This 20 minute video shows highlights of my entire 2015 PCT Thru-Hike.

It turns out that sometimes pictures are worth a thousand words.. especially pictures that move. I hope they move you too.

Mile 2646 to 2660

In the middle of the night there is a crashing sound like a log being rolled over. Are you kidding me? That sounds way too much like a bear grubbing, and we are both sleeping with our food bags. I fumble for my headlamp, but I need a flashlight to help find my headlamp. It’s a bit like needing scissors to open a new package of scissors. It is my last day. Everything I do is for the last time: sleeping in a tent, digging a 6 inch cat hole, checking the map for water sources, looking at profile elevations, drinking Muscle Milk for breakfast and a ton of other tasks previously chronicled. The one last I don’t want this to be, is my last day of living. I eventually find and shine my light into the darkness. “We are more trouble than we are worth,” I say to the unknown noise maker.

Our tents, sleeping bags and gear are soaking wet. But we don’t care. Today is the last day we pack up. We will not be sleeping in the wild wild wet tonight. I don’t even rinse my dirty old Gatorade now Muscle Milk bottle. It is going straight in the recycle bin. The clothes I am wearing will be going in the trash.

As we hike down a long steep side slope toward the border, we come upon a tent smack dab in the middle of the trail. It reminds us that we miss Ixnay. We excuse ourselves and squeeze by. A female voice from within says “Sorry”. She was clearly too exhausted to continue, and dropped where she was in the night.

There is a strange cut of trees in the horizon. “It’s the border,” declares Kevin. It is kind of odd how the border is exactly the opposite of a fence. The forest is a thick wall of wood, difficult to pass, but for one brief moment the trees are clear cut and the border is like a city park: smooth, green, and full of sunlight.

We switchback down to Northern Terminus and Monument 78. We have it all to ourselves. We take the obligatory goofy pictures and remove the heavy metal monument cap. In it is the final log book, though it should have also contained instructions on how to put the monument cap back on. It is surprisingly heavy and no longer fits, regardless how many times we rotate it and try again.

On April 3rd I signed the Southern Terminus log book. There are a variety of log books in-between, some on the actual trail in podium like stands and some at resupply locations such as general stores or post offices. There are not as many log books as on the AT where there is one at every shelter, but there are quite a few. From that first day, I told myself the only other one I was signing was the one at the Northern Terminus. My theory was that signing any other interim book was an admission I might not make it to the final one. I never said it was a good theory, just that it was mine.  I did sign two other books, but they are not official PCT books. I signed the book on Mount Baden Powell in honor of my father who took me there as a boy scout, and I signed the one on Mount Whitney because, well it’s Mount Whitney.

Today I sign the Northern Terminus Monument 78 log book. It is done.

We now have only to walk another 8 miles to Manning Park and get picked up by Terri. You can only hike into Canada if you have a border crossing permit from the Canadian government. Having a felony is the primary reason to be denied. We do our best not to judge the hikers returning 30 miles to Harts Pass rather than entering Canada. It’s probably just where they left their cars parked.

We hike into Canada and over a 1,000 foot climb. On the final long gentle slope we meet several more strangers who congratulate and cheer us. It is still as strange to me as the time way back in the dessert when the Sierra Club group made us walk through a tunnel of raised hiking sticks. As if to keep my head from swelling, a yellow jacket flies into my shirt and bites me on the neck. The pain is searing, but Kevin points out that crying from a bug bite would be worse than crying at the monument. I did neither. But as the pain flows through my body, I realize something is telling me it is time to leave the wilderness.

Terri and Daniel have come part way up the trail to meet us. They tell us getting out of Canada may be harder than getting in, because Daniel forgot his US Passport on the kitchen counter in Seattle. After driving way too fast for me, and sitting way too long at the crossing, Daniel begs his way back into the United States. He is given a formal warning that he is in violation of the US border crossing documentation requirements. We are pretty sure that just means he is now on a path to citizenship and can apply for a wide variety of social services.

On the US side of the border we find our US dollars good again, so we duck into Bob’s Burger and Brew and spend them.  We drive back to Peg and Lane McNitt’s in Seattle, where we are spoiled with ribs, fruit, biscuits and desserts.  Tomorrow we will fly back to Oakland, erasing in an hour what took months to walk.

Mile 2623 to 2646

I am visited in the night by Mighty Mouse. I know he is Mighty Mouse because I see him fly. He is perched on my head when I grab his tail and fling him out of the tent door with an amazing arc into the darkness. Fly Mighty, fly!

