Day 82 – O Canada

It does not stop raining. I am pissed. It is supposed to be clear today. I lay in my tarp waiting for it to stop. The three men that finished their quest yesterday walk happily around, breaking down their camp. They annoy me because the rain does not seem to bother them. Finally, when everyone is gone, and it looks like the rain will not stop, I get up. I go through the painstaking process of trying to keep my dry stuff dry while packing it under a tarp that is too short to allow me to even sit up. It’s like trying to fold all your laundry with both knees and one hand on the ground.

[Dave. Deep breath. Relax. OK, now continue.]

Compadres

I meet the most unusual hiker. Her name is Snakeskin and she is hiking the PCT every other month. She is divorced and has a daughter. Her ex-husband is keeping the daughter every other month so Snakeskin can hike the PCT. She is hiking the sections in an order that gives her the best weather. I wish her the best!

I meet Kevin on his way back from the border. I first met him on the bus coming out of Stehikin. He was wistful about the end, as most thru-hikers are – glad to be done, but feeling lost and disoriented in normal life. Kevin is also notable because, although he is a professional waiter with a highly developed palette, he has lived almost exclusively on peanut butter on the trail.

Rock Pass

I am heading up to one of the more infamous passes on the PCT: Rock Pass. In early July, the dangerous snow cornice on this pass causes many SOBO hikers to turn back. The clouds rush up the valley to the pass.

I am standing on the pass looking down into the valley. I will walk along the ridge on the right, but first there are switchbacks to go down.

Hope at Hopkins Lake

I climb up to 7200 feet. The rain is blowing hard up here and the temperatures are in the low 40s. The clouds part for a minute to let me see Hopkins Lake. I intend to camp there tonight. I need water now, and this seems like the best place to get it.

There are several empty tents down here. These are folks who have “slack-packed” to the border. They will return here after reaching the border and camp here or pack up and move on. Slack-packing let’s them move quicker. I try to get a weather report on my Garmin, but it can not establish a link in this mountainous bowl. I am miserable to the point of exasperation when a woman walks into camp. Her name is Lucy and she offers to make me some hot water. I gladly accept.

As I drink the water, I feel better. Not just warmer, but more relaxed. I feel like I can go on. This simple kind act did the trick and I remembered something I learned in hospital ministry. It doesn’t matter so much what you do or say; what matters is that you are there and that you show you care. She gave me strength when mine was failing.

I can smell it

The border is 6 miles away. There is one campsite between here and there. If the campsite is crappy, I am coming back here. That would be a 23-mile day. I need to go fast. And fast I am. I fly down the trail. I pass the two-mile marker.

I congratulate those I pass as they congratulate me.

Go. Go. Go. I am going to reach Canada. Tears form in my eyes. Why am I so emotional? I told myself that reaching Canada means nothing. It is the half-time score. But I have had this moment on my mind for months. I cannot suppress my wild happiness. A tiny sob and then I stabilize. Get there first, Doolittle. Then you can celebrate.

Canada

And then it is there. I turn a switchback and there it is. I see the border marker first – looking like a miniature Washington monument.

On the left, is the Pacific Crest Trail terminus. I touch it to make sure it is real. No one else is here. It is fitting that I should be here alone. While I have enjoyed the company of others and have made friends along the way, I have been a solitary hiker, for better or worse. I do not regret this, nor do I cherish it. It is a pearl sitting in my heart, hard and precious.

Here is what my position looks like on my navigation app:

The register is in a box attached to the terminus.

The pictures are kind of cock-eyed because I can’t get the log tripod just right. But I don’t have all day. I have to camp and I have to get my feet dry. The sun has started to appear, although sporadically and briefly. But Washington has taught me that this sunlight is probably temporary.

Turning back

The trip back to Hopkins Lake is uphill. I still make very good time. As I pull into camp, there is Moving Target! Jazzy is on his way. What good luck. The temperature drops. I am chilled to the bone. It is raining. I am trying to make a slanted campsite work when it starts to snow. Are you kidding me. Snow is flying under my tarp and onto my quilt. The snow stops. I work frantically to finish setting up, eat and get into bed.

If I survive this night, I am not spending another night on the trail in Washington. It can not be trusted.

• August 22
• Startinge mile: 2636
• Ending mile: 2653
• Daily PCT miles: 23 (6 back from border)
• Total PCT miles: 1281
• Animals: