PCT 2018: Days 107-110, Cascade Locks to Goat Rocks
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 107-110 from Cascade Locks to Goat Rocks, mile 2,150-2,270.
August 19, Day 107
25.6 miles [2172.4]
Right before I turned out my light, a medium sized (only after seeing “Shocks’ encounter) centipede was scurrying around in my tent. Not terrible sleep considering the Woodstock vibes and creepy-crawlies. ALDHA provided a breakfast of bagels, schmear, and coffee, a perfect meal for soaking up last night’s booze. Headed out and over the bridge for a third and (hopefully haha) final time. Called Carter and spoke to Carly and Lee as well. I miss my Philmont friends. Way too much incline—11 miles and 3,500 feet worth—my pack is sincerely too heavy, I was hurting. Swamp-assed completely through my undies onto my pants. Dehydrated from yesterday’s beer-fest and felt gross most of the day. Made it to Three Corners Rock with “Sticky Fingers” and smoked a joint at the top. Powered through another 10 miles which turned out to be another 1,500-foot yo-yo. Felt things getting dark; I was tired and hurt and light was fading. Real down-and-out. Got to camp around 8:30 P.M. and had an expedient dinner with an IPA. Whooped, beat, thrashed, and damp. Washington is gorgeous.
View of Thunder Island from Bridge of the Gods.
Bridge of the Gods crossing into Washington.
Three Corner Rock.
August 20, Day 108
32.9 miles [2205.3]
Sloggy, long day which felt good at the beginning but I just wasn’t “into it” for some reason. Pleased to bust out big miles, anything over 30 still feels like a major accomplishment. Saw a 6-inch green slug, it must have been a banana slug, attempting to cross the trail. My gross-factor never turned to interest. Filled up at Panther Creek, the ferns and trees seemed straight out of Jurassic Park. Another 10 miles of uphill from 10:30-2 P.M. which sapped most of my morale, “Brownstreak” and “Sticky” were ahead for most of it. Lazy lunch break restored some energy. Passed by some magic spots which were fairly picked over like a barren hiker box. Drank some caffeine to combat the mileage. Between the Buried and Me’s Colors is still an amazing album, I head-banged like a lunatic to White Walls. Lots of green tunnel vibes, lots of smoke. Pushed to Blue Lake and made camp. Met “Avatar” and “Big Feet”. Tuna taco and got rid of my second beer, glad to have it gone.
Blue Lake, mile 2205.3.
August 21, Day 109
29.2 miles [2234.5]
First ten miles were a breeze, I averaged above 3.5 mph. Sort of psyched myself out for another full day of hiking, especially with nothing to distract me—I guess that speaks volumes. Moments of angst, but nevertheless, it was a good hiking day. “Shocks” mentioned he was having some stomach pain and I guessed it was TFG, but couldn’t be certain. Tried not to think about worst-case scenarios. Took breaks every five or so miles, then a great lunch at Trout Creek and he seemed relieved. Yesterday’s junglesque views morphed into decidedly more forested tunnels. Bushwhacked down a creek bed and met “Roadrunner” and “AutoPilot”, names I’d been seeing always two or three days ahead of mine in the trail logs. I offhandedly remarked about the Zia next to “Roadrunners” name; “New Mexico, it’s neither” and the three of us got to chatting while filling up water. A few degrees of separation later, “AutoPilot” told me her grandfather is Carl Gilmore—my WFR instructor from the Ranch, what a small fucking world! Picked either huckleberries or the largest blueberries I’ve ever seen, little gems of sweet-tartness. Ten-outta-ten staggering views of Mt. Adams just poked out of some burn area, we made camp in a small, lonely meadow. Ate dinner with our new friends though I don’t think I’m going to be at their same pace. Tuna taco with pepperoni and bacon bits, yummo. Fraught with nerves about the fire closures and impending, looming border closure. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get there, too.
