Dear Trail Friends,
So I managed to dream up a reason to push myself - I do think part of the fun of the PCT is challenging myself and discovering what I am capable of and living right at the edge of what I'm capable of - but the reason I made up was that Harts Pass campground would be full of car campers who would be returning to civilization and could send Chris an email for me.
After telling her I just could not predict my arrival in Canada and we would need to abandon the plan of her driving up to meet me, I decided the first two days went so well that I really can predict a Thursday arrival. Not only that, but by hiking to Harts Pass I have made it so I don't have to push myself to arrive Thursday.
The day started cold. My fingers got numb and I discovered a disadvantage of my ultralight stuff in cold weather is that all the little lightweight hooks and ties and buckles are really hard to do with numb fingers. It also brought back vvid memories of hiking the Sierra with numb fingers every morning and the struggle to do otherwise simple tasks. It feels right for this "grand finale" section to echo themes from earlier sections - wind, cold, and later today I even passed through a small burn area. It helps give a sense of integration and completion.
The morning view was forboding - grey clouds hovering over beautiful mountains (photo 1). I knew from the weather forecast that I picked up Saturday morning in Stehekin that showers were possible until 11am. As it turns out showers alternated with sunlight all day but no really heavy rain came down.
Annoyed though I was by the campfire smoke from the trail maintenance crew (I woke in the night coughing and fortunately had cough drops in my emergency sack, and found myself coughing a lot on the uphills all morning - until my lungs informed me that an attitude of hope and faith rather than catastrophizing and blame would be more helpful to them. So I lifted my chest into hopeful posture and sent little Esperita and Fidelita into and out of my lungs, dancing and curtseying to the unknown with every breath. And what do you know. I stopped coughing. ).
Anyway before that endless parenthetical digression I was saying that annoyed as I was by the trail maintenance crew (and their campfire smoke), I was in awe of how clear and well-maintained this section of trail was, and how many freshly cut, freshly cleared trees I saw. One reason I could hike 21 miles in about 10 hours (an extremely good time for me with this much up and down) was that the trail was really in exceptional condition.
I spent the day feeling very well and totally surrounded by beauty. I found myself reflecting on Chuckles' question: what did I learn from the PCT? I think I learned a lot about loving. How empowering love can be.
It's as if this strange mysterious force shows up in your life, snorting and stamping like a very beautiful (and quite wild) stallion, and if you are willing to risk, and ride, you will be transported to a whole new world. But you have to be willing to serve the love, to go where it wants to go, rather than try to make it carry you back to some lost imaginary paradise. But if you can do that, you find yourself capable - in the service of love- of doing things you never imagined you could do. And I am living proof of that power. Whoever imagined I could hike this entire trail?
I also found myself continuing the dream, about wanting to tell Esther Bell (the black woman who helped raise me), then my trail self, that I love her. I imagined many of the people, living or dead, still connected with or estranged, whom I have loved in my life (however imperfectly) and looking deep into their eyes and saying "I love you." The beauty and spaciousness (and the music I listened to as I walked) really helped make these expressions of love vividly real. I could imagine our eyes meeting (the kind of gaze I found a little too intense to be bearable with that wonderful hiker grandpa John McCollum).
Hard to pick a few photos to share. I so want you to walk this stretch with me and feel the space the mountains conjure with their vast presence.
Photos 2 through 4 give you a little glimpse I hope.
Photo 5 shows the blurry quality to the north that made me suspect I was walking into more rain ( I was, but nothing like the downpour this photo suggested. )
At the top of a pass (whose name I probably should but don't know) I saw a man with a wonderfully alert white dog with a curved tail. Then his wife appeared with another dog. We chatted a bit. Photo 6 and 7 show Nikki and Bob (trail name Fun Hog) and their dog Oreo (who seems to want to avoid facing the camera) and Kim Chi. Kim Chi (the white dog) is a brand new adoption, a rescue dog that would have been sacrificed to the Korean delight in dog meat if rescue had not intervened (hence the name - when they adopted him his name was Tommy). The Kim Chi family live in Mazama and agreed to email Chris for me.
So I was temporarily without a reason to hike 21 miles. There was a perfectly lovely campsite (much nicer really than this one) - with water nearby it - at 15.5 miles. Why not just stop there?
Why not? Well. For the fun of the hike. The challenge. Fantasies like that I'd find Chuckles there. Or that Nikki and Bob would be waiting for me and asking me to come home with them to Mazama for supper and a warm bed, then a ride back to the trail early tomorrow morning. Finally I decided that I hadn't toldChris where we would meet (or that I'd like a concert ticket in case I am home in time for any of the Orcas Iskand Chamber Music events, which I doubt). So it would be great if I could send a second email. So I continued my hike.
To be continued in Day 11, part 2.
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