Month: September 2016

So my hike is over. That’s the end of this blog then, right? Not quite yet! There are a few more things I’m planning on posting in the coming weeks:

– I have notes and photos for a stretch of several weeks that I never posted, since I was too tired at that point on the trail. I’ll be turning these into proper blog posts. This will mostly be the area around the Sierras and Lake Tahoe.

– I’d like to edit the existing posts, fixing things that were impractical to do on my phone (e.g. incorrectly-rotated pictures), and adding details that I didn’t have time for on the trail.

– I’d like to add reviews of equipment, businesses, towns, and anything I’ve got an opinion on. Equipment reviews from PCT hikers in particular were invaluable for me in preparing for this trip, so I’d like to put what I’ve learned out there.

– I’d like to write how-to suggestions for trail angels, and for businesses that wish to cater to hikers. Many times, I saw cases where people were trying to do what they could to help hikers, but didn’t know how. E.g. trail angels who were maintaining a water cache of expensive bottled water a quarter mile from a reliable spring, or businesses selling canned tuna instead of foil-packed tuna in attempt to sell to hikers.

So, if you’re interested in any of these things, stay tuned!

This was our last morning on the trail. It was raining and cold. I got dressed in my tent as usual, but kept my wool sleeping shirt on as an undershirt, and wore my wool sleeping socks instead of my wet hiking socks — who cares if my sleepwear gets wet now? I won’t be sleeping in it again.

The rain drumming on my rain fly quieted down as I packed up for the last time. Bundled up, I poked my head out of my tent, and saw why.

Once outside, the snow was pretty, but cold. It melted into my hands, making them numb. Packing up my tent was harder than ever. But I wouldn’t have to do it again.

After getting started, the brisk hiking warmed me up. I could enjoy the look of a dusting of snow all over everything.

Within a few hours, the terrain completely transformed under several inches of snow.

The snow started to accumulate on me and on my gear. Which was picturesque at first, but then it started to melt, soaking every fabric that wasn’t waterproof with ice water.

As we started to descend, it warmed up slightly. This was bad. It wasn’t warm enough to warm our soaked selves up, it was just warm enough to make the trail under the snow muddy instead of frozen. The fresh snow hid slippery trail surfaces. I fell on hidden rocks and mud a couple times, banging me up and grinding snow into my clothes.

We descended further, and the snow became slush puddles covering long stretches of the trail. To keep warm, we needed to run, but this was difficult when we couldn’t step on the trail. Sometimes, we would waddle at high speed with one foot on each edge of the trail. Other times, we would run on one edge until it got too steep, then jump over the puddle to the other edge so we didn’t tip over.

Normally, this would hurt my feet, since there were a lot of sharp rocks here. But, my feet were numb, and felt like hooves, so we danced our way down the trail with little caution. If we didn’t go fast enough to keep warm, we would certainly get sick in this weather.

We were still wearing pretty much the same gear we’d used in the 100-degree-plus weather of the Mojave. Minute after cold minute dragged by.

Then, suddenly, we were at the border monument, the official end of the PCT.

It was raining and we were cold. We found the register, and Elizabeth wrote a short note in it — she’d already composed something much longer, but didn’t want to linger and cool down. I just wrote my name. Even hiding under the trees, the register got wet, making the ink bleed. I doubt if my name is legible.

The end of the PCT is not the end of the trail. I don’t mean this in a metaphorical sense — the northern terminus is literally in the middle of the woods. You need to hike 8 more miles into Canada, to Manning Provincial Park, to get to a road. So we continued north.

As we left the monument, some other hikers arrived. One started laughing giddily as he stared at the monument.

In Canada, we lost more elevation, and I felt a bit more comfortable as it warmed up. I looked at my thermometer. It showed 35 degrees.

I was kind of hoping it would be terrible right up to the very end. I could kick open the door to the Manning Park Lodge, covered in a crust of powdery snow, and take a warm shower. But, the weather and the trail conditions got more and more mild as we approached civilization. Elizabeth had warmed up enough to use her phone, so she played her victory playlist (Chariots of Fire, We Are The Champions, The Final Countdown, a couple songs about eye of the tiger, etc.)

At last, we reached the highway, and walked the last half-mile to the Manning Lodge. The PCT ends with a road walk.

We were in Canada, in civilization.

0 miles left.

The rain stopped around midnight, and was replaced by a cold, dry wind. Later, I got up to go to the bathroom, and was surprised to find that my rain fly had nearly been dried by the wind already.

Some rustling noises kept me up. Then, later, a scream. A mouse had gnawed into Elizabeth’s tent to retrieve some spilled trail mix.

The rest of the night was uneventful, and we got going around 8:45 in cold, but dry weather.

After the climb, we had a ridge walk with long views into several valleys. Larch (I think) became the dominant species here.

But, it wasn’t larches we wanted, it was drinking water. Because of our hasty camping yesterday afternoon, we hadn’t filled up our water bottles before making camp. After staying in camp for 18 hours with only a little water, we were both quite thirsty.

Ironically, the rain had made us thirsty.

We were on a dry stretch, but after what seemed like forever, we found an excellent spring tucked away behind a campsite.

The ridge walk continued, and we saw many more views.

We descended to the last major trailhead left (Hart Pass), and were happy to see that somebody had set up some trail magic.

Soon after we left, the clouds began to roll in. Then, it started to drizzle. It might be misery all the way to the border.

Then all of a sudden, the clouds cleared, leaving a trail of blue sky all the rest of the way to Canada.

All that remained for us now was to cover miles, and cover miles we did. We didn’t make it to our campsite until after dark, but the end of the trail was in range tomorrow.

24 miles left.

My blog posts lately have been very matter-of-fact and statistical. I give miles, times, and so forth, and report on weather, scenery, trail magic, etc. I’m reporting about which things I’ve seen before happened again today.

In the earlier posts, I had a lot more to say about how life on the trail differed from normal life, and about all the new things I was seeing every day. Now, I’m not seeing all that much that’s new. Hiking has become daily life.

So, I think I’m ready for this to be over.