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| Mount Rainier off in the distance behind trail just north of Ridge and Gravel lakes in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness |
After a wonderful rest in Seattle with Granite and Terrapin,
which included a dinner with two other 2010 PCT hikers—Microburst and Sweet
Sixteen, Terrapin drove me back to the trail.
Even though I was full from breakfast, I returned to the gas station and
bought myself a cheap cheeseburger and a Hostess Fruit Pie, and ate them while
walking from the gas station to the northbound trailhead at Snoqualmie
Pass. I felt energized and happy as I
waved goodbye to Terrapin who was honking while she drove off.
From this point there was only about two-hundred miles left for me to
hike and I was happy to be finishing strong.
I kept my goal modest that day, a mere seven miles. I was not in a rush to leave my Seattle
friends but I did need to get my rear back on the trail. When you are on the PCT long enough, being off just
does not feel right. After a nice little
two hour walk, I settled myself in a quiet spot off trail along the far edge of
Ridge Lake. It is nice to have days like
this and to finish early because there is no rush to eat and get to sleep. I took my time eating while reading a new
book I picked up in Seattle and caught up on my journal entries before
succumbing to slumber.
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| Glaciers on a parallel ridge |
I loved this new area. Alpine Lakes Wilderness was gorgeous. I left Ridge Lake both refreshed and early, and found myself hiking through clouds. It was a treat. The cold winds and low clouds reminded me of my day hiking through Goat Rocks, and I hiked that morning without the slight inclination to rush through anything. An old friend also returned into view, Mount Rainier. Its snow-capped peak was poking through the distant sea of white clouds. Like so many other moments in Washington, this view ingrained in my heart a desire to return to Washington. After all, Rainier's mere presence demands that I summit it in my lifetime. Why else would such tall peaks be brought forth from the earth, if not to challenge us? The remainder of the day I resumed my habit of hiking with long and break-less stretches. Much of the trail this day consisted of a slow decline into one valley and then an equally slow climb up and over another ridge. The entire way up, despite the glaring sun, I found myself constantly looking over my left shoulder to take in a view of the glaciers on the ridge that ran parallel to the one I was ascending. Once the ascent was
complete I traveled around the ridge to a desolate alpine flat with an almost completely hidden little tarn. I debated staying at
the tarn that evening but also appreciated that I still had a good hour or so of
sunlight and choose instead to fill up on water and dry camp on a quiet little
meadow somewhere near the Waptus River.
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| North side of Cathedral Pass |
Even though there was no shortage of steep climbs and drops
remaining on the PCT, it was around here where, for whatever reason, I decided
to pack my trekking poles. Something about
them seemed superfluous and I did not want to deal with them anymore. I continued doing long stretches and often
found myself losing track of the time.
It was not because every single mile of trail was like a piece of heaven
on Earth, I simply found myself enjoying my hike. I knew I was going to finish, I knew I was going
to finish before the snow began to fall in Washington, and I all that truly
remained in my hike was the desire to enjoy myself until I finished. If anything, the thought of being done was
the only thing that made me any bit gloomy.
To avoid gloom I then ceased to think about Canada despite how close it
was. At one point that day I stopped
about half a mile short a lake I had planned on breaking at. I climbed atop a large rock that sat in the
shade and overlooked a strong flowing Spinola Creek. For an hour I sat with a book, ate from a bag of dehydrated bananas, and had a
couple of cups of cold coffee. I also
found a large pile of abandoned food and gear.
Curiosity compelled me to shift through it, I found a couple of
still-sealed packets of dehydrated biscuits and gravy, and found myself
thinking, “what on earth am I doing? I don’t need any of this junk.” I left the junk where it sat, continued past Deep Lake, admired a lengthy view of it while coming up to Cathedral
Pass, jumped from boulder to boulder at a powerful and narrow snow-melt creek just below Mount Daniels, descended back into a thick forest until going over a view-less Deception
Pass, and then camped at the first available piece of flat ground where I also
found a very cold an delicious spring. I
heard a number of other hikers pass me early in the evening but with my tent’s
opening facing away from the trail, I confined myself to my dinner and my book.
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| Northern Deception Lake |
In the morning while I ate my unloved oatmeal and drank my beloved coffee, I was surprised to not only bump into another thru-hiker but also
one that I knew—Hesu. We talked while I
broke down my camp and he gave me the address for the Steven’s Pass trail
angels—the Dinsmores. They lived past
the Databook’s resupply town entry of Skykomish and in a small and spread out
town called Baring. If I had not found
another hiker, I would not have been able to find them. I remained with my usual place knowing I only had 20
miles to Stevens Pass (unlike the 27 mile haul Clay and I had to make to arrive
at Snoqualmie). I soaked in the views of
all the beautiful lakes along the way—Deception Lakes, Surprise, Trap, Hope, Mig,
Josephine, and Susan—and before I knew it I was hiking under a ski lift. Seeing the lift I realized that I was only a
couple miles before Stevens Pass and I was about to complete 20 miles without
needing a break. Once I arrived at
Stevens Pass I went to the little restaurant, had a hotdog, crossed the
highway, and stuck my thumb out. The
Pass was not exactly hitchhiker friendly but after half an hour I got offered a
ride from a painter who was leaving work at the pass. I had a hard time trying to understand what he
was saying and realized why only after I got into his car. My ride was a Russian immigrant
who spoke very little English and simply assumed I was trying to get to
Seattle. Despite the language barrier I
was able to describe where I needed to go and roughly where Baring was by drawing
a line on his dusty dashboard—we’re at Steven’s Pass, I need to go to Baring a
few minutes past Skykomish, and Seattle is not
where I’m going all the way out here. It
worked. He drove me to Baring in return
for some awkward small talk where neither he nor I could really understand each
other; we were literally talking for the sake of talking and to pass time. I arrived in Baring five minutes before the
store closed, got a large deli sandwich, chips, a couple of beers, and some ice cream; and
then immediately set off for the Dinsmores’ home.
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