Pacific Crest Trail: Western Washington

"So the rangers had been monitoring me, for real?"

August 14, 2015 – Friday (Oroville)

I did not expect to find a desert in the Pacific Northwest, but the hike into and out of the Okanogan Valley was just that, except they call it the high desert. I was kind of glad I did not make it to Oroville in time to go to the concert in Tonasket last night. I even turned off my phone so I would not have to share my motel room with the late-night concert goers needing a place in Oroville to crash for the night. I was rested and ready to go in the morning. I stuck my head out and Freebird spotted me. I let him use the shower and hang out until checkout. The girls, Rainbow Brite and Morning Glory, also had a room. I learned that Rainbow stubbed her toe in the room, tripping over Freebird’s foot, and feared she had broken her toe.

Weatherwise, it was a strange day—hot, dry, and windy. But flood watches were posted for later. The heavy rains did not materialize, but smart phones began to buzz in the afternoon with a dust storm warning. We all stayed in town through the afternoon to wait out the wacky weather. Storms in the area pulled in the gusty winds from the dusty mountains, creating a scary scene in town. Still, many hikers hiked out: Norwegian, Morning Glory, Rainbow Brite, and Spaceman Spiff. Honey Bee would drive 20 miles to tiny Loomis to wait there. Rainbow was not sure how her foot would hold up. Honey Bee dropped off myself, Money Shot, and Marathon at the supermarket across town to resupply for the next nine or ten days through the Pasayten Wilderness. The winds shifted, and the dust was replaced by the smoke from the fire northeast of town. We paid $6 to camp at a campground near Osoyoos Lake.

August 15, 2015 – Saturday (Oroville / Palmer Lake)

Yesterday, Freebird had called a landowner from my motel room to get permission to pass through his farm along the south shore of the Similkameen River, much more scenic than the road walk on the north side. My two hiking mates and I finally left Oroville around noon after a big breakfast at the diner. It was not so hot today as we made our way along the dusty trail. It was unique scenery—high bluffs along a river surrounded by sagebrush and barren mountains. In the river, there were a dozen or so rafts with gas-powered conveyors, set up by prospectors looking for gold. Lots of camper/RV people had set up along the opposite side.

After 12 miles or so, I was pretty far ahead of the guys when I came to the chained 8' high gate. I found a place off to the side where I could pass between the wire links of the fence. A mile ahead, at the site of the old Nighthawk community and store, barking dogs greeted me, and I talked briefly to a woman somehow associated with the landowner—no problem.

The guys fell pretty far behind me, and I started on the paved road toward Palmer Lake and Loomis. Later in the evening, I checked out a state campground at the north end of Palmer Lake. I chose a spot next to an Oroville family, the Bowlins—Dan & Dottie, and a 21-year-old son with special needs, Nathan. The Bowlins offered me green beans from their garden, then bass they’d caught earlier in the lake. But I was delayed because I had somehow got my tent’s rainfly caught in the backpack’s zipper. Eventually, I had to cut out a fist-sized piece of the tent. I used all the remaining tape in my repair kit to shoddily patch the big hole. I’ll hope the drought continues. Marathon & Money Shot joined us for dinner; a great dose of trail magic from tremendous people!

Dinner with the Bowlins

August 16, 2015 – Sunday (Palmer Lake / Cold Spring)

Dan invited us over to their camper for coffee, fruit, and oatmeal. Our hike for the day would take us over paved, then gravel roads, up a steep climb. But Dan needed some guy time away from the family, so he offered to drive us up to a lake just off our primary route, Chopaka Lake. Freebird arrived, but he passed on the ride while the rest of us accepted. The lake was beautiful, and we hung out several hours. Once we got going, it was pretty warm, and we had a long uphill road walk ahead of us.

A photo of Money Shot taking a photo

Around dark, Marathon and I arrived at another state campground, Cold Spring. We were the only people there until Money Shot arrived after dark. The trail magic from the Bowlins saved us a couple meals, and we all wondered if we had enough food for the 160-mile stretch to Ross Lake, where we had all sent food boxes. After dark, it turned chilly. Money Shot asked about our evening. I told him we had a great dinner and average conversation.

