Zero Miles

Unless I turn on the Disney channel, I see no sign of a mouse which it turns out I am okay with. Kevin sleeps as I head for the standard cheap hotel breakfast of bad coffee and make your own waffles. We have a list of chores to do, not the least of which is drying our washed and partially dried down bags. We walk to a tiny hotel laundry and dry the bags with a shoe to break up the matted down. The shoe keeps knocking the door open and stopping the dryer.

All You Can Stand Buffet

After sorting, drying and cleaning gear we grab some tacos and wait for the bus back to Walmart. People who ride the bus are often the same people who shop Walmart and with our scraggly beards and tired worn clothes, we fit right in. We grab some Ibuprofen, non-cotton gloves and food for tomorrow’s trip back to the trail. We strike out on cheap fleece for the pending cold snow.

I continue to check trail conditions and weather and it is not good. Some forecasts are now putting the snow fall at up to 6 inches at the higher elevations. Later in the week looks better. PCTA Facebook posts of National Weather Service warnings are asking people to delay if possible. I contact the Lady Of The Lake ferry service and even though I have already paid via credit card I can push out my reservation. We decide to stay one more night in Wenatchee then take the ferry on Thursday to eliminate at least one of the nights of snow.

China Foreign (to me) Policy

For dinner we hit the All-You-Can-Stand-To-Eat Chinese buffet where quantity does not make up for quality. Making it even more interesting they have a policy that if you don’t clean your plate they weigh the waste and charge you extra. So the worse their food is the more money they can make and believe me they are working very hard to maximize shareholder value. When I asked the Chinese waiter about this policy, he was unable to read either the English statement or the Spanish translation and simply smiled instead.

I did some internet research on the Snoqualmie Search and Rescue we witnessed on August 28 and found out that a horse and rider tumbled 100 feet from the PCT, rolled several times but luckily both were eventually rescued unharmed. Over 65 people were involved in the rescue.

Tomorrow we have a few chores, the most important of which is figuring out how to kill another day in Wenatchee.

Mile 2454 to 2462

I know lately I have had mice on my mind, but this morning I wake with one literally on my head. The little thing apparently gets in a hole chewed by his ruffian cousin the night before. He scampers to the highpoint of his new kingdom, my head! I knock him off his perch and chase him several laps around the tent before I can get him out. Getting back to sleep is futile as every raindrop dropping or tent flap flapping sounds like a little mouse messing to get back in. It’s not that I fear him, but I am determined to defend my expensive gear.

Saved by a warm car

Ixnay reports that his sleeping bag is so wet that he froze all night and did not sleep at all. He packs up first and is off and running to get warm. We will not see him again until the parking lot at Steven’s Pass. Kevin and I walk the 7.6 miles in the rain discussing anything but water and temperature. We pass several pretty lakes and go by chairlifts of yet another ski resort.

Daniel is our welcome committee with towels, donuts, drinks and most important a warm car. We give him instructions to drive us straight to a laundromat in Wenatchee where we spend most of the day grossing everyone out. We are mistaken several times for firefighters, which shows just how desperately they need help and how far they are scraping the bottom of the flaming barrel.

Loads of Laundry

At the laundromat we learn that firefighters and support crews have Chelan accommodations basically booked. There is a $2.50 bus from Wenatchee to the Our Lady Of The Lake’s dock, which is where we will catch the ferry to Stehekin. We decide to check into a hotel here saving Daniel that Chelan to and from driving. He does however take us to Walmart for some cheap waterproof pants. The weather forecast for our next leg is not much better than the last.

We say goodbye to Ixnay who Daniel is driving to Ellensburg to catch a greyhound back to California. Because he was so cold and miserable he wants to regroup, get better gear and move his car up to help with logistics. He agrees to send a picture of himself at the border monument when he finishes, probably in October.

Weather, fires and transportation?

Tired of the usual burgers or pizza when in a town, we opt for dinner at a Salvadorian restaurant. We order a variety of pupusa and fried plantains, all of which are fantastic. We then waddle to Safeway so we can finish off with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s each.

Tomorrow we plan a lazy zero, going through our food and gear to make sure we can handle the forecasted 1 to 2 inches of snow above 5,500 feet. That Canadian border is so close, but it seems Mother Nature wants us to go out on a lion and not on the lamb.

Making Sock Tea?

Mile 2432 to 2454

I wake to find a mouse running in and out of my vestibule. With several new holes chewed in the tent screen, I curse and give him the trail name Prime Suspect. It rained hard all night so everything is soaking wet. We yell back and forth between tents and agree to pack up during a slight break. It is hard to describe the joy of putting on wet clothes, so I won’t. As I put on my pack I realize it needs a Midol. The water retention in the tent, gear and pack make it heavier than I can ever remember, including the times in the Sierra with a bear canister and a week’s worth of food.

Today it rains off and on all day, but mostly on. It is cold, windy and foggy – so much so that Ixnay does not stop to take a single break in the 22 miles. I mention how great the warm car will be when we reach Daniel tomorrow. Kevin mentions how great a hot shower would be. We agree to stop mentioning.

Drown Rats Selfie

We pass Deception Pass and Deception Lake. Along the way we encounter a sign warning of a difficult ford in 2 miles and that stock should take an alternate route. Apparently PETA posted the sign, as there is no mention of care for people needing to ford the river. As we press on we encounter so many downed trees across the trail we wonder why anyone would worry about the ford. Frankly, we figure if the horses can handle limboing and jumping the trees they can probably do cartwheels across the difficult ford.

