Day 149-To the Dinsmore's

From  2461 by a cold little spring to mile 2476 at Steven's Pass

It used to be that I would get into camp and feel tired and grateful to take my pack and shoes off. By the time camp was set up and dinner was eaten I used to feel like I could hike on if it wasn't so dark and by the time I woke up in the morning I was ready to eat and go for a hike. Now I get into the camp exhausted, sore, and hobbling. I hurt as I set up camp and while I eat dinner. I wake up in the night with my calves throbbing and heels sore. I'll check my watch around three a.m. and know that the aching won't be gone by the time I wake up at five-thirty. I wake up feeling old and unrested. I take a couple of Advil's before leaving camp. Fifteen miles to town at the start of the hike would have put me into mid-afternoon. Now, we are not entirely sure we'll get there today.

Class bandannas at the Dinsmore's 

It's another smoky day. We eat breakfast while we walk. I'm short on dinners, but other than that, my foodbag looks hefty enough for a couple more days out in the woods. Portrait also has too much food. All I can think about while hiking is cutting some weight from my pack starting with my foodbag. For the next stretch I'll bring just the right amount of food--less hot chocolate because we are getting into camp too late for me to enjoy a potfull. Less bonus food and fresh fruit. And I start thinking about cutting off extra pack straps, pockets, and gear I can get rid of. I ask Portrait if he can thinking of anything I can ship home we start a list: my leaky water bladder, Nalgene bottle, a hair clip, some post cards, my guide book, maps, clothing stuff sack, rain skirt. About a couple of pounds find their way to the list.

We walk slowly through a huckleberry field on the slope of a ridge. We have an expansive view of smoke and veiled peaks. Although we slept just under two hundred miles from Canada I feel no closer than I was a week ago. We had told the weekenders at the start of this stretch that we only had two weeks left. And now, after five days of walking, we have at least a dozen days ahead of us. Every day takes longer to go less. The trail I've been walking on may have turned into a treadmill. The miles go by, but the amount of days left to hike stays the same. And every day I feel a little more desperate to finish.

The hike has stopped being fun, enjoyable, the time of my life days ago. I can feel the passion for backpacking seeping out with the burn of my calf muscles and the tightness in my heels. I have stopped thinking about the Continental Divide Trail and sleeping bags and making new packs. Instead I think about slogging along and how I never felt so discouraged while hiking. I think about how far away Canada is and how it keeps slipping away from me. And maybe I won't make it there. And then I'm crying.

I'm crying onto Portrait's shoulder. Packs make for the most awkward embrace as he touches my hair and strokes my cheek. He asks if I want to switch packs and I don't, not at all. Hikers carry their own packs--it's a rule that might be written down somewhere. There's pride carrying your own gear like pride of walking the whole way. And I know if I'm going to walk the whole way I need to carry less gear. Still sniffling we move to the shade and sit on a log by a tiny stream.

I eat my heavy candy and trail mix, polishing off a few ziplocks so I have more empty bags than ones with food in them. They sit crumpled in my lap while I dig for more to eat. Portrait eats as well. We take big drinks from our bottles and pour out most of the remaining water. Two pounds gone between us. I take a few snacks from my foodbag and smoosh the bag deeper into my pack. Portrait puts his bag on top of mine and tucks in a few of his belongings around the two bags and closes the pack. I stash my snacks in the shoulder pockets on Portrait's pack. He hoists my pack from the ground, heavier than his pack ever was with twin foodbags, onto his back and buckles it around his hip. I swing his pack up and onto my shoulders--it's lighter than a child's bookbag.

Jack and Little Dipper working on their resupply

I take a couple more Advil's and we set off. I ask Portrait a dozen times if he's sure he's okay with that much weight. When the thin shoulder straps of his pack start digging into my shoulders I say nothing--my shoulders ache less than my poor tendons that seem to ignore the Advil I've taken. In Washington I've taken more Advil than in Oregon and all of California where I didn't take any.

We climb up, getting closer to the road. Each mile brings more people out. We step off trail to let a trail runner go by. We meet a day hiker dressed in GoLite gear looking fresh as he descends and I'm acutely aware of how much sweat is on my face even with a light pack and moving slow on the mile long climb. We chat with him for a while about thru-hiking because there's no rush--we're going to miss the store which closes at five, but we will make it to town. By the time we part ways I know longer have sweat on my face and the top of the climb doesn't feel so far away.

