out into the thin air. It was actually hard to stay moving along because we had to stop to look closer at the blurs of gray as they screamed by to see if we could spot them. They were usually gone by the time we noticed them. As the morning wore on, I threw in my audio book. I’m listening to Outlive by Bill Gifford. It’s a fascinating read and definitely made me feel good about the activity we had been working on for the last six months.

At 2 pm, we hit our high point for the day near Chikiman peak and stopped for some lunch, with a good view down to Joe Lake. We had restocked on snacks and had 3 days of hiking so we could afford to take on a few extra calories at each stop. The day was still a bit overcast but had continued to remain dry which is all we really cared about. After lunch we got up and continued south along Chikamin Ridge, with more amazing landscape spread out below us. About an hour and a half brought us to the pass over Chikamin ridge and we made a small descent to Park Lakes. We then made a small climb up and out of the lake basin, which was brutal - we were into the “no-climb” zone of the day, basically the part of the day where even small climbs that would ordinarily be easy-peazy are a total drag. In fact, it probably would have been good to stop the day there but it was getting deep into October and we needed to get north before the snow started falling. Here in the PNW, we are usually good for one early winter storm in the Fall up high and we are both worried it’s waiting for us out there in the next 2 weeks. So, we marched on, reached the other side of the basin and began an incredible descent. Seriously, look at the map near Spectacle Lake. Some switchback masochist was given this section of trail and zero oversight. Don’t get me wrong, it was gorgeous trail and very well laid out, but so…many…fucking…switchbacks.

The sun set on us as we descended past Spectacle Lake. Down, down, down we went winding through house sized granite boulders seemingly forever but we finally got to the west side of Delate Meadow near the bottom at 6:30 PM. We broke out the headlamps and continued on. By this time we were exhausted. Just done. The darkness set in hard and it didn’t help that we knew we were walking through what was probably some gorgeous country, but couldn’t see any of it. It was about this time that two Screech Owls decided to keep us company. Don’t get me wrong, I love owls and under slightly different circumstances, I would have been intrigued to have them so close by but it was pitch black and I was constantly worried about something jumping out from behind the very large trees all around us. Add to that an incessant, otherworldly screeching from two trusty friends who had decided to follow us and it was a very eerie experience.

It was with all these things compiling that, when we reached the Lemah creek crossing and Amanda fell in we called it quits. It wasn’t bad, but she definitely got wet. We hiked on a bit farther so she could dry out and to reach the Lemah Meadows campground which, in the light of day, I’m sure is beautiful but, for us, it was just a large empty campsite with about 5 pads and a whole lotta mice. Like, these fuckers are getting bold. Anything we left on the ground they would get into. Towards the end of our quick dinner I was ready for the owls to come back. There is a strong difference between camping in the dark on some high promontory or bluff and camping in a low river bank or meadow edge. Just a bit creepier in the latter situation. So we cleaned up pretty quickly and I ran over to hang our food from a tree before running back and diving into the tent. It was a super long day. A lot more beautiful and exhausting than we had expected and Amanda is recovering very nicely so, overall, we were happy with how everything had turned out and excited for what the next day would bring.

Day 153: Sick Day 2, Amanda Edition

10/16/2023

Section: Milepost 2395.8 to 2395.8

Total Trail Miles: 2393.7 Miles

Distance: 0 Miles  

Moving Time: 0:00 Hrs 

Elevation Gain: 0 ft

Well, second day sick in bed. Amanda woke up this morning completely down and out so we weren’t moving. It was also pouring outside so, just chalk up another reason not to be moving today.

Looking at Instagram we could see that, 100 miles south of us, Charlie and Co - the group that had been following behind us for some time - were sitting out the rain at White Pass, maybe in the same room we had spent our first day sick in six days ago. But hey! We aren’t the last ones out here on this long, thin line between Mexico and Canada. 

