Washington Part 3: Clouds, Colours, and Too Much Beauty to Handle
Welcome back!! Today is my one year anniversary of my final full day on trail. At this time a year ago, I was in the mountains, unbelievably close to a goal I had been working on for months.
When the morning came in Skykomish, neither Macro nor I felt particularly eager to get back to the trail. We had a slow breakfast at the motel restaurant, and then when we were about to start getting our stuff together we discovered someone a few tables over eating some delicious looking pie, and decided we needed some too, so breakfast continued. Further delay was caused by my needing to book my flight home. Annoying complications with the airline ensued, meaning we didn't get out on trail until the sun was high in the sky. We ended up doing a slow, easy 10 miles that day, due to the late start, and Macro feeling under the weather. Sick hiking is not remotely fun.
We camped beside Lake Janus, large and peaceful, and pretty chilly. I remember setting up my tent and then looking around me and taking a moment to marvel at the fact that I was in this beautiful place and that I had been surrounded by so much beauty for so long. After so many days and nights in nature, it did become easy to forget how incredibly unique and magical the experience was, but every now and then a moment would hit me and I would realize... It is insane that this is my life right now.
I was about to preface my next day by saying it was one of my favourites, but I realize I have actually written that about a lot of days, and that I also have to write it about almost all of my remaining 9 days on trail. I still don't know if the magic of Washington was just that the landscape itself is spectacular or if it was because I knew it was all coming to a close soon, I suspect it was a mix of both, but even with the steep, often slippery, poorly maintained trails that made for challenging hiking, I loved almost every minute of it.
So, as I said, the next day was one of my favourites. It was grey and cloudy when we woke up, but the morning started with an ascent that brought us into the low-laying clouds, and eventually above them, into the blue sky and bright sun. By the time we reached the top of the ridge, we had clear views of a cloudless valley and icy Glacier Peak in front of us and an ocean of clouds behind us.
It was as if the ridge we were on was a dam blocking the sea of clouds to the south from spilling over into the valleys to the north. There was even a place where the clouds did start spilling over, flowing over the rocks and trees like a mystical waterfall. Taking advantage of the sun, we stopped for a break at the top of the climb, and joined several other hikers laying out gear to dry. That was when I made the acquaintance of a couple from France, Crack Ed and Clairmont, who ended up being a wonderful part of my last week on trail.
The sunshine continued through most of the day, and the colourful mountainsides and prominent Glacier Peak beckoned me forward in excitement. We hiked 26.3 miles, entering Glacier Peak Wilderness in the darkening light around 6:30pm, and not arriving at camp until after dark around 7:30pm. It was getting pretty cold after dark these days, so we rushed to set up our tents and eat dinner by headlamp, trying not to make too much noise to wake up a small encampment of hunters set up just beside us.
The hair went up on the back of my neck and my heart dropped into my stomach. I was immediately awake, sitting up, and listening closely. The hunters at the site shouted back, "WHAT??" And the hunter kept repeating what he'd said, but this time I realized he was saying a specific person's name. He kept saying, "I was walking down the trail and saw him lying there, he's dead, man!" He said he'd been doing CPR for a while and shouting but no one heard him so he had to leave the man, who I realized was a member of their group. Within seconds the group beside us understood what he was saying, and a bunch of noise and activity commenced. One person directed someone to send out an SOS using their GPS device, they asked questions about what had happened and where the man was located, and a few of them started running to help. I wondered if I should get up to help them, or if that would only lead to me being in the way. I knew Macro was awake but he stayed put, and I knew there were plenty of them and that they had access to an SOS call, so I decided to leave them be.
Soon they had all left to help and silence fell over the site. I laid in my tent in the dark with my heart pounding and wondered how I was going to fall asleep, but I had been working hard those days and it was already quite a bit later than my usual bed time, so sleep came on faster than I expected, although it was fitful. Around 2 or 3am I heard some voices of a few of the men returning to camp. They were hushed and I felt keenly aware of my presence intruding on the moment. They had come out for an enjoyable time in nature with their friends or family, and had never imagined something like this would happen. Eventually they fell silent, and although it took awhile at this point, I did finally fall asleep again.
