There are so many wonderful things about long distance hiking: the spectacular views, how your body feels after exercising all day for weeks, being out in nature round the clock. My favorite thing about long distance hiking, though, is the amazing community of people. I have met so many wonderful people on my hikes.

I met one such person as I embarked on the second leg of my journey.

Leaving the town of Patagonia, AZ, the trail follows a dirt road for 7 miles. Road walking is not my favorite. It's easy hiking, for sure. But more often than not, it's pretty boring. Just trudging along, kicking up dust, and looking out for passing pick up trucks. Thank goodness for iPods. 

I reached the trailhead at the end of the dirt road just before sunset, giving me enough time to set up camp and  check out the water source before dark.  The camping area at the trailhead was shared by a small RV, the owner was nowhere in sight.

After getting my tent up and changing into camp clothes, the owner of the RV, returned from a hike, approached my camp to say hello. 

"Oh, it's nice to have some company." he said. "I haven't seen many people along this stretch of trail for a while."

He then told me that he had cooked up a big batch of chili earlier in the day. "I was actually thinking that it would be nice to share the chili with somebody and now, here you are! I'd love to offer you some dinner, if you would like to join me."

How can you turn down an offer like that?

Turns out this guy, Al, is retired and spends the winter months traveling around in his RV with his border collie, Nellie. In the summer, he hails from Colorado. 

So we ate some delicious chili (with chicken and green chillies), compared travel experiences, suggested hiking spots, and told stories. Nellie looked on, hoping for some dropped food and staring at Al adoringly. 

In the morning, as I finished packing up camp, Al came over with the offer of coffee or hot chocolate before starting out for the day. 

On the trail and in life, trail angels abound. Sometimes you just have to keep your eyes open and accept an offer of friendship, no matter how brief. It makes the walking so much sweeter. 

On February 24, I started on my 3rd thru-hiking adventure, the Arizona Trail. By this time, having conquered both the AT and the PCT, I considered myself a bit of a long trail veteran. At 800 miles, the AZT is significantly shorter than my previous 2 hikes, I figured that I had this one in the bag. I'd breeze through it, burning up those 800 miles and add another patch to the backpack. Easy Peasy. 

The trail had other plans. 

It wasn't long at all before the AZT taught me a thing or two about hiking. Luckily, I'm a fast learning.

1) This isn't the PCT
The PCT is a beautifully maintained trail, free of rocks and debris. It is gently graded for pack animals and offers gradual climbs up the mountains. The PCT had spoiled me to a large degree. I was expecting to pull 20 mile days right off the bat. But this isn't the PCT.

The AZT starts off with a 3000 foot climb in the first 5 miles, up to 9000 feet. It doesn't gently acclimate you to the elevation. And it's windy. Windy and cold and dry. 

Day one had me feeling the elevation and the steep inclines. It had me cursing the slow pace I had to maintain in order to climb those first 5 miles. It had me huffing and puffing and realizing pretty quickly that my 20 plus mile day pace was a pipe dream. Luckily, I always carry more food than I think I'll need.

2)  This isn't the AT
The AT is a single trail that stretches from Georgia to Maine. It is clearly marked at regular intervals with white blazes- on trees, on rocks, on fence posts. It is almost impossible to get lost on the AT. But this isn't the AT.

The AZT is more like a collection of existing trails that are connected by road walks and connector trails stretching from Mexico to Utah. A day's hike may take you on 5 or more trails as they criss cross their way along. Most of the time, the trail changes are marked with AZT signs or stickers. But not all of the time. It is quite easy to make a wrong turn on the AZT.

Which I did. On day one. 

Leading me in a wandering, meandering path in the wrong direction.

3) I'm not in love with the shape of me
This past winter, I had a bout of the flu. Which turned into pneumonia. And then a lingering bronchitis that lasted for weeks.  So when people would ask me "How are you training for your hike?", my answer was: "Trying not to get sick again."  That was pretty much it. Try not to get sick.

