Oregon was a tough act to follow! We joked about keeping a tally of pros and cons of the state so that a decision could be made about weather Washington was really as great as every body said it was. I gotta tell you, Washington wasn’t exactly living up to all it’s hype at first. We climbed through high desert. We descended through high desert. Up and down we went with sweat streaming down our faces and no great views or scenery to reward our hard work. Furthermore, At the end of the first day we found a dried up spring where we were intending to camp for the night. This wasn’t looking good because it was getting late and we really didn’t want to hike 5 more miles to the next water. Juneau then threw down his trekking poles in a child like tantrum and shouted loudly,
“I hate Washington!”
I don’t know what his problem is but he tends to be over emotional at times. Crazy kid. (wink wink – that’s Juneau’s schtick)
We then heard some voices just on the other side of a bush and two day hikers appeared, asking us if we needed some water. Still more, these angels of beverage, pointed us in the direction of some camping with great views. After camp was set up, we scrambled up a rock tower to see Mt. Adams, Mt. Saint Helens, and Mt. Hood as the sun set around us. Bonus points for Washington, Phil and I agreed.
After another monotonous day of hiking we hit some incredible trail magic, of the breakfast variety. Our hosts had a roaring campfire to sit around while they piled our plates with pancakes, eggs, watermelon, doughnuts and poured endless cups of coffee. Luna was there, also enjoying the yummy feast. After we thanked our hosts profusely, the three of us headed back to the trail with full bellies and wide smiles. A few hours after departing from the trail magic the boys fell deep in conversation about Minecraft and video games. This was a relatively typical conversation of theirs – not exactly high on my interest list. Just as I was putting my headphones on to tune them out and tune into my audio book, Luna appeared behind us. Would we mind if she joined our group? She asked timidly. Jeez, it took her long enough to get the hint. We’d (especially I) had wanted to hike with her forever! We joked that we would have to bring it before the committee and put it to a vote but we all knew she was in. A long time group of 3 members was now up to 4.
Later that evening we met a PCT alumni from 2010, who was out with his girlfriend. Shanghai was his name and since he had hiked 4 years prior he had acquired a Mrs. Shanghai. They seemed to get along splendidly and clearly enjoyed being out in nature together. They were considering hiking as a couple. We of course supported this thought. If your the type of couple that enjoys being around each other and doesn’t mind sleeping next to a smelly partner – thru hiking is a perfect tandem experience for you! Phil and I agree that thru hiking was the best thing for our marriage. There’s a lot year learn about one another by constantly being present and there is a great deal of depth and beauty in the silence that lingers when we have no more words. To just be with your spouse is incredible.
The next day we planned to go into Trout Lake for a resupply. We only had 6 or so miles to the road crossing that would lead into town. As we hiked along, dreaming of pie and ice cream, we ran across a guy named Charlie Day Hiker, who had just finished the PCT northbound. He had then turned around at the border and begun hiking southbound. This is something referred to a yo-yoing in the long distance hiking community. Aside from the legendary Scott Williamson, who has yo-yoed the PCT twice and hiked the trail a total of 9 times, no other hikers have completed this feat. Charlie Day Hiker was making good time and we wished him the best of luck on his attempt. So, it’s true, there are people out there who are crazier than we are. That’s reassuring I guess.
At the Trout Lake road crossing we ran into Coppertone yet again. I was loosing track of how many times we had seen him at that point, but it was pretty regularly. He made us cream soda floats while we lounged in the shade. Rock Ocean was also there shuttling hikers into town. Rock Ocean used to be a zamboni driver for the Tampa Bay Lightning hockey team. When they won the Stanley Cup, he got a ring which he sold off in exchange for a baby blue Vanagon, which he appropriately named Stanley. Rock Ocean was always a welcome sight and despite his unique lifestyle (you may be picturing a crazy hippie) he was a completely normal dude who enjoys helping out hikers and growing a sizeable beard, which made all the other boys jealous.
Once we were shuttled into Trout Lake, we picked up our resupply packages which included some new socks for me! A two sock rotation for 1,400 miles may have been a little over optimistic in regard to my sock’s durability. Anyhow, we had stepped into huckleberry heaven in the form of a small town. It was decked out in signs and advertisements for nearly every confection the small berry could be made into. We enjoyed a tasty huckleberry pie and matching milkshakes. Luna and I bonded over how much we loved Lululemon clothes and discussed other incredibly interesting girly stuff. After dilly dallying far to long in town we hiked out a few more miles and camped near the 2250 mile mark.
The next morning we got our first views of Mount Adams and spent the most of the morning dazedly looking at it’s massive, stately face. It’s so frustrating to snap a picture of or write a sentence about how beautiful something is. There are certain things that are meant to be perceived by the eye and no other sense or expression can compare. Mount Adams leading into the Goat Rocks wilderness blew my mind. We got two days in that glorious open expanse. Phil and I were enamored and it stirred something within us. We had to come back here or stay here forever, or something. We couldn’t believe earth could be so beautiful without being called heaven.