At one of the lakes there is a sign for a pit toilet. I have been holding it way too long, dreading digging and squatting in the pouring rain. The pit toilet is a roof-less, wall-less wooden box over a hole with a lid that turns into a back rest. The lid/back won’t stay up unless I am leaning against it. Sitting on it in the pouring rain, I wonder if my own hole under a tree might have been a better option.

Even soaking wet and freezing cold we enjoy the crazy antics of pika, marmots and a squirrel that did not want to leave the trail without his huge pinecone. We eventually catch up to Ixnay at Mig Lake where he is setup and warming. We pitch our already soaking tents in the rain. We do not even attempt to cook, but just crawl in, change out of wet clothes, get in sleeping bags and eat bars and snacks. If one arrives in my vestibule, I may catch and skin a mouse for a very small blanket. I hope PETA is not reading this.

Mile 2412 to 2432

Last night as I tried to sleep a rodent kept visiting my tent vestibule. First he wanted to lick my titanium spoon, so I pulled it inside my tent. Next he went for my pot cozy, then my stove, then my water filter and then my wet socks. By the end of the night I had moved everything inside. What is the point of a vestibule if you can’t keep anything in it?

I wake at 3:30am and it is not raining. I wonder if I should pack up because packing up dry in 100% rain is pretty rare. As I ponder, it begins to rain. Then it stops. Then it starts again. Then it stops. Clearly it is messing with me. By our normal getup time it is not raining, so we pack up quickly dodging a super soaker bullet. We know it will rain today, but at least our sleeping bags and gear are now sealed in water proof bags.

Short Break in Rain

Today we hike by everything Waptus related: Waptus Pass, Waptus River, and Waptus Lake. It rains off and on all day, with “on” at times being very hard. We are soaked from wet head to trench foot. Walking the overgrown bushes is like walking the rotating brushes at a car wash. Kevin concludes it no longer matters if it is raining. The bushes are soaking us.

With all the rain we make really good time, frankly because we are freezing. The best way to keep warm is to keep moving. We eat candy bars and snacks as we hike. We reach our targeted site early and get a brief break in the weather. We setup camp, do our chores and retire early.

Regardless of the weather tomorrow we hope to push through another 22 miles to Mig Lake. That will position us to meet Daniel at Steven’s Pass mid morning on Monday, giving us enough time to shuttle around the trail closure.

Brief Rest in the Rain

Mile 2391 to 2412

Last night we avoided the tiny dirt spots by the trailhead lower parking lot and pitched our tents in the upper horse trailer lot, thinking there would be less traffic. I am not sure how much traffic there was in the lower lot, but the upper had plenty. We heard the diesel engines roar and had massive headlights blasting our tents from fire trucks, paramedics and equipment trucks. I could see a variety of straps, ropes and gear being spread all over the ground, while two-way radios chirped seemingly serious conversations. I went out to ask if there was anything we needed to know and a voice behind one of the 6 flashlights shining in my face said “No.”

Horse SAR

When daylight finally arrives we hike down to the lower lot trailhead where a Search and Rescue command center vehicle is now parked. Since we were told last night this has nothing to do with us we assume we are not lost and proceed to hike into the light rain.

During our climb from 3,000 feet to 6,000 feet jackets are put on and taken off many times. Within a few miles we encounter a Search and Rescue operation in progress. A horse way below the trail is being used to winch up a basket with something or someone in it. The effort seems well coordinated and managed, but the lack of urgency or anyone speaking to what is in the basket fills me with dread. Whatever the situation, our presence is not necessary and we move on.

Jacket Off Break

Today’s route seems wacky. To get around Chikamin Peak and over Chikamin Ridge we actually hike south for a while. It reminds me of the dreaded flip-flop all over again. At a break we enjoy leftover pizza and zucchini bread from the day before. Ixnay declares Peg’s bread fantastic.

I am pretty sure today is Joint Custody Day. There are an unbelievable number of dads backpacking with their kids. Some of these kids are carrying full loads, but in a couple of cases Dad is clearly the pack animal. Kevin mentions these little kids anytime someone complains about the weather – “I wonder what that little girl is saying right now?”

Failing Brooks Cascadia 10’s

During the million switchbacks down and past Spectacle Lake Kevin’s Brooks Cascadia 10 trail runners have run their expected course. They are falling apart. The shoes should come with a warning label: “Not recommended for hiking, running, walking, or putting your feet in. In fact, return these immediately as they are completely useless once removed from the box.”

The campsite we are heading for is described in Guthook’s application as “Creek & Tentsite(3).” It is amazing how little we know about where we are going each night, but there are 3 of us and we hope to find this site. It would be like driving 500 miles to get to a hotel described as “Highway & Mattress(2).”  It is starting to rain as we approach “Creek & Tentsite(3).” We want to pitch before the heavens really open. We find a creek but no Tentsite(3), or (2), or even (1). We are scrambling to find anything. We hike on to a trail split and manage to squeeze 2 tents in. Ixnay pitches his tent on the actual trail.

We are glad to have our gear relatively dry and protected by our tents. Tomorrow’s forecast calls for 100% chance of rain, which doesn’t really leave much margin of error.

Spectacle Lake

And the rain, rain, rain came down, down, down

Mile 2382 to 2391

We pack up knowing that the Summit Pancake House in Snoqualmie is less than 10 miles away.  We hike past the campsite we had planned to hike to before switching to Mirror Lake and congratulate ourselves for a good call. The creek is a trickle and the campsite unimpressive. On our way we pass large rock fields where pika are cheerfully welcoming us, defensively sounding an alarm, or shouting out attack orders. We do not stick around to find out which it actually is. As we continue down the trail the roar of Interstate 90 drowns out the squeaking pika and our grumbling stomachs drown out the Interstate.

