Rainey Pass to Glacier Pass

Rainey Pass to Glacier Pass

by | Aug 13, 2015 | Hikertrash Cont...Part 2, Pacific Crest Trail

Thursday, August 13, 2015
Day 13: Rainey Pass to Glacier Pass
Miles: 21.02
Total Miles: 2,609.65
Miles to Go: 49.25

After breakfast dad and Marianne drove us up to the trailhead at Rainy Pass so we could make our final push north. On the drive up, we could see a new forest fire burning on one of the steep mountainsides to the east of the road. There was already a fire crew on it. Everything was so dry; I imagined every single lightning strike that had hit the forest during the storm had started yet another fire.

The plan was for Dad and Marianne to meet us at Manning Park in four days’ time. With half of Washington already on fire, they debated whether they would spend those days in the States, or back in Canada. With the new lightning strike fires we had passed on our way to the trailhead, they had decided to spend at least the day in the area, in case we got blocked by fire and were forced to turn around.

A few big hugs and “see-ya-soon’s,” and we were once again headed north. To get a flavor for the trail, dad and Marianne decided to take day hike south.

Maybe it was the smoke in the air, or maybe it was that we were only four days from Canada, but there was a definite sense of urgency as we made our way up towards Cutthroat Pass.

We arrived at the pass only five minutes behind Krav.

“The trail’s closed,” Krav said as we arrived.

“Dude, that’s not funny,” we responded.

“No, seriously,” he continued, “I was standing at the sign waiting for you guys when a ranger walked up and posted this.”

He pointed at a crisp white Fire Closure Notice.

“I asked him if that meant us too, and he told me that because I had made it past the sign before he posted the closure notice, technically we could continue. He just said, move fast.”

We had just squeaked by on a technicality, thanks to Krav’s fast pace. There was not one single second of hesitation. We had been denied once; we weren’t going to be denied again. We were going to Canada come hell or high water. We took a quick look over our shoulders and booked it past the sign and around the corner.

We were halfway to Granite Pass before we stopped to have lunch in the shade of a cliff face. From our lunch spot, we could see the billowing smoke plumes of two separate fires burning off of nearby mountainsides.

Where these the fires that had just closed the trail?

The fires were a safe distance away, but a steady breeze was blowing; we dared not sit for too long. Cramming the rest of our cheese and crackers in our mouths, we packed up, and we hiked hard and fast. Even with our late start, we made it over twenty-one miles by nightfall. We weren’t messing around.

Exhausted, and with throats raw from breathing smoke all day, we crawled into bed and went to sleep.

Looking Back Towards Cutthroat Pass

Looking Back Towards Cutthroat Pass

South, from near the top of Cutthroat Pass

South, from near the top of Cutthroat Pass

Fire (Hard to see, far mountain)

Fire (Hard to see, far mountain)

More Fire!

More Fire!

Winthrop & Twisp

Winthrop & Twisp

by | Aug 12, 2015 | Hikertrash Cont...Part 2, Pacific Crest Trail

Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Day 12: Winthrop & Twisp
Miles: 0

Winthrop was easily one of the most charming towns in the Northwest. It wasn’t incorporated until 1924, but you’d never know that by looking at it. Apparently, in the 1970s, when Highway 20 was nearing completion, the business owners got together and decided that the best way to attract tourists would be to convert the town to an old western theme. They did not half-ass the restoration; Winthrop was straight up old west.

We wandered down the “old” boardwalks, in and out of the Emporium and General Mercantile, buying only things we could eat. Krav stopped at the ol’ sporting goods store, to find some replacement UL tent stakes, as he had accidentally left his with Blindy the Squirrel back at Lake Janus. The titanium stakes he was after, did not have an 1800s sticker price, and so he opted to continue using twigs, rocks, and our two extra stakes to hold up his tent for the remainder of the trail.

Luckily, the old school post office did not deliver with horse and carriage, and our resupply, shipped only a few days earlier, was waiting for us.

Resupply in the van, we headed to out to explore Twisp.

With a population of around nine hundred, Twisp was also charming, though not on the same scale as Winthrop. But, less crowded and touristy, it made an ideal place to eat lunch and have a margarita.

By mid-afternoon, we were back in camp. We were just debating how to spend the afternoon when – boom! Thunder rolled off the surrounding mountains and echoed down the valley. The wind picked up with ferocity, and we all ducked for cover.