August 22, Day 110
26.2 miles [2260.7]
A cold night which usually makes for easy sleep but my mind was awake, I don't know how that’s possible after a nearly thirty mile day. Woke to frost on meadow grass and on my tent and didn’t get moving until 8 A.M. Hiked the first quarter-mile in my puffy, all the while staring at Mt. Adams. Good God. I found myself understanding mountaineering on a non-verbal level, I want to summit harder peaks. Lot of angsty and wandering thoughts about trail closures, I had to stop and remind myself of good things: health, working gear, nice weather, ample food. Day progressively got better. Took lunch at Lava Springs and met “B”, a wild man who seemed more intent on living outdoors with his dog than hiking the trail. He had a fire going and I did a mediocre job of not letting it bother me. Mowed through a ton of food which is always good practice. Caught up to “Avatar” during a water fill-up and joked around, I haven’t seen many hikers this stretch. Camp is buggier than usual tonight. Swirling thoughts about turning 30. Age doesn’t signify much, just legal stuff (why did I write that?). Age doesn’t matter, just look at “Sassy-K”, she’s absolutely Living It; an inspiration for a floating soul. What a way to close out my twenties, more good things to come.
Hike On?
PCT 2018: Day 111, Goat Rocks and my 30th Birthday
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers day 111, Goat Rocks and my 30th birthday.
August 23, 2018 | Day 111
17 miles [2276.7]
Woke up at 7:30 A.M. and startled myself when I didn’t see any tents around; I got over nine solid hours of sleep. Packed in 14 minutes, a new record, and started cruising. Started to rise above the dense timber and saw Mt. Adams, no clouds or smoke, it was clear. We’re easily in the best spot in Washington and arguably along the whole trail: Goat Rocks. Mt. Adam’s was clear, huge, and glimmering. “Shocks” and I took a glorious morning snack break at Cispus Pass and studied the massif like a Renaissance painting while pounding stroopwafels. Pure bliss. The trail was adorned in fields of alpine flowers, bubbling waterfalls, and luxurious puffy clouds. Guthook indicated there were some possible campsites along the stock alternate at the base of Old Snowy and “Shocks” had a penthouse suite in mind. Took our sweet time and mosied to the stock alternate and was gobsmacked by Mt. Rainier. Looming. Jagged. Red. An amazing 360-degree view of the Knife’s Edge. Found a dirt patch exactly the size of two tents and set up. Cooked a Knorr side for lunch, one I had been toting around for at least 400 miles, threw in some butter, garlic powder, e.v.o.o., and pepperoni slices. Refueled and resisted the urge to nap by summitting Old Snowy, took tons of photos. The entire day felt like a great gift: good company with my brother, great weather—I can count the number of days without clouds on one hand. Certainly the best birthday in recent memory. For the last eight years I would be getting home from the Ranch, either by train or with Carter and Imara, followed by a quiet day at home. What a remarkable way to break the trend. The next ten years I feel will be successful. Commit to hard work each and every day on anything art-related, there’s so much to do.
Goat Rocks, Washington.
Cispus River.
Mount Rainier from Old Snowy Mountain.
Mount Adams from Old Snowy Mountain.
Miriam Fire of 2018.
Goat Lake and Johnson Peak.
Birthday dinner.
Hike On?
PCT 2018: Days 112-116, White Pass to Snoqualmie Pass
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 112-116 from White Pass to Snoqualmie Pass, mile 2,270-2,390.
August 24, Day 112
~19.5 miles [2295.5]
Not an ideal night. Rough and windy, I was awake for most of 11-2 A.M. hours with a billowing rain fly. Summoned the courage and removed the fly, then took a horrendous dumb under an almost blinding full moon, fully engulfed in a bank of clouds. Managed a little sleep before giving up. Sunrise was completely shrouded by fog and clouds, I couldn’t see ahead of me more than 50 feet except for a brief five-second window. “Shocks” and “Tumbleweed” weren’t lazy (also they were the only ones who camped higher than us) and got a photo, I didn’t even touch my camera. Big shame. Got to Coyote Junction, mile 2278.6, and started down Packwood Lake reroute. It felt like 15 miles of steep descent which took us from 8-1 P.M. Stumbled into the trailhead and got a lucky hitch inside a horse trailer who’s cargo was an ATV, two motorbikes, and two blonde girls also hitching. I think that was the oddest ride so far. Went for coffee and it looked like “Roadrunner”, “AutoPilot”, and “Colonel Sanders” had made it down and shared the same idea. Americano never tasted better. Hitched to White Pass, “Sticky Fingers” and “Brownstreak” showed up. Picked up our resupply box from the Kracker Barrel. “Stick” gave me his vape pen battery, “Tumbleweed” gifted me her concentrate pods, and “Shocks” gave me his headphone dongle! THE TRAIL PROVIDES! Nearby apartment was offering free chili. I washed it down with a microwaved burrito. Picked the trail back up at mile 2294.9 and got about a mile out before setting up camp. Velveeta dinner—the tenth and final portion of that meal—and another beer. Shared camp with “Cray-Nip”. The border is closed and I am thoroughly bummed. I didn’t do this trail for the border alone but I feel horribly cheated if I can’t cross.
