Memories from August 23

I stopped by a hut called the Mike Zurich hut during the mid-morning today. There was good sunlight for the solar charger so I caught up on blog posts and read for a bit.

The cabin has a great dedication poem.

I’ve decided to call burn areas sunburns because that’s what it feels like I’m going to get when I walk through one.

Most of today was pretty well forested but not so dense as to prevent seeing the surrounding area.

There was a longish dry stretch and so I wound up dry camping in a large flat spot at the end of a forest service road after the last water source, a spring where I took a siesta.

Memories from August 22

Last night, fog rolled in and water drops collected on the needles of the trees over my head. As I was cowboy camped (no tent), it was particularly annoying to get rained on when the rain storm was localized to exactly my camp. I unrolled my tarp and pulled it over me like a blanket which left me head uncovered but that was fine as very few drops hit me. It was cold in the morning and the fog remained for some time which made for mystical views of some of the ridges just to the north of white pass. Things never really got that warm though I took off my gloves and jacket after a few miles. I camped with the Grey Coyotes and we spent some time around an excellent fire. I tried sleeping next to it and found that it was generally more effort than it was worth to keep the fire going as most of the heat goes up, not to the side where you lay. What does come to the side are embers an I now have a number of duct tape patches in my sleeping bag, so many that I’ve used most of the tape I’d wrapped around my trekking poles handles way back at the beginning of the trip.
On the left is dog poop, properly bagged and ready to be removed when its owner comes back this way on their day hike. On the right is horse poop. For some reason, horses are the only type of pet, after which, people don’t have to clean up. Leave No Trace ethics get preached to hikers. Why don’t riders have to dig a hole 6-8in deep and bury the feces produced by their party? Alternatively, they could be like dog owners and pack it out.

Mystical mists.

Most bridges cross steams. This one crosses an asphalt stream. Look at how pretty it is. Asphalt streams must be realky special.

Sheep Lake with some really nice ridges in the background.

More misty mountains. One of the things that maked today interesting was how many little valleys we got to pass over on high traverses.

More of the same. I was loving it. The Ritz crackers ans Hershey’s Bar I had for lunch wasn’t quite as agreeable.

Cool mushrooms. I don’t think eating these in real life has the same effect as in Super Mario.

Towards mid afternoon I escaped the clouds and merely had pastoral scenery to enjoy before descending into the woods.

This is Jugs. Usually he hikes with a gallon jug of water in his hand. I’ve seen him on and off since the start of the trail. He’s got a high voice, simple manner, and is probably the thriftiest hiker on the trail. He carries more gear than most, in part because he doesn’t like being cold but has an incredible consistency to his hike and spends very little time resupplying.

Memories from August 21

Today was mostly a pleasant hike with a few notable uphills.

Buesch Lake

Nice view down a valley.

I’m sure some second amendment advocates take issue with this sign.

The highlight of today was Mt Rainier. There’s a trail which goes around the mountain called the Wonderland Trail. Based on what I saw today, it’s an apt name.

Andersen Lake. There’s a sign just before this which says only Camp and points to a side trail. Out of context of there being to coming near Andersen Lake, I found it funny since I have a permit to camp anywhere near the trail except where prohibited.

I camped at Dewey Lake which looked like it would be a very pleasant place to swim if it weren’t late. If only I hadn’t taken a three hour lunch to read an H G Wells story.

Memories from August 21

Today was mostly a pleasant hike with a few notable uphills.

Buesch Lake

Nice view down a valley.

I’m sure some second amendment advocates take issue with this sign.

The highlight of today was Mt Rainier.

Andersen Lake. There’s a sign just before this which says only Camp and points to a side trail. Out of context of there being to coming near Andersen Lake, I found it funny since I have a permit to camp anywhere near the trail except where prohibited.

I camped at Dewey Lake which looked like it would be a very pleasant place to swim if it weren’t late. If only I hadn’t taken a three hour lunch to read an H G Wells story.

Memories from August 20
The requisite picture if Mt Rainier. Having Adams, St Helens, or Rainier overlooking a forested valley is one of the more common views when there’s a break in the trees in southern Washington.

A nice view of Horseshoe Lake.

Morning fog in the valley.

Hope I didn’t leave anything behind since I guess there’s no going back. I wonder how out-and-back weekenders deal with this. I’d been hoping one of the ski runs would cross the trail so I could take it straight down to White Pass, which is a ski resort, instead of walking half a mile down the road into it. Unfortunately, I didn’t see one. In hindsight, it should have been obvious that the trail named Chair Lift #12 was what I was looking for. 

