Dear readers, it has been a whirlwind since last I wrote you.  There has been fire and snow and lots of rain and cold.  I will tell you no more in advance but know that I am very safe and very happy…. Last I wrote you I was venturing out into the rainstorm on a trail that would soon end because of fires, so I will pick up there.  

Day 107 [2298-2310]

As I ventured out into the cold and rain lingering high up in the mountains I knew that I had several hard days ahead.  With this in mind I stopped by the gas station to grab a final snack before I hitched back up, unsure of what this last delicacy would be I was confronted by an undeniable stack of “fresh” corndogs for only $2.50 per.  After purchasing a few (6) and putting them into my rain jacket pocket (for our mutual warmth) I hitched a ride up into those ominous clouds obscuring the mountains.  

I hiked fast even in the rain but didn’t make it very far and I dared not hike past dark in the cold and rain so I set up my tent at a career early of 7:30.  Inside the tent I enjoyed the last 3 corndogs, bundled up, and tried to go to bed.  As I lay there in the beautiful, dark, mysterious, suffocating greenness of Washington I heard a terrifying deeply inhuman sound circling the pasture my tent was around.  This sound was like the effect of some monster or dinosaur in a sci-fi movie and it was getting louder and closer.  I knew it was the bugling of elk who would never hurt or approach me on purpose (but could crush or impale me or my tent by accident), but knowing what the sound was doesn’t make it less spooky to the solo hiker.  

Day 108 [2310-2342]

When I woke up I thought the sound of the elk in the distance was the coolest thing ever, I spent the morning walking up on herds of elk and trying to sneak closer for a view.  I guess no matter how old or large I get, something about the dark will always spook me.  (I wonder if at 80 I will still have to fight not to run up the stairs after turning off basement lights?)

Anyways, after hiking in the morning cold and rain, the sun came out for a half hour and gave me some beautiful blue sky.  However, less than 30 minutes after that blue sky I was hailed on (and not as emperor).  After some time hiking through that wintry mix I heard a lightning strike somewhat close to me on the mountain.  Walking above tree line holding aluminum hiking poles made me a prime target and so I jogged the next half mile to below tree line… 

-I confess there is a part of me that is very confident I would survive a lightning strike (and a smaller but real part that hoped for superpowers) But nonetheless I went down to safety. 

Less than an hour after that it cleared up enough for views of the majestic Mt. Rainier.  Most PCT hikers refuse to call it Rainier and instead call it Tahoma or “Mother Mountain/Mother of Mountains” as the native Americans did.  As you may expect, normally I’m not one for that sort of thing–in this case I am surprisingly sympathetic. Rainier is so spectacular and is so terrifyingly motherly that it deserves that special reverence.  It is a truly powerful mountain.  Out of admiration, I settled on a very cold/wet campsite in view of the mountains in hope of seeing it reflect the rising sun.  

Day 109 [2342-2383]

There was certainly no views of Ranier at sunrise, there was no sunrise—only gloom.  So I left Ranier in hopes of returning in later life with better views.  Today was very gloomy and also cold so I didn’t really stop.  I realized that if I pushed serious miles I could make it to the church service in the tiny town I was passing into next.  I ended up hiking until late in the night which always gives me a bit of an adventurous rush.  

I tried my very hardest to get to service for the Georgia game but the clouds blocked me from good access and I had to rely on text updates from friends.  Luckily, this one time, the Dawgs were able to get by without my vocal support.  

Day 110 [2383-2400]

I cowboy camped in order to pack up faster, at around 4am I woke up inside a thick cloud and was soaked, but its the sort of moisture a tent wouldn’t have helped.  I pushed quickly into Snoqualmie pass and made it ahead of schedule.  Sadly, this was the end of the PCT for me. 

The trail north was closed to fire.  Most hikers were quitting to return later, some were piecing together roads, train tracks and bike paths to alternate border monuments, but none could continue on the trail they had come 2400 miles on.  The weight of this fact hadn’t really hit me until I arrived.

The little church was an approved but unconsecrated joint collaboration between the local Episcopalian and Catholic dioceses.  It was really sweet and they were happy to welcome me despite my hiker stink.  The Chapel was intentionally historic and traditional in its design and decoration—“surely the Catholics were in charge of that part” I thought.  But upon further study I noticed that the design was in fact high Anglican!!!  What a special gift to someone as nerdy as me.  Apparently the chapel had once provided ski passes to clergy who would serve there on occasion and that the chapel had once been dangerously overpacked by hundreds every morning of ski season.  A beautiful history to remember.  