The next morning I woke up early, feeling quiet and subdued, and started hiking around 7am. As I was heading out, Macro and I whispered our plans to each other, unsure if anyone was still sleeping in the hunter's tents, and Macro said to me, "No matter how bad of a night we just had... theirs was worse". I nodded in agreement, waved bye to him as he finished up his morning coffee, and headed out into the misty, grey morning light.
It was actually a beautiful morning. Clouds were zooming in and out of the nearby peaks, and though the air was wet and cold, the sun was making a valiant effort to shine through the clouds. As I kept walking I heard a strange humming sound, which got louder and louder, until I realized it was a helicopter, and then I turned a corner and saw, along the ridge line, a flat outcropping with a rescue helicopter on it, it's blades whirring through the air and creating the hum I had been hearing. As I approached, I saw a line of young men on the side of the trail watching as the helicopter prepared to take off, with what was evidently not a live human on board. One of them asked me to wait further down the trail while the helicopter started to lift off, but once it hovered in the sky a bit, it came back down, appearing to have some technical difficulties.
I felt so sad for these people, who had been awake with the body of their friend for over 9 hours, and now had to stand on the mountainside and watch him fly away, and somehow get their tired, shocked bodies back to civilization on foot, to face the grief-filled results of their hunting getaway in the mountains. A hiker later told me that his friend had been on the hunting trip and it was his father who'd collapsed and died, due to a pre-existing condition. In that moment on the mountain, as I watched the helicopter trying to lift his body away, I sent all the loving energy I could muster to him and the people who had lost him, and, recognizing that they would have given anything to have him out there enjoying the day on the mountain with them, I swore I was going to take in and appreciate everything of the day, for all of them. I grabbed a piece of quartz of the ground and squeezed it in my hand, putting all my intention into it to honour the man who'd died and to cherish the wilderness for him.
Eventually the helicopter landed again and they told me to go ahead, so I quietly carried on my way. The clouds had been drifting in and out along the ridgetop, and as I walked away it started to snow, big fluffy, silent flakes that filled the air. I hoped it wouldn't further delay the helicopter, but also couldn't help but notice how beautiful and serene the scene was.
It was, in the end, a beautiful, though cold and misty day. The weather was mostly grey, drizzly, and cloudy, but every now and then the sun peered through the clouds and changed the gloomy light. The trail was terrible, it was not well maintained at all (thanks to amazing PCTA volunteers across the entire country, I had been spoiled with excellently maintained trails almost the whole way). There were overgrown, sopping wet bushes all over the place; the trail was eroding and occasionally fell off and down the cliffs to one side, requiring careful footwork on slippery ground; and at several points huge trees had fallen across the trail and were hanging over the other side, so the only way to continue was to climb up the steep, muddy embankment, to get around the roots and back on trail on the other side. I fell twice. It was sheer luck that kept me from breaking anything.
Near the end of the day the trail climbed up to a ridge with a beautiful view of some peaks among the clouds; skirted beside Mica Lake, which was shockingly turquoise-blue; and then descended slightly alongside a stream to land at a small clearing which had several hikers camped. That was where I found Macro and stopped to set up my tent in the cold, wet mist and quickly fading light.
After that the trail took us across a glacier-melt river and up a long ascent which was tiring but provided great views of snowy Glacier Peak. At the top the trail traversed a stunning ridgeline with one of the most spectacular mountain panoramas I had seen on the whole trail. To make it even better, the mountainsides were dotted by marmot holes and quite a few fat, curious marmots whistled my welcome and popped out of their holes to check me out as I went by. I even saw a huge bear on an embankment below me on trail. I looked at him... he looked at me... I waved at him... he looked at me... I said hello to him... he looked at me. So eventually I said goodbye and headed on my way. That brought my PCT Bear Sightings total to 4.