Packwood Lake, Washington.
White Pass and Highway 12.
August 25, Day 113
28.2 miles [2323.7]
Nearly fell asleep before writing, I think I knocked out from 8-9:30 P.M. (I refuse to miss any entries). Chilly morning, I wore my rain/wind jacket most of the day. Passed by streams, creeks, and ponds of varying hues. About the time when afternoon clouds burned off it began raining and everything became damp and miserable. All my gear is wet, but not soaked, except for my quilt and sleep clothes. I spent a lot of time worrying about the consequences and how I’ll stay warm but I know I’ll learn as I continue. Lunch break at Bumping River and “Sticky” angled with his Tenkara. “Brownstreak” looked tired. Dense fog and mist swaddled me like a comforter made out of depression. Got to Chinook Pass and hunted for a suitable site just as the hypo began to set in. Hastily made camp and hung out in my tent with my remaining dry layers and ate a shit ton in an attempt to warm up. Somewhat concerned about tomorrow since it’s not going to be any warmer or drier. Cross that bridge when you get there. Just. Keep. Moving.
Pipe Lake, mile 2302.5.
Tipsoo Lake Junction near Chinook Pass.
August 26, Day 114
23.3 miles [2347.0]
Very fortunate to have slept warmly. Commanding/summoning the motivation to hike was brutal. It was probably 48 degrees and anything which wasn’t inside my tent was completely soaked. Pulling on wet pants is a depressing way to start anyone’s morning, I wasn’t a happy camper. Squished into my shoes, at least wool socks mitigate the misery. “Shocks” only groaned when I wished him well, he eventually caught up in the afternoon. It threatened to get warm but never actually did. “Sticky” and I hiked together for a while before taking a 20-minute snack break. No one could sit longer or else they were going to get too cold. Kept moving just to keep my body working, it seemed. Drank my only packed beer for the illusion of warmth and happiness. Trudged and trudged until there was a clearing in the fog and I saw the Mike Urich cabin. Comments made it sound like the place would be rife with non-hikers but much to my luck and amazement the tiny ski hut was being run by more than a dozen hikers. Cold, wet, dehydrated to the point of thirst, and in caloric-deficit, I guzzled a liter and crammed a ton of snacks. There was a fire in the wood stove and suddenly the entire room felt very smoky. I felt hot. Went outside on the porch and got fetal (where it was 48 and drizzling) took off my puffy and started breathing like I was a first-time passenger in an overactive F-16. “Miraj”, I’d never met him before, kept an eye on me and brought me water—the hero we all need. Ten minutes later, as rapidly as it had come on, I was back to 95%. “Sticky” was a generous god and gave me a bite of his cinnamon toast and cookie butter sandwich. Inspired, I took the remaining tablespoon of communal butter and bread heels and whipped up a beurre noisette for my grilled cheese. Fat is king. Foggy views through the burn area were ghostly and mysterious. Pure Washington. Going to be challenging to get good sleep but it has to be better than camping out in the wet.
