Day 136: No Rain at Rainy Pass

Memories from September 3

On the way in to and out of Stehekin, the bus stops by a bakery. A really good bakery. And the bus stops there for 10 minutes. I didn’t get very far this morning because of a food coma.

Coon Lake. Not for from the High Bridge Ranger Station where the bus drops you to get back to the trail. I didn’t make much beyond this before taking my first break to let the blood finish up its work in my mid section so it could go back to the legs.

The Bridge River from the bridge over the river.

There was a lot of medium high shrub on the climb so there wasn’t much in the way of views.

This bridge is broken.

Fortunately, there’s another right next to it. Enjoy, for a moment the irony that a falling tree probably took out the bridge above while another falling tree provided the bridge to replace it. Once you’ve appreciated that, be a little disgusted at the horse poop (bottom left) mixing with the water just at the edge of the stream. I almost drew water downstream at the broken bridge.

This bridge is rolled. I haven’t seen this before but the recent rain made it slippery and so a particularly high stakes test of balance beam skills.

No rain at Rainy Pass! I did get a little drizzle and hikerwash on the way in.

Where the PCT crosses Washington Highway 20 at Rainy Pass, I got my first piece of trail mail. Anda, the friend who came out to hike with me between Vermilion Valley Resort and Red’s Meadow, had left a note saying she was in the area for the weekend and was hoping to catch me on the way through. There is no cell service and her name wasn’t in the trail register at either of the nearby trailheads. I walked both parking lots peeking in car windows like a car prowler hoping to find her car but no luck. Fortunately no one was around to alert the local authorities to my behavior. Having exhausted my list ideas of how to get in touch, I sent two SPOT check in messages, one at the highway and the other at the trailhead where the PCT continues. I set up camp behind the outhouse (it smelled as bad to me as I probably smell to most people) where the only flat spots were and figured that if she were in a nearby town and not out hiking she might check the map where the SPOT messages go and come find me in the morning.

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