In the afternoon, the trail began a long, long decent, which initially was rather steep and I had some uncomfortable knee pain, but eventually that numbed out, and the trail became gentler. That afternoon I spent a few hours totally blissed out on hiking. The trail was gentle and soft, my iPod was killing it on shuffle, and the surroundings were serene. The lower I got the more lush and green the vegetation was. I marveled at the many shades of green of all the different kinds of moss, the huge prehistoric looking leaves, and the fascinating fungi growing on the trees and logs. I walked out of a young forest of tall thin poles to an ancient, old growth forest with some of the biggest trees I had ever seen, standing proud and stately, and almost sentient in the silent forest. I took out the quartz I had been carrying since the helicopter and placed it at the roots of the biggest tree I could find, and wished well to the trees, the ground, the air, the moss, the ancient people who used to live on this land, and the man who died not far from here only a couple days ago.
I continued the delightful walk, eventually meeting up with Macro to camp for the night with just the two of us at a cozy flat spot nestled among some trees, and complete with yet another pit toilet! What a dream!
The following day started with a long climb all morning. The sun was initially shining, but it started to drizzle and then rain, and then the climb became rocky and steep, and by the time I got to the top of Cloudy Pass, I was wet and cold once again. The rain seemed to be letting up a tiny bit, and I was so cold, so I decided to crouch beside the trail and warm myself up with my usual pot of ramen for lunch. It turned out the rain actually was not letting up, nor was the wind, so 10 minutes later when Macro got to the pass, he found me huddled by my stove waiting for my water to slowly boil and feeling fairly miserable.
At this point we were no longer on the PCT but instead on a lengthy detour resulting from a fire on trail. The detour veered away from the PCT to Cloudy Pass, and then descended on the other side of the pass into a valley towards Holden Village, (a very unique, year-round Lutheran Christian retreat centre in the middle of nowhere), and then took a long route back to the trail on the other side of the fire. In order to provide support to the droves of PCT hikers who would normally not be in the area, Holden Village opened their doors for people to stay in their dorm-room-style accommodations, join them in their family-style meals, and partake in their mini ice cream shop, all for a very affordable price. Macro and I had planned to camp outside Holden Village, but as we stood at the cold, rainy pass that afternoon, we both decided in quick succession that we would be staying indoors tonight.
What a brilliant call on our part. Holden Village was amazing, one of my favourite stops on the hike, filled with delicious and plentiful food, snacks and beverages, friendly people, cozy single rooms, and the comfortable and content feeling of being nestled in among mountains on all sides. Before getting to Holden though, we had to hike down into the valley, and at that point my knee pain returned with vengeance. I slowed down to a limping plod and slowly, painfully made my way down, down, down. Macro slowed down to wait for me at one point, worrying I might be in pain still, and at that point convinced me to do the only logical thing in the moment - pop large amounts of ibuprofen. I honestly don't know why that hadn't occurred to me sooner. It kicked in 15 minutes later and then the hiking was absolutely divine.
As we entered the valley, the rain began to clear and the sun made occasional appearances, lighting up the bright fall colours so beautifully. There were a lot of deciduous trees which changed the appearance of the landscape and added colours that I hadn't seen much of in the coniferous forests in which we were usually hiking. The terrain began to mellow out and occasionally the trail meandered along a peaceful lake and beside dramatic cliffs with waterfalls flowing high above, illuminated by sudden bursts of brilliant yellow sunlight.
The majority of hikers also opted to take the ferry, which meant as we piled into the shuttle to get to the ferry dock (the only way into Holden Village is via a passenger ferry & shuttle or hiking in), we were joined by many other hikers who had camped nearby or hiked in during the morning. We took the bus to the ferry dock, where I was greeted by the largest body of water I had seen in my entire hike (excluding my brief trailcation to the Atlantic), Lake Chelan, which is a long narrow lake that snakes for 50 miles through the Cascades, with Stehekin at one end. My fellow hikers and I enjoyed some snacks and beer and the luxury of sitting on comfy seats surrounded by water on all sides...it felt like a tropical vacation, with the blue water and luxurious commodities. (I can't attest to how nice the ferry actually is, at this point my perspective of what counts as "luxurious" was pretty skewed. I wasn't sitting on the ground eating ramen out of a tiny pot while covered in sweat and dirt, I know that much).
