Day 81: A rainy day without water.

August 24th
22 miles

I don't want to wake up. I am having such conflicting feelings about finishing, that it's hard to even get up and go. I keep wishing Barrel was with me, for that added motivation, but then I tell myself that's a copout. I started this trail on my own, to be on my own, and that's how I'm going to finish. So I start my morning routine. Stuff my sleeping bag down at the bottom of my pack. Fold up my sleeping pad. Change into my hiking clothes. Boil water. Sort my food for the day. Eat some candy. Eat my oatmeal. Brake down my tent. Pack everything on my back. Walk.
I love/hate this routine.

I am slow. Partly because of my knee, partly because I just want to be slow. I take a break for a snack around 10 and Safety passes me. He tells me he stopped a few miles earlier than I did last night, and is surprised that he caught up to me. I'm surprised he didn't catch me sooner. Not long after that I pass him as he's eating lunch. And then, what I have been expecting ever since entering Washington, the rain starts.

I'm a couple of miles from Rainy Pass, which I find just so cliche. I put on my rain gear, and scoot against a wide tree, which seems to be keeping everything underneath it relatively dry.
I make a hiker trash burrito and dip it in my newly obtained apple sauce. I am loving lunch.
And here comes Safety. He passes me, and this is the 5th time I'm sure I'll never see him again. All these goodbyes are starting to get awkward.

The rain lasts less than an hour, but leaves the ground mucky and puddled. Steam wafts up from the forest, and I am amused by all the steaming logs that create this cloud smoke. Sometimes the forest is so beautiful I wonder why I want to go back to the city.

This is the Washington section of messed up bridges and log crossings. I hate walking across logs to cross a stream. I've never slipped off, but the thought crosses my mind every time. I realize there are a lot of things I hate doing on this trail, but as scared as they make me, I would do every single one of them again. This might be the definition of crazy.

Because I get to see all of this:

I'm not making very good time, and I have forgotten that the days are slowly shortening. I am at the top of a crest, 3 miles away from water, with almost nothing left in my water bottle, and I realize I'm not going to make it before it gets dark. This wouldn't be so much of an issue if the terrain right now wasn't steep, rocky and dangerous. I start to panic a bit, and pick up my pace. I know I'm going to have to go without water for a meal tonight, but I'm more concerned with finding a flat place to set up my tent. 

I come to a flat area, in the midst of some trees, on a rocky mountain ridge. There is only one spot cleared for a tent, and a small tent is already set up. So I move on, debating whether or not to try to make my way down the mountain as fast as I can before it's pitch black, or to clear my own area in the trees. I walk a bit further, realize there are going to be no other areas to pitch a tent, and then turn around and hurry back. I whack through the trees, find a place that is only slightly angled, and quickly set up my tent in the unbelievably quickly fading light. I've never actually had to set up my tent in the dark, but tonight I do, and am relieved that I've done this enough times over the last few months, that I don't actually need much light.  It is a cold night, and I can see my breath in the light of my headlamp. I start to wonder if the tent I saw a little way back might be Safety, and maybe he might have some extra water I can borrow. I figure even if it's not him, it doesn't hurt to ask. 

I whack my way back through the trees, crouch down by the tent, and say "Safety?" 

"Pip, is that you? I thought you'd be long gone by now! Were you the one making all that racket through the trees?" 

I laugh and say probably, because I didn't realize I was going to have to camp here. I tell him I stupidly ran out of water, thinking I was going to be camping near the next water source tonight, and wondering if I could borrow just a bit for cooking. He says he has more than enough, and sets out an entire liter, telling me to take as much as I want. Thank god for nice hikers. 

I make a delicious meal, complete with hot chocolate, and try to stay warm in the cold wind.  

Day 80: Stehekin. Where dreams are made. Briefly.

August 23
8 miles

We wake up early and pack our gear quietly. The night was an endless parade of rowdy teenagers walking through the RV park, and I find myself on the edge of cranky. Safety finishes first and tells me to meet him at Starbucks when I'm done. I bypass the shower this morning, caring less and less about feeling clean. When I get to Starbucks, Safety is nowhere to be found. I worry that maybe he just walked off without me, but then I tell myself it doesn't matter. I start to turn away, and Safety yells at me from across the street that he stopped to get some fruit, and I smile and feel glad I have someone at least for a little while longer.