Eating dinner at the Dinsmore's

We cross under chair lifts--each pass in Washington has been at a ski area so far. There's a dirt road at the top of the ridge surrounded by red and orange huckleberry plants. We walk over the ridge and start down the trail on the other side. We cross the Pacific Crest ski run and walk along the side hill. Buildings, roads, and parking lots spread out below us. They grow larger slowly as we switchback along the mountain's shoulder. We can hear cars--the road sounds busy which is great for us and hitching in.

We are standing at the road at 4:30. Portrait had let my beast of a pack thump on the pavement--finally admitting just how heavy it was. We put out our thumbs, smile, wave, and try to look as nice as we are. The people driving by don't seem to notice us. No one smiles as we dance with our thumbs out after an hour of trying to hitch. We try to act fun, harmless, interesting, and still no one stops, waves, or smiles at us. We see our GoLite dayhiking friend stride into the parking lot and we move so he might see us better. We keep an eye on him while continuing to hitch--although we know he will be our ride. And after an hour and a half of hitching we are putting our packs into his trunk and climbing in.

Day 148-Have a Little Smoke With Breakfast

From mile 2441 to mile 2461 by a cold little spring 

I had another great night's sleep-that's something I could get used to for the rest of the hike. We left camp just after 7:30 with the hope of doing a long day to make tomorrow's hike into town shorter.

The sky was hazy with smoke. The nearest ridges were tinged blue and the ridges beyond them faded away into the glaring haze. Portrait and I figured the smoke was from the fire we saw yesterday-we had crossed the valley and were climbing up the ridge where we had seen the column of smoke. If it was the same fire it had grown a lot over night. There was enough smoke that I could taste it with every breath as we climbed upward.

Everyone we passed going south said the smoke got worst as the climb went higher. It did seem thicker as we went up. Even with the haze the view of the ridges were lovely. The mountains became ghost in the thick smoke.

At the top of the climb we stopped for an early lunch. The smoke didn't seem as bad at the top. We sat with Panama Red for the break and talked mostly about the CDT. He left before us with town on his mind. We left about a half hour later.

We followed the trail down.  We had left most of the smoke on the other side of the ridge. The air was a little cleaner to breath but the views were still hazy. At lunch we had only done eight miles (all uphill) but my pace was slower on the downhill because of my tendons.

At the bottom of the downhill was a river that was moving swiftly through a bed of gray rocks.  The water fell from the top of the ridge in a serious of cascading falls.  We had heard the water before we saw it.  The guide book called the crossing a dangerous ford--no bridge, no log, and no simple rock hop.  It looked like it could be dangerous.  I moved slowly, my tendons sore and wobbly, from rock to rock into the middle of the river.  In the middle of the river I got a little stuck--there was a rock I could jump too, but even with unhurt tendons I'm not a rock jumper, so that was out.  When I stopped looking at the closest bank and looked up-stream I saw a cairn and an easy way to rock hop out of the middle of the river.  On the other bank we filled up our waters and bellies.

Looking upstream 

As soon as we crossed the river we started another climb-our last for the day. By the time we were at the top I was exhausted. My calf muscles throbbed as the tendons tightened with each step. we stopped for a snack and Portrait checked our location. We were only two miles from the creek where we hoped to find camping so I didn't take any Advil.

It was a very long two miles for me. My least favorite trail with the hurt tendons is down hill and rocky and it was two miles of that. The rocks shifted underfoot which would jar my tendon causing a sharp pain (and grimace). Finally, at dusk, we were down at the spring.

Portrait filled up and went in search of a campsite among the pines while I filled up. The water was almost painfully cold when I plunged my hand in to fill my bottle. It was some of the best water I had on trail.

I could hear Portrait whistling and I followed the tune more than the trail. He had found us a nice place for the night. I was too weary to do much and without clearing the ground I put down my tyveck, tested the feel of the ground, and called it home while I took off my shoes. I had no intention of moving for the rest of the night except to brush my teeth after dinner.

