Day 151: Mile 2419.7 - 2439.5

Yesterday night, in anticipation of rain, I had chosen a campsite under the trees, had placed my tent on a slope to prevent waking up in a lake, and had tightened down my guidelines to keep my rain fly taut. And this morning, I woke up, got out of my tent, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. (Well, except for some desparate wispy clingers on the mountains across the valley, but they were gone in less than a hour.) In fact, the rain of yesterday was so completely forgotten that even the leaves of the bushes were dry, with not a drop of moisture remaining on the ground-low plants.

So: rain the day going into Snoqualamie, clear skies the day of Snoqualamie, rain the day after coming out of Snoqualamie, clear skies again today. Hmm, I'm guessing it's going to rain tomorrow.

Started the day finishing the climb from yesterday--about a mile more to go--and I was slow. Real slow. Granted it usually takes me some time to warm up, maybe 20 minutes or so. But even after getting warm I was slow. And that was the theme of the day, actually: this section--from Snoqualamie to Stevens--is tough. And I'm putting forth my best effort, but the miles aren't coming. Yesterday I was under 20, today as well. And while yesterday I could point to the scree portions as reason, today the trail was mostly pretty clear (except for a section of blowdowns), and I thought I was making good time, but then I checked the mileage and it wasn't there. I don't know if it's the trail or if it's me, but either way, getting to Stehekin looks like it's going to be a slow, tough slog.

When I got to the top, I was treated to some nice views. One way looked out over the valleys and canyons I had just ascended out of, with the mountain-tops of pure stone across the way. The other way looked into what appeared to be an old burn zone, with the colorful red- and orange-leaved bushes that I've come to associate with burn zones, and that really are striking in autumn. And if I looked down, I could see on the parts of trail not yet touched by the sun, the subtlest glimmer of frost.

Yes, winter is coming.

The trail continued along the ridge top, through the burn zone, before hitting a saddle and descending through a green tunnel. And here I bumped into another hiker, Moss, who I'd been leapfrogging since at least Cascade Locks, but who I never got a chance to talk to. But today, I did. And he's from Minnesota, got his name because he likes the shade: put him in the sun, and all he'll do is ask to go back in the shade. I liked the desert, put me on 90 degree exposed trail and I'm happy. He thought the desert was very different, but he prefers 50 degree weather and rain. So, he rather likes Washington! We talked about a few things:

* About how there's a slight culture shock in coming from Minnesota to California. Evidently, people in California don't get sarcasm and snark. Folks in the midwest--and he considers Minnesota the midwest, even more midwest *than* the Midwest, actually--are always, unfailingly, polite. And they never say exactly what they mean, because they feel the need to maintain that Minnesota Nice. So they rely on a lot of sarcasm and self-deprecating humor to get by. And he's found that folks on the coast don't quite get there: folks on the coast are more straightforward with saying what they mean. So he'll say something, and the Californians will just think he's being a jerk, when he's actually just being deadpan sarcastic.

* About how he did take some time off during the hike to visit Los Angeles, and spent a day with his girlfriend (who had flown into town) doing the tourist bus tour through Hollywood and whatnot. But then, they spent 3 days around the Channel Islands, and that was pretty good. Two days ferrying over to an Island, hiking, then ferrying back, and one day just staying on the water. And seeing the dolphins and whales on the water, and then on the islands, all the endemic species that can only be found on those islands--he had a really good time. He highly recommends visiting the islands (and I really should go--they're right there!).

* About work, and how he works a boring office job for an office supply company. And I asked what would be an interesting office job, and he mentioned that he doesn't mind working in an office, but he would like something more meaningful. Maybe something like a park administrator.

* About how at work he had gotten promoted into management, and hadn't liked it. He had been on the procedural side of the business to start, and done a good job, so naturally they promoted him. And they thought, as every company thought, he's good at doing the work, so he'll be good at managing other people doing the work. And that's not always the case--it's why there's a lot of poor middle management, in his opinion. And he personally wasn't enamoured with management. He had had over 20 reports at one point, and it was a lot of hearing people's complaints, smoothing over conflicts between people, always looking to hire people. There are benefits--bigger paycheck, more autonomy in what you do each day--but when I mentioned Ranger Danger's description of management being managing kindergarteners, well, Moss didn't disagree.