I resupplied at the Kracker Barrel at White Pass. This started when I walked in around 11am and started a tab. It ended when I stopped eating around 4pm. In addition to eating, I chatted with other hikers as people came in and out to resupply. My resupply box was short on calories so I supplemented from the store. It’s funny how the mark up on Clif Bars specifically is especially bad at stores near the PCT. A hiker who had a room at the nearby inn invited me to come see the men’s gold medal water polo match since we’d both played in high school. Unfortunately we couldn’t find the game on at the appointed time (water polo never gets the respect it deserves) but I got to use the shower which is nice because the trailside lakes I’ve encountered recently during bathing hours (early enough in the afternoon that the sun will dry you quickly) have been scummy.

The lakes I passed in the evening were very nice. Here’s Sand Lake.

It took longer than usual to lose cell service so a few friends called me back which was fun and I didn’t quite make it as far as I’d intended despite hiking a little past dark. When I went to collect water from Buesch Lake were I camped, it wasn’t immediately clear from the light of my headlamp if the water was good. Fortunately, it was.

Memories from August 19

I remember a shot from a documentary about the PCT in which a hiker, in motion through falling snow under a grey sky, looks at the camera and says, “Washington stole my heart”. Since crossing the border, I’ve been anticipating something that would justify such a comment. Today I had such an experience. It’s too insignificant to say that I saw something which justified that comment. Twice I almost peed myself with the magnificent of the landscape through which I traveled. I felt like an addict, sober since the Sierras, amid blissful relapse. Panoramic pictures might help capture the view. Hiking is more than that in that the exertion and travel create a sense of participation in the landscape which other modes of travel don’t. This was not a picturesque moment, made uncomfortably hot by the comparative cool of a car’s air conditioned interior on a family road trip. Today’s emotion came from the depth of over 2,200 miles of trail walked one step at a time. The quality of the day can partially conveyed in that there was no one defining moment of which I have a flashbulb memory. Until now, Forester and Muir passes stood out like giants in my visual memory of the trail. Each has a small set if single pictures which, for me, completely capture the experience. Something about today required motion. Having something like four different, multicolored valleys each with treasures which only appeared at certain angles. Grand geographic features would appear or disappear around a corner, above a pass, or behind you and could only be seen over your shoulder. There was foreshadowing and climax like any good novel but the the denouement did not go quietly towards resolution but thrashed and fought for its own place in the story. You had to be there.

Entering the Yakama Indian Reservation before Viscous Pass. After a uniformly green landscape with a smattering of brown, the variety of colors which appeared within a few steps made for a completely different experience. 

At Cispus Pass, I ran into Bert and Monique who I’ve been leapfrogging since South Lake Tahoe.

During the break, Pathfinder and Mountain Lion caught up. They’re two of the four Swiss retirees who make up the Grey Coyotes which are proving that you’re never to old to hike the PCT.

Looking back from Cispus Pass.

Monique looking back at Mt Adams.

Monique says that Bert usually passes the good view and sets down for lunch just below the treeline. Not today.

An interesting slab of rocks which look like they were water cut.

You can tell this area is really wet earlier in the year because of the third trail (the one which hikers make when the trail people make to avoid a flooded trail is also flooded).

Dark rocks rising dramatically above us.

Over time as the snow melts hikers take different routes over the snow as more of the trail is uncovered. It looks there have been as many as four routes over this snow patch this year.

Rainier ambushes you when you take a few steps off trail to get a picture of the waterfall coming out of the emerald lake.

The blue of pools of snowmelt has an intensity not frequent in much of what I see.

Skipping ahead a bunch of pictures, I took the Old Snowy alternate route which bypasses a couple of steep snowfields. It’s just a little longer but offers a view which includes aspects of most of the rest of the day. If I just showed you the pictures which I took before this, they might seem redundant with the ones I took at the top. Experientially, they weren’t. Each was like an act in a play and the Snowy Alternate (which had no snow and in fact is used to avoid snow on the PCT) like at the end when the entire cast comes out to take a bow.

Two lakes, both of usual blues, set in rugged but not sharp, rocky hills.

Pivoting a little to the right, Mt Rainier overlooks a valley. There’s a little red in some of the rock, the dirt on the ridge is orange-yellow, there’re a few shades of green between the trees and grass of the valley, the far hills and sky are an array of blues, and there are hints of purple in the mountain and some of the darker rock (these might have been one of those differences between eye ans camera). That’s most of the rainbow. The only more colorful scene I can remember off hand is Sonora Pass with all its lichen.

