Heidi's Adventures on the PCT

White Pass to Chinook Pass, 7/25/09-7/27/09, 27 miles, 2500 elevation

I have a pretty big dream. Several of them actually. I want to hike a long trail - you know, like the Appalachian Trail or the Pacific Crest. Really I'd like to do them both - thru hike them and several others. Getting the time off to do them though is a bit of an issue. My best bet right now is to take a long weekend and do a section at a time of the trail closest to home - the Pacific Crest, or the PCT - the Washington sections. After a little research, I figured the best section to start with would be the nice short 27 mile trip between White Pass and Chinook Pass.

Three days, 8 miles a day. It would be wonderful. But then I picked the hottest weekend of the year and Michael got sick and I was looking at three days in the wilderness by myself, sweating and overheating and being lonely. I don't backpack well alone. I'd much rather have someone to go with, but I have few friends who backpack and those that do can't always drop their plans on the spur as I would have to. I resolved to go on my own. I have an iPod for the lonely hours. And there's always Zillah.

Michael insisted I take Zillah along, to be my guard dog and to keep me company. I didn't really hesitate much, I knew I would need something to talk to other than the imagined bear chewing off my leg. She, however didn't understand why "the papa" wasn't coming with us, or why she had to carry a pack on her back or why I kept slapping mosquitoes off her head. And there were plenty of mosquitoes to slap. Before I stopped for lunch I think I ate about 5 of them just by breathing through my mouth. I would have breathed through my nose except snorting a mosquito is worse than swallowing one. Plainly said, the bugs were miserable.

It didn't take long for me to lose track of both time and mileage and I reached my planned 1st night campsite well before I was ready to camp. It was a pretty little lake alongside the trail and I made note to return another time and camp here. I decided to try and make Fish Lake believing it was only a twelve mile day I'd be hiking that day. Later I would find out that my guesstimate had no basis in truth - it was 15 miles from my starting point to Fish Lake. As I was still going strong, I figured there'd be little trouble. Which there wasn't. I found our campsite, set up the tent then both Zillah & I dove in to gain a little refuge from the bugs.

A nap seemed like a great way to spend the rest of the afternoon, but I was soon awakened by rumbling in the sky and a dog trying to burrow her way into my sleeping bag. I wondered, as Zillah curled into a ball next to me inside the bag, how Michael would feel knowing both his dog and his wife fit inside his sleeping bag. I listened and watched as the storm passed over us, comforting Zillah as best I could - some brave watch dog she turned out to be. As the last of the storm drifted past and with the sky beginning to dim, Zillah and I uncurled ourselves from the tent for a bite to eat and sit near the lake to watch the fish jump. We were the only ones out here that night. The mosquitoes had even gone home to bed.

I let Zillah romp through the meadow. She seemed so happy running up and down the marshy shore stopping every so often to roll in the grass then leap up to romp a bit more. Night was rapidly approaching so I called Zillah back into the tent and I settled down with my headlamp and book. All of a sudden we heard a KASHUMP, KASHUMP, KASHUMP, SPLASH, SPLASH in the darkness. Zillah was on her feet, nose pressed against the mosquito netting. A low warning growl issued from her throat. My heart skipped a beat. I turned off the headlamp. Then I saw what was making all the noise. A small heard of elk were playing in the lake on the other shore. I shushed Zillah and watched until darkness obscured them from my site. I listened to them bugle at each other for the rest of the night - secure in the thought that they would not be there if danger approached.

The next morning we got up bright and early knowing our toughest climb of the trip would be right out of the starting gate. The day before was tiring, the last mile whipped my butt. Now I would have to start a climb right out of bed. Yet I was happy with my decision to stay at Fish Lake and get this climb out of my way so I could enjoy the day. A lone elk grazed on the far side of the lake as we left and I smiled to myself for the comfort seeing her brought. Slowly we made our way up the hill. First through thick forest, then it started thinning out breaking open to meadows. Soon I could see the open air above me and the trail continuing its climb through meadows and talus. The sun was higher and hotter and my head began to bake in its confines. I had to rest more often, drink more water, eat another snack. Zillah slurped all the water I gave her and looked to me for more. And just when I thought I'd never see the end of the climb, I crested the ridge to see Mt Rainier filling the valley and the sky.

It was a perfect spot to rest, rehydrate and refuel. Plus pull out the camera for a few quick shots. Soon two Washington thru-hikers showed up, iPods in their ears. One stopped to chat for a minute, asked if he'd be seeing the mountain soon. I casually pointed to the massive mound in the distance. He followed my gesture with surprise. I guess you kind of forget to look around when you're listening to hiking music. I bring my iPod along, but I listen to it in camp, during the slow lonely hours between set-up and sleep. From here on, it was one fabulous view after another. To my west stood Mt Rainier in all her glory. To my East, the hills and valleys of the east Cascades.

As the day wore on and the heat increased, I could feel myself melt. I grew over-fatigued but wanted so much to get to Dewey Lake, my next camp, before resting. After one short but brutal hill, I lost my will to go on. In fact I lost my will to hike, camp, and photograph. I found the 1st shady spot on the trail, dropped my pack, laid on top of it and slept for about an hour. Both Zillah and I woke refreshed and had a little lunch to get us through the rest of the day. Before long, we were down the hill and meandering through meadows and ponds to meet up with Dewey Lake. A brief chat with a ranger informed us of several campsites at the other end of the lake. Ah, to take off the boots put on my camp sandals. Too bad I had lost one of them on the trail about 1/2 mile back and was not willing to head back to retrieve it. I know exactly where it was as it was the only time I got up without looking behind me before moving on. I managed - hurray for extra socks.

There were actually tents set up around Dewey Lake making me feel a little more secure about staying. I watched day-hikers dry off their feet before heading out. I watched campers romped in the shallows. Zillah and I both ventured into the lake - mud squishing between our toes, the sun warmed water soothing aching feet. This was nice. I could relax here.

Another climb awaited me in the morning and I was rather nervous after the previous day's climb. So I broke camp early and started up. I was supposed to meet Michael at 2 and I figured with the climb I'd need an early start. However, I crested the ridge in about an hour and hardly felt it. I was flabbergasted. And I also realized I would be at the picnic area way early . . . and no cell. The hill I had been climbing led up to Naches Peak on the eastern edge of Mt Rainier National Park. The peak is famous in the summer for the acres of wildflower meadows. I was not disappointed: lupine, asters, paintbrush, louseworts, rosy spirea, avalanche lilies blanketed the slopes.

I slowed our pace, rested by the side of a tarn and still we were at the picnic area by 10. I found the one picnic table in the shade and watched the day-hikers come and go, sweltering in the heat. And I reflected on my accomplishment - 3-days, solo in the wilderness. Maybe I could do a long hike after all.