Day 147-Weekenders

From mile 2421 to mile 2441

I slept so soundly I don't think I moved at all during the night. Yesterday really had been a hard day. Portrait and I left camp early--I didn't want to be night hiking again.  Almost as soon as we started hiking we had Seminal (who we hadn't seen since Etna, CA) behind us. She was the owner of the little green tent last night. At the bottom of the hill we let her go ahead--I was a little tired of breaking the spiderwebs and I always feel too much pressure to hike faster with other hikers behind me. 

The trail stayed level for a few miles. We crossed a lot of little streams but I wanted to wait until the bottom of the day's main climb to pick up new water.  For awhile we could hear a large creek ahead of us. When we got there we found it buzzing with weekenders still in camp and one thru-hiker, Tortoise, who had camped right in front of the bridge.  He told us it had washed out with a nod towards the path down to the creek. Someone had put parts of the bridge in the water to bridge rock hop gaps. It was an easy river crossing.

Shortly after the river crossing the trail started to climb. I ended up picking up new water and then crossed a dozen more little streams. They petered out around mile two of the climb and I didn't expect to see any more until the bottom of the other side.

The weekenders had told us the top of the pass was really beautiful and it was quiet pretty. There had been a fire a few years ago so no trees blocked the views of the surrounding ridges and the hillside was carpeted in red and orange huckleberry bushes. There were also these tall purple flowers scattered through out and they would dance in the wind.

We had lunch just pass the top-I had accidently gone a half mile past the top of the climb because I thought it was going to be a normal pass but the trail went around the ridge instead of over a low spot. I didn't see anyone around when I sat down in some shade, but I think we crashed a hunter's spot. He came over when we were about to leave and chatted with us about our hike. He told us how he was a member of the volunteer group that clears the trail in early summer. He wished us luck on the rest of our hike. Everybody we've met recently has known about the PCT--it wasn't uncommon further south to meet people who hadn't heard of the trail even though they were standing it. Everybody congratulated us as the past. It's almost kind of weird.

I ran low on water sooner than I expected on the downhill. We were still about six miles from the next listed water when we got to a little stream. Portrait was pretty sure it was a pond outlet. I couldn't see a pond, but it sure tasted like one--very planty.

We took a break overlooking a lake in the valley and the ridges past it. When I sat down there was nothing but a scenic view to look at, but about ten minutes later Portrait pointed out a large column of smoke on the ridge. We could see red at the bottom of the smoke and could only imagine it to be flame. Portrait wondered if somebody had started a signal fire. It seemed to be far away and wouldn't likely interfere with our hike.

A cute sign not at our camp for the night

We continued downhill. About two miles from the bottom my tendons really started to bother me. They seem to have forgotten how good they felt the morning before when we were dropped off at the trail. At the creek we took a snack and water break and I took a couple of Advil to get me the next few miles.

The trail was mostly flat after the river for a few miles. We wanted to do three or four miles, but no night hiking. No campsites were listed but the terrain looked good for finding one. We agreed to not look for one until 7 o'clock. Five minutes of seven at a little stream was a beautiful looking campsite. When we went down to look at it it didn't look so flat any more. We decided to press on and I hoped we wouldn't regret our choice come nine when we were still hiking. Around 7:15 we found a spot down the slope from the trail. We set up camp and had a nice leisurely dinner, unlike last night's, as it slowly got dark.

(A note: This is most likely the last blog post until the end of the hike. Internet will be hard to come by from here on out. I'm leaving Steven's Pass today with 184 miles left to hike. I expect to finish on the 27th. Once I'm off trail I'll catch up the blog.)

Day 146-Leaving Snoqualmie

From Snoqualmie Pass at mile 2402 to mile 2421

Portrait's Uncle dropped us off where he found us, at the gas station, just before ten. We said our good-byes and thank yous then headed down the road to our trail. It felt good to be underway again, and I felt good. Tendons were wrapped and felt almost like new. My belly was full of homemade waffles-which would get me a fair ways up the six mile up hill that we had to start with.

The first climb was felt alright. It was well graded, the tread was smooth, and for the beginning it was rather cool out. We crossed a lot of little streams so I stopped at one two swap my town water for two liters of cold mountain water.

We left the treed and stream filled part of the climb behind about a mile from the top. The views opened up. Steep jagged peaks were everywhere. It looked very different than before the pass. Suddenly we were in the mountains again.