We walk the few miles to the boat landing and purchase our tickets, arriving much too early. Safety opts for the more expensive, faster boat, while I obviously take the cheaper option. Since he will get there a good hour before I do, we say our goodbyes, and get an awkward picture.

Lake Chelan is 50 miles long, and the boat trip will take me the better part of 3 hours.  I take pictures for the first part of the journey, but am soon lulled to sleep by the gentle movement of the boat. 

Since the only way to access a house on the lake is by boat, the ferry often makes unscheduled stops for locals, beaching it's large hull on the rocks, and putting down a special walkway for them to disembark. It's cool to see, but I'm worried I won't make it to the Stehekin post office before it closes at noon, and will end up having to stay in Stehekin over the weekend. 

We finally make it to Stehekin, a place that I have heard about since the very beginnings of my trail, and have vowed to make it to. This is also the last resupply stop until Canada, in 90 miles. 

I get off the ferry and run to the post office, making it just in time. The post master there is a woman in her early 30s, who has lived in Stehekin for 6 years, running the post office for the last 2. She asks me about life on the trail, and I ask her about living in Stehekin. By the end of our conversation, I think we've each convinced the other person to put it on our adventure list. 

I am surprised to receive two packages and a letter. The letter is from the aunt (Sandy) of one of my dearest friends (Liz). Inside is a lovely letter wishing me luck and telling me to contact her in Seattle if I ever need to. She also enclosed a picture of her and Liz up in the Olympic mountains, and I smile and tuck this safely away in my pack. There is a surprise package from my old grad school friend, Joe, which is jammed with cliff bars, snickers and kitkats. I pack as much as I feel I can carry, and leave the rest in the hiker box, knowing how happy it will make the next hiker who looks inside. I open my last resupply box from my mom, and find a plethora of food and candy. I want to take it all, thrilled at the thought that I will be eating something other than ramen and tuna, but I only have about 4 days left, and about 8 days worth of food. And it dawns on me that this is the best problem I could ever have. I pack heavy, planning to eat more than I ever have on the trail, and leave the rest for any starving hikers.  

I spend the next hour frantically walking across Stehekin, buying a couple of postcards and then trying to find enough stamps to send them (having forgotten to buy them at the post office before it closed). I finish just as the bus pulls up to take us to the trail head, and run into Safety, who has just been lounging around waiting for the bus. I'm sweaty and red faced, and he smiles languidly at me, "Hey, Pip, long time no see. You look like a mess." 

We get into the bus with a couple of other section hikers and tourists, and head to the main attraction: the Stehekin Bakery. This is the place that previous PCT hikers have been talking about for months. I can't contain my excitement. And then the bus driver tells us we only have 10 minutes to stop in before he leaves for the trail head. WHAT?! 

We all rush into the bakery, which is beautiful and rustic, and set on a little farm.  I order a piece of strawberry rhubarb pie to go, and make it back to the bus just as the driver is counting to make sure everyone is on board. He looks at me and says, "Where's your husband? He's the last one we need." Um. Huh? Oh, lets just assume, once again, that any girl and guy traveling together are married. I'm sure he wouldn't do that if I was traveling with another woman. His assumption irks me, but all I say is, "I think he's on his way." Lame, Bree. 

When Safety gets on I tell him about the driver's comment. He laughs and shakes his head, and says, "well, I'm flattered." And that totally disarms me. Because even though I know he has a girlfriend, and he's not hitting on me in any way, that was pretty much the best thing he could have said to me right then. So I shut up and eat my pie. And it is the best pie in the world. I put Stehekin on my list of possible places to move to so that I can work at the bakery. 

We finally get to the trailhead, and exit with a couple other hikers who are going South Bound. Safety and I sit at the little picnic table, and he pulls out a couple of PBRs, offering me one. I laugh that he's packing out a 6 pack, but gladly take a beer. We sit and chat, guessing how far we'll make it today. It's already 2pm, and I plan to do about 8-10 miles. Safety said he had wanted to get in at least 15 today, but has decided to do no more than 10. He pulls out a one hitter, packs it, and asks if I want any. I don't even know why I'm surprised any more that people bring pot on the trail with them. I take a drag (close your mouths, it's legal in Washington), and appreciate that it will take the edge off of my knee pain. After I finish the beer I leave Safety to himself, and decide that I better start hiking if I want to make it to Canada on time. 