The rest of the day was spent eating lunch and dinner, drinking beer on the patio in the sun, and getting to know the people I had met. In addition to Crack Ed, Clairmont, Juice, and Acid Jesus, there were other familiar faces I was getting to know and a few new ones: Flamingo, Hot Tuna, Pink Panther, Snake Charmer, Hopper, Ninja, and Olive. They were all awesome, warm, and wonderful people, and I was filled with joy and contentment to feel at home with all the hikertrash, only days from finishing our thru-hikes. In moments like these, it didn't matter that I knew most of them for only a week or two, and some of them only hours - when you share the experience of walking over two thousand miles along the same path, you know you are with friends.
This next blog post is about what might have my favourite part of the whole hike. Let’s dive in!
When the morning came in Skykomish, neither Macro nor I felt particularly eager to get back to the trail. We had a slow breakfast at the motel restaurant, and then when we were about to start getting our stuff together we discovered someone a few tables over eating some delicious looking pie, and decided we needed some too, so breakfast continued. Further delay was caused by my needing to book my flight home. Annoying complications with the airline ensued, meaning we didn't get out on trail until the sun was high in the sky. We ended up doing a slow, easy 10 miles that day, due to the late start, and Macro feeling under the weather. Sick hiking is not remotely fun.
We camped beside Lake Janus, large and peaceful, and pretty chilly. I remember setting up my tent and then looking around me and taking a moment to marvel at the fact that I was in this beautiful place and that I had been surrounded by so much beauty for so long. After so many days and nights in nature, it did become easy to forget how incredibly unique and magical the experience was, but every now and then a moment would hit me and I would realize... It is insane that this is my life right now.
I was about to preface my next day by saying it was one of my favourites, but I realize I have actually written that about a lot of days, and that I also have to write it about almost all of my remaining 9 days on trail. I still don't know if the magic of Washington was just that the landscape itself is spectacular or if it was because I knew it was all coming to a close soon, I suspect it was a mix of both, but even with the steep, often slippery, poorly maintained trails that made for challenging hiking, I loved almost every minute of it.
So, as I said, the next day was one of my favourites. It was grey and cloudy when we woke up, but the morning started with an ascent that brought us into the low-laying clouds, and eventually above them, into the blue sky and bright sun. By the time we reached the top of the ridge, we had clear views of a cloudless valley and icy Glacier Peak in front of us and an ocean of clouds behind us.
It was as if the ridge we were on was a dam blocking the sea of clouds to the south from spilling over into the valleys to the north. There was even a place where the clouds did start spilling over, flowing over the rocks and trees like a mystical waterfall. Taking advantage of the sun, we stopped for a break at the top of the climb, and joined several other hikers laying out gear to dry. That was when I made the acquaintance of a couple from France, Crack Ed and Clairmont, who ended up being a wonderful part of my last week on trail.
Cloud waterfall
Also known as a... cloudfall? Water vapour fall?
Spectacular view of Glacier Peak
An ocean of clouds
Pink Panther hiking towards Glacier Peak
There were also a lot more berries in this section
Evening views, just after entering Glacier Peak Wilderness in the waning light
As it turns out, they weren't asleep. Shortly after I crawled into my sleeping bag a few of them arrived chatting away. I think they had set up at two different locations and were just arriving from having their dinner at the other site. They quieted quickly and I started to nod off to sleep, but at 10pm I was awoken by a commotion outside the tent. Loud footsteps and shouting, some of which I didn't understand, but what I did hear was someone shouting, "HELP! GUYS HELP! Someone's dead!"