For food purposes, I have budgeted nine days to my resupply box: 10 miles on the first and last day, 20 miles on the others.

August 17, 2015 – Monday (Cold Spring / Goodenough Mountain detour)

Rainbow Brite had met a forest ranger named Rosemary back in Republic, and Rosemary had emailed her about an upcoming detour on the PNT due to a fire closure around Goodenough Mountain. So after breaking camp at Cold Spring, I arrived at the forest road marking the start of the detour. I waited a bit for the other two guys to arrive so we could all go south through the safe zone as opposed to north through the closed trails. When the guys arrived, they announced that they wanted to proceed through the closed trails, assuming the fires were out by now and it would be safe. So we parted ways at this point, and I proceeded southward along the longer detour.

The route went further south than my printed maps went, so much of this day was guesswork and uncertainty—not a good feeling. I went through a large regrowth forest from a fire from six or eight years ago. When I reached Sunny Pass, I knew I was on the right track, and I reconnected with the primary route at Horseshoe Basin around 6 pm. It was a beautiful spot, so I took a supper break. Later, I came upon a large porcupine on the trail. It slowly climbed a small tree and would not let me get a good photo. Around dark, I found a spot suitable for camping, several miles behind my friends, as per a satellite message I received from Money Shot.

August 18, 2015 – Tuesday (Pasayten Wilderness / Upper Cathedral Lake)

I got going early, on my own, through the easternmost portion of the Pasayten Wilderness. The scenery was beautiful, the weather became good, and the trail was nice, with a fairly level layout along the mountainsides. It was a very enjoyable hike, one of the best days so far. I saw a few grouse, or “mountain chickens,” along the way. They don’t often fly away; they usually just hope you pass by them. I stopped to check out the old Tungsten mining site and a cabin there. Later, I caught up to several other hikers. They were from a boy scout troop in Seattle. I was awestruck at the Apex Pass when I got my first glimpse of Cathedral Mountain. Three miles later, I reached the pass between Cathedral and Amphitheater Mountains, and then descended to Upper Cathedral Lake. The scouts were camping there, and it was still pretty early, maybe 6 pm. But it was a beautiful lake, tucked behind the mountains glowing in the evening sun. I found a quiet spot away from the scouts to tent for the night.

Upper Cathedral Lake

August 19, 2015 – Wednesday (Cathedral area / Bald Mountain / Ashnola River)

I did not know if or when I might catch up to the others. I was sure I was in last place among the dozen or more PNTers out here. But I was enjoying the solitude and my alone time.

I have not seen Spaceman Spiff since we left Oroville. Since the beginning, he has been pacing to stay near the two young women, Rainbow Brite and Morning Glory. But he believed them to be much younger than they actually are. They are both about 30 and have had careers and relationships. Word is that one of them is even widowed. They are not interested in a 22-year-old hipster in the way he is interested in them.

I got up in the morning and urinated on a rock not far from my tent. Then while eating Pop Tarts, white mountain goats began to appear just to lick the rock where I had peed, I assume for the salt. First a mom and a kid, then a half dozen others. They were all just a few feet away as I broke camp—another first for me.

Just some mountain goats licking piss from a rock

The chilly morning soon gave way to a warm and sunny day. As I made my way along the base of Bald Mountain, I heard the distinct sound of a marmot calling from above in a loud whistle. I soon spotted him standing on his hind legs on a rock up the mountain side.

The trail made a long descent down switchbacks to Ashnola River, and I stopped at an old rundown shelter there for lunch. Then it was a long ascent up the next mountain. Smoke from distant wildfires could be detected. I wondered, if there was a major fire nearby, and how would I ever know about it until I simply hiked upon it.

In the evening, I crossed over a beautiful meadow, a perfect place to camp, except it was a bit too soon to stop. As I hiked on, I met two ladies on an eastbound section hike. They had met many of the others ahead of me, including Freebird, who told them he was trying to catch up to Rainbow Brite and Morning Glory. I kept going and as darkness fell, I was on a pretty steep mountainside with few camping options. Nevertheless, I set up on a clear spot that would not have worked had it been any more slanty. There was a great sunset, enhanced by the hazy smoke, and a bright moon in the night sky, but just a sliver.