August 27, Day 115
23.8 miles [2370.8]
Not terrible sleep considering claustrophobic cabin circumstances, I only woke up a few times. Took some rips from “Beehive” and “Miraj” gave me an IPA. Ate a few of the remaining communal bars on the table and set off into the dull and dreary world, word was clear skies around noon. Trudged through seven miles of haunting fog and finally it cleared and I saw the sun. Rejuvenating and life-affirming, I felt happy. My soul was warm. Clouds are the best for hiking though, gray mist is good for nothing. Dried my tent out and saw “Brownstreak”. Took lunch at the stream with “Taco” and “Cray-Nip”. Lots of little dirt road crossings today. I wonder how they got there? Wandering thoughts turned to Breckenridge and upcoming photobook. Shared camp with a guy named “Croissant” on one of those nameless and unused roads. I’m certain I lost my beanie yesterday which is a total bummer, I’ve had it since my first summer camp over 15 years ago. I suppose it’s just another material item. Looking forward to Snoqualmie, perhaps I’ll get the pancake breakfast and a hotel/hostel. Tired of hiking but it’s still enjoyable, I just feel depleted. Nearly there. Relaxing evening in the tent.
August 28, Day 116
23.4 miles [2393.2]
Aardvarks “Hurry Curry”, in Snoqualmie; an explosion of nearly-forgotten flavors.
Enjoyable hike which was mostly full of hills. Psyched myself out about some inclines, but overall, very doable. Low on food but I knew about town and resupply. Ran into “Taco” and “Miraj” and we cruised under the lifts and down into Snoqualmie. Found some trail magic just before town. There was a food stand called Aardvark Express which served a very highly regarded “hurry curry”. Ordered one and was thoroughly amazed, so many flavors like long-lost friends I thought I had forgotten: cardamom and cinnamon chicken curry over rice with pineapple cornbread, cilantro, spinach, green apple, and spouts, a one-and-a-half-pound flavor masterpiece. Free Rainier beer to wash it down. Did a stealthy load of laundry at the Inn and emailed my references for housing. Picked up and sorted out resupply, bought beer, and road walked to the Alpine Club. It was an eclectic chalet with local mining and skiing memorabilia strewn about the stone and wooden walls. Very cool except for a skeevy old guy who is the on duty manager of the house, the kind of person who thinks he manages the universe. One of the loquacious and stronger-willed hikers got confrontational later in the evening; being a bum in the woods can have an impact on one’s self-confidence a little too much. Tried to stay clear and took a legit shower with a beer. Electricity and new friends meant we all stayed up late—a flameless campfire. Had a nice chillout with “Cray-nip”, “Doobie”, and “Miraj” outside with good laughs and more Rainier. Midnight snack of fine salami, probably left over from other hikers, I must remember to eat more tomorrow...with eggs.
PCT 2018: Days 117-120, Snoqualmie Pass to Skykomish
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 117-120 from Snoqualmie Pass to Skykomish, mile 2,390-2,465.
August 29, Day 117
10.4 miles [2403.6]
I managed to sleep until 8 A.M. which is pretty good for a bunk bed in a hostel. Brewed coffee and chilled with the gang: “Cray-nip”, “Doobie”, “Taco”, “Miraj”, and “Shocks”. There was a new guy running the place and he inquired about the “situation” last night, hopefully we didn’t ruin anything for the trail community. Chilled hard at the Alpine Club. I made myself a proper breakfast—a buttery and runny three-egg scramble with salami which I deemed communal—a wonderful zen task I haven’t done since I started. Refilled my coffee mug for the second time and was buzzed. Hung out in the rec room and flipped through a photo book on turn-of-the-century logging in the Snoqualmie area, giving me thoughts for my book. Scrolled through lots of social media which is never particularly useful. Called Jimmy to confirm, it looks like we’re (nearly) roommates. Made lunch with the same package of salami except I threw it in a tortilla (you can’t change some habits) with nearly half a head of romaine and some seasoning; as close to pranzo on the Arno as I could get. More chillaxing, that vortex was exceptionally comfortable. Pulled the ripcord and left at 2 P.M. and straight into six miles of incline which wasn’t as bad as it looked on the map. Rocky and mountainous, more mysterious and brooding terrain begging to be explored. I picked the campsite which turned out to be a dry pond bed on the side of a ridge which doesn’t look like a great idea under dark skies. “Hard to imagine we’re less than 20 days away—”, “Shocks” interrupted me, “it’s more like 10, do you even know the cities left?” Big sigh. Weird feelings.
Joe Lake and Huckleberry Mountain.
