Day One Hundred Fourteen

Today's miles: 21
Total miles: 2355

It was ridiculously windy last night, enough that the sound of my tent rattling kept waking me up. When I got up, it was an interesting chore trying to pack up my gear without it blowing away, particularly my tent, which turned into a kite and tried to lift me off the ground. Sunshine, who had packed up his stuff earlier, plopped himself in front of me and watched with rapt interest while he ate his oatmeal.
"Brambles, you're my TV," he informed me.
I laughed. "Well, I hope I'm being entertaining enough," I said, chasing down my tent once more.

Katie, Sunshine, Treekiller, Vince and I left camp before Wocka and Giddyup, and climbed out of Sheep Lake toward Sourdough Gap. It was a steep climb so early in the morning, but the fog rising up over the lake below was absolutely stunning.

We passed through the gap and to the other side of the mountain range, skirting ridgelines while we talked and watched the sun rise over the valley. It was another beautiful day. Sunshine and Treekiller couldn't resist stopping to throw rocks down the cliff, like boys are wont to do. We laughed about the fake names we had come up with last night and Sunshine and I tried to think of some more for our other friends. Our favorite was Boo Boo Kitty SoftPaws, who we affectionately renamed "Balls Balls Cock Sphincter Penis." Needless to say, she loved it.

Wocka and Giddyup soon caught us, and passed us, and when we stopped for our first break with Haggis, Running Commentary and Kitty, Rotisserie and Sansei caught us, too. Though we hadn't gone very far, no one was in the mood to hike today, so we took long, lazy breaks every four miles without shame. We stopped for an early lunch and then moved on in slow succession. We passed by Crystal Mountain ski resort, which was strange to see without snow since my last trip there looked like this. It also allowed us our last view of Rainier before it disappeared behind the mountains.

My feet were hurting more than usual today and I limped slowly down the trail. I tried to listen to podcasts to pass the time and discovered that the headphone adapter on my waterproof phone case was broken, so I regretfully walked in silence.

A common occurrence on ridge lines: "Look at that beautiful vie -- oh, hey! I have four bars!!"

Crystal Mountain ski resort, with Rainier behind

At 5:00 we reached the Mike Urich cabin, a shelter built for snowmobilers and snowshoers in the winter, but was often used by PCT hikers in the summer since it was directly on trail. Wocka and Giddyup had been there for an hour already when we arrived, since they didn't stop as often this afternoon. They had already eaten dinner and were packing up to do another five miles before nightfall.

Katie and I got to the cabin first, and while we waited for Sunshine, Treekiller and Vince to catch us, we debated whether or not we wanted to keep walking. There was plenty of time to do another five miles, but there was a big climb coming up and limited spots for camping and water, so it didn't seem too promising. Selfishly, I also wanted to stay because my feet were killing me and I had been looking forward to this cabin for half the day.

When the boys arrived, they were exhausted, too, and wanted to stay. We debated it for a short time but ultimately decided a night in this beautiful meadow was worth it. We sat on the stump logs making dinner, and when Rotisserie and Sansei caught up, Sansei built a large fire in the fire pit. The cabin was roomy inside, with a large first floor and a loft above, but we were worried about it being too stuffy and full of mice, so Katie, Sunshine, Vince and I lay out our ground tarps on the porch and planned to cowboy camp for the night. Rotisserie and Sansei found a spot in the trees behind the cabin and Treekiller parked himself at the foot of the porch.