For lunch we stopped at the top of the climb and ate with Newgeo and Firepit. It was an awesome little clearing. Just before the catwalk began with rocks to sit on and views to admire. The craggy peaks were softened by a thick layer of haze and clouds, but they still looked impressive.

Dark sky at lunch time

In the middle of lunch we all stopped eating to look up at the sky in wonder. Was it really raining with so much blue sky above us?  We had our own dark cloud right above us that was spitting rain on us. We could see the edges of the cloud so we knew the light sprinkle wouldn't last long-and it felt rather nice.

We watched weekenders come across the catwalk--where the trail traverses a narrow ridge (kind of like the Knife's Edge). We watched a group of day hikers retreat back up the trail because two women on horses were coming their way. The horses crossed the cat walk with no problems.

Portrait and I were walking the catwalk when a team of horses came our way. We found a small niche in the rocks off to the side to stand in as they went by. It started to rain again as the passed us. I was starting to worry that my rainiest day of the trip so far would be a mostly blue sky day.

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As we hiked along the ridges were could look down on alpine lakes that were a dark blue and gold when the sun hit them.  Some of them looked like people had never been down to them.

We met a lot of weekenders out. They all pegged us as thru-hikers and they wanted to know how many days we had left. Everybody seemed really happy to see us and impressed by us. It was fun-it felt a little bit like being famous. The number of non thru-hikers we saw dropped with each mile we put between us and the road until we stopped seeing them.

Portrait and I were both feeling a little on the sluggish side--two days off can do that. My tendons twinged with pain with every wrong step on the rocky trail sections. Some parts of the trail were made up of loose rocks that wobbled underfoot. They were slow and tiresome to walk across.

We stopped on top of the ridge for a snack around 5 o'clock. We had 4.5 miles to camp, but most of it was downhill. I was nearly out of water and tried not to drink any while eating snack. It had been a tough day mostly up on rocky trail. We weren't making good time.

Minutes after leaving our break spot we came across a small stream. I drank a bunch and filled up with two liters so we could stop early if we wanted to. Right after filling up I started pointing out campsites to Portrait, and while he was the one who said we could stop early he seemed uninterested in doing so.

We had followed the trail down and then back up again. A mile of up brought us to a lovely hill top with mountains all around, beautifully lit up clouds, and deer munching their dinner. I pointed out another campsite, but Portrait still wanted to go onward--I think he wanted to be a mile from camp and the hilltop was 2.3 miles. I know he wanted to get us closer to town to make for a shorter hike into town in a few days.

We hiked downward as dusk settled around us. We passed three thru's that we had met that day setting up camp in a small grassy area. That was the last flat spot we were going to see in the daylight.

The trail down was on a steep sidehill with a lot of undergrowth. Nothing even came close to a campsite. At 8:15-well after full dark-we put on our headlamps. I gave up looking for a campsite and focused instead on watching my feet. It was rough trail. It felt more stream bed like than my well groomed PCT. I stumbled the last two miles down to the creek and campsite we had been aiming for.

It was one small campsite and one small green tent was filling it. There was no space for us so we had to continue on. We crossed the bridge over the creek and thought about staying there-it was loud. On a tree right after the bridge was a sign saying the trail was not passable for stock due to a washout-that explained the stream bed feel of the trail.

A mile more of stumbling and we found a small cleared spot. It was quarter to ten when I finally sat down to dinner in camp. It felt like my zero days were weeks ago, but at least my clothes still looked (and smelled clean).

Days 144 and 145- Double Zero Outside of Seattle

Portrait and I took a double zero at his Uncle's house outside of Seattle. We did some chores: bought plane tickets, resupplies, Ace bandages, and candy. We rested and watched The Way-an enjoyable movie about a long distance walk. 

Fast Layne joined us and the three of us went into the city to poke around Feathered Friends, REI, and Seattle Fabrics.

 We met up with Opus who finished his hike on the 8th. He had shaved off his beard a couple days ago and we almost didn't recognize him. We went out for lunch to catch up.

Waffle for breakfast

260 miles left. About two weeks. After resting for two days I feel ready to hike.

