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.