Left to right: Sansei. Sunshine, Vince, Katie, Treekiller

Left to right: Vince, Sansei, Treekiller

We stayed up late enjoying the fire and talking together. Just as the sun set, we were surprised to have sudden visitors: three ATVers, an older man and a middle aged man and woman. They were just as surprised to see us there - I guess they were used to having the cabin to themselves most of the time. Either way, they had never heard of the PCT and were fascinated to see seven young people seemingly on their own in the woods. They were also completely smashed.
"We never drive dry!" the older man told us. This was an obvious invitation to do some first class hiker Yogi-ing, and Treekiller and Vince turned on the charm. Within minutes they had gone to the ATVs and brought back armloads of beers and whiskey to share.
It was loud chaos after that, a strange mix of garbled, drunken conversation from the two men, and ridiculous questions asked by the woman. She was completely beside herself that there were women hiking this really long trail. What were we thinking?!
"
So... so how do you get food?" she wanted to know.
Katie was patient and answered her questions. "We go into town to resupply."
"Town!" the woman was shocked. "There are towns on trail?!"
"Sometimes on trail," Katie agreed, "and sometimes we have to hitch off trail to get there."
"Hitch... like hitchhike?" this was also beyond her scope of understanding. "Oh my God. And you're not scared doing that as a woman by yourself?"
"Well, we're never by ourselves," Katie said, "and we're always careful. But everyone who has picked us up has been really nice. They know about thru-hikers."
"And... and how do you know where town is?" the woman asked.
We were trying not to laugh, but Katie was still being patient. "We have maps," she said. "They tell us where the towns are."
"Maps! And they tell you all that? And you can read them?"
"Yep. It helps us know where the campsites are, and the water sources, and town..."
"And... and..." the woman's eyes got really wide, "and what about - you know - that time of the month? Oh, dear. I shouldn't ask about that." She turned bright red and began laughing hysterically.
"It's fine," Katie laughed, "it's just a part of life out here. Not a big deal."

Meanwhile, Treekiller and Vince were listening, wide-eyed, to a very animated and very drunk gentleman of about seventy years of age who kept stealing Vince's hat. He was blabbering on about hunting or ATVing or something like that while Vince kept surreptitiously stealing his hat back every five minutes. I caught only the tail end of his conversation, when the middle aged man snorted, "Aw, hell, Ed, you can't even remember your own wife's name!"
"Can too!" Ed spluttered. "Her name's Daisy!"
"That's the dog's name, Ed!"

After thirty straight minutes of loud conversation, thirteen beers and a bottle of Fireball, the three ATVers suddenly yelled out a drunken, "good night! Good luck!" and disappeared again into the woods.

The rest of us sat in silent shock for several moments before Vince squalled, "What the hell just happened?!"
"That was definitely the craziest trail magic I've ever had," Treekiller agreed, finishing his beer.

We stayed up a little later after that, waiting for the fire to die down. Katie, Sunshine, Vince and I crawled into our sleeping bag cuddle-pile on the porch and watched the stars wink on, one by one. It was a beautiful night and I fell asleep with the breeze against my face and an elk bugling in the distance.

Day One Hundred Thirteen

Today's miles: 21
Total miles: 2334

We woke up this morning still laughing over last night's jokes, and since Katie's bag of tiny penis candies wasn't depleted, yet, we decided to have a little more fun with them. As Wocka, Giddyup, Treekiller, Katie, Sunshine and I walked the trail this morning, we placed colorful candies in our wake, all of them pointing the way to Canada. Later it would be hilarious to hear which hikers noticed them, which stopped to eat them, and which paused to reorient them north. We giggled like twelve year olds who just learned a dirty joke all day.

We had a small rock-hop ford this morning and stopped for a water fill-up. We were discussing pet peeves on trail, and Wocka said hers was when people hiked too closely behind her. In response, we all started singing, "Don't stand... don't stand... don't stand too close to me..." and laughing over it. As we got up to continue hiking, Sunshine jokingly began hiking so closely behind Wocka that he was practically tripping over her heels. But even funnier - Wocka didn't notice right away. When we all started laughing, she stopped suddenly to see what the commotion was, and Sunshine bumped into her, smashing against the rubber chicken strapped to the back of Wocka's pack, letting out a loud squack! sound. For some reason this was just hilarious, and we all had to pause to laugh before we could keep hiking.

We trooped along for six miles, and my stomach began grumbling for second breakfast. I can usually only make it five to seven miles in the morning before I run out of energy and have to eat something. Fortunately, we stumbled into a nice wooded campground near a river and discovered Running Commentary, Haggis and Kitty were already there - and they were making s'mores! Apparently it was Running Commentary's birthday, and Kitty had packed out a bunch of marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers from White Pass. They had a fire in the fire pit going strong and a lap full of s'mores fixin's and hot cider. We couldn't believe it. This was not normal thru-hiking procedure. An elaborate snack break this early in the morning? A fireS'mores?!
Usually we only allowed ourselves a long break at lunchtime, hardly ever a fire, and never s'mores. But today, no one argued protocol. Because we had walked 2,300 miles, dammit, and we could take spontaneous breaks when we wanted to!