I headed out this morning, into the rain, to get us some breakfast. I stopped in at Laconia Coffee - a very Seattle-esk coffee and provisions shop just about 5 minute’s walk down the access road next to I-90 from the hotel. It featured a lot of overpriced, but very nice snacks and coffee. Felt like I was in downtown Seattle. I picked Amanda and I up some breakfast sandwiches and got myself some coffee, before marching back through the sleet to the hotel. 

Amanda was doing a bit better. She had also gone through the darkest moments in the wee hours of this morning and was on the road to recovery but, again, not worth pushing it today. We ate our breakfast while watching some shitty TV and spent the rest of the morning getting caught up on our digital tasks. Just generally recharged all day. At midday, we headed to the hot-tube. It felt like it had been perpetually swampy for the last 30 years, but it was nice to get warm, and especially so as we watched the rain pour down outside. 

Shortly after noon, we headed over to Dru Bru. Amanda had made a quicker recovery than me and we contemplated heading out in the afternoon, but it just wasn’t worth it given the still steadily falling rain. Instead, we shared some beer and talked about our path north and all the many times we had been over this pass and how going over it would never be the same.

After our afternoon share session and some Seattle Dog’s, we headed back to the room. We got our things organized and I headed over to the terrible gas station just down the street. I don’t know why, but it was a depressing resupply session. We only had about 3 days to Stevens Pass but we did need some food for it. I took some guesses at what we would need, in addition to the provisions we already had, and checked out. I took the terrible plastic bag full of food back to the room. On my way back I noticed a small dog, a long string of watery shit followed behind it and, finally, an elderly woman behind all of that apologizing for her little dog’s inability to hold it in anymore… It was time to leave.

Back at the room, I dolled out the goodies and we got our bags packed. We watched some more terrible TV while I checked the weather - seeing that, while tomorrow was not great, it did not look like it was going to rain. Eventually, we turned off the talking light box and turned to sleep, hoping we were ready for the march north tomorrow.

Care package from Amanda’s cousin Rachel and husband Renae

Day 152: Snoqualmie Pass

10/15/2023

Section: Milepost 2382.5 to 2395.8

Total Trail Miles: 2393.7

Distance: 13.3 Miles  

Moving Time: 05:53 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 2454 ft

We managed to get up at 5 today. Praise be. We’re getting real slow in the morning. We finished off what little breakfast food we had left, giving the rainfly a few more minutes to dry out. It hadn’t rained a whole lot last night, maybe an hour or two, but it had been enough to get things real damp. There had been another owl last night, sounding off around midnight. I love owls, but they are getting real loud up here in central Washington and I get that nighttime is their daytime but I don't understand why they need to be so loud about it, especially when everything else about them is so quiet. 

Anyway, we got going around 6:30 this morning, which is a real improvement. We wanted to spend a little time with Josh and Maddy at the pass and we had told them we would meet them shortly after noon, so they would have time to get back home. 

The path today continues to wind through the lower elevations around Snoqualmie Pass and closes the last 13-mile stretch to the pass. It begins by winding around the eastern shoulder of Meadow Mountain, crossing FSR 5483 at the 2-mile marker and then completing a quick see-saw to Yakima Pass, where Twilight Lake sits amongst some thick trees. The PCT then makes a strong climb past Mirror Lake to a high point of 4500 feet, winds west along the northern shoulder of Tinkhorn Peak and serpentines through some smaller ponds. At 6.5 miles in, the path begins its main descent of the day. The trail drops 1200 feet in 3 miles, passes Ollalie Lake and bottoms out at Rockdale Creek. Here, it traverses the backside of Snoqualmie Pass Ski Resort, passes by Lodge Lake and climbs briefly to a small saddle, where it breaks out onto the lower slopes of the ski resort. Once on the ski slopes, the trail makes a final descent down to the pass, where it ends the stage at Snoqualmie Pass.

We sprinted off into the morning light. It was a beautiful morning. The sun had really come out and there was nothing but blue sky above us. The bad news is that Amanda has some increasingly bad cold symptoms… She was congested all night and was moving a little slow this morning. My headlamp also died this morning, so we are really running on fumes coming into the finish of the stage here. 