On the bright side,  I was able to make it to my start date without getting sick again. On the other hand, I wasn't nearly in the shape I had hoped to be in on day one.

Combine my lack of fitness with the difficulty of the trail and the confusing side trails and the result was: making poor decisions. Such as- continuing down a trail that I KNEW was going in the wrong direction. Pushing on when I KNEW I should stop and eat something. Making landmarks fit the trail description in the guidebook, rather than looking for the correct landmarks. 

For somebody who considered herself a long trail veteran, I was making an awful lot of rookie mistakes!

4) The trail will provide
No matter what the trail, it always provides. More accurately, the trails are filled with trail angels who appear at just the right time to give you just what you need.

Just as I was finally accepting the fact that I needed to backtrack until I found the right trail, I ran into a couple of day hikers. The confirmed that I was, in fact, on the wrong side of the mountain. But I was close to the trailhead they started on, so they offered to give me a ride back into the town of Sierra Vista where I could regroup and get myself back to the trail.

And the very next day, I was able to secure a ride to the next section of trail from another trail angel. 

I sure wasn't expecting to spend my very first night on the AZT in a hotel in town.  But I sure was happy I learned these lessons early on.

​

Last year, around this time, I wrote a post about the things I would do differently then next hike.  I believe it's always a good idea to take time and process what you have learned from big experiences. This year, though, I'm processing things a bit differently. This time, I'm remembering the the things that went right! 

TIMING IS EVERYTHING
Last year, as I got off the trail, I remember thinking that it was just a really tough year for a thru-hike. Too little rain, to many years of no rain. Too many fires, too much smoke. And while there were hikers who finished the trail, they were either just a little ahead of me, or just a little behind me to catch a better hiking window through Oregon and  Washington.

This year, as I got back on the trail, I remember thinking "What a great year to finish this hike!" A snowier winter meant more water and fewer fires. Great weather meant a longer window for good hiking. And my start date for hiking could not have been better. It put me right at the center of the herd with folks whose hiking speed seemed to match up with mine over the last 2 weeks on the trail. 

You don't always get great timing like this. You end up getting somewhere just a smidgen too late to get that great deal. Or a tiny bit earlier than opening time so you end up shivering in the cold. My timing last year was like that more often than not. I spent a lot of time trying to catch up with people or waiting for somebody else to catch up with me. I spent a lot of time waiting in towns for packages. I spent time trying to wait out fires. This year, the timing was so perfect, it seemed almost pre-planned. And while I'd like to take credit for it and say it was my perfect analytical hike planning ability, that would be a complete lie. It feels a lot more comfortable to say that things all fell into place because that's how things were supposed to work out. 

WORK WITH THE WEATHER
I talked about this before in  a different post. I'm still so amazed at my weather luck, though, that I'm gonna talk about it again. Three big storms during my hike. All three hit as I was walking into town. All three storms blew out after a zero day in town. The time between storms was exactly enough time to get to the next town. Perfect!

It wouldn't have been perfect, though, had I been too attached to predicted milage and spreadsheets or felt the need to adhere to a rigid schedule. I actually hiked into town in these storms with other hikers who stopped only long enough to pick up a package and then hitch back out to the trail during the worst of the storm. Hikers who purposely climbed up to 7000 feet, above the snow line during the storm because they wanted to finish on a certain date or a certain time. More often than not, the bad weather they encountered held them up longer than if they had just stayed in town. More often than not, they got a bit hypothermic. Hypothermia sucks!

So it really was a combination of good luck plus good choices. Whenever you are faced with the choice of altering plans to accommodate the weather or sticking to your original plans - to hell with the weather-- make the smart choice. The weather always wins.