The hair went up on the back of my neck and my heart dropped into my stomach. I was immediately awake, sitting up, and listening closely. The hunters at the site shouted back, "WHAT??" And the hunter kept repeating what he'd said, but this time I realized he was saying a specific person's name. He kept saying, "I was walking down the trail and saw him lying there, he's dead, man!" He said he'd been doing CPR for a while and shouting but no one heard him so he had to leave the man, who I realized was a member of their group. Within seconds the group beside us understood what he was saying, and a bunch of noise and activity commenced. One person directed someone to send out an SOS using their GPS device, they asked questions about what had happened and where the man was located, and a few of them started running to help. I wondered if I should get up to help them, or if that would only lead to me being in the way. I knew Macro was awake but he stayed put, and I knew there were plenty of them and that they had access to an SOS call, so I decided to leave them be.
Soon they had all left to help and silence fell over the site. I laid in my tent in the dark with my heart pounding and wondered how I was going to fall asleep, but I had been working hard those days and it was already quite a bit later than my usual bed time, so sleep came on faster than I expected, although it was fitful. Around 2 or 3am I heard some voices of a few of the men returning to camp. They were hushed and I felt keenly aware of my presence intruding on the moment. They had come out for an enjoyable time in nature with their friends or family, and had never imagined something like this would happen. Eventually they fell silent, and although it took awhile at this point, I did finally fall asleep again.
The next morning I woke up early, feeling quiet and subdued, and started hiking around 7am. As I was heading out, Macro and I whispered our plans to each other, unsure if anyone was still sleeping in the hunter's tents, and Macro said to me, "No matter how bad of a night we just had... theirs was worse". I nodded in agreement, waved bye to him as he finished up his morning coffee, and headed out into the misty, grey morning light.
It was actually a beautiful morning. Clouds were zooming in and out of the nearby peaks, and though the air was wet and cold, the sun was making a valiant effort to shine through the clouds. As I kept walking I heard a strange humming sound, which got louder and louder, until I realized it was a helicopter, and then I turned a corner and saw, along the ridge line, a flat outcropping with a rescue helicopter on it, it's blades whirring through the air and creating the hum I had been hearing. As I approached, I saw a line of young men on the side of the trail watching as the helicopter prepared to take off, with what was evidently not a live human on board. One of them asked me to wait further down the trail while the helicopter started to lift off, but once it hovered in the sky a bit, it came back down, appearing to have some technical difficulties.
I felt so sad for these people, who had been awake with the body of their friend for over 9 hours, and now had to stand on the mountainside and watch him fly away, and somehow get their tired, shocked bodies back to civilization on foot, to face the grief-filled results of their hunting getaway in the mountains. A hiker later told me that his friend had been on the hunting trip and it was his father who'd collapsed and died, due to a pre-existing condition. In that moment on the mountain, as I watched the helicopter trying to lift his body away, I sent all the loving energy I could muster to him and the people who had lost him, and, recognizing that they would have given anything to have him out there enjoying the day on the mountain with them, I swore I was going to take in and appreciate everything of the day, for all of them. I grabbed a piece of quartz of the ground and squeezed it in my hand, putting all my intention into it to honour the man who'd died and to cherish the wilderness for him.
Eventually the helicopter landed again and they told me to go ahead, so I quietly carried on my way. The clouds had been drifting in and out along the ridgetop, and as I walked away it started to snow, big fluffy, silent flakes that filled the air. I hoped it wouldn't further delay the helicopter, but also couldn't help but notice how beautiful and serene the scene was.
The sun trying to peek through, just a few minutes before I ran into the helicopter
Near the end of the day the trail climbed up to a ridge with a beautiful view of some peaks among the clouds; skirted beside Mica Lake, which was shockingly turquoise-blue; and then descended slightly alongside a stream to land at a small clearing which had several hikers camped. That was where I found Macro and stopped to set up my tent in the cold, wet mist and quickly fading light.
Mica Lake
It was hard to capture how blue the water was in pictures - this one almost shows it.
The next day was - you guessed it - one of my favourites (what can I say, Washington was great)! It started off with an excellent morning poop on a private pit toilet on a ridgetop. I have never had a better view while sitting on a toilet.