* He's a hammock-er, has been since Dunsmuir, and we talked about that. Whereas I'm always on the lookout for cleared spaces of ground--and usually pre-cleared out here, as Nico pointed out, I'm pretty much constrained to existing tentsites given the thickness of the woods out here--he just needs two trees, 14-17 feet apart, and each at least 8 inches in diameter. So he can set up without a clearing underneath (although it's nicer to set up *with* a clearing underneath). And he gets a *seat* when he sets up: he can sit in the hammock! And it's better on his back: he can sleep on a pad for only 4-5 hours before his back starts to complain. So the hammock has been good so far. The only problem has been that the temperatures have been getting colder and he had sent his colder weather gear ahead to lessen weight, and now he was happy he would be getting it back soon!

* About how we both agree that we don't understand this fascination with beautiful campsites while doing a thru-hike. Sure, if I'm setting up camp at 4pm, Moss said, I'd like a beautiful spot. But on the PCT, I'm setting up late, close to dark, and I just want to get my hammock set up as quickly as possible, eat dinner as quickly as possible, and get to bed as quickly as possible. I'm not looking at the view! And I agree: on a section-hike, or something more relaxed, sure, get the nice campsite. But on the PCT? I never look at the scenery from outside my tent, I'm just focused--like Moss is--on the chores I need to do at the end of the day. And in the morning, ideally I'm gone as early as possible! So why should I spend energy finding a beautiful campsite? I won't see it anyway!

But perhaps the biggest thing that we talked about--for me--was the weather. He had seen the forecast for Harts Pass. And having some experience with snow forecasts--being from Minnesota--he said, first off, that 10-day forecasts are guesses: a forecast is accurate out to maybe 2-3 days (which has been my experience out here as well). As for snow, it depends on how much. Snow flurries that don't accumulate?, we can hike through that. A foot of snow?, that starts becoming a problem, especially if the trail starts to cross over slanted snow. At a foot on snow, microspikes start to become worthwhile. But the bigger thing to worry about, in his opinion, were the temperatures, and the possibility of rain: rain at 40 degrees is pretty miserable. As long as you keep your sleeping bag and sleeping clothes dry you won't die, but it'll be pretty tough. And from his perspective, at this point we're so close that we'll tough out the misery just to get to Canada, so the weather will be what it is. He agreed that the terrain here is tougher--he expects it to be tougher all the way to Canada, in fact--so he's also noticed his pace is slower now, so we'll get to Stehekin when we get to Stehekin, and there's only so much control we have over that. From there, well, we'll see.

And I found this pretty reassuring. Here's a guy who has snow experience, looking at it not like this intimidating thing, but rather as something that can be, and will be, managed when we get to it. And that makes it a bit less scary. 

We hiked together all the day through the descent down into the next valley, to the Waptus Creek bridge, where we stopped to get water. Then he continued on before me, and we would leapfrog a bit throughout the day--I would pass him at a random creek in the woods, where he would be laying on his back on a fallen log in the woods, stretching it out--but we had talked for a long while during that descent!

After Waptus Creek, it was more green tunnel. Although this tunnel was actually nice. It was a gentle incline, through the woods, curving in and out of the hillsides. And for a bit, it seemed every time the trail turned inward it would find a little creek, trickling away, and often with cute little waterfalls. And at the Spinola Creek Trail Junction, in the middle of the woods, as I passed I finally realized that, yes, these woods *would* be fun to wander, and that Double Snacks is right: the woods *are* nice, and they'd be interesting to explore and learn. And the First Old Friend could have a field day out here, planning hikes and routes. And the Second Old Friend, when sitting by a stream, the breeze blowing between the trees, well, he might even make an appearance as well.

And then the trail started ascending through a region with a lot of downed trees and that feeling was gone!