Your dreams will wait for you
Unlike the weather, which is a narcissist, your dreams are kind and gentle and patient. If you get sidetracked or thrown off course, your dreams will still be there for you when you get back on track. (See TIMING IS EVERYTHING, above)

This was advice I was really good at giving, but not so good at following before this year. I don't know how many times I said to people "Don't worry, the trail isn't going anywhere", "The mountain isn't going anywhere", "School isn't going anywhere" when their plans were changed. For myself, though, I always felt like I had to finish in one fell swoop. 

I started the AT with a hiker who had to get off trail at Harper's Ferry because of a family emergency. The next year, when she was finishing the trail, I got to meet her in Virginia and then again in Vermont. I remember thinking that 2014 was a much better year weather-wise than 2013. I remember actually being a little jealous that she got summit views that weren't all fog. I remember thinking that even though it was really important to me to complete the AT in one stretch, that this half and half approach was no less of an accomplishment. It actually seemed a bit more fun.

Then I got to experience that scenario firsthand. You know what? Two really long section hikes are just as grand as one really long thru hike. And possible a bit more fun.

HIKER TRASH ARE THE MOST WONDERFUL PEOPLE
One thing I was a bit nervous about restarting this year was that I would be solo far more than last year. That since the other hikers would be in groups established far earlier in the year, I would not fit into any of those groups. That maybe I'd be a bit lonely. Silly me!! I forgot all about hiker trash culture.

Hikers are the most accepting, helpful, friendly people you could ever hope to meet. We look out for one another. We make sure everyone is okay. We share what we have. We have a good time, laugh, make memories and become friends for life. I am never lonely on the trail.

I know other people who have found their hiker-trash tribe off the trail. They find them in running clubs or dog training or cross fit. They find them in book clubs, cooking classes, music groups. Life is so much better when you find and connect with your hiker trash friends. 

SHORT CAN BE SWEET
Okay, let me say first that I know that 850 miles isn't exactly a short hike. But compared with 2200 miles and 1800 miles, it's, well, kind of short. Long enough to lose the excess weight I put on over the winter. Long enough to get my hiking legs back. But not so long that I became obsessed with miles. Not so long that I just wanted it to be over, already.

That was kind of nice. 

I love long distance hiking. I love it. But this year, I learned that I love-- well-- medium distance hiking, as well. When I'm not obsessed with miles, I take a bit more time to swim in lakes or sleep in when I'm extra tired or take an extra long lunch at a scenic peak. That's pretty nice. 

So even though everyone says that my next logical step after competing the AT and the PCT is to conquer the CDT, I'm savoring the idea of a medium distance trail. 

​With all these trail lessons fresh in my mind, I can't wait to start planning!

 

yWhen I was hiking through Oregon and Washington, I had some well intentioned plans of meeting friends along the way. I figured I could see friends as I crossed trailheads close to their homes, possibly arrange zeros there. I'd catch up and do day hikes with them. This hike was going to be a friend-fest!

Much easier said than done.

In reality, there are many things that interfere with these well intentioned plans. Weather holding me up in towns. Crossing trailheads close to their homes at 10 am on Thursday when everyone is at work. Car trouble. Traffic trouble. Kids in school trouble. In reality, those well intentioned plans sometimes don't plan out.

Fortunately, I was not on a strict schedule to get back home. So when my friend-fest didn't pan out while I was hiking, I could plan a post hike friend-fest with the help of a rental car. A 2017 Volkswagen Beetle I promptly named "George".  (The obvious choice of name would be Ringo, but my favorite Beatle song has always been "While My Guitar Gently Weeps". So George it was!)

I was able to reconnect with friends from Massachusetts - Rich and Anne- and their 2 year old son, whom I had not met yet. We were able to take their boat out on the lake on a great, sunny and crisp early autumn day.

I met Shutterbug in Seattle for lunch. I hiked with Shutterbug a little last year, and got a ride into town to find cell service near Kennedy Meadows from his dad, Nomad Max. 