Left to Right: Kitty, Giddyup, Wocka Wocka, Haggis

Bottom center clockwise: Haggis, Running Commentary, Treekiller, Katie, Sunshine, Kitty

And it was a delightful break. Even better - we were soon joined by good friends: Kudu and Alphabet Soup, and then Toots and Tears, who had been a few days ahead of us but took a zero in White Pass and now caught up. They came around the corner to find nine thru-hikers sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows on sticks as though we were car campers on an afternoon stroll.
We raised up a collective, "HEEEYYYY!!!" and had a wonderful reunion.

Soon all thirteen of us had forgotten the time - and hiking - and getting to Canada all together - and were simply torching marshmallows beyond recognition, discussing birthdays and zodiac signs, and laughing about penis candies.
"Who wants to only do twenty miles today??" Haggis yelled out, and we all cheered. Funny that twenty miles felt like a leisurely day, but cutting seven or eight miles off our daily total meant we wouldn't have to rush through our s'mores break. Today, the border was looming in our minds and we knew time with each other was precious, so we savored the moments where we found them.

When we finally rallied again, the thirteen of us trooped onward, climbing into Mt. Rainier National Park, where we were awarded with another stunning view of the mountain herself.

We hiked until an early afternoon lunch, then found ourselves walking beside a series of lakes along the trail. Today it was hot - very hot - and we were inspired to do something we hadn't for hundreds of miles: go for a swim. Apparently our s'mores break and our low mileage goal for the day was making us lazy, for no one objected to stripping down and jumping into the water to cool off. We plunged in, hearing Sunshine's familiar, "GETTING NAKED!", and Giddyup's cat-calls, as he submerged. I paddled lazily in the water, soaking in the sun's rays. These kinds of hiking days were so blissful, and care free, and I loved them.

It was late afternoon and we had only gone fourteen miles, but with six more to go, we knew we could knock the distance out in two hours. We came across a patch of wild blueberries not too far past the lake, and so we stopped once again to gather the fruit, eating half of it before it made it to our packs. What started as a short break became an elaborate affair: the hill was soon full of wandering hikers, crawling through blueberry bushes, trying to find the biggest fruit. Fingers and lips stained blue, we finally emerged and began climbing onward.

The climb was surprisingly difficult, but the views into the valley and over Chinook Pass were worth the effort. When we reached the pass, we discovered a trail angel named Brooke parked with a stove of hot chili, fresh apples, hard candies, and fresh baked cookies. We squealed with delight, taking what must have been our 137564th break of the day to enjoy this spontaneous magic. We talked with her about the weather: we heard it was supposed to start raining again soon, but Brooke made it sound as though it was still a few days away, and wasn't as threatening anymore. This calmed us a little, for we wanted to hold on to the sunshine while we still had it. All we needed was two more weeks of good weather and then we would be in Canada, safe and sound.

Back row: Kudu, Alphabet Soup, Katie, Vince
Front row: Giddyup, Wocka, Sunshine

After thanking Brooke for the food, we waved goodbye and climbed our final 1.5 miles to our campsite beside Sheep Lake. Since it was a spot so close to Chinook Pass, it was a popular spot for overnight hikers and had an array of tent spots around the lake. Though there was room for us all to spread out, we found ourselves cramming eight tents into one space so we wouldn't be apart: Katie, Treekiller, Tears, Toots, Giddyup and Wocka, Sunshine, and Vince - who had caught up to us again. Running Commentary, Haggis, Kitty, Kudu and Alphabet Soup were in a nearby camp and we later learned Rotisserie and Sansei caught up to us here, too, though we wouldn't see them until tomorrow.