We cruised this morning, quickly coming to Twilight lake. No vampires, but we started climbing here and eventually reached Mirror Lake. There were a bunch of tents here. About 5, and we eventually came upon the group they belonged to. A bunch of highschoolers with some chaperones. We said hello to them and got nothing but silence back. Teenagers scare the shit out of me - stone cold killers, every single one of them. Anyway, we went by the lake, and stopped briefly to get some water before carrying on. Beyond the lake we encountered many shepherds of the alpine and their terrifying screams. At one point, a little Pika poked its head out and screamed right at me. I stopped to try and get a video of it’s performance but, right then, it got stage fright and remained silent. 

We completed the climb out of Mirror Lake and began the long cruise downhill to Snoqualmie. We went through Windy Pass and Olallie Meadow, commenting on how it might be a good place to trail angel from at some point before deciding it was too close to the main pass to be really helpful for the hikers. The midday passed without much more incident. We grew closer and closer to the pass we have been over countless times. All the while, Amanda felt crappier and crappier. The density of day hikers started to increase as we came towards the ski resort. At 9.6 miles in, we crossed over the Palouse-to-Cascades State Park trail and I-90 really started to make itself known. We began to catch glimpses of the state’s main East-to-West Artery far below us and could detail the cars making their final push to the top of the pass eastbound. 

We committed to a short climb at about 10 miles in, though it was taxing in our current state. The day-hikers were out in droves as we passed Lodge Lake and some of them recognized us as PCT hikers and stopped us to chat. We glanced at each one to see if it was Josh or Maddy, in case they had arrived early and gone up the trail to catch us. At the top, we passed through a small notch with a pond nestled in it. We stopped and talked with an older couple catching their breath from the climb out of the ski resort. After everyone had collectively recovered, we continued on down, the pass materializing far below us. As we marched below the lifts, I picked out Maddy’s gray Ford Escape coming up the highway and saw it turn off into the ski resort. We waved and hollered at them when they got out and Maddy started her way up with their dog, Pakka. Pakka actually sprinted up the hill, easily 300 feet straight up to reach us and we gave her lots of love for the very impressive physical feat. 

Towards the bottom we met Maddy and gave her a big hug, though Amanda held her breath because the other thing Josh and Maddy had brought for us was a COVID test. Back at the car we repeated the ritual with Josh and Amanda took the test in the parking lot. It came back positive immediately - so, the mystery of the flu-like symptoms that had haunted us over the last week was solved and now it was Amanda’s turn to suffer through.

After donning a mask and loading our packs up in the back of Maddy’s Escape, Josh drove us the 3 minutes down the service road along I-90 to get to our home for the night, the Summit Inn, a 2 Star Motel on the apex of Snoqualmie. I checked us in, noting the many hiker boxes located behind the counter and went back outside to check-in with Amanda, Maddy and Josh. The original plan was to head over to Dru Bru, the local brewery on the pass, for food but Amanda was crashing fast and decided to go to the room and sleep. I told Josh and Maddy I would get us settled and then come over for some dinner. Amanda said goodbye and that she was looking forward to seeing them again real soon and we headed to the room. 

It was a pretty drab affair, but functional. I got our stuff situated and the things we needed dry set out to speed up the process. Amanda took a shower and crawled into bed while I went back across the street to meet up with Josh and Maddy. I caught up with them for about 4 hours. Our van had inspired them to look for their own, though they were still on the fence. Josh had climbed Forbidden Peak, one of the 50 Classic Climbs of North America, and recounted what sounded like an epic summit day. Eventually, it started to get dark, and they said they had to get back to Seattle. It wasn’t far, but it was a school night. We said goodbye, and I picked Amanda some food up from a food truck just outside the brewery. 

Back in the room, I found Amanda watching some TV. As expected, she was excited for the food and enjoyed it while we watched some Survivor. The irony in that was not lost on either of us. After that we watched some Naked and Afraid which was, still, very on point. At around 9 pm, totally exhausted, we passed out in the warmth of the 2 Star hotel room, listening to the rain fall harmlessly outside. 