I took a break halfway through the downed trees to wolf down some lunch, and then continued on, through that, eventually to a wide meadow surrounded by tall mountains, and filled with a lake. There were folks camped out here--it was quite picturesque--but I was still consumed with making miles and so, after stopping to gather water at the lake outlet--hurried on. Because today I ended the day with a climb. And I agree this is not a good idea: better to hike high but camp low, ending the days with descents (if nothing else, your clothes won't be soaked with sweat that doesn't dry in the cold night), but I've been ending the days with climbs the past couple days and that's just the way the cookie crumbles. This climb wasn't bad--I did notice that I didn't have the same energy or drive as I did yesterday, so while the climb was comparable, my speed was not. But I did make it--with a break halfways up to fix some bandaging (I had bandaged my left pinky toe due to blisters, but the dressing had come loose and, as I had hiked through it, now another blister was forming on the other side of the toe--sigh), and got a view of Cathedral Rocks at the top for my effort. And doubtless the Rocks would have appeared more stunning if I had encountered them under more relaxed circumstances, but I was hurrying because I wanted to set up camp on the descent side of this hill, and to do so before dark when it starts getting really cold. And I managed to get to this campsite before sunset, and hurriedly set up (although I was stalled by one of my guidelines snapping--it's been fraying for a while now--so I had to stop and replace that), munched through dinner, and am hoping to finally get a good night's sleep tonight (haven't sleep great the past couple nights). I will say that the Guthooks comments say there's a mouse here that will chew into your tent to get your food: this spot is a small flat pad, now that big, but given that I *did* eat outside my tent, maybe 5 feet away on the edge of the pad, and I *did* look for a tree to tie my Ursacks to, but didn't find any so they're just in the vestibule. The openings are facing out, though, so if the mouse comes, hopefully he won't he tempted to chew into my tent!

And that was the hike! For a clear day--any time I'd see a lonesome cloud or two, after about half a mile they'd be gone--I didn't end up seeing that much memorable scenery, it seems. Maybe that was trail, but likely that's just me pushing for miles. Because they're hard to come by out here, but I still need them if I'm going to make it to Canada on time! And that's the thing about the PCT: for me, at least, it's not a relaxing thing, hasn't been since Splinters Cabin. And that's just the way it is. I think when I get back home, I'll look into possibly some more relaxing trips--maybe the TCT--just to balance things out!

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Some notes:

-- Makeshift Campsite > Waptus River > Spade Creek > Spinola Creek Trail Junction > Deep Lake Outlet > Cathedral Rock > Campsite

-- In the morning, up in the burn zone, I passed a couple section hiking and going south. And I stopped and talked to them a bit. They had seen 30 NOBO PCT hikers ahead of me, in just past couple days, which is a lot more than I expected. They also asked me about the weather up ahead (for them), and I threw my hands in the air. Rain one day, clear the next, rain yesterday, clear today, who knows! And they said that they had had rain a couple days ago, only managed to dry out today! And I remember, back at the trail magic before Snoqualamie, Ice Axe had told the story of a friend of his who had hiked Washington twice, and each time took 21 days. And one time, his friend had had rain 1 out of the 21 days. And the second time, his friend had had rain 20 out of the 21 days. So you just never know out here. (Incidentally, doing Washington in 21 days is *fast*: that's 25 miles a day!)

-- I did stay in shorts today, to try and pick up some extra speed (they keep me cooler). And that says something about the weather: yesterday was raining, but today was warm enough to wear shorts. And they did help, but I still had trouble making miles. Even in the parts where I'm gliding along, going fast I feel--at least 2.2 mph, maybe touching 2.5 mph--I'd check Guthooks and, nope, just 2 mph. So I just didn't have it today. Maybe it was because I slept poorly last night--I feel asleep writing, so ended up curled in a foetal ball under my sleeping bag until around midnight, when I'd wake in a slight panic, gather up all my electronics and my filter and my clothes (now in my old Dyneema food bag) and stuff them into my sleeping bag, which I'd formally lay out to sleep. Not the best way to get a night's rest! And it ends up with spending the morning writing, which consumes valuable sunlight time. At least I was quick in packing up: only took me 45 minutes or so! But yeah, need to recalibrate my speeds up here!: for the same effort, just can't get the big miles I was getting even in southern Washington!

-- Camping cohort: none, just me again. This campsite is a little sandy pad right off the trail--it looks like a little helipad, honestly. And someone had written "Hi!" with rocks in the middle of it when I arrived, which I unfortunately and sadly had to destroy in order to set up my tent. But this place is small: room for one normal tent, two tents if the two folks are pretty friendly with each other and don't mind effectively sharing vestibules!