Mile 2,221 to mile 2,190
Miles: 31
Big ol' buggy forest hike today but got to hike with Sean and found a bunch of trail magic.
Sean and I got up around 7AM. Will, our NOBO thru-hiking campmate who planned to leave the trail six miles down the path at Trout Lake, had already gotten out of dodge. It was surprising to hear of his plans to leave the trail this late in his hike, but I respect it. Hike your own grueling hike. Don't let other folks tell you what to do. Will clearly wasn't going to be swayed by hiker peer pressure.
Chatting with Will last night:
"Will, do you have a trail name."
"Nope. My momma gave me a name once, I sure don't need another one."
Sean and I took our time getting ready. I told him some trail stories about the first few weeks and the complications of starting the trail wallet-less. He told me about shenanigans at Capitol Hill Block Party and the various nature spots he's hung his hammock in the past week (not a euphemism).
We set out on the trail around 8:30. Sean's car was parked in a lot on the trail half a mile away but he planned on hiking a couple miles past his car with me to accompany me on the trail. We set our sites for him to turnaround on a spring where I'd fill up on water for the day.
Minutes into our hike, we ran into another hiker who let us know that a trail angel was giving away soda, beer, and snacks five miles ahead. Apparently, they had even made tacos for dinner for passing hikers the night before. Sean immediately changed his intended turnaround point so that he could join me in some trail hospitality.
We caught up as we walked, talking about everything from Sean's current work projects to movies to high school memories of Family Guy & Cheez It Club (ask Sean for the full name of the club, it's a paragraph long and much too complex for me to remember). Sean had brought the exact type of camaraderie that I had be yearning for on the trail. The miles flew past, only broken up by friendly conversations with passing hikers.
The trail magic was real. My first day-changing trail magic on the trail, leagues better than the mouse-chewed ziplock of peppermint candies that I had found on a stump south of White Pass. We came upon the trail magic site empty of trail angels but found a full cooler and a trail register notebook with pens. Rainbows most definitely shot out of the cooler when we opened it, inside were cherry cokes, zebra cakes, a bag of salad mix, and rolling rock beers. I jumped up and down with excitement and foisted my phone on Sean so that he could take a video of me re-opening the cooler and exuberantly describing the contents. Video complete, Sean grabbed a soda and I grabbed a beer. We split a pack of zebra cakes. Though I typically dislike Rolling Rock, it tasted sublime in the middle of the wilderness, never mind that it was 11AM. I had never had a zebra cake before and inhaled the chocolatey processed puck in two bites. After my beer, I snagged a coke. Refusing to rush our beverages, we stayed at the site until 11:30, spirits high with the snacks and generosity of the absent trail angels.
After Sean and I bid adieu, I charged down the trail only to find another cooler identical to the trail angels' next to the trail. I popped it open and saw more beers, fresh ice, and a bottle of Crown Royale. Well, this was unexpected. I took a healthy swig of the Crown, and couldn't help grinning with the hilarity of the liquor and the context. I continued down the trail, feeling a little light headed possibly from the booze but more probably from an overall excellent morning.
Soon after, hiking in totally normal fashion down the trail, a bee stung me on my left calf. There was no reason. I hadn't stopped, hadn't swatted the bee, hadn't called the bee names. The bee just flew up to the back of my left calf, stung me, and flew away. Just a plain old jerk bee. The sting sobered me right up. I told myself that the bee was just a messenger delivering a note from the wilderness: "this ain't a walk in the park, buddy." Noted, oh great wilderness. I'll stop having so much fun.
I popped my headphones in and listened to Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep as I hiked. I'm enjoying the book. It's one of the best classic works of science fiction, though it hasn't aged especially well. Nonetheless, it makes the miles fly by.
A few miles later, I ran into more trail angels!! Fuck you bee that wanted to harsh my mellow! I was the first long distance hiker they had met on the trail today, so they were thrilled to see me, heap oreos and Starbucks via on me, share their stories, and ask about mine. They soaked up my gratitude, which I was happy to deliver. As I chatted with them, I consumed a pack of six Oreos.
The bugs were horrible on the trail today. I found myself at a near run most of the day trying to move fast enough to elude the mosquitos. Though I dodged some, many got me no matter how fast I hiked. Each two minute break that I took would end in me panicked and trying to throw on my backpacking while spinning in circles to avoid the bugs.
To take my mind off of the mosquitos, I began composing haikus. Here are the few that made it into record:
Speeding down the trail
Horde of mosquitos give chase
Uh oh gotta poop
Ramen and water
Rehydrate for thirty min
Nope. Too hungry. Crunch.
Thirty miles per day
That should always be your goal
Or just look at trees
Dear Clif Bar people,
Why such a focus on paste?
Learn from Oreos.
Kill all mosquitos
But biodiversity
Ugh. Fine. Pass the DEET.
Late in the day, I set my sites on a trailhead that my notes informed me contained a picnic table. The thought of sitting at a picnic table was enough to motivate me to power through miles 15-25. When you sit on the ground all the time, a picnic table sounds luxurious. I was glad for my table-induced motivation when i found out that I would be claiming right up and over Berry Mountain. It was my final time over 5,000 feet elevation on the trail, and afforded some obscured views of Mt St Helens and Mt Hood, but it couldn't compare to the exposed ridges and vast views of Northern Washington.
Arriving at my promised picnic table at 6:30, I told myself that I'd rest for half an hour and then hike the final six miles that I planned for the day. During my rest, I talked with a friendly NOBO named Georgia and two older Washington NOBO guys who were considering leaving the trail after only 50 miles. I departed the picnic table at 7PM, stretched out my aching legs, and hiked fast to beat the night. This was the closest to night hiking that I've gotten. I never needed a headlamp, but I did set up my tent in the dark, and eat my dinner while wearing a red light headlamp.
These are long days. Tomorrow will be the final long day. I'm taking out more than I'm putting in, so it's good that the end is in sight.
