On The Road Again

Road walking is tough... Especially tough on your joints... Sometimes you just have to suck it up and look on the bright side of things. There sure is a lot of road walking on the PNT. You know me and my damn positivity by now, so naturally I've made a list of the highlights: 

- I love dead animals and I find all kinds of road kill out here. Why is it that a dead rattlesnake is cool but a dead house cat makes me want to cry? I'm working on my species prejudices.

- I don't have to concentrate on the ground because it's flat and smooth, no rocks and roots to trip over. There isn't a more clumsy hiker than myself, so this is a definite plus!

- Bridges are cool... Actually, they are very cool! 

Oh crap, I got to clean my lens... Sorry for the splotches. 

- Farm land is pretty cool, too!

- I see plenty more people and get to wave to all the passerby's... Hopefully showing these drivers a glimpse of this thru-hiker lifestyle. One even stopped for a quick high five.

- It makes you appreciate the mountain THAT MUCH MORE!

 - Had I not been road walking by the oil refinery, I might have missed the fine print... I won't be swimming in the "Imazapyr and/or glyphosate" 

- If I get injured, I don't have to wait a week for a hiker to find my broken body.

- You'll most likely pass a bar, lounge, casino or gas station stocked with beer and Bloody Mary's.

All in all, road walking is part of the hike. I'll take a hitch here and there on a hot busy highway, but sometimes the road provides a lovely little escape from all the overwhelming beauty on trail. An escape from beauty... I like the way that sounds. I found an old license plate on one of my walks and I'm wearing it on my pack until the end. No, you may not see my registration, fine sir. 

Little Red Riding Hood

If a stranger prays to the Lord for you to make a certain choice in life, I'll tell ya, it's going to get my attention. I might not follow the prayer, but I'll sure listen. Jack, an old scripture citing man, implored me to spend a day at the ranch with Steve, learning how to tend the cattle and pitch the hay. Hiking is about the memories you get to share with your grandchildren… the vistas, the struggles and equally important, the people you meet along the way.

This wasn't Jack's ranch, he wasn't even going to come along for the ride, but the invite stood. Ahhhh… the taste of Foldger's in your cup at 4:45 A.M. I cooked us breakfast – eggs from the barn with fresh ground beef from one less free ranging cow on his land. Everyone has a story, but you get some good ones from those who've lived decades longer here on Earth.

Steve proposed a side adventure to my great big long hike. Here's the story: Long ago, lets say in the early 1920's, the United States of America thought it was time to restore the morals and purity of its people… Goodbye alcohol, hello prohibition and bootleg whiskey! Oh, if only I were alive then. Canada provided many unmanned routes into the dry country. Trucks used to cross the border and hide cases of alcohol in abandoned mines. After prohibition was lifted, America was again let loose to its sinful ways. From a third person account, there exists a bounty of aged whiskey still waiting to be picked up about 2 miles north of the Pacific Northwest Trail. A bounty that could be worth half a million buckaroos. Steve had a bundle of old maps and a mining claim book to reference. I was armed with my GPS to pinpoint the coordinates and the widest eyes you've ever seen. This would not be another zero day, we were on a mission. We stopped for a Bloody Mary to symbolize our freedom from the past era and made our way up the mountain.

Rain… Really? It was in the high 80's when we left. We hiked on through the thick brush, hours and miles of nothing. The cloud coverage kept knocking off my GPS signal… 500 feet SW, no wait… 120 feet NE… We're standing on the supposed site, but I don't see a thing. I wanted to find the loot so bad… not for its monetary value, but we were on a treasure hunt!

I did find a decomposing wolf, however, and if you know me, there wasn't a chance in hell I would be leaving without some bones. I twisted it's head round and round with my bare hands, fur sticking to me from the rain. The black tongue hung out of his mouth, grazing my fingers. Once you start something, you just have to finish. We weren't coming home with the whiskey, but dammit, I'm coming home with a jawbone. My stomach turned upside down three times as I wondered what I must look like. I found a 40 pound rock and smashed its head open. (Why am I sharing this story with you?) I loosened the jaw and detached it from the socket, teeth all in tact. I wrapped the meaty bones in 20 giant leaves, stuck them in my pocket and let out a heavy exhale knowing that I wouldn't be coming home empty handed after all.

Just because we didn't come up on the intended treasure doesn't mean it was a wasted adventure. I could still taste the history and imagine what it must have felt like twisting across the mountain roads with a truck full of contraband. Contraband that would bring joy, dance, sloppy jokes and bar fights to the good people of Northern Washington. Who knows if the legend is true, or if someone hasn't already found it. I mean, if I was the driver with precise knowledge to the secret location, I would surely make the trip up for some free booze years down the line when the smoke cleared. Or maybe I would sell the information to a drunk at a bar. What if the driver went to prison… No... wait... I got it. He was pushed off a bridge by the Federales once word got out about his black market enterprise. And then a rock slide must have buried the mine, locking the whiskey inside forever. I think I'll call that area Drunk Mountain!

I got some bushwhacking miles in, I got my bones, I got a good story and I want to cheers you all to the great unknown.

Housekeeping loves me... Bleach, peroxide, super glue and whiskey!

Expectations

Expectations are silly little things. We often attach them to people and places, but feel let down when they don't meet our needs. You never know what to expect on the trail or when coming into town. That's what makes this journey so fantastic, I suppose. I live in a constant surprise of what my day will bring.