I hung out with some friends and former co-workers, Christy and Will. I always KNEW they'd eventually end up in a house on a hill side with chickens and a huge garden, brewing beer and baking  bread and coaching soccer for their daughter. I just had to go and see to make sure. 

My friend, Dana, just closed on her house. So it was an exciting time to be there. Plus, it was her daughter's birthday!  I can think of no better way to spend a visit to an old friend than shopping for birthday party decorations!!

I stopped in Portland for brunch with my hiking buddy Diogenes from the PCT class of 2015.

And then there's my friend, Adam. We have a joke that Adam should open a camp for adult at his house so that others can experience all the things he posts about on Facebook. I hit Camp Adam on a good weekend. We watched football, extracted honey from his hive, and brewed beer in his garage. SWEET!

On these very different visits, there were some constants. 1) Everyone had lots of projects in various states of completion. (The sign of a happy and productive household, in my opinion)   2) Everyone tried to feed me way more food than was necessary. (Sign of an excellent host!) and 3) Everyone had really happy kids. Except Adam, who doesn't have kids. He had really happy bees. The filled a 5 gallon bucket with honey. 

Nothing completes an epic adventure quite like seeing old friends. 

A day on the lake with Rich and Anne

Sunny skies in Seattle with Shutterbug

Mom and birthday girl

Bees, bees, bees

Brewing up some beer

A taste of honey

I awoke my last day of hiking refreshed as only a night of sleeping outside when the night is cold and your tent is warm can provide. Later, after I got home, I would tuck my niece into bed and she'd say "Oh! I love my bed!". Then we'd talk about how I loved my tent and my sleeping bag in that exact same way. I was so happy I had chosen to stay one more night outdoors. I wasn't quite ready to move indoors.

Technically, I was done with the PCT, but I still had 5 more miles to go to get to Manning Park and the road, where you could get to either Vancouver or Seattle.  The morning was foggy, but not significantly cold. (It had been a while since I woke up this low in elevation.) My camping companions from the night before were all still sleeping soundly. And a few more tents had appeared in the night; more thru-hikers who wanted one last night outside or who didn't want to push the miles the night before. They were all sleeping soundly, too. I did my usual thing; I was the first one up and out of camp, just as the sun was climbing over the horizon.

I was anticipating a tough hike into Manning Park. All along the PCT, I had mixed feelings about how well maintained and gently graded it was. On the one hand, it's nice to not be constantly climbing over downed trees and balancing on rocks. On the other hand, hiking is not SUPPOSED to be a walk in the park. After the terminus yesterday, I had crossed into Canada on a trail that was no longer officially the PCT. And the next four miles were rocky and steep and uneven and rollercoaster-y. Suddenly, it wasn't a walk in the park anymore. I got up early and got moving partially because I expected the last 5 miles to be just like that.

Fortunately for me, the last 5 miles were not like that at all. I was racing the weather to Manning Park and i was happy to get any advantage I could against the threat of rain.   1.2 miles into the day, the trail joined Windy Joe Road, a dirt road that ran down toward Manning Park. It was graded for vehicles and made for quick and easy hiking. Very thoughtful of you, Canada!

As I got closer to Manning Park Lodge, I had an unexpected surprise: runners! There was a trail race going on and as I hiked down toward the lodge, they were running up toward the peaks of Windy Joe and Frosty Mountain. All the way down to the last one mile section of paved road, I was saying good morning and high fiving runner. They congratulated me on finishing; I wished them luck in the race.  So far, Canada was turning out to be great!

Once I found the lodge, I quickly located the restaurant which I was told had a great breakfast buffet. Since I am an early riser, I had to wait until the dining room actually opened for breakfast. I made the most of the time by washing up in the bathroom (one thing indoor living does have going for it is running water!) and reconnecting with the rest of the hikers waiting for the restaurant to open. I ended up eating with Toe Touch and Spreadsheet. Breakfast was delicious and filling. And when I left the restaurant, the first drops of rain were starting to fall. Impeccable timing once again. Thanks, Canada!