Approaching Snoqualmie

At the Pancake House we request a booth with electric outlets. The outlets are as important to us as the omelettes, pancakes and coffee. Other thru-hikers come and go at our table creating a confusing jumble of plates, cups and bills. While connecting to the rest of the world via WiFi we learn good and bad news. The good news is there maybe fire relief coming in the form of rain. Yes, that is also the bad news. Our next section is 4 days long and it looks as though it will be raining the entire time, some days over an inch. If you have ever pitched a wet tent and slept in a wet down bag, you know what we are in for.

Some hikers are planning to get off the trail for a while. We however have a date with infamy, or at least with Daniel who is off work next Monday. If we can get to Steven’s Pass by Monday he can shuttle us to Chelan where we hope to catch the ferry to Stehekin. From Stehekin we can take the bus to the PCT and continue north to Canada. All other routes right now are closed because of fires. So rain or more rain, we have to get to Steven’s Pass by Monday.

I pick up our resupply box sent by Terri. We move to a picnic table in front of the Chevron gas station and drown our sorrows in pints of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. We each choose the one with the maximum calories, which turns out to be Tonight Dough with a whopping 1,240 calories. 4 servings?! More like 4 bites.

Daniel arrives, chauffeured by my Aunt Peg and Uncle Lane McNitt. They have loaded their Honda Pilot with piles of magic including hot pizza, cold drinks, Texas cake, fruit, vegetables, zucchini bread, Chex mix and I don’t know what all. Complete strangers appear out of no where to join in the shark feeding frenzy. Some of the strangers are stranger than others, but all seem happy to partake, with particular emphasis on the take part.

After a few pictures our trail angels fly away and we are left to pack up and head across the interstate to camp at the trailhead. Tomorrow is a huge climb out of Snoqualmie. The good news is that the coming rain will probably keep us cool.

Kevin, Lane, Peg, Rick and Daniel

Mile 2365 to 2382

Smokey Sunrise

We wake to find the winds have died or are at least on life support. Last night’s distinct tall white fire plumes with long smoke tails stretching away from us are now just amorphous blobs oozing smoke in all directions. The formerly crystal clear jagged horizon is now smudged like a charcoal drawing. It is strangely warm so Kevin and I opt to hike jacket-less, even at 6:00 am.

Although not 100% certain, Kevin and I suspect that Ixnay’s internal temperature control is the same make and model found in menopausal women. Watching Ixnay’s jacket is like watching windshield wipers set on the lowest intermittent setting. It’s on. No it’s off. Oh, it’s back on. No wait, it’s off.

Frog at creek

We stop at an extremely cold and clear creek that is simply hopping with frogs. They all seem to have the correct number of limbs, so we assume the water is good for filtering. We camel-up by drinking a liter each and carrying a liter. When we reach the less appealing dependable creek we are glad we got water when we did.

Since my oldest son Daniel will not arrive to meet us in Snoqualmie until tomorrow afternoon, we are in no hurry. We target an early camp at Mirror Lake, which gives us plenty of time to wash, swim and relax. We can easily make the 10 miles to Snoqualmie tomorrow morning before lunch.

Ixnay with Jacket Off

At Mirror Lake we meet Eli, a 6 year old PCT hiker in training. He is traveling with his mother and grandmother, celebrating his grandmother’s 29th birthday, or something reasonably close to that. Eli teaches us to throw sticks in the lake for his playful jokester of a dog. We know she is a jokester because every stick she retrieves from the middle of the lake she returns and leaves floating just out of our reach from shore. Each toss requires a new stick and eventually it looks as though a beaver is constructing a dam. Eli also shows us the best swimming spot and demonstrates how to walk a slackline between trees. When he grows to be a famous adventurer we will say we met him here.

We also meet up briefly with Senior Whiskers, whom I have not seen since before Lauren and Michael’s wedding. He is meeting his daughter tonight in Snoqualmie. It is fun to introduce him to Kevin. He had met Ixnay several times earlier in the trip.

Slackline

As we cook our dinner we are toyed with by fearless chipmunks. They climb on our packs, bite our food bags, run in and out of our tents and eventually climb on Kevin’s arms and legs. The only good thing about them is that they are not meat bees, which are also attacking. One bee takes a sizable chunk out of the back of Kevin’s leg.

We hide in our tents from bees and chipmunks, cleaner from our swim than we have been for quite a while. We are excited to see Daniel tomorrow and work out our reroute around the fires strategy.

Mirror Lake

Mile 2344 to 2365

It turns out I was wrong. Our nightmare is not the reroute but the unbelievably loud and drunken overnight party. Alcohol is provided by the friend of a friend who arrives via the service road. At 3:30am, and I am not adding 3 hours for hiker time, these screamers have yet to go to bed. I am not sure why alcohol makes people deaf, but thank goodness it also increases lung capacity and volume, or some parts of the county may not have heard the uproariously funny fart jokes. Some thru-hikers have been zeroing at this Hotel California for 4 days and may never leave. We however are having the exact opposite reaction.

We stayed in our tents resting an extra half hour. I’d like to say we slept in, but there was not much of that happening. Ixnay takes a 15 minute lead, but we catch him fairly quickly heading up Windy Gap. Together we accidentally blow by our intended spring. We inventory our total water and decide we can make it the next 12 miles to a seasonal stream.