From the “safety” of the tent, we watched as flash after flash of lightning lit up the tent walls. Clap after clap of thunder rolled down the mountainsides. We waited for the soft patter of rain, but no rain came.

This was not good; the forest was far too dry…

Winthrop Sign

Winthrop Sign

The Original Thru Hiker

The Original Thru Hiker

North Cascades National Park

North Cascades National Park

by | Aug 11, 2015 | Hikertrash Cont...Part 2, Pacific Crest Trail

Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Day 11: Lone Fir CG
Miles: 0

Needing to be out of our room by 11 a.m., we wandered across the street to drink coffee on the veranda of the little drive-through coffee shop across the way. We were there for less than an hour, when, as promised dad and Marianne showed up to rescue us!

We spent an hour in Sedro Woolley getting supplies, like “real” camp food (a.k.a. food that required more than just adding boiled water) before piling into the car for the ride to Winthrop and Twisp.

Why Winthrop and Twisp? Well, our resupply box was in Twisp, and Winthrop is simply the coolest “old west” town ever. But, we were in no rush, and so we played tourist along the way.

Our first stop was North Cascades National Park. Smoke hung low and heavy in the muggy August air, and although certain parts of the park were closed, the Visitors Center was open.

Inside the chalet-like building, with its exposed beams and high ceilings, were maps and displays regarding the local flora and fauna and the area’s history. In the lobby was a three-dimensional diorama of the Cascaded, with the Pacific Crest running right across it!

“Look dad! That’s my trail!” I couldn’t help myself; I was excited to have my dad be a part of my journey.

In the gift shop, I discovered the children’s National Park Passport stamping station had an honest to goodness Pacific Crest Trail stamp! Since you aren’t supposed to add your own stamps to your real passport (which I desperately wanted to do), I set about stamping everything else I could with it— my hands, my arms, my knee, random scraps of paper, Krav, Bearclaw— basically anything and everything I could.

On our way out, a quote on one of the walls caught my attention,


“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”
 
– T.S. Elliot

For days my thoughts had been wandering to the end of the trail, to walking home to Canada, to what it would feel like to finally end this particular adventure. Would I feel like I knew the place for the first time?

Filtered through the dense smoke, the midday sun cast an eerie orange glow over the usually brilliant teal waters of Ross Lake. We stopped to read the signs about the Ross Lake dam, for no other reason than to satiate our curiosity. We stopped to take photos of the mountains, to marvel at nature. We stopped, because we had no schedule and we could.

Eventually, we stopped for the night at the Lone Fir Campground, in the shadow of the Vasiliki Ridge. Tents up, chairs out, we opened a beer, and relaxed for the rest of the evening.Our first “zero day” of Washington, had been a complete success.

North Cascades NP with the Family

North Cascades NP with the Family

Ross Lake through the Smoke

Ross Lake through the Smoke

T.S. Elliot

T.S. Elliot

Dad & Marianne trying out the Hikertrash Life!

Dad & Marianne trying out the Hikertrash Life!

Mile 2,526.27 to Sedro Woolley

Mile 2,526.27 to Sedro Woolley

by | Aug 10, 2015 | Hikertrash Cont...Part 2, Pacific Crest Trail

Monday, August 10, 2015
Day 10: Mile 2,526.27 to Sedro Woolley
Miles: 19.09
Total Miles: 2,538.35
Miles to Go: 120.55

We woke up at sunrise, only twelve miles from our detour off of the PCT. I had mixed feelings about this; I didn’t want to detour from the PCT, Washington had already robbed us of getting to Canada in 2013, and now it was robbing us of the North Cascade National Park section of the trail and a “proper” finish. That felt selfish, but I had been waiting to finish the trail and see the Northern Terminus of the PCT for two and a half long years now. The other part of me was excited to see my dad two days early. Now that we were missing two days of trail, that meant we could spend more time with him and his wife, Marianne.

While breakfast cooked, I wandered around camp trying to snap photos of the pikas (or “furry burritos” as Krav called them.) It turned out that trying to photograph a pika was nearly impossible. Two dozen photos and only three of them contained a pika.

We were only a few miles into our morning when we came to a large grassy meadow at the base of a mountain. The trail curved all the way around it in a large arc, staying slightly higher than the meadow itself.