We arrived in camp before nightfall, and so enjoyed cooking dinner together and launching into our own brand of humor once more: "Tomorrow's Friday," Toots pointed out, which prompted Tears to say, "Fake name Friday!"
It was a game we had started in Northern California, to have funny little games for each day, similar to "casual Fridays" or "hat Wednesdays" at an office. Except we weren't in an office. We were on the PCT, and so our games were a little more ridiculous. Wednesdays, for example, were "Real Name Wednesdays", when we jokingly switched back to calling each other Julia and Parker and Rachel. After so long calling each other our trail names, it was strange and funny to utter normal names like - Will and Robin - on our tongues.
"What's Fake Name Friday?" Vince asked, newly inducted into our group.
"Everyone gets a fake name for the day," Toots explained, "anything but your real name or your Trail name. Sometimes there are themes."
"Like scary Halloween names," suggested Tears. "But you have to make up a name that has the same initials as your trail name! That's a new rule."

We tossed around ideas while we ate, but as commonly happens with thru-hikers, our talk quickly devolved from scary names to porn star names to body part names. And pretty soon we were just naming everyone "cock" or "sphincter" and having a hilarious time of it. Tears for Beers became "Testes for Besties", Treekiller became "Testicle Kream" and our favorite was Giddyup's new moniker "Gooey Urethra" which just meant we were calling him "Gooey-Uey" for the rest of the night.

We laughed until our stomachs hurt and for the second night in a row, went reluctantly to bed. Deep in our hearts we knew our journey was coming to an end, and moments together like these were precious. We wanted to savor every laugh, every story, every second together and ignore that final Monument that was growing closer day by day, our ultimate driving force and our ultimate goodbye. It was the heartbreaking secret that no one wanted to admit: even as we desperately wanted to reach our goal, we also didn't want to lose each other, in the end. For how do you leave behind something so life changing?

Day One Hundred Twelve

Today's miles: 18
Total miles: 2313

Treekiller and I left camp at 7:00, before the hunters were awake. We were hoping that by getting on the trail early we could catch Wocka and Giddyup, who we thought had gone ahead of us last night and missed the turn-off for our Hidden Springs camp.

We climbed for a few miles to a beautiful overlook of Rainier and paused to soak in our final view of Goat Rocks before we dropped behind the mountain range. To our surprise, Wocka and Giddyup showed up right behind us, saying they had been too tired last night to make it more than a mile past their dinner spot and had camped on trail behind us. Together the four of us skirted the ridgeline until we dropped on the other side, descending toward White Pass. I lamented to Wocka that the one thing I was hoping to see in Goat Rocks was a mountain goat, but alas, they had eluded us yesterday.

Our downhill trail was destroyed in several places by some large washouts. By the look of it, they had happened recently, most likely in the heavy rainstorm when we got trapped in Trout Lake. The washouts were impressive to look at: the rock slides started at the top of the mountain and cut a heavy groove down the hill, completely obliterating chunks of trail as it rushed toward the valley floor. I had to climb over rocks and into ditches in order to catch up with the trail on the other side. As I was navigating one particular washout, I heard Wocka calling out behind me. I turned to look at her, but I was already deep into the ditch and she was hidden from sight. I crawled out again and saw her jumping up and down and pointing above me, yelling, "Bramble! Bramble, look!"

I turned to where she was pointing just in time to see a stark white mountain goat clinging gracefully to the peak of the mountain. He was balanced on a knife's edge without any trace of fear, his white coat cutting a striking image against the blue sky. It was a beautiful sight, and my breath caught happily. Mountain goats were some of my favorite animals, and I was glad to have finally seen one.

We continued hiking down, down, down through White Pass ski area, winding in and out of still ski lifts so frequently that I wished for some snow and a pair of skis so that I could get down the hill faster. We reached the bottom, eight miles from camp, at 10:30, and emerged on a highway. There was a Kracker Barrel convenience store down the road, which was pretty much the only notable thing about White Pass, but it held an important resupply for us, as well as two long-lost friends.