Cruising down the trail, Ixnay suddenly screams out in pain, grabs at his calf, staggers, mumbles and begins to run. There is blood running down his leg. He yells that he has just been stung by a wasp and a swarm is chasing him. We eventually catch up to him and the swarm has dissipated. He sucks it up and keeps moving. I am pretty sure he has been injected with adrenaline, because he hikes faster and faster until we can no longer keep up with him.

Ibuprofen Break

Kevin’s heels are bothering him, so we stop for a quick snack of Ibuprofen and candy bars. We eventually catch back up to Ixnay at the creek. We load up on 3 liters of water each. We will be staying at a dry camp and will have a 12 mile stretch tomorrow morning before we will get to our next seasonal creek.

We push on up Tacoma Pass and Sheets Pass, and finally stop to camp at Bearpaw Butte. We have incredible views, which by incredible means we can see 3 active fires burning to the northeast and one burning to the south. We hate to be selfish, but frankly our northern route to Canada is all we really care about. As long as the northeast fires stay east enough we should be fine.

It is windy on the ridge, but none of the smoke plumes are headed our way. We occasionally check on the fires, but they are too far away to be threatening us. We retire to our tents, hoping to make up for last night’s lack of sleep.

Bearpaw Butte

Mile 2323 to 2344

Mount Rainier

I wake before the sun with a strong desire to return the water I drank last night to the local watershed. The stars shine with pin point clarity, indicating the winds of change have arrived. The smoke has indeed gone back to meet its maker at Mount Adams.

Ixnay disappears faster than the smoke and Kevin and I have breakfast and pack up. On our way up the first grade we are welcomed by two fawn young enough to still have their spots but old enough to be out without their mommy. The scene is adorable. That is of course unless one of the fawns is named Bambi and Mom lies motionless in the bushes with a rifle shot to the head. It is so hard to read the emotional state of these dear little deer.

Bear (not Bare) Hunter

With a relatively clear sky we are rewarded with spectacular views of Mount Rainier. It is startling how such a massive thing can sneak up on us like that. We are now getting a glimpse of what other thru-hikers enjoyed from the Knife’s Edge. I suppose if we blindfolded them, turned on a huge fan and doused them with a hose they could get a glimpse of what we did.

Not to be confused with naked hikers on the solstice, we come upon a couple of bear hunters. Their camouflage must not be top quality because we can clearly see them with their binoculars, rifles, side arms, chairs and backpacks.  Apparently bear season in this area started August 15th. Concerned I ask one if we should be wearing orange vests. He just smiles and says that will not be necessary. I smile praying he does not mean he can get a good bead on us either way.

As we press on we see a herd of mountain goats high on the ridge. We stop and watch for a while. Something spooks them and they scramble over the ridge, but quickly return to pose majestically on the high rock out cropping. Kevin has now seen his first wild mountain goat herd.

Mountain Goat

We finally catch up to Ixnay at the Mike Urich Cabin shelter. We set up camp not far from a stream. A caretaker at the shelter boils a bunch of water on the wood burning stove, which we use for dinner. A guy shows up on a motorcycle from some forest service road, drawn by the smoke and concerned about fire. The lack of a spark arrester on the stove pipe sparks a debate as hot as the wood stove. Kevin and I think given the current wildfire situation in California, Oregon and Washington he may have a point, but his approach is so confrontational that the message is lost on the cabin crew.

After the motorcycle guy storms off, cooler heads prevail. The caretaker creatively and bravely shimmies onto the roof and uses a make-shift rope of PCT bandanas to pull up a new spark arrester that was just sitting in the cabin. He successfully plops it on top of the hot pipe while the stove fire rages on. We applaud when he safely reaches the ground, having been provided hot dinner water and a show.

The caretaker warns us that the cabin area can get loud from singing and talking. Seriously how loud can early-to-bed and early-to-rise thru-hikers be? We retire to our tents with the good news that only 13 miles of the trail ahead are officially closed. How to navigate around it however will likely be our nightmare.

Mike Urich Cabin

Mile 2302 to 2323

We wake to the thick smell of smoke. It is now getting significantly worse. Ixnay leaves before us under headlamp. We are not too long behind, but without the lamps. I spot a large elk standing in the trail facing away. It hasn’t seen me. This time I am going to get a picture, just perhaps not the good side. I drop to a knee and reach for my camera. Kevin appears and the elk bolts away. Again I get nothing. Kevin calmly points out that I am not very good at this game of game.

Choke on Smoke

As we hike on a sign says we are entering Mount Rainier National Park, but frankly it should have said the Smokey Mountains National Park. It is so thick now you can feel it in you eyes and lungs. Two woman approach us from the north asking where Laughing Creek side trail goes. They are trying to get out of the smoke as quickly as possible and seem willing to try anything, including a trail that goes, well somewhere.

We press on and try to imagine the views we can’t see. We pass a large and beautiful Dewy Lake. We are now starting to see more and more weekend and day hikers. In fact there are way more than we ever saw on the rim on Crater Lake or any trail in Yosemite. The area seemed like it could be nice without the smoke, but nothing explained the sheer number of people coming our way. I ask one man if there is a fire up ahead, because every man woman and child is coming towards us. He says “No, it’s just a weekend.” Apparently these Washingtonians will hike anywhere as long as the sun is kinda shining.