Then I went to the town’s historic hostel, showered, did much needed laundry, and hung out my tent and sleeping bag to dry.  Afterwards I ran into Papertrail from Oregon and went to the brewery for a few hours and had those great conversations of people who have been hiking alone for too long. We covered such varying topics as Nietzsche, the trail, ski culture, and Nebraska to name a few.  He went to Georgia Tech on scholarship and so is both familiar with the southeast and is very sharp.  He was leaving from there tomorrow to go hike the Colorado trail instead of an alternate PCT finish. 

Day 111. (Alt-1)  0-23

I decided on my plan.  I was going to take alternate trails and forest roads west to get to monument 47.  I had 210 miles to the Canadian border, I could almost taste it.  I made plans with my Dad to come and meet me at that finish and I was practically counting down the hours. I was so excited!

Then I lured Papertrail into a final game of ping pong before he hitched to the airport.  Within about 5 minutes I had convinced him to follow me on this unconventional quest.  He, having only a flip phone and a paper map couldn't download a new map but by following me and mine he could finish.  And so we set off !!!

This route was largely untested, certainly unconventional, and things might get ugly—but there was nothing stopping me from getting to Canada, and now with a companion even the sketchiest of road walks or trail finding seemed doable.  

Day 112 (Alt-2) 

Today we made it into Skyomish where we found a very pleasant bar for me to charge my phone and to enjoy a beer and talk to the locals.  The locals took a liking to us and after even getting free rounds of beers we found ourselves having to drag ourselves away to stay on track.  

Although PaperTrail and I had both spent our PCT mostly in solitude we had spent it very differently.  Aside from my two hours of prayer and silence to start my day, I often spent most of my day listening to music, audiobooks, and podcasts.  His Nokia flip phone didn’t have such capabilities.  So while hiking with him I ended up talking for the entire day which was a new hiking style entirely.  I hadn’t talked to anyone for multiple days since Kackie left.   A couple days of continuous conversation will make anyone into a close friend quickly.  

Day 113 (Alt 3)

Today we woke up and kept hiking.  After a dozen or so miles we finally got off the gravel forest service road and onto a real trail—this made more of a difference on our minds and bodies than we expected and was a highlight.  

By evening we were back onto a dirt road and with steep slope on both sides and the occasional speeding truck down the road we couldn't find anywhere safe to camp.  Finally, in desperation I convinced Papertrail to try down a driveway we saw.  Hikers are warned against dangerous/scary mountain men—its rumored they have guns and that sometimes, more terrifyingly, are even found to be Republicans.  I told Papertrail it would be fine as I confidently walked past the aggressive “NO TRESPASSING" sign.  Upon walking in we found that the road was not just hunting land but an off-grid compound of houses and was certainly occupied.  A man stepped out of his house and yelled “I guess you didn’t see the sign but this is PRIVATE property!”, I turned so that he could see the American flag hanging from my pack, exaggerated my Southern Drawl, apologized, and asked if he knew any safe camping spots nearby.  

His demeanor immediately changed and he said I could camp in his yard and then he went inside.  Very shortly after he came outside with several beers to share, offered us his outhouse, and built a large illegal fire.  He told us he usually welcomed such guests with bullets but had a feeling we were good people.  He ended up keeping us up late into the night talking and forcing us beers (although we didn’t put up much fight).  Finally he told us to get into his Polaris and drove us up some trails and over some rocks out across to the edge of the river.  It turns out late night, alcohol induced joyrides are common to rednecks of both Southeast and Northwest.  

He then urged us not to give any details of his location to any hikers or anyone else, gave us his phone number, and went to bed.  

Day 114 (Alt 4)

We woke up disheveled in our friend’s yard and got moving towards Darrington for our resupply.  The last 9 miles of this involved our first true taste of bad road walking.  The shoulders were small, the turns were tight, and the cars were fast.  To make matters worse, I was having some serious digestion so problems from whatever I had eaten the night before.  

Also today we received some monumental news—the PCT reopened north of Rainy pass.

I was now 80 miles West of the PCT, there were no trails connecting me to it, and my dad was flying to Seattle in just a few days.  I could either walk largely on miserable roads to monument 47 and keep my continuous footpath from Mexico to Canada —OR— I could hike the end of the PCT.  I could not do both.  

The keeping of a continuous footpath is a nitpicky choice of only a select few hikers even on years without fire blockages, this year there were few to none….But I had been completely anal about this so far.  When my mom met me, I made her drive from the trailhead parking lot to town alone while I walked the trail beside the highway. I had asked shuttle drivers to drop me off on opposite ends of parking lots, etc.  

I was torn up by the decision and Papertrail refused to make the decision for me—-which is more important? 

-To hike the PCT or to walk from Mexico to Canada…

Regardless of which option I chose, the end was just 4 days away.  Stay tuned for chapter 

18:  The End

Thanks for reading

Love,

Treebeard