August 30, Day 118
24.3 miles [2427.9]
Lounged until 8 A.M. and greeted by more stormy and cold weather. Shocks seemed to want a buddy today so I hung around closer than normal. Stuffed bars into me, a hiking machine only requires calories. Clouds cleared enough to reveal some staggering mountainous terrain with trees and flowers which seemed quintessentially Washington. Used the mottled sunlight to dry off quilts and tents. The sun helped but it was a tough day to find motivation. Two big hills which were each six-plus miles. Tuna and cracker lunch restored some energy. Caught up to “Cray-nip” and “Beehive” for the last five miles which felt long but were all downhill. Set up camp along the Waptus River. Dinner was pasta primavera with a package of chicken as well as olives and some honey mustard bread pieces. It’s very difficult to contend with nearly being finished. My mind seems to have already moved on to Breckenridge, I’m ready to be there. Remember to slow down and enjoy these final few days.
Spectacle Lake.
Chimney Rock, mile ~2420.
August 31, Day 119
22 miles [2449.9]
The last day of August greeted me with drizzly and damp surroundings. “Beehive” and “Cray-nip” didn’t mess around and left. I was slow to start especially with a 10-mile hill, I was wheezin’ hard. Played a lot of the temperature regulation game by altering various combinations of jacket and buff. Blessed with an early 10:30 A.M. drying session when “Dingo” (mile 30 and mile 1,195!) passed us. We congratulated each other like war buddies who had made it back alive. His friend mentioned the border had reopened and I bellowed a triumphant howl, a roar from the deepest parts of my calloused feet and heart. This is big news for me, “Shocks” seemed unphased. Lunch was at a cascading stream, I had tuna with Combos, GORP, and a Milky Way bar. Took quite a few long, relaxing breaks which were peaceful. Completed the second hill and set up camp at the bottom of a frigid canyon, I’m going to snug up tonight. More aimless thoughts on Breckenridge, I should start envisioning less free-time, lord knows I’ll be stuck trying to earn money. I’m just excited to start this book. Dinner was chicken and rice Knorr with some tuna dumped in. A trail casserole? In typical fashion, I couldn’t wait to eat and most likely scorched my tongue. It’s been hard to motivate since the Alpine Club—got to take it in before it’s all over.
The shores of Deep Lake, mile 2543.
September 1, Day 120
17.3 miles [2464.2]
Damn—what a day. Slept until 7 A.M. and started hiking by 8:15 A.M. Easy enough terrain, flowy with a few small hills, a great hiking day with bro. Arrived at Steven’s Pass with hopes of food, but “Shocks” took a look at the menu and suddenly we both remembered what resort food entails. Ate some snacks and hung out on the pavilion watching mountain bikers, it got me excited for another ski season. Hard highway hitch but finally scored one going to Skykomish. Finally had a real lunch at 3 P.M. from Sky Deli and Liquor which was a garlic-chicken panini and an iced Americano, it actually tasted like espresso. It’s Labor Day weekend and it didn’t seem worth the three-day-wait for our resupply. Hitched to the Dinsmore’s with “Gandalf”, a goofy kid we met in Mammoth, he’s ending his hike here. Met Jerry and thanked him for his kindness. Dropped our gear and scored a hitch to Gold Bar by 6 P.M. Even remote areas of Washington have a vape and/or dispensary within walking distance. They were both open and had everything we wanted, hot damn. Resupplied at the Family Grocer—decent selection. “Shocks” yogied us a hitch from a guy who initially sketched me out and made me doubt strangers in the first place. “Jason” wanted to show us a local waterfall in the pitch black night. We stumbled down an embankment and onto the river rocks, just when I thought I was about to die, I realized he was a quirky dude who was just excited to talk to some hikers, he might have been one of the warmest souls I met. Thanked him for our last ride of the day, then did the shower and laundry shuffle. We did it—four hitches. Watched “The Informant!” and I read a few pages of “Yogi’s” book while winding down and she summarized thru-hiking: you feel invincible.
Trap Lake, mile 2452
Skykomish bridge
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PCT 2018: Days 121-126, Skykomish to Stehekin
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 121-126 from Skykomish to Stehekin, mile 2,465-2,570.