At Chinook Pass there is a highway and a packed parking lot. We hope for some trail magic from these enthusiastic outdoors types, but no luck. The closest thing to magic is a pit toilet whose door is not locked. We push on another 2 miles through the smoke to Sheep Lake. The name is a mystery as there are no sheep and it is not even shaped like a sheep. It could have been named Loud With Lots Of Kids And Dogs Peeing In It Lake, but then truth in advertising is not always a good idea. Eventually Sunday begins to fade and the weekend and day hikers head back for their cars. We have dinner and fall asleep, hoping the wind shifts and takes the smoke back to Mount Adams.

Sheep Lake

Mile 2290 to 2302

We wake to the familiar smell of smoke. The wind has shifted and not in our favor. Regardless we get an early jump and head down the trail towards White Pass. We pass through what must be a remedial elk camp. Elk seem to always be in herds, yet these are loaners. One is over here, another way over there. As we switchback down the 2 miles to the highway, one occasionally bolts wildly away. We wonder what they did to be ostracized from the herd. It is possible they are simply kicked out males, but none has any signs of a rack. They move too quickly for us to check out any other traditional forms of gender identification.

Resupply body and pack

We arrive at the White Pass Krackle Barrel store at 7:10am. In spite of the fact they serve gourmet coffees, they do not open until 8:00am. Kevin gives me a look that clearly says “You owe me 50 minutes of sleep.” When the doors finally open we run to the electric outlets to start charging cell phones, iPods and external batteries. We pick up the box sent by Terri. It contains food and Kevin’s new to this trip but dreaded Brooks Cascadia 10’s. They are dreaded because the Cascadia 10s have a terrible reputation for completely falling apart on thru-hikers. Kevin straps his old shoes on his pack, fearing that at some point he may need to go back to them.

While charging our electronics we run up a tab including English muffins stuffed with egg, ham and cheese; chocolate milk, fruit drinks, a block of cheese and ice cream. Other thru-hikers offer up homemade treats from their resupply boxes including huge chocolate chip cookies stuffed with an Oreo cookie and chocolate/peanut butter brownies. The folks at the store are very friendly and we do not at all feel rushed.

Once our stomachs and electronics are recharged, we re-charge down the trail towards Snow Lake. The 10 mile hike is surprisingly easy, especially since our packs are bursting with food. The smoke remains noticeable but at least does not get worse. At the lake we setup an early camp and enjoy the Trader Joe’s Indian curry dishes with rice. It is a great change from the monotony of Knorr Sides with tuna.

It is a Saturday so there are lots of weekend families that made the 10 mile hike to a pretty lake. We are glad we grabbed the best site before they all got here. I lie in my tent and sew my ripping pant legs. The results are amazing. In fact if you didn’t know any better you would swear they just had their appendix removed in a Vietnam MASH unit during a bombing raid caused power outage. It’s not pretty, but I am just trying to keep them alive.

Snow Lake

Mile 2270 to 2290
In terms of tours it appears we selected the terrifying one. The wind picked up in the night and now howls with gale force. If you stood outside my tent you would assume that an oversized hippopotamus has crawled inside and is now struggling to get back out. Outside the stars are sparkling clear and bright. The views from the Knife’s Edge must be spectacular, but you would have to look quickly because you will be flying off the edge to your death. I fall back asleep hoping the wind will die rather than me.

Crossing Ice Field

I wake encouraged by calm air and then notice the normally present stars are all gone. Something is blocking my view. I rise to pee and notice the entire camp is shrouded in fog. With no wind we will be able to cross in safety, but we will not be able to see a darn thing. As if to punish me for my whiny thoughts, the wind returns and it brings along a friend – rain. You have got to be kidding me. We shout at each other from our tents trying to decide what to do. We only plan 19 miles today so we agree to wait an hour or so for a break, but at some point we just have to go for it.

Kevin and Ixnay heading up

By 7:30 we figure we have got to hike. We are running low on food so waiting for a better day is not an option. On my map ap I can see a binocular icon which indicates there is a great viewpoint for Mount Rainier. We hope we can climb above the fog cloud and at least look over at the part of that mountain also above the clouds. As we hike up towards the Knife’s Edge we see occasional blue sky and the jagged ridge line. It is clearly a serrated knife. We are patting ourselves on the back for our great timing, until suddenly someone turns up the fog machine and all our progress is erased by white.

As we work our way onto and across the Knife’s Edge it is clear this knife is dishwasher safe, because we are hiking through the foamy rinse cycle. We are pummeled by wet freezing fog screaming from our lower left, going through our bones and somehow exiting our upper right. The left side of our faces are beginning to frost.

Starting on the Edge

We are able to enjoy spectacular views of our feet, which are frequently near the ground. It is a sheer drop on either side, but frankly feels like I am back climbing Mt Whitney in the dark – I can’t see anything.

I do get one lucky break. As I approach the Mt Rainier viewpoint the fog lifts just enough that I can barely make out the faint outline of the binocular icon on my smartphone. As for Mount Rainier, it is clearly down for maintenance because there is absolutely nothing that direction.

The Knife’s Edge is a lot longer than indicated by the icon on the map. It keeps going and going, and we keep getting wetter and wetter until finally we reach super saturation. Go ahead. Try to make me wetter. I dare you!

After we drop off the edge and down, the weather changes completely. The clouds keep rolling in but burn up about as fast as they arrive. We work our way down and then back up by Hogback Mountain. We eventually crash at small campsite by Ginnette Lake, just 2 miles short of tomorrow’s roadwalk to the White Pass Kracker Barrel.

And Fire to go with the Ice.