Nothing like a good COVID nose swab.

Day 151: Annular Eclipse

10/14/2023

Section: Milepost 2360.7 to 2382.5

Total Trail Miles: 2380.4

Distance: 22.2 Miles  

Moving Time: 09:17 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 3612 ft

We slept pretty well last night. The mice on the other hand… didn’t sleep at all. They were out in force all night, looking for any little scrap we might have left behind. Good thing was that we hadn’t left anything for them to find, everything had been hung up nice and high, but that didn’t stop them from looking. We were finding that Washington had a real mouse problem. On a climb up Mt. Rainier in 2019, we had experienced a “Night of the Living Mouse” which had set quite a high standard for rodent debauchery. This didn’t quite hit that standard but it came close. An owl was also out and about on her mouse duty. Glad she was out there trying to take care of them… not sure she needed to scream about it for an hour at 2 am though.

So, yea, pretty eventful night all around us. Despite that, we still managed to sleep well. We woke at our now standard time, just before 7 am, and got going. I “liberated” some of Amanda’s portion of homemade granola. I’m like the Robin Hood of granola - I steal from the rich and give to the poor. The poor, in this case, is me… because I am not being disciplined with my granola reserves. It’s just really good. We have this powdered milk too which I'm adding with hot water so it’s like warm milk and granola. Fuckin’ clutch. 

We packed up after enjoying some…equitable…portions of granola. My comrade, Amanda, found that a mouse had chewed into her Khula cloth which really pissed her off. At just before 7:45 we were warmed up and ready to put some trail under our souls.

The path today starts with a 2000 ft, 6-mile descent off the shoulder of Blowout Mountain, all along a ridgeline down to Tacoma Pass, where the trail crosses FSR 4112. Along the way, the trail straddles the line between the Okanogan-Wenatchee and Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National forest. From the pass, the trail climbs up to Bearpaw Butte and traverses to Snowshoe Butte before dipping down to a small, unnamed saddle, and climbing back to a similarly unnamed peak. At just under 13 miles, the trail starts a long, undulating descent down to Stampede pass, crossing through a labyrinth of forest service roads. From this pass, the trail climbs again and circles around the head of the Sunday Creek cirque, before descending the last two and a half miles to the outlet of Stirrup Lake, where the stage ends for the day.

We spent the first hour or so overheating this morning. Not sure what happened because, after that first hour we then got cold. Maybe the body just isn’t regulating like it should anymore, idk. Whatever. It could have had to do with the rain as well. It’s back. Not bad, though, just occasionally making our lives miserable, for long enough to need to put on the jackets, and then immediately stopping after and warming up so that we then have to stop again to take the jackets off. It's lovely.

At around 9:21 AM, Amanda and I noticed everything around us suddenly get dim. I looked up just as I remembered that today was going to be an annular eclipse! I looked straight at the sun, just like our Lord and Savior DJT!!! 😂 Anyway, when it happened, we both stopped to look around at the strange light that was suddenly cast over everything. Even the birds started chirping their evening songs, which I remember happening when we went to my parents in 2016 for the total eclipse in Oregon - very strange. Not that long after, the eclipse passed and we carried on down the trail. 

As the morning carried on, the silence was more and more consistently broken by the sounds of gunshots. Not hunting, just a lot of shooting. In a couple places we just hoped there was a good embankment between us and them. The other thing that started to pop up everywhere, especially after Snowshoe Butte, was mushroom hunters - tons of mushroom hunters. They were everywhere! I guess it makes sense. We are close to the largest pass in Washington and there are so many access trails all around us that the appearance of mushroom hunters shouldn’t be that surprising. Many of them were running around with orange vests on so that they could be picked out by the other hunters and they often waved at us as we made our way down the trail. 