As we road walked to the store, I called Tanner and relayed to him my harrowing experience yesterday through Goat Rocks wilderness. I told him first how beautiful it was, and how much I wanted to visit again, but also how terrifying the PCT section was.
"The trail was so narrow and steep and the whole time I thought I was going to fall off the mountain!" I said. "And there were these big washouts that I had to jump over. I thought I was going to die."
"But you didn't," said Tanner, sounding nonplussed.
"But... but I almost did," I insisted. "It was really scary. It took me four hours to cover four miles! It was really high up. My knuckles were white the entire time!"
"But you made it; good job," he replied.
That was not the reaction I was expecting, so I blurted out loudly into the phone, "Tanner!! You are not showing the appropriate concern for this situation!!"
He laughed. "Babe, you've been battling the wilderness alone for four months, now. I know you're capable, and as long as you call me every so often, I'm okay with it."
I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. Leaving my fiancee for five months to hike in the remote, dangerous wilderness, I guess he had imagined worse scenarios than me walking a narrow and rocky ridgeline for four miles.

When we reached the store, Katie and Sunshine were already there waiting for us. We shared hugs and hellos and I've missed yous, and it was nice to have everyone together again, especially when Rotisserie and Sansei walked into town just after us and we got to have a reunion all over again.

Katie and Sunshine were both eager to get back on trail, Katie having spent two weeks off it to attend a wedding and visit home, and Sunshine having spent a week at my house letting his feet recover. But the rest of us had had a hell of a week, between rainstorms and crazy terrain and a long stretch of hiking with dwindling supplies, we were ready for a break. Usually getting into a resupply town meant a night in a hotel, a chance to kick up our feet and some time to plan our resupply. But White Pass was less of a "town" and more of a "single convenience store at an out-of-season ski resort." There wasn't much to do but buy a sandwich lunch and sit in the store charging our phones and going through our resupply boxes. Sunshine brought my resupply from Portland (it was such a relief to have a full bag of food again after eating scraps for days), along with my rainpants and the umbrella I requested. I opted to leave my waterproof boots behind, not wanting to risk hiking the last 350 miles in unbroken shoes. I thought it was a good choice at the time, though I would later come to regret my decision. (A note to anyone who is thinking about hiking the PCT in the future: I highly recommend switching from trail runners to waterproof hiking boots in Washington. I know it's difficult to go from a soft, comfortable, broken in shoe to a stiff boot after 2300 miles of hiking, but trust me, when the weather is bad, a boot will be 100% worth it. That is all.)

Though we were able to rest and relax in White Pass all afternoon, our biggest regret was not being able to take a shower. We had already been hiking for five days since Trout Lake, and eight days since our last true "day off" in Portland, so we were getting a bit fried (and stinky). We had covered over 150 miles in that time, after all! Fortunately, our next true town stop, Snoqualmie Pass, was only 77 miles from here, a distance we could cover in just over three days.

We stayed until 2:30 and then slowly made moves toward getting back on trail. We planned to go ten miles to a campsite on Snow Lake, which would make today a reasonable 18 mile day, not too bad for having a resupply in the middle. Wocka, Giddyup, Treekiller, Katie, Sunshine and I struck out into the woods, hiking through some beautiful forested areas again. It was nice having our full group to walk with again. Treekiller and I started out solo eight days ago and we had been slowly picking up group members as we went. We were just missing Rotisserie and Sansei again, who had stayed a little later at the store and planned on doing a few miles less than us tonight. They planned to catch up again tomorrow.

Our campsite was just off trail near Snow Lake, and it was lovely and spacious, which was fortunate because we were soon joined by Alphabet Soup, Kudu, Haggis, Running Commentary, and Kitty, making our total count eleven people and eight tents. Sunshine, still breaking in his new boots, hiked slowly at the back of the group and caught up a little after us.
"WE'RE OVER HERE, SUNSHINE!" Treekiller yelled to him across the meadow when we saw his blue hat bobbing down the trail.
"OK!" Sunshine yelled back. "I'M GOING TO POOP AND I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!"
We laughed. "HOPE EVERYTHING COMES OUT OKAY!" we yelled back.

We set up tents in a cozy little circle: mine beside Treekiller's, beside Katie's, beside Wocka and Giddyup's, beside Kudu and Alphabet Soup's, beside Kitty's, beside Haggis and Running Commentary's. We had made it into camp at the shockingly early hour of 6:30, which was a delight to everyone. Since we walked so many miles these days, and the days were getting shorter, it was common that we set up our tents in the dark. Getting in early meant we could eat dinner before the sun set and actually have time to chat with each other before going to bed. We had such fun chatting, too. I had forgotten Sunshine's knack of turning any mundane situation into a hilarious one, and soon we were all laughing at ridiculous jokes and stories as we ate.

