Day 149: Mile 2394.1 - 2401.2

And I woke in a dry bed with my stuff splayed out everywhere, and I got dressed and went downstairs to the restaurant attached to the inn, and I got three pancakes with berries and walnuts on top, and two eggs, and a sausage patty, and two slices of bacon, and hash browns, and a bowl of fruit, and a tomato juice, and that was how the day started.

I was actually rushed getting out of the Summit Inn: checkout is at 11am, but I had been late getting to breakfast since I had washed some of my gear and was waiting for it to dry. And then there was the perennial waiting-for-charging. So I asked the front desk, is there late checkout?, and they said, the latest is 11:45am, then we charge you extra, so I went back, got my stuff together, and got out at 11:44am. We'll see if they do the extra charge or not!

But in contrast to yesterday night, when I descended the ski-lift slopes above town through a cloud, the lights below halo'd in the moisture, today the sky above was blue, with clouds rapidly moving along, but never enough to keep the sun from shining bright and warm. And I started seeing all the other hikers: Mad Max I saw at breakfast (he had come in yesterday night), Poppy I saw in the lobby (she had come in yesterday too), J-Pro I saw at the gas station next door where I went to pick up my resupply box (he had come in this morning, hoofed it and got 15 miles before 11am), Steer and Stretch would be at the grocery store doing resupply (they came in today and have a story about that), Apocalypse would pass by (I was on the phone at the time, but I believe he came in today), even Marina and Seth I would see in the market in the afternoon. And more besides!

But the big thing about today was the news of the weather. When I saw Poppy in the lobby, she mentioned that Biergarten (who had already left town) had checked the weather forecast for Harts Pass. Harts Pass is the last road before the border; it's about 30 miles from Canada. And the forecast for Harts Pass called for the first snowstorm of the season to hit in 10 days. And for me, that was a kick in the gut. Because it imposed the reality of the snow: I got ten days. But in 10 days, I can make it maybe to Stehekin, the last *town* before the border, and that's still 80 miles from Canada. Will my hike end there? Will my hike end just 80 miles shy of the border?

And the mind starts going, and it starts planning. Well what if you were to flip now, go up and tag the border and start going south? But how would I get a ride for that: Harts Pass is a notoriously bad road to drive (it's about 17 miles of dirt road, usually takes about an hour to drive). Why didn't I skip ahead, and leave Cascade Locks with the Bubble like AC/DC did (they should make the border in about 10 days), or why didn't I stick with Double Snacks and skip ahead to White Pass from Cascade Locks (she's passing Stevens Pass today, effectively just behind the Bubble)? All these nagging insecurities about the past, and now worries about the future. I'm not equipped to handle snow: if there's 2 feet of snow in the night, I don't know how to handle that. Will my tent even still be standing? And the temperatures: the forecast calls for 40s during the day, 20s at night. How do I survive that? How does one survive cold temperatures in general? I don't know. Oh, and after the snow?: the forecast calls for rain. Rain in the 40s? How do I handle *that*? Hmm, so to avoid that, can I rush now and make it? It's 250 miles from here to the border, if I do 30 miles a day--well, I'm still 10 miles short. Can I do more than 30 miles a day? But the terrain coming up is supposed to be even harder than the Sierras, I'm not sure I can even do 20 miles a day out here.

And the mind just continued spinning. 

I texted Ian about it, and he suggested a call, so I did and we talked about it. And in the end, the outside perspective helped. In the end, I decided I'll continue on the route I'm on, no skipping, no flipping, just heading north. And I may not take a zero in Leavenworth after all, may just make it get-in, get-chores, get-out: maybe a nero with a stay in a hotel. But I'll go forward and, if winter comes early and I have to end my hike just shy of the border, then so be it. Because look at the SOBOs, as Ian pointed out, their hikes ended at the Oregon border! You, instead, got to see a tremendous amount of trail!

And he's right.