We continued to bob-and-weave, up and down through these sections south of Snoqualmie Pass. The rain continued to come and go on us as we hiked through large open sections and under tall power lines. Eventually, the night came and we stopped along the banks of Stirrup River, quickly transitioning into our setup activities. We made our last Peak Refuel and followed it up with our last ramen. We planned this section out down to the wire on the calories. It rained on us as we were just starting to eat, which was lovely - this damn weather just isn’t going to give it up! Afterwards, I ran out in the rain to hang-up the bear bags before returning and diving into the tent. Amanda and I briefly talked about all the cool mushrooms we had seen before drifting off to sleep. 

Day 150: Ulrich Cabin

10/13/2023

Section: Milepost 2336.9 to 2360.7

Total Trail Miles: 2358.6 Miles

Distance: 24.1 Miles  

Moving Time: 09:56 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 3232 ft

The wind stayed off of us last night, but it was still cold… and noisy - the wind definitely woke me up a few times. We woke up a little behind schedule this morning. Honestly, we’re just past getting up before sunrise anymore. It would probably help our overall mood to walk in the dark in the morning rather than in the evening, but we don’t have it in us to get up and go in the dark… so we don’t. I texted Josh this morning to see if I could borrow his air mattress when they come to rendezvous with us at Snoqualmie Pass. Washington may be giving us the worst it has but we are now in a part of the state where we have a whole lotta support so that is helping tremendously. After some of Sandy Porter’s delicious homemade granola, we got up and going. The campsite was about 100 yards off the trail so after our warmups and Strava initiation, we wound up the little trail to the PCT and turned onto it! 

The stage today starts on the ridgeline we walked along last night, on the backside of Crystal Ski Resort, and descends to a small saddle, called Barnard Gap, before passing through Hayden Pass shortly after. The trail winds northeast above Little Crow Basin, dropping elevation until about 2.5 miles in, where it goes over Martinson Gap. From the gap, it switches back up to another, nameless pass and then descends to the head of the South Fork Little Naches river valley, makes a small climb to near Arch Rock and then begins a 1000 foot descent to Rad’s Gap at mile 10. From Rad’s gap, the trail makes a small descent to an open butte-like feature where we find Ulrich’s snowmobile cabin at Government Meadow. From the cabin, the PCT makes a moderate climb to the western shoulder of Pyramid Peak, crossing NFDR 7080 at mile marker 13.8, and then climbs to the Pyramid Peak trailhead, 2 miles beyond. From here, the PCT parallels NFDR 7080 for 3 miles before some maddening up-and-down around Green pass. The day ends with a stout climb up Blowout Mountain and ends just past the access trail to the summit.

We got off to a quick start this morning. I am feeling quite a bit better today. Maybe not 100 percent yet, but noticeably better. I’m pretty damn chipper! We sped through the evergreen fairy tale that is Southern Washington, occasionally getting some nice views out to the landmarks around us. Today starts on a ridge and kinda just continues on it for a while. There were elk all around us as we walked in the earlier moments of the day. We can’t see them, but they definitely make themselves known. 

At around 11 am, I got stung. This, I think, is my 4th or 5th sting on the trail. Along 2600 miles of backcountry walking, getting stung is less a question of if, than it is of when. It was a little surprised because I had thought the bastards had gone back to hell for the winter but I guess they are still out here and pissed off because it is cold. Amanda told me after that she had thought she had seen a nest. Sometimes we will see big wasp nests on the ground - long after they have fallen, and I always think that some poor hiker has had to have been around when one of them fell out of the tree - what a shitty day that would be…

At around noon we passed into the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National forest. We stopped to take a picture in front of the sign and to enjoy the feeling of homecoming. This national forest extends all the way up to North Cascades NF and is our main playground south of that park. Shortly after, we made it to Ulrich’s Cabin. We knew we were getting close because of the many road crossings that we started to encounter north of Maggy’s Creek. All of a sudden, the trees opened up and we were standing in front of Government Meadow with the large cabin on the perimeter. Fun story about Ulrich’s Cabin that you probably had no idea about (because we didn’t)  - this cabin was the epicenter of a 2022 outbreak of Nora Virus that infected quite a few hikers at the time. Further investigation discovered it was rampant in the cabin. None-the-less, we went in and had a look around. It’s a super nice cabin that looks well taken care of, but we were still a little nervous and didn’t linger long. Outside we had lunch on a log in front and enjoyed the glorious sunshine. 