We asked about Sunshine's feet, and he told us about his doctor's appointment last week. "The doctor had an intern in the room with him, so as he looked at my feet he was telling the intern what was going on. But he was talking so fast! He had me stand up, and balance on one foot, and do all these weird poses, and the whole time he's rattling off my diagnosis at a million miles an hour with words I didn't understand. I felt like I was at an auction!"
We laughed and I quipped with solemn seriousness, "'Well, my foot didn't get fixed, but now I own a timeshare in Miami...!'"

A little later in the evening, Katie was relaying stories about the wedding she went to, and how she had missed the bachelorette party because she was on the trail.
"But look what the bride gave me since I couldn't be there!" she whipped out of her pocket a small bag of colorful candy - colorful penis shaped candy.
Well, all hell broke loose after that. You can't show a bag of penis candy to a bunch of people who have been living in the woods for four months and not expect hours and hours of outright hilarity. We passed them around to share and it seemed there was no end to the number of jokes we were able to crack:
"Oooh, how cute, they're so small!"
"I want a raspberry flavored penis!"
"How many do you think I can fit in my mouth??"
"This one has blue balls...."
From one of the boys: "Well, I can honestly say this is the first time I've eaten dick."
From one of the lesbians: "Mine, too!"
"I wonder if they make these in a gusher version?!"
"Or cream filled?"
"Anyone want another penis?"

We were laughing so hard that we were practically rolling around in the dirt, clutching our sides to keep them from splitting. Though it was way past hiker bedtime, no one wanted to leave the circle yet. We were having entirely too much fun.

Eventually we wiped tears of laughter from our eyes and bid goodnight to each other, crawling into our tents and going through our usual bedtime routine: changing into sleep clothes, blowing up our sleeping pads, crawling into our sleeping bags, turning off our headlamps. As I closed my eyes, the last thing I heard was Sunshine calling out joyfully to us from his tent: "Tonight was my highlight!"

Day One Hundred Eleven

Today's miles: 18
Total miles: 2295

Despite my excitement for today, I slept in until 7:00 and was still the first to leave with Treekiller before Wocka and Giddyup got up.

Treekiller and I walked three miles to Cispus Pass, the start of the Goat Rocks Wilderness. The terrain became dramatically different right away; we were walking through wide-open spaces of mountains and valleys, and as we grew closer to the pass, Mt. Adams loomed in our periphery, basked in morning light. The path to the pass edged around a deep valley bowl, and the views into the distance were stunning. I kept a keen eye out for mountain goats, for I heard they were prevalent in this area.

When we got to the top of the pass, we stopped to soak in the view with Mudd and Dingo, who had somehow passed us this morning and made it to the top before us. It was so windy that it was difficult to sit still, but no one wanted to leave this beautiful gateway so soon. We met a group of four older men who were out backpacking for the weekend, and we had a wonderful chat about the PCT. They had hiked Goat Rocks many times in the past, and when they heard we were seeing it for the first time, they were ecstatic for us.
"It's gorgeous here," they sighed. "And the weather today is supposed to be amazing! You're going to love it."

When Giddyup and Wocka caught up to us, we descended the backside of the pass and into Cispus Basin, stopping to talk to more weekend hikers along the way. One said he had seen a whole herd of mountain goats in his camp last night, but so far we hadn't spotted any. We moved slowly through the stunning landscape, practically giddy with the beauty of it. No one was in any hurry to get to White Pass; we were more than happy to do fewer miles today so that we could appreciate our surroundings.

Cispus Basin

Cispus Basin

We passed through Snowgrass Flats and then began climbing in elevation very quickly. The terrain was unforgiving, but the expansive views were breathtaking. I hiked with my camera in hand, snapping photos every few minutes as each passing scene grew more lovely. The higher we climbed, the more patches of snow we saw, until we crested a hilltop and saw two things simultaneously: a glacier snowfield and Mt. Rainier in all her glory, rising up on the other side of the valley. The snowfield was fun to cross; we hadn't seen snow since the Sierras, and even then, there wasn't much.

