The wind picks up in the night. I can hear people staking and re-staking their tents in a desperate attempt to cling to this earth. It feels as if my shrinking body weight is the only thing holding my Tarptent down. I fear if I get up to pee my tent will leave for Washington without me.
The good news is the rain has not yet started. The bad news is it will. We head back to the Bridgeside restaurant for omelettes and coffee. There are other thru-hikers there planning their what-do-we-do-about-all-the-Washington-fires strategy. Everyday it seems to get worse. My current plan is to hike as far north as possible, which right now seems like Glacier Peak. From there we hope to hike west to a road off the PCT to get a hitch (or ride from Terri) around to Harts Pass. It is a rough road to Harts Pass, but from there it is only 30 miles north to the Canadian Border. Of course so much can happen between now and then that there is no point worrying any more than that about it.
We resupply at the local grocery store to get us to Trout Lake which is 4 to 5 days north. From there we will buy supplies to get us to White Pass where Terri is sending a box. We sort our food on a picnic table surrounded by storm clouds but so far dry. We kill time by walking the locks and learn that Bridge of the Gods comes from an ancient land slide that blocked the river. After prayers from the natives the river is allowed to pass under the slide so the salmon can migrate up and be eaten by the locals. Apparently the salmon’s prayers to be left alone went completely unanswered.
After a quick ice cream we hunker down in our tents. It is now raining in earnest so we try to nap, hoping to get a break at some point for dinner.
The rain stops and we head up to the Alehouse for pizza based calories. On the way it starts to rain again then stops. It starts and stops several more times. It is as frequent and unpredictable as the spot fires popping up all over Washington and the hourly trail reroutes of reroutes.
Rain or shine tomorrow we climb. We will go from under 200 feet to over 3,400 feet in about 11 miles. We want to believe that a zero day helps us recover, but sometimes it just makes us lethargic.