We continued on and encountered many more service roads. This area south of Snoqualmie has a ton of them. 2 guys on ATV’s zoomed past us shortly after leaving the cabin. They waved and we waved back. The trail continued to be incredibly “cruise-able” and we made good time, despite the annoying up and down. No big climbs, no big descents - instead, just a rollercoaster of dips and rolls that became very frustrating. 

Around Pyramid Peak, we came to a forest service road with a brand new Ford Bronco sitting near the trail. A family was lounging around on camping chairs and motioned for us to come over. They gave us tea and crepes and asked what we were doing. We gave our typical PCT spiel about the trail and our experience and then asked them what they were doing so far out. As we had encountered a few times already on the trail, they were mushroom hunters and were out with the family hunting King Boletes. They said that they immigrated to the US from Ukraine 20 years ago and that this area had the same mushrooms they used to hunt growing up as kids, though they didn’t know them by the Bolete name. The kids showed us their haul, which was impressive - big, beautiful mushrooms piled in buckets in the back of the Bronco. We stayed and talked with them for a few more minutes before thanking them for the tea and carrying on. They wished us luck before we turned and headed off.

Shortly after leaving, we stopped at a small creek and filled up on water. We didn’t really know how far we were heading tonight but wanted to be able to just stop whenever we were done. This area, for being in the middle of Washington, was surprisingly dry. We continued on, our tired backs beleaguered by 4 extra liters of water.

The sun eventually set and we carried on into the dark, making our way up Blowout Mountain. What a name. Despite the encroaching darkness, we were both just happy it wasn’t raining. Eventually, we reached the top of the stage, off the west shoulder of Blowout Mountain, and decided to call it. We camped on a little, super eerie side trail up to the summit. Amanda set-up the tent while I got our water going. It was Friday the 13th and we had seen some missing hiker signs at several trail heads over the last few days so, feeling pretty unsettled. The trees around us gave off Blair Witch Project vibes as we tucked ourselves into our tent, which was a bit too slanty for my liking.

We drifted off to sleep, eyes flying open at every snapped branch that echoed out in the dark.

Day 149: Beauty in the Breakdown

10/12/2023

Section: Milepost 2317.3 to 2336.9

Total Trail Miles: 2334.8 Miles

Distance: 19.4 Miles  

Moving Time: 09:22 Hrs

Elevation Gain: 3802 ft

If you didn’t know what it was, the scariest noise you can hear in the night is elk calling to each other. People refer to it as a bugle and, I guess, that’s not a bad description. It's a high, careening call that echoes in the darkness and seems to hang there forever. I hadn’t heard that call in a long time, and I had forgotten what it sounded like until 2 o’clock this morning when, about 200 yards from our tent, one decided to remind me. My eyes shot open as the alien sound reverberated through the thin nylon wall of our tent. The funny thing was that it woke both of us up but we didn’t talk it through because we both assumed the other was sleeping. It was only in the morning that we discovered our shared, momentary terror. I do pity any PCTer who doesn’t know what that sound is and had to figure it out on the trail - it would be terrifying.

After our night of short lived terror, we woke up feeling a little better. The flu continued to subside, leaving me continually amazed at what the human body was capable of, and we were able to rise in the morning mostly refreshed and ready for the day. We prepared ourselves in the typical fashion and quickly downed breakfast and our warm beverage of choice, especially happy for the extra heat on this cold and damp morning. I’m still sticking with the breakfast pucks - as much as I can't stand them.

