And then there was one. Weeks 5 and 6 on the PNT

Well, it has been a while hasn't it? Luckily, I haven't died or gone missing. I haven't been attacked by a bear (although I finally saw one!) or drowned in a river. No, I'm here, still standing and prepared to tell you all about the last epic and most intense two weeks of the PNT. 

As you might have guessed by the title, I've been at it alone lately. On the early morning of me and Snowberry's planned departure from Oroville and into the Pasayten wilderness, Snowberry told me she had decided to quit the trail and go home. It was all a bit of a shock, and before I could absorb the news, I found myself entering the Loomis State Forest, one of the gateways into the Pasayten Wilderness area. 

Luckily, I didn't really know what the next two weeks had in store for me, otherwise I might have quit as well. But ignorance sometimes leads to daring acts, and here I am on the other side of some intense wilderness livin'. 

So let's go one week at a time:

Week 6:

Walking into the wilderness on that first day was surreal. I was still quite astonished that I was now alone and my mind swirled with thoughts. I felt distracted, not able to fully concentrate on each step I took. I struggled on the uphills and felt frustrated by the faint trail, losing it quite often and needing to bushwack and navigate my way back onto the path. On the other hand though, I did feel a tiny sense of relief to be alone. Like a weight had lifted from me, and I was more free and independent.

There are definitely advantages to both hiking with a partner or group, and to hiking solo. Slowly, as I gained elevation and entered into the Pasayten, I became more comfortable with my newly gained solitude and reminded myself that I've hiked solo before, and I can hike solo again.

The Pasayten was beautiful and the Boundary Trail, on which I was walking, was well maintained. It took me through some beautiful high forest landscapes. The air was fresh and the sun shone. It was all very perfect, and after a full day, I chose a scenic campsite to pitch, on Sherman Pass. 

The next day, I got up early with the intention of hiking 20 miles. The thing about this stretch through the Pasayten was that it was a 150 (or so) mile stretch of pure wilderness, and in order to make it through to the next ressuply point (Ross Lake Resort) in around 7 days, one would need to average around 20 miles a day. 

I found myself in high spirits, and to my surprise, met some multi-day backpackers on the trail. It was a nice to firstly, see other people at all, and second, to talk to other types of hikers (not thru-hikers) and get a glimpse into their very different realities. As opposed to me, they seemed more joyful, more leisurely and relaxed and obviously more fresh. Somehow interacting with them was refreshing, like their liveliness carried over to me through some magical way. 

I soon found out by talking to them and by looking at the Guthook app that these hikers all came out here to enjoy the Cathedral Pass, and the Cathedral Lakes area. I made a point to camp at the Upper Cathedral Lake, and boy was that a good decision. The trail led you along the side of the mountain, until the view of Cathedral Peak (and pass) revealed itself.

The picture really doesn't do this place justice. It was an absolutely majestic view, and I let myself be taken away as the trail curved round until suddenly I found myself at the foot of Cathedral Peak, about to cross over the pass. 

After walking a half hour longer, I arrived at my campsite quite early and enjoyed the downtime and the brilliant view of the lake and rocky face of the mountain.

I must admit, a month before hiking through this place, I had never heard of the Pasayten Wilderness. I was totally oblivious to it's existence. But...what a place this is! The landscape was incredible, and each day offered views full of mountain peaks in the background. It seems like this whole region of Washington is it's best kept secret. I was surprised and awed by the power of nature here.

Day 3, I woke up to heavy fog. It was very cold at such a high altitude, and I was slow getting out of my cozy sleeping bag. The view of the mountain and lake was completely clouded over as I started my day, but after a few hours visibility got better and created an atmospheric scene as I continued to cross through beautiful terrain.

The nice views didn't last long though, as I entered into a gigantic burn area, thus begins the second (and less fun) half of my Pasayten adventure. The route stuck to the Boundary Trail, but I could tell this section of the trail was less traveled since at times the path completely disappeared and I was forced to look for footprints, matted plants and so on in order to find my way properly. Not only that, the trail was completely unmaintained, and for the next 25 miles or so, I battled with tons and tons of blow-down. 

