One Last Hur…rain?

So, do you remember how I said last time that we were going to try and finish the next leg of the PCT?  Well, we did try.  And we failed miserably.  But you know what?  That’s just fine.

In one of my earlier posts, I told you that I made it to Snoqualmie Pass before deciding to wait until the rest of my pack could join me.  To complete the next leg, we needed to hike from Snoqualmie Pass to Stevens Pass, a distance of a little over 70 miles.  The total elevation gain of this section is 16,000 feet, which is significantly more than most other stretches of the PCT.  Although it seemed Nathan’s and Rupal’s injuries had healed for the most part, at least based on the shorter hikes we’ve been doing over the past few weeks, we didn’t want to push it.  Our plan was therefore to cover roughly 10 miles a day, which would take us roughly one week.  I can tell you that a week’s worth of food weighs a lot, especially if you consider how much two large dogs eat on a daily basis. On active days, Rupal and Nuptse get about four cups each. That means we had to bring more than fifty cups of dog food, which is a great deal more than either one of them can carry in their packs.  And because the forecast was for rain, we also had to bring all of our rain gear and warm clothes.

The sky was cloudy but dry when my dad dropped us off at the trailhead on the north side of Snoqualmie Pass.  Rupal and Nuptse looked at us disdainfully when we strapped on their doggie backpacks, but soon perked up once they realized we were back on the trail.  We started climbing almost immediately, and it didn’t take long before we had panoramic views of the surrounding peaks.  I was surprised when I happened to glance behind me and saw Mount Rainier looming just to the southeast.  It seemed like ages ago that I had hiked along its eastern flank, although it would only have been a few days had I not taken time off the trail.  I’m always amazed by how much distance a person can cover on their own two feet.  We don’t get very many chances to do that in our everyday lives, but I can tell you, it’s a real boost to your confidence.

We took lots of breaks on the way up, struggling to get used to the weight of our packs.  After climbing approximately 2,000 feet, we finally reached a saddle below Kendall Peak and began heading north into the heart of the Alpine Lakes Wilderness.  This is one of the most remote sections of the PCT, and we could see nothing ahead of us but mountain after mountain after mountain.  It felt a little like that scene from Homeward Bound when Chance, Sassy, and Shadow crest a ridge and, to their dismay, see nothing but miles and miles of wilderness before them.  The only difference was that we were excited to cross through this mountainous country.  In fact, we would be passing only a few nautical miles from where we had recently camped in Necklace Valley.

From the pass, the trail traverses along the Kendall Katwalk, a narrow pathway blasted from the granite rock face that at times drops steeply on both sides.  Although the trail was relatively wide and nowhere near as precarious as the Knife’s Edge I described in one of my earlier posts, I marveled at the amount of work it must have taken to construct.  Try following where the trail goes on the image above and you’ll see what I mean.

It was late afternoon by the time we reached Ridge Lake.  We decided to take a quick break and let the dogs swim in its turquoise waters before hiking the last few miles to camp.  After we put down our packs, however, we saw several perfect campsites that seemed to call our names.  Being only seven miles from I-90, Ridge Lake gets a fair amount of visitors in the summer.  At this time of year, though, we had it all to ourselves.  We couldn’t resist the temptation.

The wind started to pick up as we began to set up our tent, but the clouds were kind enough to hold their moisture, at least for the time being.  We cooked up a delicious pot of vegan minestrone, one of our new favorites, and soon crawled into our tent.  It wasn’t until about 3 a.m. that we started to hear the slight pitter patter of rain drops on the walls of our tent.  Then it began to fall a little heavier.  By morning, it was pouring down rain and we honestly contemplated whether we could stay in our cocoon for the rest of the day.  After postponing as long as we could, we eventually decided we had no choice but to brace the storm.  Being the gentlemen that he (usually) is, Nathan filled up our water from the lake and cooked breakfast. leaving me to do whatever tasks I could from inside the tent. Sadly, I knew I could not stay dry forever.

By the time we managed to gather all of our belongings, everything in our packs was completely drenched.  Even our rain pants and jackets seemed to be absorbing each drop, and we kicked ourselves for not spraying our gear before we left to make them more water repellent.  The only thing that remained dry was the body of the tent itself.  Because letting it get wet would add a significant amount of unnecessary weight, we devised a plan to keep the tent itself dry by packing it up from the inside out.  While Nathan did his best to hold the rain fly in place, using our hiking poles to help prop it up, I managed to disconnect the tent poles and gather up the tent.  By the end, the only thing left standing was the rain fly.  Although we laughed the entire time at the ridiculousness of our efforts, I have to say I was very impressed with the result:

We had a decision to make.  With little sunshine in the forecast, we could either continue on and spend the next six days in the pouring rain with little to no views of our surroundings, or we could turn back the way we came and call it quits.  We decided to flip a coin that we found sitting on a log near our campsite.  If it was heads, we would go home.  If it was tails, we would go home.  It was a pretty simple decision, really.

For the most part, we had no regrets as we hiked back towards Snoqualmie Pass.  We only started to doubt our decision after we ran into a few hardy souls who, although several weeks behind the rest of their fellow thru-hikers, were still determined to make it to Canada before the season was over and the snow closed the trail for good.  If we had made the walk all of the way from Mexico, I am sure that we, too, would have forced ourselves to march onward despite the miserable weather.  But for me, this hike has always been more about the journey than the destination. Given that we had no hope of making it all of the way to the border this year, I would much rather save the rest of the hike for a time when I can see at least some of the beautiful surroundings I am hiking through.  I think Nathan also came to terms with our decision after a while, especially when we stopped at Dru-Bru, the new brewery at Snoqualmie Pass, which makes a delicious IPA.

Since we’ve been home, there have been several nights when I have been woken up by the sound of rain pouring down on the roof above me. It’s one of my favorite sounds.  Each time, I think of how grateful I am not only for my warm, dry bed, but also for the incredible adventure I’ve had over the past two months on the trail.  In addition to the people I have met and the challenges I have overcome, I have seen more beauty in this short time than I could ever have possibly imagined.  I will forever cherish my time on the Pacific Crest Trail.  And I can tell you that, while my adventure on the PCT may be over for now, I will continue the journey someday.  Who knows, next time I might even go for the full 2,650 miles.