A few miles in I come across a giant canvas tent, that looks like a semi-permanent structure. I'm curious about it, but not curious enough to stop. It also feels a little "the Hills have Eyes-ish", so I walk quickly away. 

I keep expecting for Safety to catch up with me, but 8 miles in, and still no sign of him. I come to a large campsite around 6:30, and decide to end for the day. It's been an interesting few days, but I feel relieved to be back in the wilderness. And now it's a short countdown to Canada. I'm ready but not ready to be done. I can't believe I only have four days left. 

Day 79: a travel day

August 22

Getting over to Stehekin is no small task, since there are no roads into this small mountain area. It requires getting a ride into Leavenworth, taking a bus from Leavenworth to Lake Chelan, and then taking a boat across Lake Chelan to Stehekin.

Borealis talks me into going to the cafe with him for breakfast, and soon other hikers start to trickle in. A local guy by the name of Jim tells us he takes hikers back up to the trail head at Steven's pass--a good 30-45 min trip. Borealis, Bigfoot and I clamber into Jim's van after breakfast and he trundles us up. Halfway there Borealis realizes he's left his water bottle back at the cafe. So Jim turns around and drives all the way back. We pick up another hiker back at the cafe, Periwinkle--an odd, but nice older guy, who's ramblings I can never make sense off, and then pick up Darren on the side of the road heading back to Steven's pass. Bigfoot notices I'm cold and drapes his thin jacket over my legs without saying anything. Chivalry is not dead, even on the trail, and I fall a little bit in love with him.

When we finally make it up to Steven's Pass it's around 10am. Jim drops us off at the trailhead, but everyone decides to walk across the freeway, over to the lodge for some last minute supplies. I walk over with the guys, and while I'm saying goodbye to them outside, a new hiker, Safety Hat, says hi to Bigfoot and introduces himself to me. Bigfoot gives me a couple of pain pills, "in case you're in really bad shape, and you just need to get to the next place," and I thank him and jumble them with the rest of my pills and potions. I say goodbye, give some hugs (have I really only known these guys for a day and a half?), and tell Borealis that I hope to see him in Canada.

I hobble back down to the highway, lean against the concrete barricade, and stick out my trusty thumb. I see safety hat walking toward me, and he asks if it's okay if he hitches a ride with me to Stehekin. He says that he's ready to be done with the trail and head back home. I always feel safer with another hiker, even one I've just met, so I say yes, and we find ourselves as traveling companions. Safety (his name is Safety, people) talks a guy with a truck into giving us a ride after he gets his morning coffee. We pile in, and he drives us to Leavenworth, a made up Bavarian community (they have no historical ties to Bavaria), that is equal parts ridiculous and charming.

Safety and I get a bus schedule from the tourist office (where the women are wearing "traditional" Bavarian dresses) and realize we have a couple of hours to wait until the bus to Chelan arrives. We head into the town, and decide to get some beers while we wait. I end up having three beers to Safety's 4, and walk to the bus stop feeling slightly tipsy. We sit in the back of the bus, and talk about our respective journeys.  Safety had just completed the AT last year, when he decided to do the PCT, as fast as he could. He's on point to finish 3 1/2 months after he started down in Mexico. Bypassing this 100 mile section marks the first zero he's taken in over a month.

 We have to transfer busses an hour and a half into the trip, which is perfect because I have had to pee for the last 30 minutes. Oh, but it seems that our bus was running late, so there is no time to pee--the new bus driver tells us we have to get on now or he's leaving.  We sit in the back of the bus again, and I joke that I'm going to pee in my water bottle. I am almost dead serious until I realize that a) I will probably pee all over the floor and b) I only have two water bottles, and I don't want to drink from one that I peed in. So. I hold it. And pray that I don't explode. Safety is in the same position, and every time there's a bump we both groan a bit.