“There’s Krav,” Bearclaw said. Sure enough, Krav was way ahead of us, halfway around the arch.

“There’s a bear!” I said at virtually the same time.

“Where?” Bearclaw asked, excitedly.

I pointed to a large black dot roaming across the meadow below us.

“Krav!” We yelled. “Do you want to see a bear?!” But his headphones were in, and he was in his groove.

Bearclaw and I watched the bear as we circled the meadow. He was far enough away he didn’t pose a threat, and so we eventually stopped and watched him. Suddenly, movement caught my eye at the treeline on the far edge of the meadow. Another bear, this one with two cubs, had just stepped into the light. Four bears, in the same morning, in the same meadow!! We couldn’t believe it.

The mother and cubs weren’t in the meadow for more than a minute before she spotted the solitary bear, and she and the cubs turned and booked it back into the forest. All this trail action and Krav was missing it!

We watched the bear for a few more minutes and then left him in peace as we continued up the trail.

When we finally caught up to Krav at break and told him what we saw, he was understandably bummed. I tried to show him the photos I took, but tiny black dots aren’t that interesting. I wish I had a better camera!

The closer we got to the Suittle River, the bigger the trees grew. Soon, we were enveloped in the fairy world of ancient giants. I love old trees. Standing beneath them gives me a sense of calm. A sense of oneness with the Universe. A sense of how small and insignificant I am in the grand scheme of things, and yet a feeling I am an integral part of something so much bigger than myself that I cannot possibly fathom it.

“Hello old friend,” I smiled, running my hand across the rough bark of a particularly large tree. And I meant it; this tree was much my friend as anyone I had ever know.

Crossing the long bridge over the Suittle River, the forest spell was broken. We had arrived at our detour; a large white “Fire Closure Notice” nailed to the tree beneath the junction sign. And just like that, we were once again off the Pacific Crest Trail.

The eight miles to the Suittle River trailhead were beautiful; waterfalls tumbled down baren rocks, the green mossy banks and logs thriving in the spray. But, it wasn’t the PCT.

We arrived at the trailhead at the same time as a couple that had been out for the weekend. They were headed back to Seattle. We explained our situation, and without hesitation, they offered us a ride.

“Where would you like to go?” The woman asked us, as we piled into their van.

“We’re headed to Rockport,” I responded.

“Oh, you guys don’t want to go to Rockport,” she answered back. “There’s nowhere to stay, and it’s super meth-y.”

We laughed, but she assured us she was not exaggerating.

I looked at my map for the next nearest town in the direction they were heading.

“How about Concrete?” I asked.

“Um,” she hesitated. “We’ll drive through town and let you decided. It’s pretty Meth-y too.”

The Main Street of Concrete, Washington was all of two blocks long and had the disheveled appearance of a town that had once been quaint and semi-thriving, but then the major employer (concrete?) had left town and now, it was just a handful of stragglers hanging on by a thread. Besides the Pub, not a whole lot appeared to be happening in downtown Concrete. The Confederate flags draped in the windows of the homes we passed, did nothing to add to the aesthetic.

“See,” our ride said. “Meth-y.”

They ended up leaving us at a hotel in Sedro Woolley, the first community they felt we’d be “safe” in. Thanking them profusely, we wished them the best.

I called dad and changed our location yet again, and he, in turn, once again changed his route to accommodate us. They would meet us at noon the following day, at the coffee shop across from our hotel.

Showered, clothes in the washing machine downstairs, we ordered pizza, and turned on the TV.

Pikas!!!

Pikas!!!

Mountain Meadows

Mountain Meadows

At home with the giants

At home with the giants

Fire Closure

Fire Closure

Mile 2,508.1 to Mile 2,526.27

Mile 2,508.1 to Mile 2,526.27

by | Aug 9, 2015 | Hikertrash Cont...Part 2, Pacific Crest Trail

Sunday, August 9, 2015
Day 9: Mile 2,508.1 to Mile 2,526.27
Miles: 18.26
Total Miles: 2,526.27
Miles to Go: 132.64

This was, without a doubt, the most challenging day I had ever had on a trail.

Our Krav alarm went off at the same time as usual only today it sang a different tune.

“Who’s ready to get killed by elevation today?!” Krav yelled giddily from his tent.

Purple laughed. I smiled and sighed. We were in for an ass-kicking, and we knew it.