The knife edge on the right side of the previous valley. I’m not sure how this will turn out at full resolution but looks where the trail goes. When walking it, I was able to see deep into both valleys when looking at me toes. During lunch at my wilderness first aid training, a woman told me how the trail had slid out from under her and fallen away thousands of feet below. Having walked that line, I’m pretty sure her story was from somewhere along it.

And finally, coming all the way around and see in Mt Adams again. The nearby peak is composed of large pieces of slate like you might see in a stacked stone wall or slate walkway.

On the way out, there were even stream and flowers.

Looking back towards the peak by Old Snowy.

As you’ll probably realize from these pictures, this experience was contained within just a few miles. Yet the under foot trail conditions ranged from well packed dirt on shallow slopes to slippery, loose dirt on steep traverses, snow, large rock, and even a few rock hops over streams.

I’m sure everyone has a different place which was their favorite part of the trail. Other places were had more aggressive or peaceful terrain; sharper, more rugged mountain ridges; better lighting; more shade; more water; more grandiose rock formations; and a few even have wider views or more colors. For me all of the other contenders have first time experiences associated with them. Given that I’ve seen all of these individual pieces before, this is the first place to have so affected me. Maybe I’ve just been crowded in by the trees for too long and am hyperbolic in my reaction. Either way, it was a good day.

In the evening I camped near the Grey Coyotes at the campsites near Triton Pass. Pathfinder showed me where I could get water from and unmarked trickle of a stream which disappeared into the ground and then reappeared. I’d forgotten my water bottles when I’d gone for the water in my trail notes which was pretty far down a hill and apparently a popular destination with the local fly population. I didn’t wear my hat today and am sunburned enough that it’s made me tired. The silver lining is that it feels wonderful to be in my sleeping bag on my short air mattress with my backpack tucked under my feet, falling asleep while it’s still light.

Memories from August 18

Leaving camp this morning

Lava Springs. Fortunately, no lava.

In the Goat Rocks Wilderness, the view begins to open up in some places. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a ridge of exposed rock so this was a little exciting. From this angle, the rocks look like an eagle trying to take off. I don’t know why the area is called Goat Rocks but maybe they are other animal shaped rock formations.

I know the PCT is supposed to be a pack trail but I’ve never heard of someone riding a tree. It doesn’t seem like they’ll be able to get all the way from Mexico to Canada in one year. Maybe they’re just section riding.

In the evening, I passed the Grey Coyotes and spent some time talking with them before finding a campsite a short way down a side trail.

Memories from August 18

Leaving camp this morning

Lava Springs. Fortunately, no lava.

In the Goat Rocks Wilderness, the view begins to open up in some places. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a ridge of exposed rock so this was a little exciting. From this angle, the rocks look like an eagle trying to take off. I don’t know why the area is called Goat Rocks but maybe they are other animal shaped rock formations.

I know the PCT is supposed to be a pack trail but I’ve never heard of someone riding a tree. It doesn’t seem like they’ll be able to get all the way from Mexico to Canada in one year. Maybe they’re just section riding.

In the evening, I passed the Grey Coyotes and spent some time talking with them before finding a campsite a short way down a side trail.

Memories from August 17

I got up late today and probably wasn’t on the trail until 8:15am. Five miles later, at the road in to Trout Lake, I found two trash cans. One of them did not contain trash but snacks. A hiker who was there when I arrived said the Trout Lake Abbey puts them out for hikers. This would explain why one of the cans had “may all beings find peace” written on it which is a somewhat loftier ideal than “make this garbage someone else’s problem” which is what I think most people would emblazon on their rubbish bins were they to endocrine them with an honest benediction. In situations like these, where a supervisory trail angel isn’t present, one is faced with an ethical dilemma as to the appropriate amount to take. I decided on three things: a drink, a snack, and one for the road (er, trail). I’m trying to ration a little to see if I can take an on trail zero or nearo in the Goat Rocks Wilderness since it’s supposed to be beautiful. Free calories go a long way towards that.

Salty passed by while I was at the trail magic. He’s a fast hiker with the worst luck when it comes to the mail. He’s passed me several times only to have me catch him while he’s waiting multiple days to solve the mystery of a package which didn’t show up. For his sake, I hope not to see him again in the trail since I’ll be going at a much slower pace but it was a little sad to say another farewell. Good bye until now has always meant, “see you down the trail” now it has a much greater finality since the likelihood of seeing someone again are reduced with the waning miles. Since I tried to practice footprint reading this afternoon in the fine sand, here’s a picture of Sally’s footprint. He’s currently wearing a “sawed off Croc” (he cut the top off a pair of Crocs and ran paracord through them to make sandals) after his hiking samdals broke.