September 2, Day 121
12.4 miles [2476.6]
Rough night at the Dinsmore’s. Trains ran by what seemed like every hour, plus, being well hydrated with beer and water meant an out of the ordinary witching-hour piss. “Shocks” woke me at 8:30 A.M., he and “Gandalf” were almost packed. Jerry wasn’t up and around to thank which was a little disheartening, I can’t see this place being around much longer. Caught a hitch out with a current trail work volunteer “Spider” who was a part of rebuilding the brand new (and freshly re-opened) northern terminus monument. Hopped out at Skykomish and headed to the Cascadia Inn for brunch. All you could eat, I filled up on scrambled eggs, sausage and crispy bacon, hash browns with biscuits and gravy, plus fresh fruit; watermelon, pineapple, and strawberries. Coffee with real cream. The meal made up for more than one rainy day. Made a hasty sign and tried to hitch, eventually we ended up sweet talking a couple fueling up. Got to Steven’s Pass and “Shocks” gave a short phone call to the parents, then it was time to hike. On the way towards the trail we saw “Trash Queen” and “Penguin” trying to get the same challenging hitch from the highway. We hugged and caught up, looks like we all want to end on the same date. Hopefully we can meet and celebrate at the terminus. The weather was absolutely sublime. Saw a shit-ton of weekenders, many of whom congratulated us, it’s hard to contain my excitement when I tell people I started at Mexico. I felt unbelievably stoked and proud. Clear and cold night, no fly to watch the stars. Moments of anger about the Ranch, only because of Facebook. Who cares, move on.
September 3, Day 122
23.6 miles [2500.2]
That was the last flyless night I ever try in Washington. At 3 A.M. I woke to some cold sprinkles on my face and scrambled to put on my cover. Got a little more sleep and started moving by 8:30 A.M., snarfed a Pop Tart with butter. Stoked to hit the 2500 milestone. My nose has been constantly leaking in this cool weather. The forest is alive with color, rich hues of rust, umber, and olive. By the afternoon it had cleared up to reveal lots of nice clouds, a good reminder of how much time I spent without them, the sun and warmth felt wonderful during snack breaks. “Larry Bird” spotted a porcupine, I’ve never seen one in the wild before. It looked as though some quills were missing, just a little bedraggled. “TQ”, “Penguin”, and “Bear Can” caught us and we all shared camp at Reflection Pond. They are all aiming to finish on the 10th and doing 28 tomorrow, I’m not about it. Hopefully I see them again. Tuna taco with pepperoni and Cheetos. Remember to make your food last three days.
September 4, Day 123
25.4 miles [2525.6]
Restful slumber until “Trash Queen” and “Penguin” packed up, they left at 7 A.M. and we left an hour later—not in any rush. It was exceptionally gusty but a decent hiking day with more huge ups and downs, the last decline was 3,000-feet in five miles. Not a single flat section, the terrain was brutally technical with lots of rocks. Traversed a few miles which couldn’t have been the actual trail, just dozens and dozens of hikers making the same mistake at a hidden junction which wore in a new and more recognizable path. The tread was at an ankle-breaking angle with gnarled bushes and roots which clawed at your toes. During lunch “Shocks” was doing a poor job of holding back tears, offering no response. We trudged on. Just when I thought I was finished with the last hill, Milk Creek was full and didn’t have any available campsites which feels like my fault, of course they would be all taken, the spread of sites is stupid. The terrain is garbage. Looked at the map and started freaking out about another five mile incline as dusk was rapidly approaching. By the grace of St. John and his random pit toilets, there was a small clearing for a random pooper about a mile ahead which had barely enough room for three tents. We set up and made room for a third which was later filled. During dinner, “Shocks” briefly mentioned he was having a hard time with being finished. We sat quietly, not saying anything. I don’t feel the same currently but I know I will—I’ve always been that way. I’m going to miss this, deeply. Looking forward to the future, however, the present has been fucking sweet.
Fire Creek Pass, mile 2520.
White Mountain and White Pass, mile 2502.