To get to Vancouver from Manning Park, there is a bus that comes at 2 am. I wasn't thrilled about such a long wait. But since I had arrived on a Saturday, I figured that my chances of hitching were better than usual. I had been looking out the window during breakfast and noticed a lot of Subarus and Jeep vehicles on the road. (Drivers of those cars are more likely to pick up sad looking people with their thumbs out. Ask any hiker you know)  I found myself a piece  of cardboard and a sharpie to fashion a sign for hitching. "PCT hiker to Vancouver or Seattle", it read (mentioning a trail greatly increases the chances of a ride). I took my sign and stepped out the front door of the lobby, and got a ride. I didn't even have to go to the road! No, I just stepped out the door with my sign and a guy said "Trying to get to Vancouver? I can drive you. Are you okay waiting until the end of the trail race?" Canadians...they're awesome!

Now, since I had a couple hours to kill before hitting the road, I inquired at the front desk to see if there were showers that hikers could use, perhaps for a fee? Not just showers, but a whole spa building complete with a pool, hot tub, steam room, and sauna. (There was a workout room, too, but I felt okay skipping the treadmill and weights today). All were at my disposal for the price of $5.00 Canadian. I love Canada!

​What a great way to end a great hike.

Stehekin was our last stop for resupply before the end of the trail. It is a tiny town just south of North Cascades National Park. The only ways to get to Stehekin are by walking (as I did), by boat (on the ferry Lady of the Lake), or by seaplane. No driving to Stehekin! It is right on the edge of Lake Chelan, (Washington's largest natural lake) deep in a canyon with steep rising mountains on either side. This place was remote! Totally off the grid with no cell service or wifi . Many of the people we encountered in Stehekin said they came to a Stehekin for that very reason; nobody from work could get in touch with them.

The trail crosses a road 11 miles south of Stehekin town lines and a shuttle runs from the trailhead to town 4 times a day until October. (although there are no roads TO Stehekin, there are roads within the township itself. I guess they bring the cars over by boat!) 

We had camped about 6 miles from the road the night before in order to get to the trailhead for the 9:00 am shuttle. Though we had been enjoying beautiful weather for the past 4 days, this morning was COLD! I was hiking in my tights, wind shirt, gloves and hat. I got to the road about 20 minutes before the shuttle was expected, and I quickly pulled out my puffy jacket and found a sunny spot to wait. The ranger came out while we were waiting, and gave us a brief reminder about bear safety and fire restrictions over the remaining section of trail. Finally, the shuttle arrived and a large group of hikers exited the shuttle before we got on. Amongst the hikers was Butterfly, Turbo, and Spreadsheet, who I hadn't seen since Cascade Locks. We said a quick hello before I got on the shuttle and they got on the trail.

The shuttle rolled on down the dirt road and somehow, it was getting COLDER. Anyone who has spent time in the outdoors (or has driven over a bridge in the winter) knows that close proximity to water makes for colder temperatures. Lake Chelan paired with the steep walls of the canyon on either side (and the subsequent shade) made for frigid temps. By the time we got to the famous bakery outside of town, all I wanted was a hot chocolate. (though I did buy some goodies. Who am I trying to fool? Hiking makes me hungry) When we got to town, I wanted a hotel room with a heat source and a hot shower.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) there were no more hotel rooms left in town, so I headed out to one of the few sunny spots, near the boat landing, and soaked up the sun until I stopped shivering. Once I warmed up, I was able to resupply, then take a shower, and do laundry in the public showers and laundromat. I had been taking a gamble by no sending a resupply box to Stehekin, going by messages on the PCT Facebook group. The good news is, the store had enough or a decent resupply. The bad news is, several hikers hit the hiker box before me so I was not able to supplement there.