August 20, 2015 – Thursday (Bunker Hill / burn zone)

After breaking camp, which took extra time on account of the heavy dew that needed dry a bit in the morning sun, I continued along and down a steep descent. I’m glad I stopped to camp where I did last night; there was no better spot for several miles. I watered up at the creek, just enough to get up the next climb, Bunker Hill.

At the summit, there were nice views to the north and east, but a confusing mess of trails as well. I chose the most worn path and proceeded, assuming it was still trail #533 Boundary Trail. A few minutes later, the trail faded into the meadow, but I cut to the right 100 yards and picked it up, just where the GPS app on my phone said it would be. This is where the trail enters a large burn zone from a 2007 fire. I made my way down the mountain, but the trail faded again. Things did not seem quite right. I checked my phone and my maps. I realized I had accidentally taken trail #456 south from the summit when I meant to take #533 west down the mountain. Ugh!

So I pushed back to see where I had gone off course, about 1.5 miles down and up. I was surprised to see a female hiker approach. It was Grace a.k.a. Morning Glory! She had made the same mistake as me, but I saved her from a solid hour of frustration. We soon spotted the less-than-obvious turnoff to our proper trail. She and Rainbow Brite had stopped in Loomis due to Rainbow’s injured toe. Rainbow was taking time off and riding with Honey Bee in the rental car. Morning Glory decided to hike on, so the two of us proceeded down the burned-out mountainside.

I enjoyed hiking with her. She is pretty and does not make the strange noises that Marathon makes; nor does she stop to pee on the middle of the trail. We exchanged good conversation. She had quit her career in Biomedical Engineering recently. She also confided that she was married for three years and that her husband had died last fall, less than a year ago. This was her first thru-hike, talked into it by her friend Julie (Rainbow Brite). Clearly, she has deeper reasons for hiking this hike than I do. I remarked that there must be something symbolic about this skeleton of the once great and proud forest we were walking through. She added, “and the new growth sprouting within it.” 

We reached a river crossing, a long log connecting the banks. I crossed and stopped for lunch; she stopped on the opposite bank for water and lunch. At another stream crossing, we stopped for water. I removed my shoes and socks to wash my disgusting feet in the cold water. I realized a toenail needed to be cut free. I announced to Morning Glory that I would be performing a "toenailectomy." At the end of it, I offered the nail to her, kind of as a memento of our day together. She politely declined, stating she did not have enough room in her pack. Too soon, I guess. I’ve had several toenails fall off; I suppose they will grow back in time, just like the burn-scarred forest.

Morning Glory is one of those goal-oriented hikers who will keep going until arriving at a predetermined location marked on her maps; anything short of this goal would be a failure. I don’t plan this way, and I do not understand people who do, just like they don’t get me. Being early retired now and not having to unnaturally act that way has removed a great load of stress from my life. Nevertheless, I hurried along faster than normal to keep up. If there had been a suitable campsite, I would have stopped and let her go on alone. But there wasn’t. Thirty minutes past dark, she night hiked over another log crossing to a campsite. I could not see well enough to try it, so we camped on opposite sides of the creek. She said she tends to leave camp between 7:30-8:00 a.m., a bit earlier than me, but still manageable. She said she wanted to hike with me until reuniting with Rainbow Brite in a few days.

August 21, 2015 – Friday (Frosty Pass / PCT junction / Hopkins Lake)

Light rain began after daybreak and continued long enough to make me late. Morning Glory also waited until the rain stopped to break camp, and it was 9 am before we left. It was cold and wet, and the trail was mostly overgrown huckleberries. The cold drops collected on my legs and quickly saturated my socks until my feet were sloshing in cold water inside my shoes. The moisture on my hands coupled with the wind from hiking 2.5 mph turned my finger blue. It was a miserable few miles to start the day. Morning Glory seemed to be handling the situation better than me. We took a snack break, then began the ascent to Frosty Pass. The rain continued, and at the higher elevations, it mixed with sleet and snow.