Goat Rocks was appropriately named. There we saw mountain goats – white creatures moving with agility and ease across our fields of vision. We ventured through enormous valleys, past raging waterfalls, through alpine meadows and finally we saw Rainier for the first time. Spectacular! Emerald lakes sparkled far below us and puffy cumulous clouds circled joyfully over head. We made our way over a knife’s edge – a mountain’s spine that drops sheerly off on either side. If you would have told me, at the age of 5, when flying was an entirely plausible obsession, that walking over one such knives edge makes you feel like you were flying; I would have been there in a heart beat. Jumping off chairs flapping ones arms in a frenzied rush to overcome gravity is a child’s only other alternative. But, my childhood dream was fulfilled and I felt like I flew that day. The four of us were in high spirits for obvious reasons. We spent so much time gawking at the loveliness that or planned 30 mile day took us until 9pm. But we didn’t care because Luna’s mom and aunt had pizza waiting for us at White Pass.
Luna’s family was so generous and sweet. Two adorable little ladies met us with hugs, food and a warm room in a lodge at White Pass. We did our laundry and watched cartoons, back to that childhood thing again. Phil’s birthday was in three days and Luna’s mom and aunt had gotten wind of his special day. They brought him a giant chocolate cake! Life was good and we got to be lazy.
The next day we did a lot of loitering and avoided hiking. sleeping in, hanging out at the general store, drinking oodles of coffee, running into “Chef” – a trail angel who makes gourmet food. All these things seemed better than walking for hours on end. Eventually we hit the trail and took an easy day. We camped early and made a campfire next to a creek. Later that evening Banjo joined us at our man made inferno and we all let the sound of rushing creek water lull us to sleep.
The next morning presented itself with cloudy haze. The previous glimpse of Mt Rainier in Goat Rocks wilderness would prove to be our only one. I can’t say much about what I saw that day because all I was was cloud and ground. We did see Coppertone at Chinook Pass and he was an exciting site – hot tea warmed our cold bodies. We were enjoying our warm beverages when Lighthouse showed up, a fellow Chicagoan who we hadn’t seen for a long while. The clouds and bitter cold air surrounded us the rest of the day and a sharp wind began to batter us as the sun sank down to the horizon line. We camped in a giant group, all huddled against the wind – with Lighthouse, Banjo and a friend named Signal. Signal is from Israel and his toothy grin will melt your heart while his mature mind churns over life in a way the bewilders you to learn that he’s only 22.
Cold. Raw, biting, damp cold. The night was cold and the morning was cold. Phil and I began at this point to sleep clinging to one another for warmth. That sleeping arrangement pretty much carried through to the end of the trail, as the nights became colder and colder. It was Phil’s birthday and so we all sang jovially to him while we rubbed our hands and stomped our feet to wake up our half frozen bodies. The group from the previous night slowly dissembled and headed out on the trail. Phil’s birthday wish for warmth came in the form of a ski cabin, complete with a wood burning stove. I love these old places, simple and essential, showing flourishes of a past way of life which was much simpler than the lives we know now. We dried our damp gear and huddled around the fire for lunch. Washington was trying to be nice to us but it’s true nature was beginning to show, as a weather system loomed overhead. Rain clouds gathered even as we ran into some trail magic – a cooler of pop. Phil drank 2 birthday root beers.
As we hiked on, the skies let loose. A wash of rain came pelting down around us and I was very thankful that all 4 of us had ponchos. It’s nearly impossible to stay dry when the heavens above are dumping water on you. But, a poncho covers your pack and ensures that your core, at the very least, stays dry. The trail turned into a river of mud and there was no avoiding the submersion of our shoes into the rivulet. It was 40 degrees and we walked for 3 hours in the rain. The only thing keeping us warm was our own hearts thumping warm blood to our fingers and toes. No good camping appeared. When we needed it most there seemed to be no flat spots in sight. Finally we found something that would do for the circumstances. In a hurry, Phil and I hauled up our tent then helped Luna and Juneau with theirs. The horizontal rain soaked everything and our bodies were no longer moving, or producing their own heat. Finally, tents were up and we dove inside. Alas, one of the stakes had come loose and a puddle was forming at out feet. I ran out into the cold rain without shoes or socks (to maintain the integrity of my only dry pair) to re-anchor the tent. When I got back inside I was surprised to find hot tears running down my face. My whole body screamed in pain from the cold, my teeth chattered and I shook uncontrollably – convulsively. Phil finally calmed me down and made me change into my warm sleeping clothes as fast as I could with numb hands. Once we were in our sleeping bag I did some push ups to re-warm myself and we drifted off to sleep, completely forgetting to eat dinner.
Sometimes, I’ve learned, you have to just move forward. Tomorrow will be a better day with no mistake in it. Life likes to throw some punches but if you surprise it and don’t respond with anger, it won’t start a fight.
From Mexico To Canada With Love 