By this time, the sun had climbed high enough in the sky to clear the steep canyon walls and it went from absolutely freezing to absolutely roasting. I was then hunting for shade. I went to the spot by the boat launch to get my stuff and discovered that I had placed my stuff a little too close to the boat launch. One of my trekking poles was missing-- it had apparently been loaded onto the last ferry with a pile of baggage. Thankfully, my pack was still there, along with one trekking pole, so I was okay.  I was also much warmer, cleaner, and had combed out my hair, so I had no need for a hotel room. I planned to eat and catch the last shuttle out to the trail.

Meanwhile, Digger and Frost were dealing with package issues, as in new hiking shoes that were sent to Stehekin had not yet arrived. They were on the one pay phone in the town, trying to get to the bottom of the problem.  They were hoping to get the last shuttle out, but were more likely going to camp in the free campground and head out in the morning or early afternoon.

After one last trip to the bakery, I was able to hit the trail and hike 6 miles out to an established campground with bear lockers, privies, and lots of campsites. Short but successful trip to Stehekin!

I really think I need to go back there again in the future. 

Peace, Love, and Trail Magic!

After an unexpected zero in Skykomish, the next day was clear and promised to warm up. Frosty, Digger and I had an early breakfast, checked out of the inn, and then stopped by the deli to pack out a sandwich for lunch. The deli even supplied a hitching sign to help get up back on the trail! A very short time later, we returned to sign so the next hiker could use it.

Back at Stevens Pass, we saw that we had made to right choice by taking an extra zero. Early arriving hikers to the pass were frozen and wet, hoping to get in town quick for a hot meal. The grass was still rather wet when we passed through; I was happy to have my rain gear on. By early afternoon, the rain gear was gone and I was back in a T-shirt and shorts.

This section of trail was beautiful. Very high in elevation; craggy peaks and steep mountains. Lots of long, gradual climbs followed by long descents. This section of trail was reminiscent of the Sierras; each long climb was rewarded with a dip down into a valley with a different gem: lakes, forrest, alpine meadows. As we got further north, it got more and more beautiful. 

The trail was becoming more crowded as we got more north, as well. Since October was fast approaching, the time to finish the trail before snow started falling was becoming short. Many hikers were either speeding up or jumping ahead to northern Washington and then going back to finish their skipped sections. While there were times of solitude, there was much more camaraderie and group camping. It was sort of like the feeling at the beginning of the trail -- fun, party like, exciting, a team approach. 

Things just don't get any better than this!

PEACE, LOVE, AND TRAIL MAGIC!

 And suddenly, I was on the home stretch. The morning after our lovely group camping experience, I awoke at 6:45 and had a near-panic attack. How the heck did I sleep this late? I was usually up at 5 and hiking by 6. And now, NOW, I had slept half the day away! What the heck?

Then I calmed down. I looked around after climbing out of my tent and saw that everyone else was still sleeping. I had plenty of time. The world wasn't going to end because I had slept in a little.

This stretch of trail was high! We climbed up in elevation and pretty much stayed up. On the first day, we hiked gradually upward for 22 miles, down into a saddle between 2 mountains, and then up again for 3 miles. Although the climb wasn't steep, it was so tiring! 

I camped the first night with a bunch of other hikers and with a big group of teenagers on a short trip. It was nice to have a fire, but man! Do teenagers talk incessantly! Until around midnight. Good thing I was so tired from hiking so I had no problem sleeping through the pubescent chattering.

So high up in elevation, the mornings were really cold! Hat, gloves, and rain-gear-for-warmth kind of mornings. And then, after it warmed up, t-shirt and shorts kind of afternoons. Followed, once again, by hat, puffy jacket, and warm socks kind of nights. Varying temperatures and beautiful terrain. 

We were traveling through remote wilderness with steep and wild mountains. It FELT remote! Strangely, though, it was one of the more crowded stretches of trail. (Much like the 100 Mile Wilderness on the AT, which sounds remote and sort of scary but in reality has tons of people) We passed many large groups of people, south bounders, and group camped every night. 