Mt. Adams and Snowgrass Flats

Mt. Adams and Snowgrass Flats

Bramble and Mt. Rainier

Bramble and Mt. Rainier

Crossing the Packwood Glacier

Crossing the Packwood Glacier

At the top we paused with the dayhikers to take in the view, and then turned our sights toward our next challenge: Old Snowy Mountain.

The PCT diverged here into two trails: a horse pack trail and a hiker "alternate." The alternate went to the peak of Old Snowy while the horse trail took a more level route around the center of the mountain until it met back up with the alternate. There was a group of PCT volunteers working on the horse trail, since much of it had been washed out with the recent rain. We learned the climb up Old Snowy was worth taking the hiker alternate, so up we went. Sansei and Rotisserie, who caught up to us by then, decided to take the horse route and avoid the higher trail, since Rotisserie wasn't a fan of heights. The trail to the top zigzagged around rocks and narrow drops, very steep but never too harrowing. When Treekiller, Wocka, Giddyup and I reached the rocky summit, we decided it was a perfect spot to stop for lunch. We found an area behind some rocks so we were protected from the wind, and enjoyed warm meals while gazing out over Mt. Adams, Mt. Rainier, and the valley below. We were shockingly high above it all, but the height merely made the view more stunning.

Snowgrass Flats

Snowgrass Flats

Wocka Wocka on Old Snowy

Wocka Wocka on Old Snowy

Giddyup and Mt. Rainier

Giddyup and Mt. Rainier

Mt. Adams

Mt. Adams

Wocka and Giddyup having lunch

Wocka and Giddyup having lunch

Mt. Rainier

Mt. Rainier

After lunch we realized we had only gone six miles, which was pretty laughable. But today we were determined not to crunch away the miles as we did every other day. White Pass, after all, was only 20 miles away and we were in no hurry.

We descended down the opposite side of Old Snowy, which was titled in my maps as the "Knife's Edge." I quickly learned the reason why. The trail was incredibly, frighteningly steep, dropped down thousands of feet in elevation on either side, and covered in loose pieces of shale so that every step I took moved under my shoes. I had to constantly battle to keep from losing my balance and slipping off the edge of the mountain. My heart hammered through the first mile downhill, and when the PCT met back up with the horse trail, I hoped it would level out.
But I was wrong.

For the next four miles I traversed over some of the most terrifying and most beautiful terrain on the entire PCT. The Knife's Edge curled up and down the very crest of the mountain peaks, with merely a foot of space between myself and a long fall down the valley. I gripped my trekking poles until my knuckles turned white, carefully picking my way through the loose scree, washed out sections of trail, and terrifying height. I have never been a fan of heights - in fact, I'm quite scared of them - but I have spent most of my life at the top of one thing or another, and I have learned to manage my fear pretty well. In fact, I can usually stomach heights as long as I'm getting something in return, such as a view so fantastic that it can be seen no other way.

But today's hike challenged every brave front I have ever put up for myself. The views were indeed some of the most amazing sights I have ever seen, but the precariousness of the hike was so terrifying that it was battling my inner courage. I walked slower than ever before - not more than a mile an hour - clutching my trekking poles and calling out in fear to Treekiller every time he disappeared around a corner. It wasn't the climbs that were scary - going up felt much safer - it was the descents that made me feel as though gravity would simply pull me down, down, down the slick shale and into the abyss.

Treekiller, Giddyup and Wocka on the descent of Old Snowy

Treekiller, Giddyup and Wocka on the descent of Old Snowy

Bramble on the descent of Old Snowy

Bramble on the descent of Old Snowy

Treekiller with Mt Rainier

Treekiller with Mt Rainier

Our trail travels over the shale and along the tops of those peaks

Treekiller was doing much better than I was, and though I was making steady ground, every time I paused on the trail my legs would lock up and I would have a hard time motivating myself to move again, especially when I had to jump through thin air over a washout and hope I'd hit ground again on the other side. Treekiller often paused to make sure I was doing okay, but usually he was out of sight and I would have to be my own cheerleader. I knew Rotisserie was more frightened of heights than I was, and at that moment I wished she were hiking with me so that we could keep each other brave.