So rationally, I'm going to continue on north, plodding along at my snail's pace as usual, trying to get bigger miles rather than dilly-dallying, but getting what I get. I should be able to get to Stehekin before the storm hits, and once there I'll make a decision as to whether to push for the border or not. Because the forecast doesn't say how much snow--whether 2 inches or 2 feet--just that there will be some. Emotionally, had this happened earlier, I would be much more upset. But now, after skipping so much trail, and after so many months out here--at the border of Mount Rainier National Park, Apocalypse had asked if I was ready for the hike to be over and, yeah, I am--I'm upset, sure, but not dramatically so. If the hike ends early because winter comes early this year, then what can I do. Is it sobering? Yes. Does it put a damper and a pressure on this next week, to both get miles in and to worry about it all being for naught? Yes. Does it bring back insecurities about how slow I am, and about all the decisions I made on trail that only enhanced that slowness? Yes. But what can I do.

Well, I could get *hiking*.

And so I did. After a midday spent eating lunch with J-Pro, getting my resupply, sorting my resupply, accompanying J-Pro to the hostel to drop off my extra resupply (I figure the hikers at the cheaper hostel will be more inclined to take free stuff than the hikers at the pricier Summit Inn, even though the Summit Inn is the more well-known accommodation), I got back on trail in the late afternoon. And hiked a climb because this is the PCT, and whenever you leave a town, you climb. This climb, though, was pretty tough. I had met an older couple at the hostel, who had finished back on the 2nd (today is the 11th) and were still recuperating, and they said that the section from Snoqualamie to about a day before Stehekin was probably the toughest section of the trail. And that includes the Sierras. Just a lot of climbing and descending, climbing and descending: the elevation gain is pretty hefty. And going up this climb today, I can start to believe them. Because previous climbs were maybe 2-3 miles long, but this one is nearly 6 miles of up up up! And I was slow slow slow, topping out at around 1.8 mph, which is pretty lethargic considering my usual pace is between 2.2 mph to 2.5 mph. Got passed by a lot of day-hikers coming down and when I finally made it to camp around Gravel and Ridge Lakes, I found that this was a pretty popular hike: all the camping spots were pretty much full. Spent about half an hour, wandering in the dark along half-seen side trails, bumping into other people's tents, until finally I just gave up, backtracked about 0.5 miles along the trail (which felt horrible, let me tell you), uphill (to add isult to injury), and camped in a spot that I'd passed earlier but was still empty.

And that was the hike! I didn't get big miles in today, just around 7 while some others were aiming for more (Poppy, who left town closer to noon, was looking to get in 15 today). But the big thing wasn't the hiking, it was the realization that the first snows are coming earlier than expected, and I might be too late to make it to the border. We'll see: I should be able to make it to Stehekin, and from there I'll make decisions as to whether to wait out the storm then try afterward, or whether I'm just done. But it's a sobering thought, and even on a bright sun shiny day so different from yesterday, still a pretty sobering day, 

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Some notes:

-- Summit Inn > Interstate 90 > Kendall Katwalk > Campsite

-- Incidentally, I once asked Ismael how long it took for him to recover from the thru-hiking the AT. Six months, he said. For me, I know that recovery will take at least three months: I'm told it'll be about that long before I get sensation back in my toes (i.e., "Christmas toes"). But beyond that, I expect recovery will indeed take a while.

-- Speaking of after the hike, I mentioned to Ian that these days I often think about what I'll do after the hike, to which he promptly responded, stay in the moment! There will be plenty of time for that later! Which I think was his way of encouraging me to keep going. But I will say this: there's this phenomenon of post-hike depression that pretty much everybody goes through. You get off the trail and you rest for a couple of days, and then you start thinking about the trail and missing it, and a deep dark depression can set in. And all the advice I've seen for how to counteract that depression is in the same vein: throw yourself into some sort of project after the hike. Have something to keep the mind active, don't just let it sit and think on it's own. I have a list of things I want to do--a combination of things dreamt up both before and during the hike--that I keep on my phone, and once this hike is over, I'll sort through that list, put it into a spreadsheet to better remember/track it, and start tackling items. So thinking about what's to come after the hike isn't just an excuse to get out of the hike, it's (possibly also) a way to try and forestall the upcoming post-hike blues.

-- Geographically, Snoqualamie has a gas station/convenience store (where you pick up packages), then the Summit Inn (with an attached pancake house restaurant), and then Lee's Grocery (with a pizza parlor inside) all in a row. And that's where I spent most of the midday, walking between the three. The gas station had my resupply box, the Summit Inn is where I left stuff to charge, the grocery is where most of the hikers hung out and where I sorted my resupply. It was a nice day for it.