September 5, Day 124
27.2 miles [2551.8]
Slanted sleep, then a precarious poop less than 20 feet away from my tent which was my only unfavorable choice on location. Lathered up another Pop Tart with butter and began moving. Today’s terrain looked like a cross-section of a collapsed souffle, the final hill was a steady eight miles. It’s hard to silence the part of my brain which dreads hills, however I know I’ll be over and through it soon—a lesson on life. I only have one day of food remaining, not a half-day more, which has me slightly stressed. Guess I’ll have to snack-up at Holden Village. Low on podcasts once again and a wandering brain doesn’t feel good to have at the moment. Knees and legs are sore tonight. Our campsite is killer, we’re right on top of Cloudy Pass which is part of the fire reroute, alpine peaks in a smoky haze have me right back in the Sierra. Fought off more negative thoughts about the Ranch—not ideal. My lacking food situation makes it tough to stay positive. Big day ahead tomorrow, it’s all “off-map” which is going to be fun. Took a page from “Shocks’” cook book and made a Cheetos and Oreo peanut-butter-and-butter taco. He’s definitely on to something.
Dumbell Mountain and Lyman Lake from Cloudy Pass.
Dolly Vista Trail Camp, mile 2532.
September 6, Day 125
~21 miles [2551.8]
Warmer than usual morning which had me hiking by 7:15 A.M. Absolutely stunning terrain, hard to imagine how much great trail is out there we otherwise would have never seen. Low on food, I was coasting on fumes, drinking water to fool my gut. Arrived at Holden village and missed the morning ferry by five minutes which left us with the option of waiting a few hours to take a $10 bus and an $8 ferry or hike out, both seemed to be the same amount of time. The lunch meal choice was a vegetarian sandwich which also didn’t sound like a great value for money. Somewhat dejected, I bought a few candy bars to chase my Clif bar and followed “Shocks” to the trail. Made it over the hot and hellacious Hilgard Pass which had to be more than six miles and was rewarded with downhill for the remainder of the day. Got to a large river crossing at dusk where there were a few other hikers attempting to find or make a suitable campsite. On the crossing I promptly plunged my foot into the current—mistimed my jump. “Shocks” and I eyeballed the topo and he voted to bust out the last four miles in the dark but my money says it was closer to six, plus, it’s not PCT-grade, we could have gotten a nasty, unknown surprise. Found the flattest ground with the least amount of rocks and made camp. Savored my last tuna taco with a handful of dusty and broken chips along with a package of M&M’s. It’ll work but I’m definitely hungry. Stoked for the final resupply, I think there’s one gnocchi meal remaining.
Lyman Lake and Dumbell Mountain.
September 7, Day 126
6.5 miles [2571.8]
Uncomfortable setup as my back later revealed but I slept well nonetheless. Up and moving by 7 A.M. with my puffy for about two miles, it was shady and cool. No map-checking so I took what came to me. Cruised six miles or so to the road (definitely more than four) and made a quick assessment: go to the bakery. Devoured a pesto, onion, and Swiss croissant pocket which was a sincere 9/10, lots of coffee too. Caught the free shuttle to Stehekin and was blown away by the waterfront of Lake Chelan—chill vibes, gorgeous sun. Saw “Brownstreak” and “Miraj” at the lodge! Sat and talked, drank two beers, and went through our final resupply box. Also managed to download two podcasts on their slow network. Picked up a permit for zero miles which seemed to bum “Shocks” out, but I knew “Panda”, “Doobie” and a few others were gonna stick around at the bridge. Shuttled back to the bakery for a bacon and onion quiche and I got suckered into paying $3.50 for a root beer. Caught the bus for High Bridge Ranger Station with a few other hikers. Rain is in the forecast and certainly threatening at the moment.
Crossing Stehekin River.
Lake Chelan plane.
Hike On?
PCT 2018: Days 127-130, Stehekin to Canada-USA border
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 127-130 from Stehekin to the Canada-USA border, mile 2,570-2,652.
September 8, Day 127
27 miles [2598.8]
Had a hard time falling asleep which is rare. The threatening rain had turned to wet clouds, we hit the trail around 7 A.M. and I ate a Probar. Very long but not exceptionally strenuous 20-miles uphill to Rainy Pass was easy enough. Elon’s interview was a pretty fun distraction. Had a cool and quiet lunch break before the pass; peanut butter on day-old biscuits and jerky with Nutter Butter dessert. Drank caffeinated Mio like I was dehydrated in the desert. Met “Skaggit Ed” at Highway 20 and he had magic. He handed me an IPA and some amazing fudge. Did a few miles with “Panda” before the pass. It’s another cold night, there’s snow in the forecast. I’m not worried, rain is by far the hardest challenge. Cooked a jambalaya as best as possible and followed it with a Snickers. Started a list of things to do at home before moving to Colorado. Trail was quiet today, didn’t see many people. The end is on the tip of my tongue.