We wake at 5:00am and feel like a set of all weather tires. Today we will be road tested with snow, rain, drizzle, overcast and partly cloudy. The snow as we leave camp is beautiful. It is not like the pelting bean bag chair stuffing, but rather like being inside a well shaken snow globe. We feel just about as wet too. Everything we have is now soaked. We are praying for a brief break to dry things just enough that we can climb into them without squealing in agony.

We come upon a gaggle of grouse. The male grouse is splaying his tail feathers in a ritual dance. Freezing frigid females seem sadly less than interested. Perhaps in this extremely cold weather the goods he is selling are less impressive than usual.

It is clear that today is a day for making passes. We do our best by making it over Windy Pass, Foggy Pass, Jim Pass, Holman Pass, Rock Pass, Woody Pass and Hopkins Pass.

Before reaching camp we attempt to dry our gear on a ridge. The sun only makes very brief appearances, and we keep telling ourselves we just have to make it one more night. Even if we have to put on everything we own, we can surely do that.

We eventually stop and camp at the Boundary Trail split. We are now 4 miles from the Canadian border, and another 8 miles to Manning Park, where we hope to be picked up by Terri in a warm comfortable car.

Mile 2598 to 2623

I wake at 2am with a frozen tent. It is so cold I actually wish I had an Ixnay night time bottle. Well perhaps not, but I really do not want to go outside to go outside.

At 5am we get up for good. As I pack up my tent the frost on the outside of the tent combines with the frozen condensation on the inside and creates a giant snowball. I pull the tent back out of the stuff sack, shake it as best I can, leaving a huge pile on the ground. As I pack it back up it seems to have as much or more snow than before. Feeling like Elsa from Frozen – I just need to let it go.

In the cold we hump it up Methow Pass then have a long down. The long down is followed by a long up. It begins to feel a little like the Oregon green tunnels, but with elevation. There is a brief break in the trees and a hint of sun, so we stop and create a yard sale of drying gear. Being able to setup a dry tent tonight will make all the difference.

We continue on over Glacier Pass and Grasshopper Pass on our way towards Harts Pass. We are now running into a lot of day hikers who enthusiastically cheer us on. Kevin continues to find it ridiculous that total strangers congratulate us or tell us how courageous we are. We are just walking after all, not exploring Mars.

We are however running low on water. The last seasonal creeks were dry, so the southbounder who told us he never went more than 7 miles between water in Washington State must have skipped this section. A young couple running their dogs tells us they have a jug of water in their truck at the trailhead parking lot. We trade trail life stories for water, so clearly we get the better of that deal.

At the Harts Pass campground there is a campsite set up for trail magic: US and Canadian flags, tables, chairs, stoves, and offers to cook us hot food. Kevin is more interested in the pit toilet. Our goal is to push on another 3.5 miles while there is still daylight and it is not pouring. If he handed us a hamburger we would take it, but we are not going to wait around while he uncovers the gear and figures out how to start up the stove. We thank him for the offer and move on up the steep grade. Besides, we are already looking forward to our bean burritos.

We finally set up camp, cook as quickly as we can, then retreat to our tents. I struggle to blog with my frozen finger. If I peck the keyboard too hard it feels as though my finger will shatter into a million pieces.

Mile 2574 to 2598

We luck out and wake to a dry camp. We pack up quickly after consuming massive cinnamon rolls and making a pit stop at the pit toilet. Even after all these miles a good seat is difficult to leave behind.

We hike along a wide cliff ledge that drops down to Bridge Creek. A brown flash startles us from the cliff side. It is a brown colored black bear not willing to go over the edge, so he jogs forward and takes the trail about 30 feet ahead of us. Once on the trail he seems to lose all fear and slows to a stop, as do we. I pull out my video camera and begin taping. He turns back and faces us, then eventually leaves the trail to our left, apparently now bored with the whole thing.

As we hike on, the gentle rain becomes a bit aggressive and we stop to pull on our rain pants. The pants block the cold wind and rain, but just as importantly keep us from feeling the wet carwash bushes or getting a chafing rash from being in wet garments all day.

Someone ahead of us is leaving messages written in the wet trail. It is a bit like reading the old Berma-Shave advertisement signs along the highway, except since we are walking the time between words is significantly longer. The pouring rain may be washing away some of the words or at least the context, because in about a half hour of walking we have “Your Feet And Mom Put A Fork”. Try as we might we cannot make sense of it.