We finally get to Chelan, and, after waddling to the closest bathroom to pee for hours, realize we have to camp here for the night because the boat across to Stehekin only leaves in the morning. We get ourselves some burgers, and rent a spot on the grass at the nearby RV park. We plan to get up early and walk the 2-3 miles to the boat landing, so we go to sleep early. It seems like a long day, and I wonder, as I do most nights, what my friends on the trail and back in the real world are doing right now. Maybe we're all just preparing for the next day.

Oct. 9: a brief interlude before finishing.

*I am finally sitting down, after more than a month away from the trail, to finish my blog. I'm not sure why these last few days have been the hardest for me to get down in writing. Perhaps not finishing the blog was a way to not really end the trail. But more than that, I think once I finished walking, I was finished. I didn't really want to reflect. People kept asking me how it was, and I found that for some reason, there wasn't much for me to say. Yes, it changed my life. But how can you explain that in conversation? Everything after the trail was the same, the places I went back to, the people I saw; it was the same, but I was different. Or was I? I wasn't as different as I had wanted to be. I was still stuck in the same life, except now without a job or a place to live.

I bounced around for a few weeks after the trail, spending more time in the Pacific Northwest, visiting my family in New Mexico, staying with friends here and there in Minnesota, feeling like I had been caught up in a tornado, dizzy and reeling.

Now, the day before my 29th birthday, I find myself drawn back to the blog to try and put an end cap on my journey. So much time has passed that I probably won't be able to be as detailed as I had been, but it's the ending that matters. Thanking the people who helped me along the way. Creating a proper end.

So, here it is. The last of my wanderings.

Day 78: sucked in

August 21
zero

I get up early with every intention of getting back on the trail today. But as soon as I get down off my bunk I reconsider. My knee. My dumb knee just seems to be getting worse. It doesn't take much for Borealis to convince me to take a zero, grab breakfast with him, and then head over to the next town and go to the grocery store. I'm hoping to find a knee brace, and decide to upgrade my lunches from ramen to hiker trash burritos.

We get a ride into Goldbar (a town 13 miles away, but with an actual grocery store), from a mother and daughter who know the Dinsmores from way back, and are used to picking up hiker trash. On the way we stop at a roadside coffee stall, apparently famous for being in Harry and the Hendersons. I take pictures.

We resupply in Goldbar, I check in with my people, get caught up on some news, and then head back to the Hiker barn. I don't find a knee brace, so I settle for some icy/hot cream and an ace wrap.
More hikers meet us when we get back: Yetti Boy and Sugarbabe (a french couple), Bigfoot, Juicy, Darren and a few older guys who are odd, but interesting.

There is a TV and a bin with lots of movies, and people put them in one after another. It's almost as if no one has watched a moving picture screen in months! ;) In the evening, Jerry Dinsmore drives a group of us over to Skykomish (20 minutes away) so we can get fried chicken dinners at the bar.  Jerry is a great guy, and I sit up in the cab with him chatting about his life, while Darren, Juicy, Bigfoot and Boots sit in the truck bed.
We are the envy of all the other hikers when we return with our fried chicken and jojos, and I share some pieces with Why Not (an older woman I met back in Oregon) and Borealis, since it's too much for me to eat. We all stay up chatting and watching movies, greasy and full from our dinners.

Over the course of the day I have decided that I won't be able to finish the rest of the 190 miles to Canada, the way my knee is. The last section before Canada is from Stehekin north 90 miles. The 100 miles leading up to Stehekin are widely reported to be some of the most difficult on the trail. I make the sad decision to go up to Stehekin and finish my section from there, feeling slightly like I've failed Washington.  I try to be optimistic and grateful, and make reassuring promises to myself like "you'll come back and hike the whole PCT one day," or "you'll at least be able to section Washington in the future," but these are half-hearted attempts at self placating.  It is what it is, I tell myself. It is what it is.  

Day 77: The Dinsmore's Hiker Haven

August 20th
8 miles


I wake up to find the forest enveloped in fog. Like out of a movie, I make my way through the dense silence and novelty of walking through a forest in the clouds. Everything beyond a few feet obscured and muted; calm and a little foreboding.