Now, I've mentioned blow-down before and your eyes have probably glazed over this word, assuming it's not a nice thing, but let me break it down for you. Blow-down is when trees fall over and block the path. If it's one or two trees you must climb over or crawl under, that's really not a problem. But this section was unusually bad. The ground was blackened with charcoal, and hundreds and hundreds of trees (most of them burnt) covered the trail. I can now attest that climbing and crawling over blowdown for more that 20 miles continuously is extremely exhausting. A few pictures to give you a taste:

Now imagine climbing a mountain, with this amount of blow-down and then the path suddenly disappears because it's so faint. It's safe to say that after a whole day of this mess, I was pooped. Not only that, it was so slow going,  that it set me back a day and I realized I wouldn't have enough food before I reached the resort. Luckily I ran into a trail crew soon after that gave me some extra food to keep me going. Trail magic happens in the most unexpected places! 

It was a relief to descend down to the Pasayten River, and I dove straight in to wash off all the charcoal that had rubbed off on me.

A while later, I found myself crossing through the Pasayten Airfeild, an abandoned airfeild that now offered a nice flat campground. The clouds had made an entrance again and before I knew it, I was caught in a hail/lightning & thunder storm. Another setback. 

Cold, wet and tired, I decided to call it a day early and give up on my 20 mile a day goal. I set up my tent under a tree and quickly hunkered down. By this time, I was getting lonely and fed up with the many obstacles thrown my way. But the next morning I tried to psych myself up, with the knowledge that today, finally, I would arrive to the PNT/PCT convergence. Yes! Today would be the day I'd get to walk on the PCT for a day, how exciting.

Indeed, as soon as I stepped onto the PCT, I felt I was stepping into an alternate reality. It was, obviously, way more crowded and I started meeting section hikers and thru-hikers immediately. It was quite special, since the thru-hikers I met were about 6-8 miles from completing their 5 month thru-hike at the Canadian border. Deprived of company and social interaction, I was thrilled to socialize and chat a bit with people. I caught myself by surprise by how starved I felt from company, only realizing it once I saw and talked to people. 

The PCT presented me with another gift: a meticulously well-maintained trail! I am serious, there wasn't even a twig on the path. It felt like, in that moment, that I had just been hanging out with the disheveled, grizzly uncle that stank and burped (the PNT) and now I had graduated to the slick, well-dressed and clean cousin (the PCT). The difference was very very visible, and it felt like a treat. Even the PCT hikers looked more put-together (after a 5 month hike!) and I noticed they radiated a much more joyful and happy presence compared to other PNT thru-hikers I'd met, whose faces tended to be more hardened and weathered. 

The third gift I got from the PCT were the unbeatable views. It was an extremely beautiful and relatively easy hike, and the sun shone again with all its glory. Life was good again!

As we all know, all good things come to an end,  and I soon found myself back on the PNT, climbing over trees again. I softly muttered to myself: "welcome back" ... but things weren't nightmarishly bad. In fact, the trail led me to Devil's Dome, an epic climb and view, with towering mountains all around me. The haze was bad from wildfires, but somehow not being able to see much of what was In front of me contributed to this "on-top-of-the-world" feeling. 

After this dramatic ascent, I began the equally as dramatic 5,000+ feet elevation drop down to Ross Lake. I desperately wanted to get to water, see water... as the lake was a marker for me, a motivator to keep going in moments of exhaustion or feeling fed up. The long downhill seemed like it lasted forever, but water did eventually come into view, and I felt my heart lift immediately. I started walking with more purpose and enthusiasm as I got closer and closer. That evening, I camped at Rainbow campground amidst a large group of young teenage girls on a YMCA backpacking trip, with two adult mentors. It felt great to dip myself in the lake and get clean. Also, I had a chat with the girl-group and observed their faces as I told them about my adventures... mouths wide open and eyes twinkling. It gave me a healthy dose of perspective.

Week 7:

The next day, all I wanted to do was reach the resort. I was on a mission to resupply, and I was in urgent need of rest. The walk along the lake was pleasant and scenic. Throughout the day, I kept fantasizing about the restaurant the resort must surely have, about the extra floating cabin the staff must reserve just for thru-hikers because they take pity on us. After walking for what seemed like eternity, I finally reached the dam and crossed over, arriving at the resort shortly after. I walked into the office, and realized it was the first building I had stepped foot in, in over 8 days. The staff was extremely busy, and looked at me sarcastically after I inquired after the restaurant. The woman at the desk pointed at the few chips and candies they sold, and instructed me to go around the corner for the pop vending machine they had. The resort was of course booked through 2019 and the prices were way out of my range. I felt extremely disheartened, since I had built up my expectations too high. As a romantic, I tend to do these things to myself, only to find that reality is not as great. I guess having dreams isn't such a bad thing though.