-- So Steer and Stretch have a story. After I met them yesterday, they decided that this rain stuff was not for them, so they diverted onto one of the many forest service roads we pass and headed east, towards where the skies were clearer. And they got a ride from a random stranger, and ended up beside a lake, somewhere out east, very pleasant, and with *no* *rain*. And in the morning, they checked the maps, and saw there was a trail that headed back towards Snoqualamie, and they took it. And it came to train tunnel, and so in they went, and went, and went, and went. Because the tunnel seemed pretty long, and they still hadn't seen the other side, and it was still going. And after 45 minutes walking in the dark, with only the tiny spot of their headlamps as light, they finally saw light at the end, and emerged into the daylight. That tunnel had been over 2 miles long, and it exited them past Snoqualamie, over into the next valley over, by the side of the highway. And then Stretch called up a cousin who lives in Washington--Seattle I think--and asked, could you drive up here and pick us up by the side of a random highway? And the cousin did, so here they were! Spending almost an hour walking a train tunnel was quite an experience. I asked if there were alcoves in case a train came, and Stretch said that there were, but they were pretty far apart and filled with derelict equipment so a pretty tight squeeze. Luckily that tunnel was no longer used for trains, but had been converted into a bike route, so they didn't have to make use of the alcoves. But that, now *that*, is an adventure!

-- Stretch also mentioned something interesting. She hikes in a dress, and noted that she would recommend everyone do so, including guys. Guys could call it a "tunic" instead of a dress if it made them feel better. Because, she says, it has no waistband, and she sees guys especially, always hitching up their pants, trying to get their pants up, shirts down, and hip belt fastened all right before everything shifts and starts pinching again. And I admit she's right: I *do* hitch up my pants a lot and am always trying to negotiate where my pant line, belt, and shirt line are so that my hip belt can sit comfortably. And I usuallly get it right for about 5 minutes before something shifts--it's why my hips are slowly starting to go numb too. She said she would even go so far as to start a business making the tunics and selling them and, by this point?, I'd honestly buy one and try it out!

-- At the gas station, I bumped into Mike, who runs the hostel, looking to put up more signs. Because the hostel evidently doesn't have any hikers in it! Evidently there were something like 50+ spots, and there were only 2 people there last night! And I had seen the hostel signs--Mike has them posted up in various places along the trail over the last 10 miles or so--and had thought to go, but I was coming in pretty late last night, and didn't want to come into a bunk room and disturb everyone. But I shouldn't have worried, there wasn't anyone in the bunk rooms! And Mike lamented that he had all this lasagna made for all these people, and no one to eat it, and he doesn't even like lasagna that much himself! Anyway, the hostel reopened only recently, so there aren't any Guthooks comments on it yet, but it *is* much cheaper than the inn, and it looked pretty nice when I visited it with J-Pro. It's a ski lodge in the winter, but in the off-season it gets converted into a place for hikers.

-- Oh, and at the hostel I met John, who looked at me and said, you look familiar. I've seen you before. And the conversation went on and suddenly he said, ah, at Chicken Spring Lake! I recognize the neck knife! And I said, oh, yeah, you're right, I remember! It *was* at Chicken Spring Lake--the one right after coming out of Lone Pine--and I had had dinner at the lake with Cookie Pie and Dennis and John, and now here was John again, at the hostel in Snoqualamie! Evidently he was doing a bit of trail angeling, hanging out and helping out hikers, but, yeah, it's amazing how people you met months and miles ago, can suddenly reappear! The trail is funny that way!

-- I ate a lot today. In addition to the pancake breakfast, I had lunch with J-Pro, which consisted of a garden salad and two bananas for me, while he slowly polished off a 16-inch pizza. And those two bananas and the salad, they went down pretty slowly, because I was pretty full by then. And that says something, when a salad--just leaves and olives, diced tomatoes and some red onion slices--is hard to get down: you've eaten a lot by then!

-- Camping cohort: none, so far nobody has come by and pitched a tent in this spot, although there's room for at least another tent. Although I did pitch my tent in a pretty consuming fashion, so maybe that's it: had I oriented it differently, would probably be easier to fit others in here.