Mile 2247 to 2270

Today is granola and powdered milk day, only the ants have beaten me to my mess kit. In fact a unruly mob has occupied my pot, my pot cozy, my mug and my mug cozy. Given that none have signed a lease or provided a deposit, at least financial, I evict them using precious filtered water shot through a tiny fire hose. Ixnay has again left camp early, so misses the entire ordeal.

Cougar Fire on Mt Adams

Today we start at 4,400 feet and will eventually climb to over 6,400 at Cispus Pass. There is a 15 mile waterless stretch, so we load up at a small stream 4 miles from our start. The wind today is blowing quite favorably, pushing the smoke away to the southeast. We enjoy magnificent views of Mount Adams to the south and depressing views of the vast fire raging on its east side. To the northwest we get hints and brief views of Mount Rainier.

We catch Ixnay by 10:00am and hike with him the rest of the day. On our ascent towards Cispus Pass Kevin finds several lethargic grouse by the side of the trail. Ixnay is sure that with a rock we can get several of them for dinner. While we debate the merits of his plan, the grouse simply wander off to safety.

Goat Rocks

Approaching the pass we have great views of Goat Rocks and Gilbert Peak. We drop into a bowl, where we get our first water since this morning from a clean cold stream. After 23 miles we tuck into a small campsite with a postcard worthy backdrop. We make dinner, enjoy the view and plan our day tomorrow which will take us over the Knife’s Edge. It is a razor thin ridge on top of the world that the guide book describes as “spectacular in good weather and terrifying in bad weather.”

Postcard Camping

Mile 2226 to 2247

Ixnay leaves in the dark before us, thinking we will probably catch him. If not we have agreed to meet at the Lava Spring campsite in about 20 miles. Kevin and I pack up and stroll out quite a bit behind him. We have a fair amount of up this morning, going from under 4,000 feet to over 6,000, much of it through previous burn areas.

In one of the burn areas, we come upon a herd of elk. Seeing us the alpha female jerks her head down and back, as if a cowboy riding her just yanked the reigns. She arches her back and flips 140 degress and takes off, leaving only the thundering sound of her hoofs. The rest of the herd bolts in all directions, calves at their mother’s heels. The chaotic sound is exactly like the other morning in the dark, confirming that the herd we heard was elk. It would be great to work for a company where the leader changes priorities and directions and everyone else immediately joins in with this same level of unquestioning enthusiasm and drive. I do not see a passive aggressive cow in the herd.

Mount Rainier Cap

We continue to climb by hazy views of Mount Adams, made so by the smoke but also because we are staring into the sun. We round a corner and get our first glimpse of Mount Rainier. The blue haze has erased the mountain’s bottom, but its snowy crown floats majestically in the sky. My camera’s autofocus is quite confused by the spectacle.

Kevin’s ankle is bothering him so we stop by a milky white creek to rest. After snacks we push on just west of Mount Adams where we must ford a wild, silty and extremely cold glacier stream. Kevin crosses in his flip-flops sandals. I cross in my hiking shoes after taking off my socks and removing the insoles. We rest on the other side to allow my shoes to transform from totally soaked to just damp. We also enjoy dried flattened bananas smothered in peanut butter and Nutella, wrapped in flour tortillas. Yes, you are free to try this recipe at home.

Mount Adams

We re-enter a lava field, all too familiar from our days in Oregon. Here however we enjoy the squeaking, warning cries and busy scurrying of adorable pika. Out of the lava and back in the shrubs, I round a corner and come upon a large white furry ball about 15 feet ahead of me. I stop dead in my tracks as a head with horns rises from the bush into view. It is a lone beautiful mountain goat, probably pushed lower than normal by the fire. It stares me down and brings to mind the story of a hiker who was actually gored to death by one of these seemingly huggable beasts. Before I can engage my camera Kevin rounds the corner and sends the adorable monster scampering away. It is the first time Kevin has seen a wild mountain goat and not just a thru-hiker named Mountain Goat. It is also perhaps the first time he has saved my life.

We reach the camp a full hour or so behind Ixnay. The water at the spring is crystal clear and cold. We battle meat bees as we cook and eat, then quickly retire behind the protective mesh of our tents.

Mile 2208 to 2226

I wake in the middle of the night wondering why someone has built a smoldering fire in my tent. At least that is what it smells like. I can hear Kevin in his tent opening a bottle and taking a drink. In the other direction I can hear Ixnay opening a bottle for the opposite reason. I have never seen a risk-reward analysis that would convince me to attempt that in my tent.

Kevin and I wake for good a little before 4:30am. We pack up and hit the trail under headlamps before 5:00am. We hike by what should be the beautiful Sawtooth Mountain, but frankly it is pitch black. We turn a corner and hear complete chaos and breaking branches as very large animals scramble off in all directions. We tell ourselves they are deer or elk, rather than a mother bear now separated from her three cubs or a pride of mountain lions.

Magic: Warm Beer?

As the sky lightens to a smoky haze we come to our first couple of flat spots by a road crossing. We are now passing the thru-hikers that passed us yesterday. As we pass Mosquito Creek I am reminded that they have not been bothering us. Perhaps there is an upside to all this smoke. At Forest Service Road 88 we find trail magic – that is if a cooler full of warm beers before breakfast is magic.

We eventually reach Forest Service Road 23. We were told by a southbounder to walk down the road until we get to the falling rocks barricades for cell service. I call the Trout Lake store and am provided phone numbers of trail angels. Before we can even call, a truck pulls up and a man says, “You’re headed to Trout Lake.” It was not so much a question as a demand to get in. While we are loading another car pulls up and a man says, “I was gonna get them, but I see you’ve already got them.” I am starting to think there is a bounty out for us.

