Challengers of the PCT

A week is in the books and it’s official; everything is harder with this adventure, but things are moving along more or less as planned despite any hurdles. I’m free as a bird and happy connecting with people out in this zany remix of life that is thru-hiking. This inaugural entry I’m composing in the inspiring retreat of Stehekin nestled so deep in the Cascades that it’s not even possible to drive in!

I left off in Seattle steeling myself for the journey and properly departed with my first hangover in some time courtesy of dear VP who hosted me at journey’s onset.  He got me a bit of the way to Hart’s Pass, to the town of Arlington that I strategically targeted to hitchhike from. Well, within two minutes of hugging VP goodbye, I was scooped up in a commercial van by a shirtless fellow from Athens who promised to get me halfway.

I obliged, beggars can only choose so much, and the fellow, Tony, got me into the North Cascades where his campsite was, at the scenic Diablo Lake. Two separate hitches is fine for the 3 hours of driving to the town of Mazama. Apparently, commercial vans are cheaper to rent for sleeping in and homier versus a passenger vehicle, a good tip if I ever try that style of travel. Two climbers, oh do I miss the sport, scooped me up an hour later from that idyll and got me to Ravensong’s Roost.

Ravensong is a trail angel who hosts folks on her property starting or finishing the trail, with a claim on being the first woman to thru-hike the PCT in 1976. I really appreciated her stories and hospitality; I can’t understate really how awesome it is to meet inspiring folks of age, versus the despair, stagnation and fear I was raised expecting.

A coffee in the morning and a short time throwing the magic thumb out, and we got a hitch up to Harts Pass from a nice couple celebrating a birthday. We, because I was joined by Gregor, a determined German in his 50’s seeking adventure for the first time and with a story on his visa and preparation worth its own blog post.

We set out together that first day, with food cached at the caretakers at Hart’s Pass to lighten the blow of a 30 mile approach and backtrack to tag the border. I was bemused to idle about for his first steps on trail that were a moment of gravity for him that it’s easy for me to not give second thoughts to. A journey to get here is its own thing in and of itself, and though mine wasn’t trivial by any means, the significance of that first step can be a lot and I overlooked that!

After a lax start full of tale telling, it became clear that the 16 miles I anticipated making Day 1 were going to require a bit of elbow (knee?) grease. So I powered on, through drop dead gorgeous ridges, and dead dropped trees creating jungle gym scenarios as dusk closed in. I made camp at 8:30 that day, for the sun sits high a long time at this latitude. I was quick in my tent despite meeting some friendly new faces due to the introduction of mosquitoes back into my life in a rude, en masse kind of way. The headnet I brought was a godsend this first week.

Gregor rolled up well after dark, giving me a good surprise as to his determination. He’d keep up the next day, a shorter one at 11 miles due to rain and universal fatigue from Day 1. I made the acquaintance then of a lot of folks who’d be present much of my first week: Smoko, his pal Alex, Cooper, Meg, Jessenia, & Joe.

The counts of people by now show a clear departure from the human swarm that was the start of my NOBO hike five years ago. In exchange for epic views and the convenience of a summer start in this late Covid Era, we are quite isolated. Not only in number, but this stretch of the Canadian border is extremely remote. I hope I get service occasionally down the line, but there was no contact with the outside world through conventional means for all conventionally until stopping in Stehekin after 110 miles, now will I be out again for another equally as long stretch to Stevens’s Pass.

Have I mentioned how god awful the mosquitoes were at the onset? They’re mellowed out here on Lake Chelan, but those first few days were few breaks, rain clothes on when stopped, and dashing in the tent quickly. And on these elongated evenings, that means sleeping with the sun still up with the short days. Definitely some weird times, and it weighed on people a bit; we’ve lost a few on the way to dwindling morales and injuries. No campfires of course either, who knows if I’ll even have the privilege of enjoying a single one with the drought conditions plaguing the trail’s length.

After tagging Hart’s Pass, it was just me, Smoko, Meg and Jessenia a few nights. I appreciated getting to know these varied three with some good hiking convos. Smoko got his name from times on the Colorado Trail and hails from Bisbee, not far from me In Tucson though he’s now far in Fargo. He brought an ounce of weed on trail and has been a welcome companion passing time in the evening as you could imagine. Meg is an intrepid young adventurer out for the long haul before she tries out life in Nashville and Jessenia a similar aged professional trying out the backpacker life for a change.

One interesting adage is just reassuming the mantle of Scavenger, the Elder. That assuming title and my extrovertedness has put me in a funny role as mentor, or maybe senpai out here. I have the thousands of miles under me from the Appalachian so a lot of questions get thrown my way and if you know me, I’m happy to oblige and opine. I hope I come off as cool on the CDT.

Even then, I’m still finding my trail legs, so I’m happy keeping a slightly languid pace through this first part of Washington. The turbo will come, but only after my feet finish forming a leathery shield to endure big mile days. I nabbed 3 30’s on the Appalachian starting from better fitness, so I’ve probably gotta pocket a dozen or more out here to equivocate. It’ll come, I’m not worried.

Enjoy the epic views and scenes of PCT life. I’m composing this, but alas, not publishing until later due to the limited satellite internet Stehekin offers. It’s astonishingly pretty here, but one zero is all I’ve got before the adventure must resume. I’m meeting dear Merianne in 108 miles and 6 days, so I’ve a bit more hiking to do!