The forest floor is absolutely covered with blueberry bushes. Hundreds, thousands, millions of blueberry bushes, like an edible carpet out of Willy Wonka. I gorge on blueberries. "Violet, you're turning violet!"

I won't bore you with the details of my 8 mile hike, only to say it took me much too long to complete, and it was nearing 12:30pm by the time I reached the ski lodge at Steven's Pass. It was a painful limp down to the lodge, and a hard reality check that I might not be able to complete the rest of the trail.

The ski lift down to the lodge. I took this picture, wishing it had been running so I didn't have to continue limping down the trail, and then halfway down the mountain it started up. A guy yells down at me that I should have waited at the top for a ride down. Alas.

I get a ride from a nice guy named Mike, who lives in Leavenworth, but is headed to NY for a seasonal job. He hikes and climbs, and has lived all over the Pacific Northwest. He tells me Leavenworth, a bavarian-themed town an hour west of here, is the place to be. He gives me his card, in case I ever need a contact in the area, and I marvel at my fortunate hitching luck. He drops me off at the Dinsmores, and I make my way to the Hiker Haven--an entire building dedicated to hikers, with our own shower and washer/dryer. These people are amazing!

While I'm relaxing and going through my resupply, up walks Borealis! We hug and he gives me shit for skipping up to Snoqualmie, and then feels bad for me when I tell him I twisted my knee and might not be able to finish. He tells me he's taking a zero here tomorrow, and tries to talk me into staying. But I tell him I'm headed back out on the trail tomorrow morning. He won't suck me in to his "town time" mentality! 

Day 76: trails and trials

August 19th
27 miles

I wake up early, wanting to be on the trail and get some miles in before the other hikers wake up and catch up to me. We had all planned on camping at the same lake tonight--27 miles away for me, 30 for them.  I'm on the trail a little before 7am, feeling a bit stiff and sore, noticing my left knee is slightly swollen. I take some ibuprofen and get on my way.

The day starts off clear and lovely--The mountains, the lakes! How did I get so lucky?

Jonny Rocket catches up to me 3 miles into my day, zooming up the trail like it's the easiest thing in the world. He makes a joke about me being up so early, and I tell him I'm trying to be a "real" hiker these days. We chat for a bit, me picking up my pace to stay within earshot of him, but then realizing the futility of this, I watch him grow smaller and smaller ahead of me. I miss Barrel. 

A few miles later, as I'm stretching out my knees after a section of descending trail, Salty flies by me. She is probably one of the fastest female hikers I have met on trail--easily out hiking many of our male counterparts. She asks if I'm okay, and I tell her it's just some knee pain.  She commiserates, and tells me she's been having knee problems too, but then walks so fast up the trail it's like I can see a trail of smoke behind her. Alone once more. 

I have been anticipating a particular river crossing all morning, and the signs I see leading up to it, aren't particularly reassuring. I met some SOBOs earlier, and they said it was no problem, but I am no fan of fording rivers.  

I come down the steep trail leading up to the river, and see Salty just as she's making her way to the other side. There are two hikers behind her who opt to walk through the river, instead of crossing on the makeshift log bridge, and I notice that the water only comes up to their knees. When I get down to the logs and test them out, they are slightly bouncy and unstable. It's only about a 15ft long cross over the logs, but I know I would slip off the logs, so I decide to just walk through the water. As I'm changing into my sandals, Knief and Maniac catch up to me. Knief quickly crosses the logs, but Maniac decides to also walk across. The water goes up past my knees, and the current is strong. I jokingly ask them to try and save me if I get pulled down the river, but for all of that, we easily make it across. 

The guys decide to eat lunch after we cross, and I make my lunch with them, enjoying the company and letting my feet dry. It's about 16 more miles until the lake, and so far I'm making pretty good time. I plan to be there around 7pm. 

The guys easily pull ahead of me when we finish lunch, but I don't even make an effort to keep up with them. My left knee has started to throb, and I worry that maybe I did something to it when I fell yesterday. It doesn't help that there are lots of logs down in this section, slowing me down even more. 