The footprint of an old salt.

Another probably final meeting was with Strapless who in this picture is showing off his hipbelt-less pack. He’s one of only two people I’ve met who don’t use a hip belt though word has it the other has taken up the practice again.

I hiked with Strapless for a bit, crossing a lava field and a turbid stream with a log bridge so low you could feel the water beneath. There haven’t been a lot a strong streams lately so it was an interesting call back to the Sierra.

Strapless crossing a river of chocolate milk in Willy Wonka’s factory.

Where I parted from Strapless was at Killen Creek which had the best view of Mt Adams for the whole day. That’s saying something because I’d spent most of the day on its slopes though the views were usually partially obscured by dead trees from an old burn. It was pretty sweet to end the day just enjoying a glorious view and then camp a few dozen yards away by a waterfall.

Yes, yes,a water piece, just like this one. You may install it next to my bed in the master suite. That will be all Jeeves.

Memories from August 16

The Swiss couple who I’d shared a campsite with were out early while I didn’t get up until 7:00am or so which is normally pretty late but since I’m only trying to hike 20ish miles a day, it’s fine.

I ran into Pathfinder who I’d been leap frogging on Oregon and walked most of the way into Cascade Locks with. We talked continuously as we had before when hiking together and we kept each other to a good pace, 1:30pm found me at my destination and we parted.

I cleaned up in the little Trout Lake Creek and sat on the shaded side of the little bridge with my solar charger and drying clothes on the other. This is more or less what I wanted to do more of in Washington, they sitting around in a beautiful place with nothing to do. I made a list of the big things I want to do after getting home: career things to discuss with my boss which I’ve collected over the course of the trail, some big picture personal direction for the next season of life, and a spiritual discipline I’d like to work on. As the trail begins to come to an end, it feels like a good time to try to collect all the stray threads my mind has spun out here.

After that, I remembered I had The Old Man and the Sea on audiobook and listened to that as it wouldn’t drain my cellphone’s battery as much as reading it would have. With so much tree cover, I haven’t been able to charge the battery in my solar panel very often and so battery power is a resource I’ve had to be more conscious of.

On a much less ethereal note, I got lost while trying to find the campsite after digging a cat hole this evening. Usually, no one did their car hole the proper 200ft from the trail and water due to terrain and urgency. Since I had time, I figured I’d try to do it properly but instead of turning 180° I probably turned something like 120°. I hadn’t noted any major reference points since I didn’t feel like I was going that far and when camp didn’t appear where I thought it should be, worked my way towards the creek knowing that, given the direction of flow when I crossed it and the side of the trail  I was on, following the creek downstream should lead me to the trail. When, guided my the sound of water, I encountered a stream, it was flowing in the opposite direction that I expected. This was very disconcerting because the light was low enough that there were no shadows with to roughly align a compass rose knowing that the sun sets in the west. Was I really so turned around that my sense of direction was so completely turned around? Was there another stream so close and I hadn’t noticed? Suddenly nothing was sure. Am I wrong or is the stream wrong? I decided to try to find the cat hole and then redo my attempt to walk back to camp. After probably 30 seconds, it became clear that I had no idea where my cat hole was as I hadn’t expected to ever have to find it again. Still certain down trees looked familiar as did an a patch of young pine trees. At some point, I spotted a stream where I didn’t expect the previous stream to be. This stream was even flowing in the expected direction. I walked out onto a downed log to get a clear view up and down stream to look for a bridge. I didn’t see one in either direction. Could I really be that far? The stones in the creek and it’s width were more similar to the creek near the camp. After a quick check up stream found no bridge, I turned around and headed in the direction I’d had have expected camp to be if this were the stream I thought it was. Ironically, it was a pile of unburied toilet paper which first clued me in that camp must be nearby. People don’t like to go far from camp to defecate and the close proximity of this pile to water (no PCT Hiker would be so thoughtless since water quality is always on our minds and this, if I was correct, was even upstream of where most people would draw water) and the campsite’s close proximity to a road made me think that this was the work of an over-nighter who was especially interested in keeping their trip to the latrine short. Sure enough, as I clambered over the chest chest high fallen tree, I spotted my sleeping bag. 

Lemei Lake by early morning.

More peek-a-boo mountain views. It’s like in a monster movie when you get a glimpse of part of the monster tough a window or between building.