I began to sing to myself, to take my mind off my footsteps. I took deep breaths, pausing every now and again to soak in the view. Truly, it was amazing, and even as scared as I was, I wasn't sorry I was walking this trail. It was proof again that I would battle my deepest fears to reach these perfect moments of unadulterated happiness. Goat Rocks Wilderness was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen.

Treekiller following the bendy trail North (you can see it on the right side of the photo)

Treekiller following the bendy trail North (you can see it on the right side of the photo)

Treekiller following the Knife's Edge over the peaks

Treekiller following the Knife's Edge over the peaks

Looking back toward Old Snowy

Looking back toward Old Snowy

After a very terrifying/exhilarating four hours, I reached the end of the Knife's Edge and began the descent on the backside of the mountains. There were large swaths of snow here, and ice cold rivers were flowing from them and into the valley. I picked my way across them, feeling my tense muscles start to ease, leaving behind exhaustion that soaked all the way down to my bones. When I caught up to Treekiller, the two of us plopped on the ground and took a few moments to catch our breaths. We had only gone ten miles and it was nearing 5:00.

We moved slowly along the trail, dropping dramatically in elevation over the next five miles. We caught up with Giddyup and Wocka in the forest where they were making dinner and collecting water. Treekiller and I were hoping to make it to a campsite called Hidden Springs, which was 3/10 mile off trail but had a reliable water source. It was only three miles further, but those three miles felt like torture. We wound through a forested trail, skirting ridges and climbing again. Everything in my body wanted to fall down and sleep. We finally made it to the campsite at 7:00, and though we left a note for Wocka and Giddyup, they either passed us last night or dropped behind, for they never met up with us. Likewise, Rotisserie and Sansei must have been farther ahead, for we didn't catch them.

The campsite was larger than expected and had a nice flat area for tents in a forest clearing. As Treekiller and I set up our gear, we realized that we weren't alone here. Two bow hunters dressed in camo were camped around the corner with three of their horses. In the past few weeks we have seen dozens of hunters on trail every day, since it was open bow season for elk. The younger hunter, named Bill, came over to say hello.
"Are you guys hungry?" he asked.
My body stilled and my eyes lit up. Since I had left most of my lunch meat at home in Portland by accident, I was running dangerously low on food and had been living on scraps for the past few days. Tonight the only thing I had to look forward to was a tortilla and a bit of peanut butter.
"We're always hungry," Treekiller laughed in reply.
"Well, my friend Dave and I have camp set up just over there," Bill said, "we're going to be making some elk burritoes in a bit and we have a lot. You're welcome to join us, if you'd like."
I couldn't think of anything I wanted more at that moment.

Treekiller and I wandered over to the hunter's camp after getting our tents set up, and the four of us sat around chatting while Dave and Bill whipped up an amazing skillet of elk meat, onions, peppers, and spices. They laid out slices of cheese, large floury tortillas and butter on a make-shift table they had crafted from bits of wood.
We learned they came here every year during elk season, and this was their favorite spot to set up shop. In good years they caught up to 500 pounds of elk meat and carted it home on the backs of their horses. This year they hadn't been as lucky, and though they had been hunting in the area for a week, they hadn't caught anything yet.

Treekiller and I told them stories about what it was like to be a thru-hiker, and Dave and Bill seemed fascinated by the culture and the fortitude that comes with hiking for months on end. It was both cathartic and delightful to sit and talk with them for hours. Treekiller and I gobbled down a large 14" burrito in seconds and then surreptitiously eyed the rest of the meat still sitting in the skillet. Dave and Bill seemed content with one burrito each, but they laughed at our hungry eyes and told us, "have as much as you'd like!"

Between us, Treekiller and I polished off the rest of the food, and I was incredibly happy to have a full stomach when I had been expecting nothing but peanut butter. As a bonus, the hunters pulled out a bin of freshly baked cookies, and so it was a fun evening spent with new friends and trail angels.

We stayed up later than expected talking, but it was well worth the loss of sleep, and a delightful end to an amazingly gorgeous day on trail.