After that the trail took us across a glacier-melt river and up a long ascent which was tiring but provided great views of snowy Glacier Peak. At the top the trail traversed a stunning ridgeline with one of the most spectacular mountain panoramas I had seen on the whole trail. To make it even better, the mountainsides were dotted by marmot holes and quite a few fat, curious marmots whistled my welcome and popped out of their holes to check me out as I went by. I even saw a huge bear on an embankment below me on trail. I looked at him... he looked at me... I waved at him... he looked at me... I said hello to him... he looked at me. So eventually I said goodbye and headed on my way. That brought my PCT Bear Sightings total to 4.
Curious marmot and a killer view
In the afternoon, the trail began a long, long decent, which initially was rather steep and I had some uncomfortable knee pain, but eventually that numbed out, and the trail became gentler. That afternoon I spent a few hours totally blissed out on hiking. The trail was gentle and soft, my iPod was killing it on shuffle, and the surroundings were serene. The lower I got the more lush and green the vegetation was. I marveled at the many shades of green of all the different kinds of moss, the huge prehistoric looking leaves, and the fascinating fungi growing on the trees and logs. I walked out of a young forest of tall thin poles to an ancient, old growth forest with some of the biggest trees I had ever seen, standing proud and stately, and almost sentient in the silent forest. I took out the quartz I had been carrying since the helicopter and placed it at the roots of the biggest tree I could find, and wished well to the trees, the ground, the air, the moss, the ancient people who used to live on this land, and the man who died not far from here only a couple days ago.
I continued the delightful walk, eventually meeting up with Macro to camp for the night with just the two of us at a cozy flat spot nestled among some trees, and complete with yet another pit toilet! What a dream!
There was a crazy variety of weird and fascinating looking fungi. Obviously I had to touch and look at them all.
There was also a lot of huge devil’s club
The following day started with a long climb all morning. The sun was initially shining, but it started to drizzle and then rain, and then the climb became rocky and steep, and by the time I got to the top of Cloudy Pass, I was wet and cold once again. The rain seemed to be letting up a tiny bit, and I was so cold, so I decided to crouch beside the trail and warm myself up with my usual pot of ramen for lunch. It turned out the rain actually was not letting up, nor was the wind, so 10 minutes later when Macro got to the pass, he found me huddled by my stove waiting for my water to slowly boil and feeling fairly miserable.
At this point we were no longer on the PCT but instead on a lengthy detour resulting from a fire on trail. The detour veered away from the PCT to Cloudy Pass, and then descended on the other side of the pass into a valley towards Holden Village, (a very unique, year-round Lutheran Christian retreat centre in the middle of nowhere), and then took a long route back to the trail on the other side of the fire. In order to provide support to the droves of PCT hikers who would normally not be in the area, Holden Village opened their doors for people to stay in their dorm-room-style accommodations, join them in their family-style meals, and partake in their mini ice cream shop, all for a very affordable price. Macro and I had planned to camp outside Holden Village, but as we stood at the cold, rainy pass that afternoon, we both decided in quick succession that we would be staying indoors tonight.
What a brilliant call on our part. Holden Village was amazing, one of my favourite stops on the hike, filled with delicious and plentiful food, snacks and beverages, friendly people, cozy single rooms, and the comfortable and content feeling of being nestled in among mountains on all sides. Before getting to Holden though, we had to hike down into the valley, and at that point my knee pain returned with vengeance. I slowed down to a limping plod and slowly, painfully made my way down, down, down. Macro slowed down to wait for me at one point, worrying I might be in pain still, and at that point convinced me to do the only logical thing in the moment - pop large amounts of ibuprofen. I honestly don't know why that hadn't occurred to me sooner. It kicked in 15 minutes later and then the hiking was absolutely divine.