In any case, the disappointment of it all triggered in me a deep exhaustion, and as I sat outside on the picnic table, ressuply package at hand, I started to cry. I just couldn't keep it in, although I wasn't sure exactly what I was crying about. I realized that my body and mind were burnt out and it was more important than ever for me to rest. 

Luckily, the resort had internet and a phone line. I was able to make plans ahead and decided then and there that I'd take a zero day at the Big Beaver campground by the lake. I also got all the permits I needed to hike through the North Cascades National Park. I told myself that after the North Cascades I'd reassess how I was feeling and decide if I needed to take a more prolonged break..

The zero day at Ross Lake saved me, and I spent most of the day resting in the shade and floating in the pleasant warm waters. 

After a day of much needed leisure, I got an early start and entered into North Cascades National Park, first on the Big Beaver Trail, then connecting to Little Beaver Trail. The trail was pleasant and mountainous but the clouds hung heavily above me and I got to catch intermittent views of waterfalls, vast rock faces and high snow. Eventually the clouds cleared..

On this section, the trail was crowded. I ran into many hikers on multi-day trips and it felt surreal to suddenly be around so many people. To them, however, it was nothing special, just another hiker passing through, since solitude hadn't plagued them right before. 

I camped that night at Indian Creek with the intention of doing an alternate high route, Copper Ridge Trail (not listed as a PNT alternate) to get the most bang for my buck. I had gotten a tip from Capi, an eastbounder and decided to follow it. The next morning I rose early and the weather was very cloudy and foggy. As I climbed and climbed on endless switchback, bugs and spider webs wouldn't let up and frustration, once again, came back. I hoped with all my might that the clouds would clear with the hopes of making this extra climb worth it... and my hopefulness paid off. I arrived at the lookout and had my lunch there, and as I sipped hot miso soup, the mountain tops revealed themselves. And oh, they were majestic! I chatted with the ranger stationed there for almost an hour before taking off, and enjoyed endless stunning vistas, a perfectly carved out trail and some warm sunshine. Luck was on my side and I felt once again fulfilled. 

The clouds returned as soon as I began my descent from the ridge,  and I felt That Mama Nature had given me a gift for a few hours. Rain came, and I begrudgingly accept my new, wet reality. That night I camped close to Hannigan Pass Trailhead, outside of the park. 

The next morning I met Heaven, a PCT thru-hikers that had just finished his thru, and decided to hop on the PNT westbound. He was kind and good company. We managed to hitch a ride into Glacer, WA and got dropped off right at Wake & Bakery. I was ecstatic. Hot coffee, pastries and wraps. A cozy place to sit. It felt like the biggest luxury in the world, one I had been craving for for almost 2 weeks.

Sitting there, I realized I had had enough of the trail for a while. On one hand, these two weeks catapulted me into a very intriguing state of being. I had entered a liminal space of extreme fitness,  of flow and meditative movement. But coupled with that was intense exhaustion and the loss of novelty. Those two sensations were perhaps, what I imagined professional athletes feel all the time. Pushing your body to its ultimate limits. On the other hand, unlike professional athletes or most thru-hikers, I didn't feel the need any more to fight and push against this exhaustion. I chose to surrender to it, and it felt good. 

I hitched a ride to Anacortes, stayed the night at a friend's place, and then promptly hopped on an early morning bus, and then 2 more buses, and then a ferry, until I hit Port Townsend, my mom's place of residence.  

So here I've been now, for almost two weeks, fully recovered and quite lazy I must admit. I've been getting super spoiled with good food and some feel-good motherly love. Smoke has cast it's reign over the region for the time I've been here. We've been forced to stick inside and avoid the haze. I'm happy I chose to stop when I did and not hike through such bad, unhealthy air. A picture from Marrowstone Island, close to Port Townsend (with Moondance, also a fellow PNT hiker!):

Now, the smoke has improved if just a little bit and I've decided to join 3 other hikers (two of which I met in Republic previously), and finish the last section of the PNT. It will take us through the rugged Olympic range, and the beautiful, lush rainforest. Finally, we'll head up the coast to reach Cape Alava,  the end of the trail, and the western most tip of the continental USA. Permits are set, enthusiasm is back, and company is close.

So I skipped the Mount Baker area, and the Puget Sound. But I'm not regretful and I'm based close by, so revisting those areas is always a possibility. 

This last section will take me approximately 10 days. See you on the other side! Thank you for your patience since the last post. If you got through this insanely long entry, I commend you and I am eternally grateful for your attention and interest.

For Now, Indigo, signing out!