Pacific Crest Trail

Greetings readers, it has been a pleasure to have you along for the last five months. I originally envisioned this blog as a collection of photos from my journey on the Pacific Crest Trail. Each entry would be a series of photos taken throughout that day. However, when I was putting together the first post, for some reason I decided to add some prose. Very quickly, this blog became my journal.

The mountains were black sillohetes against a horizon of deep red. Lifeless clouds slowly gained definition as the sun, still hidden, rose toward the horizon.

This journey was always a series of days. The basic structure of each day was the same: wake up, eat, walk, eat, walk, eat, sleep. These things were certain. They were the anchor points of each day. Something you could count on.

I curled up in my sleeping bag as I heard my alarm go off. I was wearing my puffy jacket, my hood was up, and my buff was pulled up to my nose. It had been a cold night and it was a colder morning.

As we left Stehekin, we peered down at the Stehekin River from High Bridge. Below us in the shallows were Chinook salmon coming back home to spawn. I couldn’t help but see parallels between their journey and my own.

“There was a mouse in my TENT!” Bedazzled proclaimed as soon as I walked over in the morning. I started laughing. “Why are you laughing?” She asked nonplussed as she folded her arms over her chest.

With the days getting shorter, our 5:30 wake up allowed us to see the last glimmer of the stars before they faded into the brightening sky. It was beautiful.

As we left our campsite and began to climb, I couldn’t help but think this section of trail from Stevens Pass to Stehekin is shaping up to be one of the best in Washington. It feels like a bunch of moving pieces have finally clicked into place.

The sound of rain falling woke me up in the middle of the night. It would come in waves pattering softly against my tent. I went in and out of sleep until I was jolted awake by a large rock fall from somewhere across the lake.

The wind blew with a welcome fury last night. As I lay in my tent, the evergreens bent and groaned with each successive gust.

The mountains rose like spectors in the smoke. Gnarled heads turned toward the sky as their bodies sunk into the sea of smoke.

When I woke up, I couldn’t tell if it was smokey or cloudy. The sky was a dead lifeless gray devoid of feeling. Where have the passionately colorful sunrises of the desert gone?

I was playing with the idea of doing some astrophotography in the wee hours of the morning, but when I woke up the stars were dim barely discernable dots in the sky and it smelt like a BBQ.

Last night, I heard someone talking about camping at Old Snowy. I hadn’t realized we were so close to the Goats Rock Wilderness, which is regarded as one of the finest sections of the PCT. To say I was excited would be an understatement.

We woke up on the lawn next to the General Store in Trout Lake and walked over to the local cafe for breakfast. We met two inquisitive parents who asked us all about our hike.

Our goal was to get into Trout Lake before the post office closed at 4:00 on Friday. Bedazzled had new shoes waiting there and it wouldn’t reopen until Monday at 9:00. It was a race so to speak.

Pattering, the rustle of leaves, scurrying, the feeling of little feet running across my arm. I shot up and waved my arm frantically.

I had long talked with my mom and little sister about meeting up on trail sometime after the solar eclipse. They were both going to be on the west coast and the plan was for them to drive over to meet me somewhere in Oregon.

Today, we woke up and had one thing on our minds, Cascade Locks. It is a small community on the Columbia River and is home to the Bridge of the Gods, which connects Oregon and Washington.

We woke up in Bend with the trail on our mind. Today, we would complete the final leg of our detour around the fire closures in the Three Sisters and Mt. Jefferson Wildernesses.