My satellite phone alerted that I had a message, and we came to a nice campsite where I stopped to check it. It was from a forest ranger named Rosemary (not sure how she was able to contact me). The message read: “PNT closed due to fire – East Bank Trail Head to North of Ross Lake Resort. Rt. 20 closed both ways, no hitch option. NPS ranger will assist at trail head. Wait/camp there.” I shared the information with Morning Glory. The closure was still a couple days away from us. Since I was freezing, I told her I would take lunch now, set up my camp, and wait a few hours for the rain to stop. I told her I don’t enjoy hiking in the rain, and I hate being cold. There were great views for the next several miles, but we were missing them due to the rain and clouds. She thought about staying also, but decided to keep moving. She left and I was not sure I would catch up to her again. I got my tent up and crawled in my bag to warm up. It was not yet noon and I’d gone less than five miles. I dozed off and the rain continued.

When I awoke, rays of direct sunlight occasionally illuminated my tent. It was nearly 4 pm. I cooked some Ramen noodles and packed up. My plan to wait out the weather would pay off. With a few hours of daylight remaining, I got going, crossing over Frosty Pass then downhill. I reached a confusing junction just as a woman approached from the upper fork. It turns out this is the spot where the PNT shares the tread with the more famous and popular Pacific Crest Trail for 15 miles. The woman, Doctor Beaker, had hiked from Mexico and would be completing the PCT that night, just a few miles away at the Canada border! I congratulated her and continued on, wondering if I might one day attempt the PCT as well.

Great views here, and I decided to stop to stealth camp high above Hopkins Lake. Spectacular! So as to not disturb the alpine vegetation too much, I tented on a nice bed of pine needles and tiny pine cones. It was going to be a cold clear night, and the smell of pine reminded me of Christmas time. It was one of my favorite camping spots to date, anywhere.

August 22, 2015 – Saturday (Holman Pass / Devil’s Pass area)

I woke to a thick layer of frost on my tent and the ground around me. But the sun over the mountains to the east quickly melted it and dried things out. Early in the morning, I met a guy who was finishing up the PCT that day after just 3½ months. Then another guy who started in April.

The crisp morning quickly turned to a very warm day, and I’d been out of water for a while. Fortunately, I heard the trickle of a small spring in the crease of a mountain near a switchback in the trail. I sent a satellite message to warn Money Shot and Marathon about the closures ahead. They were still half a day or more ahead of me.

The scenery in the morning was pretty great, but not so much in the afternoon. Around 3 pm at Holman Pass, the PNT separates from the PCT and heads to the west. Almost immediately, I was climbing over downed trees and bushwhacking through overgrowth. The small bit of the PCT I experienced was really great—great views, nicely maintained, more places to camp, less isolation. I would say this moved me from 10% to 40% chance of hiking the PCT next year, and 50/50 for some time in the future.

I hiked to a campsite one mile shy of Devil’s Pass and found a nice campsite. I had a hot supper and some tea before bedtime—not too shabby!

August 23, 2015 – Sunday (Jackati Ridge / Devil’s Park / Highway 20)

Yesterday, I had more messages from Ranger Rosemary about the fire closure, trying to get a handle on how many hikers were out here. I let her know that I was loosely part of a group of about nine scattered PNT hikers who would arrive at the trailhead on Rt 20 by this evening, me being the last that I knew of. All day, I was wondering how I could be getting these messages directly from forest rangers, how they found out I was even out here. Is the government actually monitoring us all the time? All of my wildest conspiracy theories bubbled to the surface.

Money Shot messaged me that they were transported by a ranger to the Ross Lake Resort. They both had resupply packages there, but mine never arrived; they did not have it. I wondered, without my food, and no way to hitch to a resupply town because of the road closure, what would I do for sustenance?

I hiked on to Devil’s Pass. Rather than take the primary route, I chose the shorter (mileage) Jackati Ridge alternate, described as steep and grueling. Not sure what I was thinking when I decided this; shorter is not necessarily quicker. There were footprints of just one other hiker who had gone before me. It wasn’t so so bad, or at least I thought. When I actually reached the Jackati ascent the trail became rocky and seemed to go straight up the side of the 7,000 foot mountain. But then I noticed old switchbacks. The rock turned to scree—small gravel bits, very unstable. Higher and higher I went, more and more frightened. The loss of footing, sliding down the side, it would be a couple thousand feet of sliding; there were no trees to grab hold of. At one point, the switchbacks stopped and there was a 30-yard scramble up the slope. Wow. Was so happy when I finally got to the top and let out a loud yee-haw!