According to our Halfmile App, 5,929 feet of elevation gain and 7,697 feet of elevation loss stood between us and our intended campsite eighteen miles up the trail.

We couldn’t hike fewer miles because between mile eleven and mile eighteen was nothing but steep switchbacks that marched down to the Milk River and right back up the far mountain. I knew we were going to be wasted by the time the day was done, but there wasn’t a lot we could do about but get up and start putting one foot in front of another.

We would have a few miles of nearly flat trail before, as Krav liked to call it, “we would get killed by elevation.” Setting aside my worry of how scary the steep bits would be, I set to making breakfast.

For the first few miles, the trail stuck to the Chuck River valley and was indeed pretty mellow as it worked its way through the forest. Near the trail junction to the Kennedy Hot Springs – which rumor had it had been destroyed in a landslide – the PCT turned and followed Kennedy Creek towards our first big climb up Kennedy Ridge.

The old log bridge at Kennedy Creek had snapped in half, and the center was sitting in the middle of the creek. Early in the day, the water was low enough that the center of the bridge was only mildly wet.

The climb up Kennedy Ridge was mostly forested, with the occasional dramatic view of Kennedy Peak and the Scimitar and Kennedy Glaciers, to break up the monotony of the trees.

We stopped for water at the mossy Pumice Creek, reveling in the fact that the first climb was nearly over and that it that it really hadn’t been that bad at all. Only two hundred feet of elevation gain separated us from Spitfire Creek Pass!

You know that feeling when you feel like you are on top of the world? That was how we felt when we got to the top of the pass and dropped our packs. Peaks rose up like waves around us; range, after range, after whitecapped range.

Far off, we could see a plume of smoke rising from the North Cascade National Park fire. It looked serious. This would be the reason for tomorrows detour.

Not so far off, we could see the familiar pattern of tight switchbacks crisscrossing an overgrown avalanche shoot. Ugh, this would be our last big climb.

Just before we dropped down off of the pass, we stumbled across Mica Lake. Too perfect to just pass on by, we sat down in the shade of a huge boulder and had a late lunch. Supposedly, there was a campsite somewhere nearby; the views were so mind-blowing we were tempted to find it, make camp and stay until the snow began to fall. This was the only campsite between us, and the far side of the switchbacks that taunted us from the other side of the valley.

No, we were on a mission, we were finally going to get to Canada, and we weren’t about to get distracted, or let anything stop us.

For five miles we switchbacked down the mountain, through enormous old trees. At times, the trail was washed out, and we would be forced to detour around it. At times, we would find an old-growth tree blocking our path. Finding a way over them, was a task in itself. Besides these random obstacles, the trail was wide and smooth, and for that I was grateful.

We sat down in the middle of the Milk Creek Bridge and filtered water. It was late afternoon, and none of us wanted to climb back out of the valley. We considered making camp on the bridge, but it was early, and undoubtedly hikers would still be coming by for hours yet. Besides, the water was glacier fresh, and we knew camping on the bridge would make for a cold, damp night.

Knowing we would be destroyed after another 3,000-foot climb, and unsure if we would make it to a camp with water before dark, we decided to eat dinner on the bridge. If I’m being honest, it was just another excuse to procrastinate.

With dinner eaten and no other excuses we could think of, we heaved our packs onto our backs, crossed the bridge and disappeared into the forest on the far side.

The climb was not as brutal as we had imagined. Just long, so long. Switch. Switch. Switch. Are we there yet? Switch. Switch. Oh, a raspberry! Are we there yet? For hours we worked our way up the mountain. What the Milk Creek Valley portion of the PCT needed, was a zip line.

Krav, as always, was somewhere far ahead of us. From the top of the last set of switchbacks, we were still nearly three miles from our intended camp. Secretly, I wished we would find Krav waiting for us on the side of the trail so we could find a spot sooner, but we had agreed on getting to the campsite at mile 2,526.27, and I knew that was where we would find him.

Sure enough, Krav was in camp, just setting up his tent when we arrived. He looked as exhausted as we felt. With dinner already eaten, we crawled into bed, popped a handful of Vitamin I, and fell asleep to the shrill call of pika’s warning each other of our presence.

Kennedy Peak

Kennedy Peak

Fire Creek Pass and an Old Cascade Crest Trail Sign

Fire Creek Pass

Switchbacks!

Switchbacks!

Mica Lake

Mica Lake