I suppose it should go without saying that it rains on Rainy Pass, but there I said it, and yes it did. When we stop to enjoy cheese, salami and bagel sandwiches, the rain turns to snow and fills Kevin’s now open pack. It is the pelty little not quite as icy hard as hail white balls. I am sure the Eskimos have a precise term or two for it. We just call it: What The Heck.

We make our way up to and across Cutthroat Pass, where steep jagged peaks and crazy dark clouds loom waiting. The snow starts gentle but then quickly attacks, pounding in all directions. The trail looks as though giants are having a massive beanbag chair fight and the stuffing is pouring over everything.

The sun teases us, but never really comes out. We setup camp during a break in the weather. As we cook some Pad Thai to warm our cold bellies other tired hikers arrive and squeeze in with their tent. The pika continue to make warning cries but we settle into our tents unwilling to leave. We fall asleep hoping for fairer weather tomorrow.

Miles 2462 to 2569 – Bus/Ferry/Bus fire reroute

Miles 2569 to 2574

We stop at the front desk at 6:00am hoping to grab a quick breakfast on our way to the bus stop. Unfortunately breakfast is not put out until 6:30, the same time our bus departs for Chelan. I plead for at least a muffin and learn that words do matter. I assume he will begrudgingly provide a muffin for each of us, but no I said a muffin and he begrudgingly provides a muffin. We laugh and split it as we walk toward the bus station.

The bus ride to the Lady of Our Lake dock is 1 hour long and costs a whopping $2.50. Kevin is pretty sure that does not cover the actual operating expense. We are joined by a blind man with a white cane. Although not politically correct I find myself chuckling when we drop him off at the security guard shack where he works. What a country.

At the ferry we are joined by several other thru-hikers making their way to the final leg of our journey. It is a strange feeling. This will be the last time we leave a resupply for the wilderness. For most of us it will be 4 more days of walking and it’s all over. I imagine it will end with the same fanfare Forest Gump ends the jogging craze: “I am pretty tired… I think I’ll go home now.”

On the ferry we feel strangely like normal tourists. It is a 4 hour ride with occasional commentary on the history and environment of the third deepest lake in the country. On the boat we can see smoke from the still burning fire, which is not expected to be out until significant winter snow falls. We selfishly hope that does not happen in the next 4 days.

We stop for a brief visit at the Stehekin visitor center to get our Northern Cascade National Park Complex Backcountry Permit, which appears to live up to its complex name. In this next 17 mile section we can only camp in designated sites and we must decide now. Not sure when we will reach the trail or if it will be raining we select Bridge Creek, a site 5 miles out. That will at least knock our remaining 4 day average to Manning Park down to a reasonable 21.25 miles.

We ride the red bus towards the PCT, but have one mandatory stop, the Stehekin Pastry shop. We purchase massive cinnamon rolls and sticky buns to carry on the trail. I am not exactly sure, but I think they are close to a million calories each.

Back on the trail we find our legs a little lethargic, probably from the double zero. We warm them up by dodging the crazy number of tiny tree frogs on the trail and the one huge seriously rattling rattlesnake now striking a striking pose.

At camp we set up our tents and consume sticky buns, hoping the calories will stick to ours. We are soon joined by 2 other thru-hikers. Tomorrow we will climb over 6,000 feet in about 20 miles. It won’t be the steepest climb, but it will just seem to keep going all day long and get colder with every step.

Zero Miles

We wake for a repeat of the make your own waffles and cereal breakfast. With our chores completed yesterday, today really is a lazy day. We watch television, catch up on the internet and nap. We research all the things you can do in Wenatchee and it turns out we really don’t want to do either of them. We review on Rotten Tomatoes the 8 current movies and find they have perfect scores: 100% rotten, at least by our assessment.

We head to an Indian buffet where they do not have an “if you don’t eat it you pay more” business model. Theirs is much simpler: make good food and people will eat it. Which they did, and we did.

After tiring of the basic television channels we flip to HBO and watch the free to us movie Transcendence. As the movie ends we debate if we actually got good value. It did kill some time, just not as humanely as we had hoped.

We are still full from the lunch buffet so Kevin runs out to get us milkshakes, which fortunately go into a completely different stomach compartment. We complete final packing by over-stuffing our packs, then make one more attempt at over-stuffing ourselves with a club sandwich and chips from Jimmy John’s.

We fall asleep in a warm bed for the last time on this thru-hike, hoping at least one of us will wake up in time to catch the bus at 6:30am.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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?”

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.

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.

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.

Mile 2365 to 2382

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Mile 2323 to 2344

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”