This one's going to have to be a three-part entry; my infrequency of posts already provides a hefty read every time I get around to it, but I figured this time I'd add some intermissions for you to get up and stretch your legs.
Part 1 should really begin in the planning stage back in February with myself and Jackie, a fellow TFAer teaching at De Anza High, which is one of two (somewhat comparable) neighboring high schools to my very own Richmond. In the middle of our second winter break at Lake Tahoe we decided that we wanted to make this summer memorable - in a positive way - rather than stick around the Bay to teach summer school. When the light at the end of the tunnel is what gets you through your first year of teaching, believe me, the last thing you want to be doing is devoting your summer to a new group of students. In truth, I think I've missed a lot of my students over these weeks, but I believe that's because I've had the luxury of not seeing them for a while! So anyway, after deciding that we probably couldn't spend the money to go on some big world excursion, we naturally decided to plan a humongous hiking trip, probably incurring more expenses on new material than we would have needed to find ourselves enjoying a beer in Spain watching the World Cup final. That would have been cool too.
Fast forward to the day before leaving, which we so smartly saved for figuring out what the heck we would be doing for food each day. You will find I'm sure through reading this, and maybe already through my life choices, that I can be impatient at times and rarely want to waste the time with proper training and preparation for certain experiences. So naturally I had never done more than a three day camping trip, and preferred a jump in the deep end. What better way is there to figure out if you truly like something? I suppose that follows my choice to do TFA also. Anyway, what must have been 80 pounds of food later, we were ready to go, convinced that we could eat oatmeal for nearly four weeks straight. Ignorant or stupid? The jury is still out on that one.
Despite the limited knowledge of exactly how to go about a 275-mile hike, I think we fared quite well and the planning allowed for one 24-hour "oops" day, where we ended up being able to fix a few food and supply issues. Our plan was to hike between 12 and 13 miles each day, camping at predictable sites thanks to a Pacific Crest Trail guidebook. Hopefully I'll save some text by letting the pictures speak for themselves - a strategy I probably could have employed earlier since this is the first time I've posted pictures...
I felt obligated to make my first picture that of my brothers, who somehow agreed to making the three-hour drive south to Highway 12 and White Pass to drop us off. Unfortunately the picture does not capture Joseph's near-inability to stand straight up with 40 pounds on his back. It also doesn't give a hint of the snow to come, but on this first 100-mile stretch, it didn't take long before the trail was looking like the next photo, where every step taken was a gamble for whether or not the snow pack would support my now overweight-feeling body thanks to the backpack. Every so often a step would startlingly send you two to three feet straight down through the snow, usually splashing in water below. After hours of previous trudging, though, my feet were too wet anyway to care. Let me be the first to tell you that Gore-Tex boots are just as good at keeping water in them as they are at keeping water out of them. By this time, the wish list of things we should have brought now included gaiters and trekking poles. Tree branches are no substitute, that's for sure; they're too heavy and give you blisters - and we thought our feet and legs would be the only source of misery. For your timeline reference, this is only day three. You may imagine our fleeting thoughts of what the hell we just got ourselves into. At least the views were gorgeous, unhampered by even a single cloud, and things can only get better, right?
Wrong. Still day three. The newest things that would have been awfully nice to have on the trail: GPS or an altimeter. The sections of recognizable trail got farther and farther apart until I was looking down at the map and compass more often than my surroundings. I still insist that we were never really lost, especially with the immense presence of Mt. Rainier seemingly within an arm's reach to the west - though I will concede that we were rarely ever actually on the trail and any footprints you see in the picture below were our own. Thus far from being sent off into the wilderness, the snow had only gotten deeper, and our pace was already reduced to 9 miles even after our longest day yet. We were discouraged to find that at the lake at which we had planned to stay, the snow pack went right up to the water's edge; luckily we found a site of bare camping earth before dusk. But hey, now that I had become an experienced map and compass reader, and now that we had made it through the snow with even enough sunlight left to dry our boots, things can only get better, right?
Wrong. Day four. Within sight of the first highway that we would be crossing, the trail was nowhere to be found, and we had about a mile of 45-degree sloped snow to traverse. It took some serious mastery of my awkward center of gravity and a couple hours of tree-assisted maneuvers to make it to the pass, and at the road we had to take a break to wait for the adrenaline high to wear off. The picture to the left is the mountain face that we traversed; notice the lack of trail and the lack of people. I do believe we were the season's earliest hikers.
Faced with the fact that we had only done 2.5 miles before noon as well as the fact that we had already lost one Croc, we trudged on with the hope that it was true what we heard from our first hiker encounter: that after the highway snow was no longer an issue (liars!). It didn't take us long to realize that snow was an issue on all north-facing slopes, so although the next few miles led us to this amazing southerly view from about 7000 feet, the photo 180 degrees from that spot through the pass was not as happy. Immediately after this picture, we added cramp-ons to our wish list. We were miles behind schedule, the setting sun left snow packs that were now hardened and slick in the shade, and our nerves were totally shot. Day four made clear to us the dangers of hiking in snow. So naturally we decided that it was worth our time to hike down to the conveniently nearby ski resort for a real meal and a night in a real bed. Things can only get better, right?
Day five was when we realized that we need to stop telling ourselves that things can only get better. We continued our trend of bad mornings by requiring ourselves to hike back up to the trail - 2000 feet in two miles. It made sense afterwards that our trail book had suggested against splurging on a hotel room. We thought it was just because that would be considered cheating somehow. The goal of the day was to catch up to our original schedule, mainly because there would be no cell phone service anywhere along the trail for at least four more days when our parents were expecting calls. Thankfully the trail made its way out of the snow, so we indeed got back on track, but vowed to never again attempt 17.5 miles in one day. Our extra reward was a stay in a very nice cabin-shelter along the trail (the only one along the 275-mile stretch) accompanied by a couple who had hiked all the way from Canada and was planning on making it to Mexico by November. It was relieving to be able to share pictures to show and find out what lay ahead, and was just very cool to meet people with such a trip ahead of them. They had hiked 24 miles that day, and their packs were both under 30 pounds, silently reminding us that we were amateurs. They were definitely high on life and came at the perfect time to get us motivated to keep going.
I promise not to share every single day's experience, and after that, things got less memorable in a good way. There were a few body-aching painful days due to the myriad of foot ailments acquired after the 17.5 mile day, and I'm sure the poor night's sleep listening to mice running all throughout that cabin didn't help either. On the last of the 100 miles approaching Snoqualmie Pass, we were very aware that our bodies had been beaten to a pulp and our planned day off was more than welcome. We were dreaming of gourmet food on and off the trail, and we never actually discussed it, but I'm quite sure we were both wondering if we could handle over two more weeks of this. Luckily, we had already bought everything and I had already told everyone how I was spending my summer, so it was unavoidable. With time on the trail to think, I realized that this is how I hold myself accountable for things: I tell everyone I know before I put too much thought into it so that I can't back out. It has its pluses and minuses.
It was invigorating reaching the 100 mile mark and upon uploading my pictures (there were a lot) I knew that I wanted nothing more than to keep going. Here are some of the other favorites:
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