I met Sheri, John and father Fred in my first town stop. They invited us to sit at their table as we gorged down our burgers and beer. Kindred spirits from the moment we met. Fred had a homestead outside of Polbridge, Montana and Sheri and John were up for a quick visit from Ione, WA. We got to talking and realized that the PNT runs just outside of their riverside retreat, a few hundred miles in the future. I promised a visit when I got close.

Two weeks later, and I made it to Metaline Falls. I checked into the Historic Washington Hotel, a delightful resting spot for any hiker with laundry included in the $40 room! Onward to the 5th Avenue Bar and Grill for my favorite, a triple BLT no mayo extra beer. Naturally, the retired couple sitting behind me should be from a small village in the country of Montenegro, just miles from where I spent my early married summers. Zdravo! Kako si!? What a night we spent reminiscing of the Adriatic Coast!

After a delicious breakfast at Cathy's Cafe, I got ahold of John and Sheri and made my way to the neighboring town of Ione, Washington for a zero day with my new friends. We picked thimble berries all over their property and took the boat out for a ride up the Pend Orielle River, under the Orange Bridge, scouting out bald eagle nests. Sometimes, I get this feeling that I must be doing something very right in my life when I find myself filled with these perfect experiences. They treated me to dinner at Dillon's new hot spot, The Block... a hikers paradise. His place was packed with friendly locals, rounds of drinks, hip decor and delicious food. See for yourself, you won't be disappointed. Mary Kay and  DeLane (from the PNT board, who also own a kayaking company that can arrange a quick trip up the river to enhance your hike), met us at the bar. These trail angels are stations smack in the middle of Metaline Falls, and if any of you hikers don't at least make a quick stop to introduce yourselves, I will be personally offended.

The night ended with a jacuzzi bath (!!!) and hours of conversation, bonding me and my new friends as family. I don't quite know how to express my gratitude... all I can say is thank you from the top of my heart. 

The trail has been tough on me this past week, but I keep pushing forward, expectations on the side. Who could have guessed that I would be rewarded with one of the best days ever? My only regret was missing the Down River Days where all the neighboring towns come together and race their snowmobiles across the river... That's right, snowmobiles! I hope to be back next year to catch the extravaganza, but hikers, if you're in the area on the last weekend of July, you must check this out! It's a process, leaving your expectations behind, but life is so ridiculously full when you let go and just ride.

But I Just Walked 500 Miles... And I Could Walk 500 More

Oh Washington... why have you kept your state a secret from us? I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I started the PCT, and I wonder if I would have had the same optimism and confidence from the get-go if I did. It is far more challenging and rewarding than anything I could have imagined. Thank you. 

Washington pushed my limits, taught me lessons and built me memories. Most days, I whisper to myself, "I don't think it can get any better," and then it does... over and over again. Every struggle ends with a reward. There's so much sun after the lightning, thunder and hail. I've seen indescribable vistas, too. Even in the burn areas, resilient wildflowers are reclaiming life. I'm starting to understand the unstoppable force of nature. Humbled daily.

It took me exactly 1 month to walk across the state; some 507 miles with 110,572 feet of ups and 106,351 feet of downs. I began the first 2 weeks with my safety-starter-hiking-partner, Prom Date. What a force of a woman, and straight out of High School, too. She is a true inspiration who I will hold close to my heart for life. Thank you for helping me through the toughest parts. I don't know how I could have made it this far without you. 

I'm hiking solo now... something I need and enjoy. At the outset, I couldn't build a fire or pitch my tent properly. I still have a lot to learn, but I am comfortable out here. I hike in a constant feeling of being exactly where I am supposed to be.

The love of my life and my magnificent aunt picked me up in Cascade Locks to spoil me in Portland, as I resupply for the next state. Oh, how good it feels to be in their company and see their beautiful faces. I am a lucky lady, indeed.

Rosemary infused Bloody Mary at the Tin Shed in Portland

Animals? Well, I startled a bear, camped next to a howling wolf, was woken by screeching elk, chilled with the whistling marmots, stepped on a snake and was sucked dry by the mosquitos. Animals are far less worrisome than rain, fire and water supply.

Home sick? Not a bit. I spend my days reflecting on all the beautiful people in my life and I feel you all by my side as I hike.

Food? I love camping stoveless... until, of course, I taste a warm meal on trail. I'm enjoying my food, but should probably up the calories as the pounds start to shed. 

Weirdo Creepy People? None yet... but I've been carrying my ice axe close, just in case. 

Is it meeting your expectation? Blowing 'em to shreds.

No longer a section hiker

I love you, Washington. Thank you for taking care of me and making me a better person.

Enchanted Forest

Every day, I tell myself, this is the best day of my life. Everyday, it just keeps getting better. Even the tough ones with tears, end with me feeling accomplished and excited for what comes next.

After leaving Hart's Pass, we hiked hard and long in direct sun with little water. What a delight to find a flowing creek to bathe in, wash clothes and soak up some afternoon sun. We were somewhere after Mebee Pass in Okanogan National Park and entered the "Enchanted Forest." I have a new understanding for the beauty and delicacy of ferns. It was magical. It was gorgeous. Again, it felt like the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

We camped early and Julia built a small campfire. We both have been hiking stoveless and absolutely love it, but the best trail food to date was that hot quesadilla. As night fell, that magical forest transformed into the most terrifying pit of wilderness when we heard a wolf howl nearby in darkness. I don't care what anyone says, it was not a coyote, it was not an owl, IT WAS A WOLF and it was close. My trusty friend, the Ice Axe, did not leave my grip until sunrise. 

Yes yes yes!