All wrapped up and ready to hike

Day 143-Ice, A Mile Ahead and Behind

From mile 2378 to Snoqualmie Pass at mile 2401

Portrait and I were giving the tent a good shake under the weak morning sun--our breath hung heavy in the air before us--when two hikers came up. One was Action Dan who I hadn't seen since Kennedy Meadows. I had assumed he was done his hike--Samwise and Sweet As were done. Turns out Action Dan had gotten off trail for six weeks with a broken foot. He told us that where they had camped up on the ridge, a couple of miles behind us, had received ice overnight. I felt lucky just getting rain--and it cheered me to no end to see the sun shining in the sky. They hiked on in a hurry to get to Snoqualmie Pass, a hotel room, and a hot tub.

We followed more slowly--there was no hot tub waiting for us. There was a good uphill to get the blood moving and to help warm up. The ground was crunchy underfoot with frost and all the little plants along the trail sparkled with ice crystals as the sun hit them. The drying ground looked like it was steaming where ever the sun touched it. Mist swirled around our legs and mingled with our breath as we hiked through it. After the past few dreary days, to see the sun and to feel its weak light was just wonderful.

Frosted plants by the trail

Portrait had family a short drive away and we had been thinking about warm beds and hot meals the whole time it had been gray outside. He kept calling and emailing and looking for service from the tops of the climbs for the past couple of days, but he was coming up empty. When planning the hike I didn't plan any zero days for Washington (Portrait didn't plan his hike beyond planning to hike 2,666 miles). I realized at some point when hobbling along in forty degree misty weather that I had made an error in my plan. Snoqualmie Pass was just about halfway through Washington, and if it had somewhere to stay would make the perfect place to rest.

It was 11 o'clock, we were at a pit toilet that looked and smelled like it had been forgotten about, when Portrait heard back from his uncle. His uncle told Portrait that he always had a place to stay with him, and said someone would be able to pick us up at the gas station at the Pass that night. That left us 19 miles to hike between 11 o'clock and sundown.  I took two ibuprofens, shoved some crackers in my mouth, took a drink of water, and tried to psych myself up for what was going to be a long hard day.  

About forty-five minutes later the ibuprofens had kicked in and I wasn't hobbling along any more. I was feeling pretty good when we got to our first water source of the day (we had passed another one--a seeping spring in spongy ground and had decided to not soak our feet on a forty degree morning). We each took some of the spring water, and then moved on to find a spot in the sun for a quick lunch  We found a campsite in a field not five minutes later. It was such a warm spot that time got away from me a little bit. Even though we had a room in a house waiting for us our lunch break was longer than the day we hiked to Urich Cabin.

Just like the cabin day, we were making up time and miles. Through out the afternoon I asked Portrait if we were going to be night hiking into the pass or not. Each time his answers leaned a little more towards not night hiking into the pass. He continued to time our breaks, and I ate a few snacks on the move. Each day out of Packwood felt a little more rushed than the day before it. Each day I promised my body the next day would be easier, slower, gentle, and each new day made me a liar. I promised myself a zero at Portrait's uncle's house, and I intended to keep that promise after walking myself into an achy mess.

Rainier popped up through the trees. It had receded from us in the past cloudy days, but still looked huge on the horizon. While we had gotten rain and clouds, it was clear that Rainier had gotten a fresh coat of snow. The mountain was almost too bright to look at. The trail was stubborn and didn't give us a clear view of the mountain--just puzzle pieces seen through the trees. Then we climbed a short ascent and lost Rainier for the rest of the day.

Overall we were hiking downhill to the pass, I knew that, but it felt like an endless series of short ups. Short ups happen to by my sore tendon's favorite type of trail, but I would have preferred a more steady downhill--maybe one carpeted in soft pine needles over dirt tread with no rocks. I was definitely in the mood for cushy trail, but the trail didn't seem to care about my mood.

In the mid-afternoon Portrait called his Uncle to see about arranging our ride. If we could be there before 8:15 Portrait's Uncle could pick us up on the way to drop Portrait's Grandfather off at the airport. If we got to the pass after that, his Uncle could pick us up later after dropping off Portrait's Grandfather at the airport. Portrait wanted to see his Grandfather so we decided to push for the early pick up. I promised Portrait we'd get to the pass, which was still five miles away, at 8:10.  He seemed doubtful of my hobbling abilities.

