Long time no see huh? I apologise for the lack of blog entries of late, Washington is not exactly generous in either Internet facilities, mobile phone coverage, normal phone coverage or Wi-Fi, hence the little contact.
To say we have been into the back of beyond is an understatement. Anyway, read on and update yourself with one of the most exciting, dangerous, eventful, cold, exhausting and saddest weeks of my life . . .
Trooper and I left Stehekin early on Monday, 25th October after hospitality from some of the locals that completely blew us away. We had arrived at the local restaurant at 07.00am for Monica and Mark to give us a ride back up to the trail head, 8 miles up the road. As I entered Monica looked worried and I knew it was about the conditions on the final 90 mile stretch to Canada.
"Have you seen the weather report"? she asked. I knew just from her expression that it was bad. I was also aware that she knew regardless of what she told me, it would have no bearing on our plans. Monica has had nearly a lifetime of meeting thru-hikers and she knows what a single minded, determined bunch of idiots we are.
"I heard there was a storm coming in", I replied, smiling. I think she detected a little nervousness in my voice.
"There is", she continued. "Snow down to 4500 feet and up to 4 feet deep".
I looked at Trooper who shrugged his shoulders. No way, hell or high water was he getting off trail. 2 years prior he had been forced off the PCT 2 weeks before finishing and he had returned to complete his dream.
"The weather will do what it will", I said. "We have to at least give it a go, we've both come too far to back out. I know it could be dangerous up there but there is a couple of roads where we can get out if the going is tough, and a Ranger Station as well. We have more than enough food if we get into trouble. We have to go but thanks for the info".
She gave a smile of recognition that confirmed what she already knew we would say and we all went out into the rain and squeezed into their car. I wiped the inside of the window on the short journey up a gravel track and peered out at ominous looking clouds as rain trickled down the other side. Trooper was silent and contemplative. If both of us had any idea what lay ahead over the next 5 days, neither of us would have even left.
A very appropriately named Rainy Pass was the destination for the day, about 20 miles and all up hill. 2 hours in my right ankle, which had been aching for a couple of days decided to really let me know how it felt and a shooting pain shot up from it. I almost screamed with pain and came to an abrupt halt. Tentatively I placed it back on the ground but the pain did not abate, I hobbled on one foot for a few yards and slumped down by the trail side.
"Is it bad"? Trooper asked.
"Yeah, it certainly feels that way" I said, trying to look positive but failing miserably.
We ate a wet lunch as I became more concerned about the pain but amazingly after 30 minutes it subsided a little and we carried on. However, several times during the ensuing miles the pain hit me again. I knew there was a highway at Rainy Pass, the last bail out point for 90 miles and the Canadian border. I decided to get off trail and come back in 2011 and finish the PCT then, I had reached breaking point and could see no way of hiking that far.
Rainy Pass came at 7pm but should have been re-named Snowy Pass as a couple of inches had fallen. Somehow I had fought off my demons and convinced myself to get through. My ankle, I thought, will do whatever the hell it wants.
I woke in the morning at 6am, as usual, and glanced at my watch. -7 Celcius, 7 degrees below freezing.
"You up Trooper"? I called.
"My mind is but my body is catching up".
We plodded up to Cutthroat Pass at 6800 feet, the snow getting deeper. As we crested I looked despondently at what lay before me. Everything was white and the trail had disappeared leaving the slightest dip in the surface of the snow at best, most of the time we didn't even have that. I studied the map, checked we were on the right track and tried to relay what I saw on the map with what panned out in front of me. This would be the pattern for the next 4 days. The Pacific Crest trail had gone, at least until the thaw. Our course of action was to check the map regularly, take GPS readings when we thought we needed to verify our location, but mainly to try and concentrate on the tiny dip in the ground where the PCT lay beneath.
Somehow it worked. Plenty of times we lost that dip and had to scan ahead. Sure enough, we would spot it again a hundred yards or so ahead, or notice a faint cutting into the side of a ridge. Washington is poorly marked, there were little or no signs to help us out. There were no foot prints either, we were the first, and probably last hikers through the fresh snow.
The temperature did not rise above freezing all day. Our feet got cold when we stopped and took 30 minutes to warm up again. Our hands had to stay cocooned in gloves, becoming painfully cold even after a few seconds in the open. We waded through snow drifts up to our thighs and carefully made our way across slopes and ridges, wondering if it could get any worse. It did . . .
Somehow my ankle made it through that week. I think the snow helped, maybe the cold numbing the pain and keeping the swelling down, it also softened the foot fall. Wind smashed us at times and drove freezing, stinging snow into our faces. It was exhausting, our bodies were screaming for food and using those precious calories and fat to keep our cores warm, energy for our legs was not an important concern.
