There's a story I forgot to tell you yesterday. Remember Kevin and Laurie, my campground neighbors at Harts Pass who agrees to transmit an email to Chrissy? They told the story of Laurie breaking her leg when they were hiking Mt Baker, and having to be helicoptered off. Part of that story was that all of their west coast friends and family encouraged them to get back on the trail as soon as possible, and not let the trauma of the injury make them afraid of the trail. All of their east coast friends and family, on the other hand, expressed the hope that they had learned their lesson, and would now stay safely off the trail.
I think I've gotten a couple different passes mixed up, but - oh well. I remember a Tagore poem in which he says that his words are to be believed forever and then forgotten for good. Also that they are not "miserly accurate in facts." He was one of my trail angels on the trail of poetry. One I so loved as a girl.
Okay. I just need to show you a bunch more photos (7 to 9). It was so beautiful.
And photo 10 shows my first glimpse of a mountain lake that I hiked down to for a rest break (hoping to swim, but the sun was too in and out, though I did soak my feet which made them very happy hikers). This is the lake where Mountain Sweep will camp for two nights. She has time to kill since her son and husband are going to meet her in Canada August 28.
As I got closer to the border I began to feel sad. My maiden voyage on the PCT was coming to an end. So much happiness, adventure, so many meetings. So much fun challenging myself to walk faster or longer than I thought I could. So much fun writing these blogs. I started listening to Mozart's Requiem. Photo 11 shows some tree roots (or branches?) that seemed to express "lacrimosa"
After carefully calculating distance and arrival time and frequently checking, I was nevertheless taken by complete surprise when I saw the PCT monument ahead of me. Even more surprising was having another hiker arrive exactly when I did (after hours of solitude) so we could take each other's photos. So here she is, photo 12, River leaning on the monument, River who cannot quite believe she has hiked the entire trail.
Then a very odd thing happened. I got to the campsite I meant to stay in, just past the border. But it was barely 5:15pm, and I wasn't ready to camp yet. I still wanted to hike. Besides, it had all been downhill for a long while (as I assumed it would be for the 9 miles to the Manning Park Lodge where I will either meet Chris or wait for the bus). To my shock, it was a mostly uphill and quite a challenging and beautiful hike. It was as if I had stepped into the afterlife and found hey I'm still here. There's still life after the death of a dream. Photo 13 shows one of the views as I hiked through Manning Park.
So there is life after the border and the end of the official Mexico to Canada PCT. And tomorrow, we hike five miles (with very little up and down) to the paved road on which, should I manage to overcome my directional dyslexia and turn the right way, I will find the Manning Park Lodge and, if I am really lucky a hot second (third really) breakfast, a chance to shower, do laundry and maybe even wifi or a pay phone while I wait for Chris or the bus.
See you tomorrow. (I know it's actually over. But I am hoping you will walk with me a little way into the afterlife. )
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