I had taken more Ibuprofens about an hour before our ride was set up, so I was feeling pretty good (not as good as I hoped to feel after a double zero in the suburbs of Seattle--we had bumped it from one zero to two). The trail continued to be stubborn--it was rocky and full off little ups and downs and just seemed to be getting on my nerves--like it had never been before. In spite of everything we were making good time. Portrait didn't seem to be doubting my hiking abilities when we were three, two, one, mile from the pass. The trail spit us out into a parking lot for the sky hill that we had just walked down and we hustled on to the gas station .7 miles off trail. We arrived before 8 o'clock, and I gloated the whole .7 to the gas station (while limping noticeably).

We found that hikers had taken over the parking lot--somehow they had taken over a circle of folding camp chairs and were sitting around in their sleeping bags drinking PBR that had been trail magic'ed to the group. I sat down wearily after getting my packages from the gas station and a package of gummy candies. I was passed a beer--which didn't go well with my candy, but did seem to hit the spot anyway. We had about ten minutes to cool off in the cold night air before Portrait's Uncle arrived.  By the time the car rolled up, I was feeling cold and no longer felt like I was rushing around. I warned Portrait I might fall asleep in the back seat of the car (but I didn't).

Day 142-Another Dreary Day

From Urich Cabin at mile 2355 to mile 2378

Inside the cabin with nearly a dozen other hikers provided a better sleep than expected.  At one point I woke up in the middle of the night and heard rain beating against the roof and I felt such joy at being inside under a real roof.

By morning it had stopped raining. Wettness was coming off the trees and clouds were still draping the valley and it was cold. The thermometer mounted on the outside of the cabin read 40 degrees when Portrait and I left at eight o'clock.  It was certainly a mitten wearing kind of morning.

Ready to hike

Everything was wet. The trail was made up of long skinny puddles. The brush lining the trail was soaked and got my shoes and pant legs damp. Whenever the wind blew it made the trees rain. There was some blue sky though. At points in the morning it seemed like the storm might clear out, but then it changed its mind.

Shortly after noon we had crested our biggest climb of the day and meet a southbound section hiker. He told us that down at one of the passes, just six miles away, was trail magic. He said there were chili dogs, hot drinks, sodas.  Portrait and I hadn't had lunch yet, and while I was very hungry the food in my bag lost all of my interest.

A few miles later we did stop for a quick snack lunch on a damp log-I put down my Tyvek to sit on. It was hard to sit long, and not just because I wanted trail magic, but because it was too cold to stay still. I ate just enough to get me the three miles of downhill left before the pass.

"Not Phil's Dad" was our host for the magic. He had two canopy tents set up. One was a kitchen where he made chili dogs and kept the kettle on. The other had folding chairs, a coffee table piled with fruit, chips, and other snacks.

As soon as we arrived two hot dogs went on the grill. The others from the cabin were already there and thinking about moving on. They still wanted to hike eight miles that day. I had chips and a soda while waiting for my hot dogs and hot chocolate. The hot food and drink was perfect. Everybody kept remarking on Not Phil's Dad's wonderful timing with his magic.

Not Phil's Dad making some magic

It was hard to leave those chairs and that kettle after an hour. Two more hikers showed from the cabin while we were getting ready to leave. It was just after four and we still wanted to do six miles so it was time to go. We thanked Not Phil's Dad who took our picture and then we started climbing up.

It felt a little warmer than it had in the morning, but just like in the morning we saw a few flurries of snow as we hiked in the afternoon. One very dark gray cloud seemed to have parked itself over us.

By 6:30 it was as dark as twilight. The mist and wettness coming off the trees was joined by a light rain. It would rain a minute than stop then start again. Portrait put on his new poncho and I put my pack cover on my pack. We agreed to take the next stop if it really started to rain.

We didn't give the rain a chance to start really raining. We saw a campsite and decided to take it. We were close enough to our mileage goal and neither of us wanted to be rained on when it was 40-something degrees out. It drizzled a little while we set up camp. We both eat a snack supper-I felt way too lazy to cook and I didn't want to be rained on while making and eating dinner. Sometime around 8:30 it started to really rain, but then stopped again-that seems like the pattern for the night.