Pass after pass came and went, another peak passed us, another ascent and another descent. Our legs screamed and our lungs heaved in protest. On Wednesday 27th, by 3pm we stumbled into Harts Pass at 6200 feet. We had managed a meagre 9 miles in 9 hours. A solitary car with two day hikers inside was parked, the woman peered out at me appearing from nowhere with a look of astonishment on her face. We chatted to them briefly and they gave us apples, bananas and some tea and apologised because they had eaten all their brownies. Libby passed us her email address and pleaded with us to let them know if and when we reached Canada. We agreed that if she had recieved no news by Monday then they would call Mountain Rescue. It was good piece of mind to know at least someone would come looking if we got into trouble.
We called it a day and set about making a fire to warm up and boost morale, scraping away layers of snow to place our tents. We talked about Pockets who we last saw at Snoqualmie Pass. He had recieved news that his illness was confirmed ecoli but was intending to hike out and get to Canada. We knew he was only a day behind and half expected him to turn up at camp that night. He didn't and we worried about his safety, we were relatively well and struggling, god only knows how he was coping.
On Friday we woke knowing we had 12 miles to Monument 78 which marks the northern terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail and the American / Canadian border. We then had a further 8 miles to Manning Park, a remote hotel on a highway in the middle of nowhere. Nothing could stop us now surely, we had battled through 4 days. Fighting our demons, our bodies, a strong urge to quit and a hunger that just never left us we rose at 4.30am and set off at 6am in the dark and limited visibility.
Trooper's last ascent of the PCT was before us, a relatively easy 1500 feet. We were in good spirits until I saw on the map that the trail turned sharply east into Lakeview ridge. The east slopes had taken a hammering during the storms and snow was drifting alarmingly deep. We turned the corner and saw a 1/4 miles stretch, barely visible in the mist. It was sloped from right to left at about 40 degrees but we could just see a faint trail. If this snow had been frozen we would have been in trouble. Neither of us had crampons or ice axes, not having the time to arrange for them to be sent to us. The snow, however, was soft and we carefully made our way along as it held our legs in place. One slip here and we would have ended up about 1500 feet down in the valley.
Down the Devils Staircase and then Trooper stopped abruptly.
"Whats up"? I asked.
"That's it", he replied.
"Whats what"? I looked at him waiting for some sort of verification as I tried to decipher the expression on his face.
"Monument 78", he said. "Look through the trees there, that's the Canadian border, that's where I finish my walk and become a Pacific Crest Trail thru-hiker".
I peered through the trees and sure enough, about a hundred yards away the silver obelisk and wooden structure that I had seen so many times in photos and other hikers videos peeked back at me through the foliage. It was a huge moment for me as well but it also reminded me that I was yet to finish, still 330 miles to polish off in Oregon.
Trooper jumped for joy when he reached the international line. A clear cut line of trees stretched away into the distance either side of us marking the border. "They cut all those trees down just to mark the bloody border"?! I thought to myself.
We took endless photos and video and I then partook of the smoking of the ceremonial stogie. A stogie is a cigar that was kindly left for me at Stehekin in the post by Ceder Elk, an inspirational hiker I had walked with back in California. He had left it for me to smoke at the border as well as a request for me to sign the log book because he couldn't find it! It is is actually located under the obelisk, the top portion of which lifts off.
We now had a mere 8 miles to Manning Park, where a warm hotel waited for us along with a shower and as much food as we could eat. The final blow was a 1000 foot climb though, just to rub it in and we arrived cold, tired and literally glad to be alive, collapsing on our beds exhausted.
I called my parents in the morning to share the good news and could not have anticipated what sadness I was about to recieve in reply. My mother tried to tell me but broke down in tears, passing the phone to my sister Tracy.
"Keith, Nan died this morning. She had a stroke a couple of weeks ago and has been in hospital since. She couldn't really talk but understood what we were saying and nodded her answers. Bruv, we asked her if she wanted you to finish the walk for her and everyone. You will probably miss the funeral but she nodded that she wants you to complete it, she definitely wants you to complete it. My sister was trying also to hold back the tears and I broke down myself.
My Mum came back on the line. "Keith, you must finish the walk now for Nan, she wanted you to finish. Go and finish it off for her".
I choked back a few tears trying to come to terms with the news. My high had come down to earth with a thump.
"OK, I will", I said. "I'll do it for Nan".
In all my life time I have never exchanged a bad word or feeling with my lovely Nan. We had never argued, it was only ever good feelings between us. She was one of the most caring people I have been privileged to know, always meeting me with a smile and a kiss and a "Hello Keify", with an affectionate shrug of her shoulders. She shone with affection that radiated out from her, I could always sense it. Not a bad bone in her body.
To think I have suffered on this hike is nothing compared to what my Nan went through in the early years of her life. Struggling to bring up 3 children through a world war with little money to buy even the basics she took care of all of them somehow.
This final two weeks is not just for my Nan, my entire Pacific Crest Trail 2010 thru-hike is in her memory and honour.
I will miss her dearly but I feel comforted that I saw her before I went to say good bye.
I'll see you when I get back" I had said. Little did I know then then that I would never see her again.
Bye Nan, see you on the other side.