In a few miles along and down the ridge, I stopped around 3 pm for a late lunch at an old beat-up shelter, Devil’s Park Shelter. I didn’t cook, just had a tuna wrap with corn chips. Studying my maps, I believed I could get to the Ranger rendezvous point before dusk. I got going and just past the shelter, and I stopped abruptly when I noticed a large dark blob on the trail ahead. I then realized I was looking at a large black bear. It had not noticed me. I got behind a tree and started singing loudly. The only song that came to me was “Die Die Die” by the Avett Brothers. I belted it out: “Nobody knows what lies behind the days before the day we die. Die Die Die, Die Die Die, Die.” Not sure why this was the only song I could think of. Whatever, it was effective. When I looked again, the bear was gone. I waited a minute and walked through, “Die Die Die Die!”

The smoke got thicker, and I came to a long series of descending switchbacks. After 7 pm, I found the highway—a truly surreal scene. No cars, hazy smoke, ashes falling. I followed west toward an eerie setting red sun, three miles along the road to the place where a sign on a kiosk advised to stay and wait for the rangers. But it was too late. They would not be back until morning. I cowboy camped at the gravel parking lot leaning on a big rock, nobody else around, the stars not visible because of the smoke. Very strange scene.

Not great news

August 24, 2015 – Monday (Highway 20 / Ross Lake Resort / Big Beaver Trail)

Somehow, I slept pretty well on the abandoned parking lot. When I woke up, I brushed a thin layer of white ash off my sleeping bag and other belongings. I went a quarter mile down a trail to the creek, reading about the gold prospectors who worked these parts more than a century ago. Back at the parking lot, a retired couple, Allister & Gail, arrived. They are Canadians on the PNT, although he is originally Scottish. I had heard about them from trail lore, but somehow never met until now. They are purists who do not accept rides, ever.

A ranger finally came by. All three of us needed to go to Marblemount, or any other town where we could resupply. But with the highway closed, that would not happen. The ranger had MRE kits in his truck, and told us to take whatever we needed. A&G took 15 of them. The ranger left, but another one arrived half hour later. I took seven of the MRE kits. A&G were granted permission to walk five miles west to the Ross Lake Dam trailhead; I accepted a ride from the ranger. From there, it would be a two-mile hike to the resort where I hoped to finally catch up to my colleagues after a full week.

Rangers totally hooked us up. So cool!

The ranger phoned in back country permits for a couple nights along the Big Beaver Trail, the only way for us to get out of the fire zone. About 11 am, I reached the resort, a flotilla of more than 15 cabins on the lake. The resort had been evacuated five days earlier when Rt 20 was closed. The staff was there, and they told me my friends were in Cabin #1 and that they had been expecting me last night.

Ross Lake Resort, completely socked in

I found Marathon and Money Shot in cozy twin beds with fresh white linens, still loafing around. The owner, who must have been losing lots of income because of the fire, had let them stay for free while I was cowboy camping in a gravel parking lot with ash falling on me. I was able to get a shower and charge my devices before they wanted us out. Some of the guests who had evacuated left tons of great food behind, and with the MRE food the rangers gave us, we would be okay for the next several days through North Cascades National Park.

It was a quick stop at the Resort, but a good and productive one. A guy from the staff offered to take us by boat about four miles up the lake so we could avoid hiking through the worst of the smoke. We accepted the offer and soon we were at the Big Beaver Campground and on our way through North Cascades National Park on the Big Beaver Trail. Money Shot realized he’d left his satellite tracker back at the resort. He had to hike 4 miles back to retrieve it. But Marathon and I had no plans to hurry. We took a long water break around the giant red cedar trees. Soon after, we set up camp at the Thirtynine Mile Campground. It’s further than the camp on my back country permit, but not a big deal. With the highway closed, we will be the only campers in the park for a couple days. Money Shot caught up to us about 10 pm, having hiked eight bonus miles.

Giant red cedars in North Cascades National Park