Packwood, WA (near White Pass)
Miles: 0
Today was all about preparing for my Uncle John to join me for the next 42 miles, and three days, on the PCT.
We started the day with our motel's complimentary breakfast: standard waffle machine and mystery meat breakfast sausages. I'm Beginning to feel as if food actually sits in my stomach and isn't instantly converted into energy. Weird. I had grown accustomed to the new normal of being a fiery locomotive that burned up coal as fast as you could shovel it in. Or maybe I just shouldn't have eaten so many of those zombie finger-looking breakfast sausages.
We spent the morning sorting gear and planning out food. Rather than boring preparations, my uncle and I share an enjoyment for the anticipation of the adventure and taking inventory of all of our stuff. Any downtime moment he had, John looked up maps and blogs on his iPhone 5 (which looks like a lego brick in my 6'5" uncle's hands) and narrated his findings to the room.
My mother took a nap while we sorted our re-supplies. Upon waking up, she demanded chocolate and the funnies.
The late morning was clothes washing time at a nearby RV park, the only coin operated laundry in town, where I cleaned my trail clothes and dried out my tent in the sun.
Eventually, bags packed, clothes washed, my resupply box stashed in John's truck, we headed into Packwood to get lunch at the Cliff Droppers, the local burger stop. "All of our patties are hand pressed right on the grill." John replies, "but don't you burn your fingers??" I wanted to explain to the cashier that my 69 year-old uncle is just giddy about our upcoming hike, which has made him quick on the draw with the lame jokes.
We then hopped into our two cars to drop John's truck off at the terminus of his section on the PCT. After a few misdirection, I took the wheel of the lead car and got us to the ideal spot via my iPhone PCT map and GPS. Emboldened, I announced to my mom and uncle, "move over, the younger generation is in charge now." They didn't love that.
Driving back to the hotel, John decides he wants a soda. He had been driving his truck shirtless all afternoon and didn't even think about a shirt until he was on the threshold of the store when he wondered out loud, "do you think they'll mind a naked man in there?"
Back at the hotel, we gorged ourselves on the multitudes of homemade food my mom had brought on the trip, preparing our stomachs for the days to come. My mom feeds us homemade slow cooked short ribs and a caprese salad while we lie in bed, flip on the TV, and yell answers at Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy, and Antiques Road Show (all the best TV yelling shows).
Epsom salt bath now and early to bed soon. Got some more hiking to hike.