Rumor had it there was a latrine in the campsite. We didn’t get up in time to confirm the validity of this rumor with any other hikers. I’m a beaten man. Bunny has broken me. I won’t even put the effort out to try to wake her when she’s fake sleeping. I just went back to sleep and let her wake me up when her coffee is cool enough. I went in search of the latrine which only added to our delayed starting time. I found a sign with an arrow pointing down a trail that split 3 ways. I’m right dominant, so I took the right fork first. The builder of the latrine was left dominant which led to a very frustrated EFG screaming to put up some f#$&ing signs. Someone must have heard me because there was one right next to the latrine. It only took me 15 minutes to find it. A leisurely morning stroll had turned into a life and death situation (at least for my underwear—they survived to be sharted on another day).
Not only does a good husband cook his wife breakfast in bed every day, he points out all the good poop spots. To save her time and frustration, I pointed her in the proper direction. I’ve learned from hanging around English teachers that one should never use the terms “lend or borrow” when dealing with toilet paper. I neither wish to return or get back any of the paper referred to in the transaction. I used the last of my tp this morning, so I asked Bunny (knowing that she is post menopausal, had she been younger, my term might have a clearly unintended consequence) to “spot” me three days worth until we got to town. She said “we’ll see.” She has a yellow quilt. We’ll see, indeed.
Knowing that we were trying for almost 19 miles today, the 9 o’clock start was not ideal. As soon as we climbed the 200’ back up to the trail, we encountered another possible hinderance…blasting ahead. We were hoping that this was an old sign that was accidentally left up. We proceeded through marmot-town as if nothing was up. This was ideal marmot living. They had fresh water sources flowing through marmot-town. No trees for predators to hide amongst. There were plenty of entrances to marmot houses visible from the trail with plenty of marmot roads connecting the holes. They were very bold and used to people passing through marmot-town.
We came around a curve and I thought I saw a big marmot at a trail junction. Bunny swore that it was a hiker taking pictures. I looked closer and thought it might actually be a human acting as a crossing guard for hikers entering the blast zone. Bunny insisted he was taking pictures. I said he was talking into a radio. Bunny thought he might just be blowing dust off his camera. Once Bunny has made an assumption, she will stick to it well past being proven wrong. We approached a somewhat, furry, man wearing a NFS hat talking into his walkie talkie. Bunny still insisted it was a camera. He said it was a radio and there was blasting ahead but we could proceed. Bunny complimented him on his camera.
In about a mile, we came upon a crew of four workers driving holes and burying large white chocolate kisses beside the trail. They were blasting a new footbed for the trail. One wide enough to allow for pack animals to pass. They said trail work requires large loads that only pack animals can handle efficiently. They pointed out an area ahead where we could observe the blast if we wished to watch. They would be blasting within an half hour.
Ahead was another crossing guard talking into her camera (Bunny is never wrong—new technology allows for communication devices that take pictures). We stopped and chatted with the guard until we heard the phrase I hear almost every night in the tent—“fire in the hole.” This usually means don’t light a match and breathe through your mouth for the next 15 minutes. In this case, it resulted in a large plume of dust followed by a huge bang that echoed off the mountains in the valley for several minutes. When a bell rings, an angel gets his wings. When a blast goes off, a marmot shits in his hole. There’s going to be a lot of extra trips down back alleys in marmot-town tonight.
The next 7 miles of trail took us from alpine vistas back down into dark, virgin forest. The views are amazing up at elevation, but I feel most at home and comfortable walking in dense forest. Maybe it’s that trees take in CO2 and release oxygen so I’m getting an oxygen high that some people get from going to oxygen bars. I’m also a big fan of “Lord of the Rings” and hope to discover that Treebard is real. I just know that I loved the forest. Bunny was excited by everything we experienced today. Washington is officially back on the list.
After about 11 miles of hiking, we encountered some sections of trail that were in desperate need of some TLC. Even with some work needed, the trails were still better maintained than the sections of the AT in AMC territory in NH and Southern ME. For 13 miles, we only encountered 2 sobos. We had the trail to ourselves most of the day. We finally met a couple walking up to a stream we were crossing who said they saw some bears ahead.
The late start, the trail explosions, the rough trail, and now some bear sightings didn’t bode well for our goal of Mica Lake, still 5 miles distant at 5:30. Remember, Bunny and I strictly adhere to “less than 5 BY 5” and it was well past. We are running a seven mile deficit (by our own mileage goals combined with the food we are carrying) that we need to make up by Friday. As long as we maintain 15 miles per day, we’re not slipping further behind.
Rounding another bend, we saw a guy standing in the trail with his umbrella out. There were a few clouds in the sky, but nothing that looked like storm clouds. He yelled to us “there’s a momma bear and cubs about 150’ above you where you’re at.” We we’re excited to get to see some bears. He said the mamma had fake charged him which was why he had his umbrella out—trying to confuse/scare her. We got to where he was, but couldn’t see any bears. We waited for a bit hoping they might reveal themselves, but they didn’t.
This hiker was from Washington and was “just” doing a section of the PCT—506 miles. He told us this section of trail hadn’t had maintenance performed on it since 2003 because road access had been washed out. Now that it was restored, the NFS was starting from White Pass to get the trail accessible by stock animal so work could commence. Now the blasting made some sense. He also told us we had about another 20 miles of rough trail which further emboldened us to call off trying to make it to Mica Lake tonight. With good trail, wed have a hard time making it before dark.
A 30+ mile section of the PCT hasn’t been maintained for over 16 years, but it’s still in better shape that what the Appalachian Mountain Club supposedly maintains for the AT. There is something very fishy going on in NH between the AMC and the NFS. The AMC has been granted a trail monopoly and are not maintaining the AT which is supposed to be part of the deal. On most other sections of the AT, the US military will provide assistance, but they won’t in AMC territory because they are profiting (and profiteering) off of public lands.
With less than 2 miles to go to our new, closer destination, we started to encounter a few more hikers. Three sobos pulled over for us to pass. I turned around and noticed there was another hiker directly behind us. We allowed him to pass us, but when we started asking him a few questions about his hike, he allowed us to jump ahead to set the pace. He would walk our pace for a while while we talked.
Views was about to finish his thru-hike of the PCT. He entered the Sierra on June 18 and managed to make it straight through without much difficulty. People just a day or two ahead or behind had much different tales. He says he just got lucky with creek and river crossings. Now he was shooting to get off the trail either Friday or Saturday to celebrate his 23rd birthday. We assumed he meant Stehekin, but he meant “finish the trail.” He already had 43 in for today. He needs to average 45 to finish by his birthday. Views hiked Oregon in 12 days and is spending the same amount of time in WA. He did admit that he is missing out on things (like the bakery in Stehekin, etc) but he can always come back.
He left us when we got to Fire Creek. He’ll be in Canada before we make Stehekin. It’s amazing what young bodies are capable of doing. I wish I had one, but when I did, it wasn’t in that good of shape. I already had a beer belly at 23 from the lack of hiking and the access to bars I had enjoyed since 17. These days, drinking has very little appeal to me (unless it’s Mio flavored water on a long climb). My time has passed. For now, Bunny and I enjoy our snail’s pace on the trail and our porcelain in town. Age changes everything.
EFG