Date: 9/15/16
Miles: 19.4
Total Miles: 2461.6
If we weren’t climbing, we were descending. That sounds obvious enough, but there are many days on the PCT where at least a few miles are reasonably level with little to no elevation gain or loss. Today was not one of them. With nearly 20 miles to make to pick up the next resupply before 5pm, it was another early start that promptly wasted little time heading up the first of several climbs. Once at the top, it was only a few feet over a narrow ridge before an immediate descent. That was the pattern of the day. Just over the crest of the first of these climbs was our first view of Glacier Peak.
It was another perfectly sunny day, one where the shaded side of a mountain was cold enough to merit a winter hat and a warm jacket while the sunny side was perfectly comfortable in only a short sleeve shirt. The palette of colors was stunning in the particularly open slopes high on the side of the mountains we traversed: yellow- and red-leaved low bush blueberries were a dramatic contrast to the evergreens that sparsely dotted large chunks of granite, all beneath an azure blue sky.
Somewhere late in the morning, we dipped below the 200-miles-to-go mark. It went almost unnoticed, lost among the scenery and our focus on making it to Stevens Pass in time to pick up our resupply boxes. When I realized that we’d passed by this point, I thought to myself how quickly this last stretch of trail will zoom by. Only ten days of trail remain, and when the last of those days slowly dissolves I know that I’ll look back and wonder where the time went.
Up and over the last climb of the day, the trail was wending its way back and forth in a pattern of switchbacks first up the backside of Stevens Pass ski area and then down its front side. All along the way, I marveled at how the trail took a course that was completely unknown to me despite Emily and I having skied here for two seasons several years ago. I smiled as I passed by several places in the trees that I’d grown fond of skiing back then, all without ever knowing I was skiing across the PCT.
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- Stevens Pass ski area
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- Crossing Stevens Pass ski trails
The day finished with an unexpected surprise: Coppertone’s closing act of trail magic. In the final steps of the descent before reaching the base of the ski area, there was his familiar blue plate one last time pointing in the direction of where he’d setup shop in the parking lot. It was both great to see him one final time and sad to know that it was the last time we’d see this friendly and familiar face who’s been a constant, kind, and generous presence for over 2000 miles.
Tomorrow, it’s on toward the final resupply of the trail five days from now in Stehekin. For tonight, it’s cowboy camping on the patio of the ski area, looking up at a star-filled sky.
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- Coppertone!
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- Stevens Pass ski area
You guys are so close! Looking forward to seeing your monument pictures soon. Stay warm and dry out there and enjoy soaking in all the beauty of the final miles.
Hey Jeff,
Lying awake, sleepless in the night time hustle and noise of Le Marais neighborhood in Paris, I picked up my iPhone and reconnected with your travels reading backward from today’s post, all the way back to August as you neared the Mt Hood wilderness and your rendezvous with your mom and Emily. Julie and I were sorry to miss this meeting, choosing instead – and we know you’d never blame us – our own adventure into uncharted territory in the North Cascades. As I read each day of your journey, smiling as you recount the Lodge at Timberline, the pleasure and motivation of demons… (motivation of demons? did i just type that? damn you Apple. get your autoshitcorrector in order!)…motivation of rendezvous with your mom and your lovely wife, crossing the OR/WA border, I smiled as you recounted our time in Indian Heaven Wilderness and marveled myself that it was just last year we plodded our way through the snow and through the clouds to marvel at the view of Mt Adams.
Just as quickly I’m interrupted by the sound of Parisian hip-hop blaring from the car parked below our flat window. A “chugga-chugga-chugga” from a scooter starts below while the stench of another cigarette wafts through our open window. A young French girl laughs as she talks on her phone, and her stylish heels clip-clop their way down the cobblestone street, echoing off the walls of these ridiculously-cute apartments.
The scene for Julie and I couldn’t be any more in contrast to the one you’re enjoying right now as you make your own way along the sections of trails (in your own foot-forward fashion statement 🙂 we’ve come to know together with you and Emily, and unlock the sections that have until these past days for you, been secrets, awaiting this very adventure.
I realize our journey here in Paris and our excursion to the Bourgogne countryside is coming to an end, and I’m thinking about the bittersweet feeling you must have wondering where 5+ months have gone as you get closer to the Paysatan Wilderness and the Canadian border terminus of the PCT. While I’m shoving the bit of dread I have at the thought of coming home to a country in the grips of an identity crisis and struggle with its future – and my own continued grapple with what comes next for me – I am warmed by your infectious enthusiasm for the trail, reuniting with your wife, and details of finishing those last 46ers with mom. And it gives me something to look forward to when we return to Washington to know that after a few short days of reality – read: job – we’ll be heading up to Canada with Emily to meet you at the victory walk and your completion of the trail. Julie and I look forward to seeing you again, meeting the crew you’ve spent the last half of a year with, and smoking the cigars you and I bought in Nelson, BC but never enjoyed that night. And that along with some other surprises to celebrate. Mother nature has thrown her switch to fall in France as well. Enjoy your last few days and we’ll see you in less than a week!