On the way to town I ask what kind of trout are in Trout Lake. He just shakes his head. There are no trout in Trout Lake. In fact there is no lake in Trout Lake. We are heading to Trout Lake for hamburgers and I am starting to doubt there will be ham in the hamburgers. I also ask about the lack of huckleberries. Apparently this was a short early season and we missed it. They couldn’t even pick enough for the firefighters charity huckleberry pancake breakfast. They had to buy them and it destroyed their profits.

At the Cafe we do get hamburgers, sweet potato fries and huckleberry shakes. On the menu the huckleberry shakes are $4.75, but on the board there is an advertised special: huckleberry shakes $5.00. We are clearly very special, as reflected on our bill.

The grocery store is the only other action in town. We resupply with reasonable selection and very decent prices. Everyone is extremely hiker friendly. We sort our pile on the porch with what seems like the whole town watching. Looking at our candy bar selection some even ask us if it is Halloween.

Our hitch back to the trail is as easy as the one to town. One phone call and a wife sends her husband to come get us. He is here in about 2 minutes and drives us the 13 miles back to the trail. At the trailhead there are two horseman and four horses. They are looking for a camp but are disappointed that a hiker is already there. It is Ixnay holding spots for us. We are very glad to see him.

When I go to get water one of the horsemen is bathing naked in the creek, with a big bar of soap, determined to get to every nook and cranny. All the while he is talking to me like we are standing outside of church having coffee and waiting for our wives. Needless to say, I get my water upstream.

We settle in, have dinner and try to sleep, as cars continue to buzz down the forest service road.

Another Pasta Side for Dinner. Ugh.

Mile 2188 to 2208

Ixnay gets a jump on us again, leaving while we are still packing up. From our tent site we enjoy smoke haze views back on Mount Hood. We finish the remaining bit of our climb and dash the 5 miles to the piped spring. It is a 1″ PVC pipe jammed into the ground, allowing the tiniest trickle to spill onto the trail. Ixnay is there just finishing up his load. We filter water and push on.

We reach Crest Camp, a car camping spot with picnic tables and a pit toilet. The toilet is surprise magic for Kevin who was just commenting on a particular pending and increasingly urgent task. Unfortunately his pit stop is stopped by a locked and closed for business door. Charlie Brown has never Ugh-ed and Oh Good Grief-ed louder. The tragic-magic sends Kevin off to the bushes for a disappointing alternate plan.

As promised by yesterday’s southbounder, Sheep Lake and Green Lake are anything but lakes. Sheep Grass and Green Grass would be better names. As we break a Japanese northbounder appears looking very sad indeed. He apparently did not get the translated memo and is now down to just a slurp of water. I refill his bottle from mine since I am always carrying too much. He is very appreciative and asks to take my picture. I guess I will be in the Japanese slide show in addition to the Alaskan one.

We hike towards Berry Mountain, where a posted sign warns the harvest limit for Huckleberries is 3 gallons. We have hardly seen any berries for days and are now very much looking forward to our 3 gallons each. Suffice it to say we did not find 3 berries each, let alone gallons. Even Mother Nature is jerking our chains with this tragic-magic.

Blue Lake

We push on towards our next water at Blue Lake. Kevin and I get ahead of Ixnay who is carrying more food and a heavier pack. At the lake we make cheese and salami bagel sandwiches, and pretend not to notice the skinny dippers and nude sun bathers at the lake. When Ixnay arrives he is apparently distracted by the natural beauty because he does not notice us. He then goes on ahead thinking he is behind. We now have to quickly pack up and chase down the guy who is trying to chase us down. His significant lead allows the chase-chase to go on for miles. Luckily he stops for water or we may still be going.

We are in a long stretch with no tent sites listed on the map. Our strategy is to find any flat spot within striking distance of Forest Service Road 23, our hitch spot to Trout Lake. The pickings are slim so we settle for a spot sooner than I would like. This will make a long tomorrow for Kevin and me, so we plan to get up and leave in the dark. Ixnay does not need to go into Trout Lake so will enjoy a more leisurely day.

Mile 2165 to 2188

We wake and pack up early. The sun is rising later and the canyons and trees are blocking satellite signals and sunlight, so it is very dark in every sense. Ixnay leaves first, in search of a good bathroom location. This section is very steep so small campsites like ours and privies are at a premium. During last evening several hikers stopped, clearly coveting our little spot, but lacking room were forced to move on. As we hike this morning we wonder how far they had to keep hiking to find a spot. From the looks of it they must have gone a long, long way.

Ixnay and Kevin at a Break

We climb 1600 feet then give all that back plus more as we drop through the Wind River Experimental Forest. Kevin wonders what the experiment is all about, as it looks like a pretty normal forest to us. Our last chance for water is at Panther Creek. There are hordes loading up here, both northbounders and southbounders. We have each come down long steep 2,000 foot declines and glance at each other knowing what the other faces as a steep incline. “Poor suckers” we are all thinking.

Hiker Crossing

The southbounders are all discussing the awesome trail magic they got at the forest service road. It is Sunday and the do-gooders are out in force serving hot meals and cold drinks. By the time we struggle straight up to Forest Service Road 68 the magic has gone tragic. Everything is put away. There is one car left, the back of which is loaded with ice chests, chairs and pop up tents. It may be better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, but I am pretty darn sure it is NOT better to have craved and lost than to never have craved at all.