Notice the size of this downed section covering the trail--my trekking poles are in the picture for reference 

I am going slow, and by 5pm, British Will catches up to me, and we take a break and chat for a bit. I haven't seen him since Sierra City, and he recently shaved his beard, making him look handsome, but even younger than his 24 years. I try to keep up with him for a bit when we resume hiking, but my knee just isn't cooperating. I ask him to save me a spot by the lake. 

The trail climbs up a couple thousand feet, and the higher we get, the denser the cloud cover becomes, until we are right up in the clouds. I can hear thunder, and desperately want to make it to the lake before it starts raining. It's a long way down the other side of the mountain, and by this time I'm limping. I can barely put weight on my left leg, and stop over few minutes to rest. Going downhill seems to be the worst, and hobble-hopping this last section takes 10 times as long. I keep walking, wanting to make it to the lake, but I'm still a mile away and darkness is starting to creep in. The trail is rocky and uneven, and I know it's a bid idea to continue on. I find a place to camp only about .8 mile away from the lake campsite, and decide to call it quits for the night. So close, but so far. 

Tomorrow is an 8 mile day into Stevens pass, and a hitch from there into Baring, WA where the trail angels (the Dinsmores) are. Maniac has a cabin up at stevens pass that the other hikers are staying at, and they've given me an invitation, but I declined, not wanting to take a zero as I'm on a tight schedule to finish. Hoping this knee thing goes away soon. 

Day 75: the beginning of the end

Day 75
August 18
21 miles

I wake up at 5:30, pack up, go to the hot springs for one last quick soak, and don't hit the trail until 7:45. Oops. My shoes still haven't dried out from yesterday's creek crossing (damn gortex), so I put on my hiking sandals.

Washington is beautiful and terrible in the same breath.
These days we gain 5,000-10,000 ft throughout the day, and lose about the same. Up the mountain. Down the mountain. All day. Every day.

Halfway into my day, and I really start to regret taking this alternate route. The trail is not very well maintained, overgrown with brush, strewn with logs, steeply graded, and just a general twisted-ankle-waiting-to-happen trail. I'm moving slow, trying to be cautious, but the trail is steep and covered in mud-slicked rocks. I take a step and suddenly find myself in a sort of split, my left leg bent awkwardly behind me, my legs and butt in the mud. I don't feel like I hurt myself too badly, so I stagger up and continue on my way. Down, down, down; up, up, up.

I come to a bridge that has been broken for who knows how long, and awkwardly scramble across it. This trail!   

Mushrooms bigger than my feet! 

The views are amazing, but the descents are taking their toll on my knees. It's hard to get back on the trail after being off for so many days. My body feels soft; my head elsewhere. 

By the time I get back to the PCT my legs feel shot. I take a breather and see a hiker coming up the trail toward me who looks familiar. It's Kneif! And he shaved his beard! I give him a big hug, and hear someone say, "is that Pip?" I turn to find Jonny Rocket and Salty setting up their tents. They tell me Maniac and British Will (from Sierra City) are just behind them. I explain how I managed to get ahead of them, and then say I have to do a few more miles today, but that I'll plan on camping w them tomorrow night.

But then I only go 3 more miles before I decide I have to stop, my body feeling weak and sore. I find myself on top of a giant rock covered in a thin layer of moss. I leave my pack there and walk a mile or so down the trail, figuring if I find a better spot to camp than the rock I'll go back and get my pack. I find nothing, so head back and set my tent up with heavy rocks holding the tent stakes down. I'm nowhere near water, so I can hear every noise around me. I hear a Barred (?) owl (the "who cooks for you" hoot giving it away), and a screech owl, and then I hear a low grunting. And I know it's a bear. And I try not to freak out, just ring my bell a bit, and hope I'm not camping on its rock.

I put my headphones in my ears to block the animal noises and fall into a semi decent sleep.

Day 74: snoqualmie pass and hot springs

Day 74
August 17
11 miles

Scott, Linda and Ryan drive me over to Snoqualmie Pass this morning so I can resume my hike. I feel rested and strong. My shin splint and heel bruise both seem to have healed, and my feet are callused and 'unblisterable' (I hope)! :)

The parking lot is packed when we pull up to the trail head around 10:30. I say my goodbyes, sad to be leaving, but knowing I will see them again in a couple of weeks. My cousin decides to walk a bit of the trail with me, and we start out on a side trail, taking a round about path to get on the PCT. I make a snap decision to take the Goldmeyer alternate trail, which includes some hot springs, and soon realize it's a 1.5 mile road walk to get to the alternate trail head. I say goodbye to my cousin, after doing a quick loop back to the parking lot, and head off down the road.

