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...)