It was also this sense of something ending...like somehow we had to savor every last bit of time on the trail we had. That last week on trail, I felt closer to my fellow hikers since I started. Campfires at night, discussing what our first big meal would be, talking about what shows we would binge watch on Netflix when we got home. And how lucky we all were to be out here in this wonderful place, hiking all day and sleeping under the stars. 

My luck with the weather appeared to be holding out; the days were sunny and warm, the nights clear and cold. As we neared the terminus monument, many of my fellow hikers were hurrying along; the NOAA satellite was predicting that our high pressure system was coming to an end and that rain was moving in.  I was winging it!

I reached the monument around 4:30. Beans was there with his mom and dad, who had hiked 8 miles in from Manning Park to see him finish and to welcome other hikers, as well. They were handing out shots of Canadian Whiskey to people as they reached the end of the PCT! (I had a half a shot) And after taking the obligatory pics on the monument, I ate my last snickers bar and walked into Canada.

I had originally planned on camping at the campground right past the border. But then, I decided I'd go another 3 miles to the next campground. It was a nice compromise between pushing big miles to get to Manning Park in one day and staying at the border. That way, I could minimize the rain but still have one last night sleeping outside.

My last night was spent with a big group of Canadian hikers who had hiked 5 miles in for a weekend of fun. They were pretty amazed at the PCT hikers! And even though I had only been on the trail 6 weeks, they declared me an honorary thru-hiker and gave me some chocolate and wine as I hung out at their campfire. 

Life is so good!

Peace, Love, & Trail Magic! (And a clear-cut border!)

Generally speaking, the game of "Outsmart the Weather" is a losing one. No matter how many times you check the Weather Channel app or consult the big green blob on the NOAA radar, chances are, you will still end up wet or cold or hunkering down under a rock outcropping to dodge the lightning bolts. 

But every once in a while, no matter what the game, you are dealt a really good hand. And sometimes, you make some very good decisions about how to play that hand. And sometimes, you just get really lucky.

That's never happened to me.

Until now. 

On the PCT 2.0 Tour 2016, I had the best luck with the weather.

In Oregon, it was really hot. Like 90's hot. But thankfully, Oregon has lots of lakes to swim in. The day it became 100 degree hot, I was hiking down into Cascade Locks. Where I could get an air conditioned room for a couple nights.

Washington was cooler, no need to swim multiple times a day. But Washington is notorious for rainstorms. The first big rainstorm rolled in while I was hiking into Snoqualmie Pass, the site of my double zero. The second big rainstorm hit as I hiked into Stevens Pass, site of the town of Skykomish, where I could wait out the rain. Timing could not be more perfect!

Skykomish is located 15 mile off trail; Digger and I were able to get a ride into town with a couple of hikers from North Carolina who had just completed the Wonderland Trail. (Hikers are always so good to other hikers) 
Skykomish is the very definition of "small town". It is essentially 2 streets. One street has a small inn, a restaurant, a candy shop and a toy store. The other street, perpendicular to the first, has a deli, gas station, a bridge across the river, a laundromat, the library and the post office. There are train tracks cutting across the second road, where both freight trains and Amtrak pass by a few times a day. That's it. That's Skykomish. 

Digger had been smart enough to call ahead and reserve a room at the inn from Stevens Pass. My phone had died, so I had to wait for a room to be cleaned before heading up. I used to time to eat (again), resupply at the deli/general store, and dry out my tent on the fence by the railroad tracks. (The weather had cleared a bit on the drive down from the pass) The inn had very basic rooms-- bed, dresser, chair. There was a shared bathroom with multiple showers and toilets down the hall. There was a common room in the basement with a TV and small efficiency kitchen. Basic but warm and dry.

After showering and changing, I headed to the laundromat where I washed the clothes and enjoyed a giant helping of huckleberry ice cream. Huckleberries were having a great year in Washington. I was having a great time eating them. And in ice cream form? Even better! 