Even more cars are at the alternate trail head. Uh... I hadn't really anticipated this many hikers on a Sunday, and soon find out that this is one of the most popular day hiking destinations close to the city. I have to pass at least 50-70 hikers on the way up, making my progress slow, but also stroking my ego as I fly past on the incline. I wonder if this is how other thru hikers feel around me...

I take a break at the top of the pass, and understand why people kept saying not to underestimate the climbs in Washington. I'm shoving a snickers bar in my face when a family with two young girls comes up. The mother, Katherine, asks how many miles I'm doing, and when I tell her I'm on the PCT, she gets excited and starts asking me all about my trip. She asks me if I would like some candy, since they bought a bunch in case they needed to cajole their children into hiking. I half-heartedly say I can't take candy from babies, but she insists and comes back with a sackful of packaged candies. I graciously take the Swedish fish, which are amazing, and eat and rest at Snow lake
.

It's only 11 miles to the hot springs, and I planned to get there early, spend a couple of hours and then continue on. But the trail is more difficult than I expected, and I still have 2 miles till the hot springs by the time it's 3pm. I start down a long, rocky section on the trail, climbing over boulders, trying not to twist an ankle, thinking that it might have been easier to just take the PCT.

I switched out my shoes when I was in Seattle, opting to go back to gortex, expecting rain and possibly some snow. Even though they are an 8 (I usually wear a 7) like my Cascadias, they run small, and so are not quite as roomy. I worry about the sizing, but decide to wear them anyway, since my Cascadias have over 1,000 on them, and are starting to wear out. I know from experience in the Sierras that gortex is great as long as it doesn't get wet from the inside. (Foreshadowing)

About a mile and a half from the hot springs I cross a large creek. It looks like there are rocks to hop across, but halfway in I realize there's nothing left to cross on. It's too precarious to turn around or put my sandals on, so I decide to just step in the water and walk across. No big deal. But as soon as I put my foot down I can feel the water pouring in through the mesh tongues on my shoes, and when I get out on the other side I know it was a mistake. The water is just sitting in my shoes, trapped inside by the gortex. I decide to just walk the rest of the way in wet shoes, squelching along the trail.

The hot spring campground feels like walking into a gnome land. They only allow 20 people to get in the springs each day, as they are trying to preserve the integrity of the area. They recommend making a reservation ahead of time, but knowing that the main access road to get there is closed, and not expecting most people to hike in the 11 miles to get there, I feel relatively sure I'll be able to get in.

 I meet with the seasonal caretakers, am told I'm only the 5th person here, and pay the fee to use the springs. They tell me it's a bit of a hike up to the actual springs, and to be aware that they are clothing optional. When I get there I see a guy/girl couple and a lone guy using the springs. They guys are naked and the girl is only wearing bikini bottoms, so I feel like it would be weird to wear clothes in--I settle for just leaving my spandex shorts on. The pools are small, and so no matter where you are you're close to people. I try to act cool and nonchalant, but know that all of us are probably discretely checking everyone else out. It's a little weird to have conversations with each other while naked. But we are elevated beings above such trivialities as nudity...

The spring is amazing, and there is a cave that is half filled with piping hot water, extending back about 30 feet into the rock. I start walking toward the back, the water and cave pitch black, and tell myself there is nothing to fear in this water, while feeling the panic rise inside of me--why does water haunt me so?! When I get to the back I find a small wooden plank acting as a bench, and briefly enjoy the makeshift sauna created by the cave.

By the time I leave the spring it's only 5:30, and I should easily be able to do another 5 miles, but it's too nice to leave, so I pick a campsite and enjoy a relaxing evening next to the river. I plan to wake up early and enjoy another dip in the pools before I head out tomorrow morning, knowing that if I don't force myself to leave I could happily stay for much, much longer.

(Apparently they are always looking for caretakers for the summer and winter seasons...)