Goodbye forever. We had been saying that all trail. Ever since the beginning, when I was certain each of us would fall into a different pace and I would end up moving ahead on my own. But it never happened. It was too incredible of a community to walk away from... and so I stayed. But this was it. Goodbye forever. If I wanted to finish, I would have to leave them behind. This time, I was determine to move on.
I woke early to pack my stuff before giving everyone one last goodbye hug and head out into the cold rain. The hill was long but gentle, and it was so cloudy I couldn't see the summit. Sharp rocks waited for me when I finally reached the top, and my pace slowed as I navigated through the loose scree. My feet hurt as they twisted and bent over the deformed trail. It was too cold to stop. When I paused for a quick bite my feet grew numb. The sun would try to poke through, but clouds ruled the sky. Sometimes it rained. Sometimes it stopped.
I hiked well into the darkness, falling into the rhythm of my breathing and footsteps as I climbed an endless hill. A fire welcomed me to the camping area and I found a lovely spot overlooking a pond. Rain pattered softly on my tent, tiny knocks on the nylon fabric. As I was dozing off, I heard a rustle; a mouse was trying to get into my food bag. The bag was Kevlar, built to withstand bears, much less a small rodent, so it couldn't get to the treats inside. In its frustration it did a lap around my tent before climbing up my tent pole. I could see its silhouette against the moonlight. With a light tap I send it tumbling and it scurried away, stunned.
It was still raining when I woke. I deflated my air mattress before I could make bad decisions to sleep in. The valve hissed and cold air seeped into me as I sank to the ground. I was still tired from the stupid mouse that kept me awake. Sleepily, I decided to give in to my less-disciplined side. Shortly after my pad deflated, I rolled over and blew it back up for a snooze.
When I finally got the courage to face the day, I found the mouse had left me a small gift-- tiny turds rested neatly on the food bag, as if the mouse was determined to get the last word. I had two huge climbs that day, and once the sun came out it was a constant battle to regulate my temperature. Uphill was too hot with a jacket, downhill was too cold. The wind made me want to put on a layer, the sun made me want to take it off.
I hiked into the dark; because I had slept in late, I would have to hike late to make up the miles. I could tell I was missing incredible views. My headlamp illuminated the rocky path beneath me, but so narrowed my vision I couldn't see anything beyond the beam of light. I turned it off and looked around. With a dim moon I could see huge boulders, like God shook the mountain looming over me and sent rocks bouncing down the hill to find rest near the base. It was marvelous.
I should have stopped at the base of the mountain, if not for the lack of water, for finding a flat place to camp near the lake was near impossible. The boulders poured directly into the clear water. I found a small, semi-flat nook to halfway setup my tent and made a quick dinner. It was 10pm before I climbed into my sleeping bag, well past hiker midnight. I was exhausted.
Drippy trees. Up down. Up down. A deep turquoise lake nestled below before the fog engulfed it. Silhouettes of mountains, ones that I would probably have to climb. Up down. Up down. Hot cold. Rain. It was only 14 miles to town but it seemed to take forever. If the ski lifts were running I would have paid to take them to the bottom of the mountain. Instead, I zig-zagged back and forth underneath them, following the trail in endless switchbacks. Finally, the bottom: Stevens Pass. The plan was to pick up my package, charge my stuff, eat some food, and head out in a few hours. With less than a week left, I had to take advantage of every hour of daylight. I was tired of hiking in the dark.
I got a quick hitch into Skycomish and passed a few rainy hours in the cafe eating hamburgers and ice cream while I tried to figure out the logistics of the upcoming fire closure. I could hike around it, adding 17 miles to the journey, or I could catch a bus to a ferry that would take me across the lake to Stehekin where I could pick up my last resupply package before taking another bus back to the trail. All that traveling would take almost a full day, but so would hiking 17 miles. I was way past being a purist, and letting a boat do the miles for me was too great an opportunity to miss. The problem was, no matter how I worked it or what route I chose, I would arrive in Stehekin on a Sunday, for there was only one bus time and one ferry time and only so many miles I could do in a day. The post office wouldn't be open on a Sunday, and the resupply package being sent there contained my passport and Canada entry permit, and I couldn't cross the border without those things.
I stared out the window at the misty rain and tried to figure out what to do. I could arrive at Stehekin on Sunday and hang out until Monday when the post office opened, pick up my package first thing in the morning and hit the trail for a full day of hiking. Or..... I could hang out in Skycomish that night with my trail family (who would be arriving later in the day) which would set me up to get to Stehekin later on Monday, pick up my package and head out in the afternoon, thus losing a morning of hiking. A full morning of hiking-- that could be the difference of 15 miles. But the town vortex was strong. Southbound's parents had gotten a cabin and had offered to host everyone for a few nights. Hiking in the cold rain... or hanging out in a cozy cabin. For once, I did the responsible thing. I got a hitch back to the trail.
When I arrived back at Stevens Pass, I hesitated. Either I would wait here or wait there. Either way, I would be waiting somewhere for that post office to open up. It was already 5:30pm. I had spent so long trying to decide the best move, time had slipped away. At best I would only get in six more miles for the day. Was it worth it? I sighed, glanced at the grey, cloudy sky, and called Southbound.
He came with the others in a car to pick me up. The whole way to the cabin I was at war with myself, trying to decide if I had made the right choice, if I would regret it later. But it was too late now, the decision was made. Might as well enjoy it. Hot shower, laundry, drying gear, amazing dinner, music and dancing, community. Fleeting moments of joy, satisfaction, and gratitude that I wasn't outside in the rain. I went to bed early; I had to leave at sunrise.
Words. There are no words for goodbye. The real goodbye. The goodbye knowing that you may never see that person again. The "good luck" and "have fun" seem superficial, empty. But you don't know what else to say. Because it may be the last thing that you ever say to them face-to-face. And there are no words for that.
I said goodbye to a sleepy trail family. Goodbye forever. If I saw them again on the PCT, something went terribly wrong. I got back to the trail early in the morning under thickening clouds. Audiobooks and podcasts distracted me on the multitude of 1000-foot climbs. It was reminiscent of the AT. I wasn't sure who made that section, but it sucked. It was beautiful (whenever the fog cleared enough to reveal some views), but I hated it. It was cold. It was rainy. It was foreshadowing of the misery to come.
留言