Cutthroat Pass.
September 9, Day 128
24.7 miles [2622.0]
Brisk morning, rolled out close to 8 A.M. and headed for Methow Pass, shoveled Mojo bars into my mouth like coal into a locomotive. Harts Pass is closed northbound for a few miles which makes this our third reroute (I think). Listened to The Avett Brothers interview for the fourth time. It was cloudy all day and threatening rain, a typical sight. Spam and cracker lunch just as it began to drizzle but fortunately it never developed any further. Saw “Panda” and his pops at Hart Pass and learned his real name. They spoiled us and he let us raid all his extra food supplies, we took chicken and candy. Leapfrogged “Butters” and “Hot Mess” and I finally remembered their names without having to ask again. Man, I think we first saw them in the desert. “Shocks” and I smooshed our tents together and cooked in between the vestibules—chicken and noodles. I’m so unbelievably close to being finished: I want it so bad and not at all, at the same time.
September 10, Day 129
~25.1 miles [2644.3]
It’s my last night on trail. I woke up at 4:45 A.M. to light sounds of rain, like the crackling of fading fireworks. Tossed and dozed for four hours and finally got the gumption to pack. It was drizzly and wet most of the day, I spent the first four miles in the puffy and rain jacket, I was actually cold. My pants soaked up all the moisture from the overgrown brush. Kept putting one in front of the other, I ran out of podcasts and music long ago. Saw “Panda” one last time, saw “Brownstreak” one last time; they’re headed back to Harts Pass. Saw quite a few people I’ve met over the past few days but never took the time to officially meet and learn names. My hands were numb most of the day, feet pruney from wet socks. It’s currently raining and I need to pee. Tomorrow, I will become a thru-hiker. It’s taken over a year and more than what I spent on my car, probably 3,000 miles and almost more nights camping in a tent than my entire BSA career. There’s so much more to do, I’ve only just begun.
September 11, Day 130
16.3 miles [2652.6]
“Shocks” and “Tiny Slice”, PCT northern terminus.
My last cold start. Woke up, wide awake, at 4:30 A.M. thinking about the last day. Put on all my layers once again and got moving. My knee panged throughout the night and hiking certainly didn’t improve my condition. In some weird turn of events it was the only thing I could concentrate on. Less than nine miles to the monument and then I saw it—and felt nothing. When I went to pen my name in the log book I was trembling, my entire body welled up like I was going to implode—I made it. Celebratory joints with “Beehive”, “Cray-nip”, and “Feather”, “Shocks” surprised me and pulled out a small bottle of Jack. Also at the terminus was “Roadrunner”, “AutoPilot”, and “Colonel Sanders”. Everyone congratulated each other sincerely, we are the only ones who know what we went through. Time to leave, no sense in lingering it seemed. Hike to Manning Park was rough, I limped the whole eight miles. Got to the cafe and drank the as-advertised free coffee with as much cream as they would bring me. Hardest hitch was the final one, but after an hour of looking hopeful on an international highway near a border, Ramayaan was our savior and picked us up and drove us to Coquitlam, more than 100 miles. Starbucks for internet and a quick and dirty A&W burger (not worth it) before we figured out a metro train into Vancouver. Mistimed our transfer train and it took us a few tries of hopping off and on to figure it out—it’s so much easier to correct your mistakes at walking pace. No hotels, so we bought a 6 A.M. flight on our phones. After walking an extra block since we couldn’t remember where we got off, we took the last train into the station. Bought a Canadian Wendy’s burger and set up a makeshift camp in the lobby and got our packs ready for tomorrow. Today? It’s 2 A.M.; I’m a fucking thru-hiker.
The border.
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About the Blog
Justin Kernes is a photographer and writer who thrives in the great outdoors.
From 2010-2017, he worked in the backcountry at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico.
In 2018 “Tiny Slice” successfully thru-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail.
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Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers day 111, Goat Rocks and my 30th birthday.