All day where there should be great views there is smokey haze. We are not sure which of the many fires has brought us this malaise. Southbounders who were at Trout Lake 3 days ago say they saw 500 firefighters arriving. Trout Lake is our next resupply stop in a few days. Ugh.

We setup at a dry camp on a ridge. There is a piped spring 5 miles ahead which we are warned will be our last water for over 10 miles. The next two lakes appearing on our maps are said to be completely dry. Frankly, I am thirsty right now just thinking about it. I fall asleep and dream of running water.

Mile 2144 to 2165

During the rainy night flashlights flash light throughout our camp, followed by the distinctive sounds of clanging tent stakes. The PCT section is doubling in size. In the morning I can see the additions, but they are oddly out of place. Some have luggage by their tents and one tent is large enough to house a family of twelve. These are clearly not PCT hikers. Because the $27 a site regular campground is full, car campers are pretending to be $3 a night PCT hikers. We leave this problem for the campground host to sort out. We simply laugh, pack up and head to breakfast.

Because it is so early, we are looking for anything open. The Inn across the street has an “Open” light flashing and we walk our way into the Inn. We order eggs, pancakes and coffee. The woman serving us refuses to smile. The more she doesn’t smile the more determined I am to make her. I smile and thank her for everything: for bringing the menu, for explaining the menu, for bringing me coffee, for refilling my coffee, for bringing our food. This woman never cracks, not even a fake half smile. Then, when I have given up all hope, she brings the bill on which she has drawn a huge third-grade looking smiley face. I feel as though Boo Radley has just hidden a doll for me in the hole of a tree.

Into Bridge Traffic

Now that we are done with all our purchases we can cross over to the land of sales tax. We hike towards and up on to the Bridge of the Gods. The car toll for this bridge has been 50¢ since 1936. As pedestrians we cross for free, apparently not because we are special, but because there is no place to walk. “Stay close to the left side, and good luck,” yells the toll lady. We walk across the Bridge of the Gods into oncoming traffic, afraid we might meet our Bridge God sooner than intended. The Bridge surface is a see through grate, so when not staring at oncoming cars, we are staring at out feet and the Columbia River far below.

Climb into Washington

Once in Washington we begin our assent. Ixnay catches up and hikes the rest of the day with us. We meet a woman from Alaska who insists on taking our picture. She is section hiking the PCT, but last year when she gave a program to her local community everyone just wanted to hear more about the thru-hikers. She appears to be responsive to her audience.

We camp next to a stream, have Mac & Cheese for dinner and fall asleep less than 500 miles from Canada.

Zero miles

Bridge of the Gods

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.

Cascade Locks

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.

Eagle Creek Alternate
Mile 4.6 to 15.5

Today timing is everything. We want to see the amazing waterfalls in Eagle Creek so we don’t want to hike before dawn, but we also want to avoid the hordes of hikers drawn to this beautiful place. We sleep in about an hour past normal, which seems just about right. As we hike past a variety of campsites tucked into the ferns we see few people stirring and those that are, are still making coffee or packing up. We are successfully avoiding rush hour.

Tunnel Falls

We hike along cool pools, flowing cascades and breathtaking cliffs on our way to Tunnel Falls. The trail is a tiny ledge on a sheer wall, made slippery wet by the drifting mist. Bolted to the cliff-side is a cable railing for the faint of heart. The trail horseshoes up to the falls and dips briefly behind in a cool wet tunnel then reappears as a cliff ledge on the other side. Our timing is perfect. We have this magical place all to ourselves. We take a variety of pictures and video but none do the falls any justice.

We continue down Eagle Creek past Loowit Falls, Punchbowl Falls and Metlako Falls, all spectacular in their own right. Tunnel Falls, however, is clearly the main event. As we move further down we begin to encounter more and more hikers coming up, until it begins to feel about as private as a stroll through Disneyland’s Tom Sawyer’s Island on a summer Saturday afternoon.

A group approaches and I can hear a man say to a woman, “You ask them.” She then asks where we have come from. When I mention Mexico she squeals with joy – “I have cheese sticks for you!”  Apparently she carries cheese sticks in hopes of encountering thru-hikers because everyone knows we crave cheese. She insists on taking the wrapper even though we are heading out of the wilderness and she is heading in.

Bridge of the Gods

We pass a salmon hatchery and end up on a bike path to Cascade Locks. There are delicious blackberries everywhere, significantly slowing our progress. We walk to Cascade Locks and straight into the Bridgeside restaurant for char burgers and shakes. We have a window view of the Columbia River Gorge and the Bridge of the Gods, which takes the willing from no sales tax Oregon to the sales tax Washington State. We decide to stay another day on this tax free side.

We make a quick stop at the post office to pick up my new shoes. It brings to mind the sheer joy captured in the Time Life photo of an Austrian boy receiving new shoes during World War II. For thru-hikers, however, that joy is mixed with fear. Even the slightest change to footwear, new insoles or new socks, risks starting the blister process all over again. This box has new shoes of a completely different brand with brand new insoles. Oh Bridge of the Blister Gods be kind to me.

Shreks

At trail Angel Shrek’s we do laundry and shower. While getting ribs at the brewery, we learn it is expected to rain and that most thru-hikers are staying at the campground at the locks. It has showers, electricity, WiFi and grass to set up on, all for only $3 a night. We pack up, pay Shrek for laundry and leave his backyard dirt pile which we fear will become a mud pit for a beautiful greenbelt park.

Tomorrow we will zero. We will work to survive the rain, plan our food for the next leg and fatten up with the fattiest of foods.