So clean, dry, with clean clothes, food for the next stretch, and a dry tent, I went to bed excited to head out the next morning. My alarm went off at 7 and I bounded out of bed for the decadent-morning-shower-prior-to leaving-town. It was only when I got back to my basic room and looked out the window that I realized it was POURING out! Not just raining, POURING. I sighed, put my sleeping clothes back on, and went back to bed. 

Skykomish would keep us in its basic accommodations for another day. S'ok. The common room was taken over by Digger, myself, and another Massachusetts hiker -- Good Will Hunting and Ted. Not a bad way to spend the day. Much better than getting wet and cold.

The next morning offered much better weather. Digger, Frost, and I had breakfast at the inn, packed out a sandwich from the deli for lunch, and got a ride back up to the pass. The frozen, wet hikers coming into town showed us exactly how lucky we were to have won at the game of Outsmart the Weather.

After my awesome double zero adventure, getting back on the trail was hard. Bed = warm. Shower = nice. But after getting up and indulging in a big breakfast at the hotel restaurant, I strapped on my pack and headed to the trail.

This next section, I had been told, was the most difficult section in Washington. It started with a 3000 foot climb from the pass, with lots of views, lots of ups and downs, and lots of loose rocks. I am not a fan of loose rocks, but when you are hiking at 5000-6000 feet, it just comes with the territory, I guess. It was a beautiful day, once the initial fog burned off, and since it was Sunday, there were lots of weekenders and day hikers out and about. Lots of people to talk to and share views with. The climb up also included the famous "cat walk", a section of trail with sheer drop-off on one side and a spectacular view. (Don't worry, the catwalk was very wide, virtually no chance of plunging over the drop off). I stopped for lunch at a lovely lake, and continued over the high ridge and rocks. 

I soon learned that this section of trail was, indeed, more challenging than past sections. In addition to the rocks I encountered day one, there were lots of blow-downs, steep sections, and long climbs followed by long descents. It was tiring. It was hard. It was glorious!

Again, I leapfrogged through this section with Digger and Frost, and various other hikers I had been keeping pace with for the last few sections. The atmosphere on the trail became quite AT-like, with the majority of the bubble stopping for lunch at the same spot, and oftentimes stopping for the night at the same spot, as well. We lamented to one another over how much slower we had to go in this section with all its obstacles. We joked about how much more we seemed to be eating. 

I ended up camping at Mig Lake, 7 miles out from Stevens Pass the night before. I had originally thought I'd camp three miles further up at Lake Susan Jane, for a really easy morning into Stevens. But, in keeping with the spirit of this section, I was exhausted when I got to Mig, and knew there was no way I could push out another 3 miles. I camped with about 10 other hikers that night who had the same planned day and the same result. 

In the morning, we were racing the rain. It was foggy, then misting, then drizzly, then raining. I had put on full rain gear, since it was also a bit cold. And by the time I hit the pass, I was chilly and a little wet, despite my rain gear. It was a cool walk in; I wished it had been clearer so I could've seen the view on our descent. We hiked up to the top of the chair lift, and descended on a side trail that paralleled the ski slopes. I was looking for the ski-run that I almost killed myself on, skiing Stevens Pass 15 years ago, but its kind of hard to pick out those kind of things while hiking in a rainstorm. I just decided to be satisfied with the fact that I stayed upright this time around.

The lodge at Stevens Pass was open and I went inside and warmed up with a hot chocolate and a panini. There were lots of other hikers inside, my trail family for the past few days, also warming up and some picking up packages. So many hikers were doing a quick resupply right at the pass and hitting the trail right away in the afternoon. 

I, on the other hand, was going into Skykomish for a proper town rest-and-resupply. I bid farewell to those hikers moving on, and headed out to find a ride to town.

Climbing out of Snoqualmie Pass

The Catwalk

Sunny, steep, and spectacular

Peace, Love, and Trail Magic!