The stage today continues its northern apogee on the same ridge we slept on the night before, climbing for just under 2 miles before a rollercoaster-style descent past Anderson lake to its low-point at Big and Little Dewey lake, six miles in. From the low-point, the PCT makes a sharp rise, climbing 700 feet in a little over a mile to a small pass below Naches Peak…where it descends again down to Hwy 410 at Chinook Pass. The PCT crosses over Chinook Pass and turns east, paralleling the highway while rising above it, eventually reaching Sheep lake at 11.5 miles in. It continues to climb to Sourdough gap at 6400 feet. The trail briefly intersects Crystal Lakes trail before winding north around a cirque and eventually making a small climb to Bear Gap where the slopes of Crystal Ski Resort  are visible. The path then circumnavigates around Pickhandle Point and see-saws along a ridge, passing under Norse Peak and eventually coming to a close on the upper slopes of Big Crow Basin. 

We started our day doodling along a ridge. Every once in a while I could pick out big hoof prints of Elk that had clearly come down off the ridge in the night. Probably screaming the entire way… We cruised on, moving a little faster than yesterday but I'm still not there - still a little congested and tired. Just, really rooting for my immune system at this point. Cruising might be an overstatement given that we walked on a lot of slush throughout the morning. In these conditions, you end up tip-toeing on the edge of the trail, trying to avoid the deep puddles in the middle. It’s really non-ideal.

Mid-morning we ran into a fellow PCTer, one of the first we had seen in a long time. He was finishing his section from Snoqualmie to Trout Lake. We exchanged some beta and he told us there was more snow ahead. We thanked him and wished him luck before continuing on. 

At Dewey Lake we started to run into loads of Day Hikers. We realized we were in the vicinity of Chinook Pass because conditions were not great and the people we ran into didn’t look like they could have come from far off. We continued on, into a steady stream of day hikers, mostly retirees and international travelers. About 30 minutes took us up from the lake to a small, snow-covered pass and we could suddenly hear the car traffic from Chinook, below. We slipped and slid down to the pass, arriving around lunch time. We crossed a quaint log bridge on the border of Rainier National Park and descended a short distance to the road. Here, we took a long sit and considered our situation.

To be honest, this might have been the lowest point on the Pacific Crest Trail for us. Actually, I’m pretty sure it was. We had crossed over the 2300 mile mark but were sick, tired and just generally out of energy to move on. At no point in the last 150 days had we considered quitting but here, after 10 days of rain, snow and terror we were very close to calling someone to come get us. Ironically, it was the inconvenience of hitching a ride down to Naches that kept us from ultimately calling it. We sat at the eastern entrance to Rainier national park and discussed the option to capitulate to our discomfort for some time but, in the end, decided it would be too difficult to get off this pass and so, decided to see what was between Chinook and Snoqualmie. Painfully, we reshouldered our backpackers and rejoined a string of day hikers making their way up this side of Chinook. 

We climbed up out of Chinook, into a dynamic contrast of what we had fought through all morning. I don’t know if we were just in the protective shadow of Mt. Rainier or if our luck went through a phoenix-like rebirth but, all of a sudden, we were no longer on snow and the sun was out in full glory. Our moods lifted as we climbed up past Sheep Lake, smiling and waving to the day-hikers. Mid-afternoon brought us to Sourdough gap, where we left the crowds behind and began to climb along the southern boundary of Crystal Mountain, enjoying the view down onto the dry ski runs. Looking back, we could see all the way to the Goat Rocks and Mt. Adams. We criss-crossed over the top of a ridge and made our way through a number of small notches, occasionally crossing over snow patches but, for the most part, we left the snow of the southern Cascades behind. At one point, OI was able to get some service, check the snow cover and noted that, beyond Chinook, there was very little snow. For some reason, the southern Washington Cascades had gotten the lion’s share of the snow but it had not sustained north of Chinook in appreciable amounts. Guess we were right to carry on!
We stopped at dark this evening, finding a small copse of trees that provided one of the few windbreaks on the ridge and a small trickle of water just a short distance from the campsite. The trees around us definitely made some strange noises as the wind raced through their upper branches but we largely ignored them, enjoying the warm goodness of Peak Refuel's take on Sweet and Sour Pork Rice. Afterwards, we cleaned up and got into bed. The wind was howling but it was all way above us and we were able to drift off to its monotonous roar in the dark.