As we entered the valley, the rain began to clear and the sun made occasional appearances, lighting up the bright fall colours so beautifully. There were a lot of deciduous trees which changed the appearance of the landscape and added colours that I hadn't seen much of in the coniferous forests in which we were usually hiking. The terrain began to mellow out and occasionally the trail meandered along a peaceful lake and beside dramatic cliffs with waterfalls flowing high above, illuminated by sudden bursts of brilliant yellow sunlight.
One of the lakes on the way to Holden Village - Some detours are well worth straying from the PCT.
My welcoming committee as I walked into Holden Village
I was a happy hiker as I arrived at Holden Village, especially as I got a quick orientation and was brought to my single room (something I had not enjoyed since the hotel in Ashland, not counting my tent, of course). That evening I enjoyed a huge dinner, many snacks, ice cream, tea, and even better, some amazing time hanging out with the new group of hikers who had become my bubble over the past few days and who would become the people who celebrated with me during my victorious end to the trail in less than a week: Crack Ed, Clairmont, Juice, and Acid Jesus. I entered my room that night, surveyed all my gear strewn about in an effort to dry out, and smiled to myself about the way the trail had so far never failed to provide me with opportunities to unwind, smile, and (in many cases) dry out my gear, even after it kicked me in the ass.
My home for the night
The next day, my 175th day on trail, was my 24th and final zero of the hike. Although we could have hiked back out to the the PCT, the miles would end up being significantly longer than the original part we missed, and since I had already calculated myself at being much higher in "bonus miles" than whatever I would be missing not finishing the detour, I opted to take a ferry on Lake Chelan to my final resupply stop in Stehekin. This was my only point on the whole hike that I broke my continuous footpath from Mexico, and I felt totally okay with it because for me, I just wanted to know that when I hit mile 2652, I could honestly say I had walked that many miles, and at this point I knew that would be entirely true.
The majority of hikers also opted to take the ferry, which meant as we piled into the shuttle to get to the ferry dock (the only way into Holden Village is via a passenger ferry & shuttle or hiking in), we were joined by many other hikers who had camped nearby or hiked in during the morning. We took the bus to the ferry dock, where I was greeted by the largest body of water I had seen in my entire hike (excluding my brief trailcation to the Atlantic), Lake Chelan, which is a long narrow lake that snakes for 50 miles through the Cascades, with Stehekin at one end. My fellow hikers and I enjoyed some snacks and beer and the luxury of sitting on comfy seats surrounded by water on all sides...it felt like a tropical vacation, with the blue water and luxurious commodities. (I can't attest to how nice the ferry actually is, at this point my perspective of what counts as "luxurious" was pretty skewed. I wasn't sitting on the ground eating ramen out of a tiny pot while covered in sweat and dirt, I know that much).
Hikers waiting for the ferry. I can’t tell you whether Pink Panther was named for the outfit or if the outfit came from the name, but yes... he did hike in that.
Stehekin is a small "unincorporated community" (read: only about 75 year-round residents) that mainly serves as the base for all things outdoorsy in the area. It's just south of the boundary to North Cascades National Part, which we would be entering the next day. Upon arrival, our first plan of action was to visit the national park office to book a campsite in Stehekin for the night, but more importantly to book a couple campsites in the park itself as our PCT permits were not adequate to reserve our spots.
The rest of the day was spent eating lunch and dinner, drinking beer on the patio in the sun, and getting to know the people I had met. In addition to Crack Ed, Clairmont, Juice, and Acid Jesus, there were other familiar faces I was getting to know and a few new ones: Flamingo, Hot Tuna, Pink Panther, Snake Charmer, Hopper, Ninja, and Olive. They were all awesome, warm, and wonderful people, and I was filled with joy and contentment to feel at home with all the hikertrash, only days from finishing our thru-hikes. In moments like these, it didn't matter that I knew most of them for only a week or two, and some of them only hours - when you share the experience of walking over two thousand miles along the same path, you know you are with friends.
Everyone enjoying the sun and view of Lake Chelan. It was like being on vacation!
I went to bed that night feeling very at peace, and also very excited, because I knew in the morning I would be heading out on trail from a resupply stop for the very last time. Next stop... Canada!
Bye for now!
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