White Pass to mile 2,282
Miles: 10
It took eons to escape our hotel's gravitational pull this morning. Between packing, eating, delighting in indoor plumbing, and my battle against the hotel wifi that continuously thwarted my attempts to back up photos, we didn't get out the door until 10AM.
On our drive to the trailhead, we stopped at an outdoor outfitter for my Uncle to get a belt for his chronically sagging pants. He ended up convincing the owner to sell him suspenders pulled off a pair of ski pants. The owner acquiesced, "How about twenty bucks?" My Uncle John chimed back, "Sure thing. Is there sales tax?" "Haha. No." (Note: there definitely is sales tax in Washington) My mother and uncle then asked the owner about a fur hat that he was in the midst of tanning, and got into a ten minute discussion with him about the moles that my mother has trapped in her yard over the years and how she keeps them in ziplocks in the freezer in anticipation of the time when she picks up taxidermy as a hobby. I went to sit in the car; this isn't the first time my mother has engaged strangers in conversation about her plans to become an amateur mole taxidermist.
I was a bit of a stress ball since I wanted my Uncle John to have a good experience backpacking the PCT in the comings days. I had originally understood that he'd be joining for thirty miles, and we'd have three days. Ten miles per day seemed like a moderately reasonable pace. Instead, he selected a spot forty two miles from White Pass. Fourteen miles per day is not infeasible, but it meant that we'd need to keep up the pace and stick to our daily goals.
We did not stick to our daily goal. We hiked ten miles. Don't be mistaken, today was incredible. We climbed two thousand feet out of White Pass and onto ridges in the Goat Rocks. We had massive views of Rainier, smoky haze to the east, and the goat rocks to the south. Nonetheless, we're starting with a deficit, though it's not a huge deal since we have too much food and can always stretch the segment for another day.
We ran into a few thru-hikers today. With the double zero in White Pass, and the current slower pace, I'm fully out of swing with my thru-hiker crew. James, Jabba, Badger, and Jaro all pushed on directly from White Pass. Hayden likely passed me during my zero days. It's a bit melancholic to fall out of sync with the folks who helped me to push through the North Cascades, but I'm consoled by the notion that I'm "hiking my own hike." Having my uncle join me for a few days is the best way to spend time with him and share this experience. In a few days, when I rush out of the gates to power through the last 110 miles of the hike, I'll be back to the essence of thru-hiking: big miles, solo, deep in the wilderness.
Beginning his final section, I'm surprised to feel a tinge of sadness about the impending end to my trip. I think it's mostly because I've just recently become quite good at this thru-hiking business. My body can handle the big miles. I can set up and break down camp in minutes. I feel at home in my tent, on my pad, and in my bag. As strange as it may be, I have a routine. I'm also constantly up to my eyelids in endorphins. Those are pretty nice.
Tree knot happy face says "don't be sad"
Sadness aside, I can't wait to have completed this massive journey. When I finished my MBA, the last day of classes felt anticlimactic. It was just another lecture, much the same as my first days in the program. Nonetheless, it was an important occasion because I had seen it through and the sum of each individual day's work amounted to something important. On my last day on the trail, when I twist my ankle or run out of water, I'll want to sit down in the middle of the trail and quit, just like I've wanted to quit at some point every other day. But I won't quit. I'll keep hiking. In the end, those many moments when I just kept hiking over the course of hundreds of miles will have amounted to something important. So that's cool.