As promised, here are some pictures.
To view as a slideshow, click on the link, then the first picture, then click on 'Slideshow'
- Roger Dodger
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
O Canada!
Apparently the PCT wasn't going to take it easy this last leg of the trip.
Most importantly, it took Caroline away from me. Due to a family emergency (the crisis is over now, thankfully), she wasn't able to meet me in Chelan as expected. I spent the morning in Stehekin feeling awful. It took 2500 miles, but something finally made me feel awful. I was narcissistically hiking to Canada while Caroline was being a superhero for her family. And there was nothing I could do about it now but walk around feeling awful.
It was very difficult to hear all of the "How's it going?" or "Excited to see you're wife?" questions from everybody. Even though they probably would have preferred hearing "Everything's great!" and carrying about their day, I couldn't fake it. Nor did I really want to.
I did get a bit of a lift when a hiker who I had barely met the night before, hadn't even talked to, and didn't tell about my problems said to me "Sorry to hear you are going through family shit. If you need a shower, we've got a room for the night." I'm not sure how a shower would have helped, but I was touched by the offer.
I then made it to the post office where I picked up a care package from my mother. That helped, too.
At the post office, I got to play with the postmaster's (part lab) puppies (I miss my golden retriever). And how could I not feel better after that?
I decided not to continue on hiking without Caroline, but instead go to Chelan as planned, and visit Caroline's uncle in Wenatchee. I didn't want to be alone. And as distant family he was, he was still family. He (Craig) and his wife (Tanya) had apparently been reading my blog. When they picked me up from the hotel, they had a bag of "monster" cookies (peanut butter, m&ms, chocolate, oats, and probably lots of other goodies I'm forgetting) for me in the back seat. My mouth was watering. My eyes almost were as well.
At the restaurant over a "mammoth" burger (three patties), we reminisced about old times. After we rehashed (and rehashed) the time when we met in the Sierras, we realized that we had no other shared memories. So we set about making new ones. Like that time I sat in their kitchen playing with their two pure-bred labs (getting closer to a golden retriever).
By this time, I had found out that I would be reunited with Caroline the next day, so I was feeling much better.
I spent a couple of days off-trail with Caroline. I hadn't seen her in over two months, so I made sure not to let her out of my sight. It felt so good to be with her again, and so good to not be hiking, that I knew I was going to have trouble with these last 80 miles (due to scheduling issues, I would be hiking alone).
Although this section of Washington is beautiful, it was really more about finishing this hike already. One highlight was getting to meet Omar, a (almost all of Washington) section hiking lab-golden mix (getting even closer. I'll be home soon for a reunion for the ages). After I petted him long enough to lift my spirits again, I waited until I was out of sight and left him some trail magic. I put two animal crackers on a "For Omar" note on the trail. I just hope he's smart enough to be able to read.
Eighty miles goes really slowly when all you can think about is Canada. There's Tim Horton's donuts, poutine, and maple flavored everything, and seventy-nine miles to go. There's curling, and 110 yard football fields, and seventy-eight miles to go. There's...there's... wait a minute, what else is there? This Canada place hardly seems worth all this trouble. I probably should have just stayed on the beaches of Mexico.
But I made it this far, I figure I might as well finish. And finish I did.
O CANADA!!!
Yesterday evening I was thru-hiking. This morning I was through hiking. But I still had nine miles to go to get out of the woods. I was thinking about asking someone to break an ankle or two so I could be medevaced out. But that sounded a bit extreme. Instead, I think I'll just buy a celebratory motorized wheelchair and never walk again.
- Roger Dodger, eh
Friday, September 6, 2013
Here Comes the Sun
Little darling readers, just like every thorn has its rose, every dawn has its night, and every sad sad song has its presumably otherwise happy cowboy, every bad stretch of hiking must end sometime.
Perhaps it was the purple dress I had the honor of wearing (at least they told me I was supposed to feel honored). Yes, of course it was sequined. Yes, of course I will post pictures eventually. And if you are lucky, I might even post a picture of me in a purple sequined dress. One word: stunning. Six more words: not the good kind of stunning.
Maybe it was the bacon that was put into my egg scramble instead of sausage. The waitress didn't want to make any promises because her brother the chef sometimes didn't like doing substitutions, but she'd ask really nicely by putting a question mark next to the bacon on the order slip. I agree, first rate service at Der Baring cafe/general store/post office, the only store in town. At least I could order something other than prime rib this time.
Maybe it was the fact that I now had zero town stops between here and Caroline. That's right, zero. Count 'em with me.... good.
Maybe it was the fact that I left town in a new ir of socks. Oh, if only you knew how much new socks mean to me. Let's just say that I don't plan on removing myself from the socksaddict.com mailing list anytime soon. I'm hoping they will one day start a sock of the month club. I'd join that in a heartbeat. Even better would be a pair of socks of the month club. But I'm okay taking one thing at a time.
Maybe it was the sunshine. Maybe it was the lack of post-ultra soreness in my legs. Or maybe it was just the methamphetamines. But whatever the reason, I left Steven's Pass feeling great.
As good as day one was, day two was even better. I was one day closer to Caroline. The sun was shining brighter. The birds were singing in greater harmony. And I got to walk through Glacier Peak Wilderness. One word: wow. Six more words: wow, wow,wow,wow,wow,wow,wow. OK, that was seven words. But who's counting. Besides me (and perhaps now you). I haven't settled on an ordering yet, but Glacier Peak joins Goat Rocks and the High Sierra for my top four (will you stop counting already?) scenic spots on the PCT.
And the good times keep rolling. Day three started out even better. The sun was shining even brighter (I assume, it was hidden behind a sky full of clouds). And I was still one day closer to Caroline (again an assumption. My math skills have really gone to pot out here).
Since there were to be no views today, I decided to spice things up a bit by hurling myself down the side of the mountain. To be fair, this was more of a collaborative decision on the part of me and Gravity. While coming up with a plan, I kept proposing ideas the that were out of this world, but Gravity kept pulling me down to Earth. He really was able to keep me grounded. We then had a weighty discussion about how he was getting me down. I felt I had been doing all the heavy lifting in our relationship. So I jumped at this plan where I would just have to step off the trail and Gravity would do the rest.
I must have fallen 200-300 cm before I finally came to a stop. Quick check to make sure I was okay. Uh oh. I knew I would have difficulty finishing the last 125 miles of the hike with my right leg broken in two. There was no pain though, which surprised me until I realized I had simply been looking at my knee. I climbed back to the trail and did a more complete check. Everything seemed to be in order, but I couldn't seem to find my spleen or my sunglasses. Since I wouldn't have been able to find my spleen before the fall, I decided not to worry about that one. My sunglasses were another story though. "Here we go again," I thought as I hurled myself down the mountain a second time in search of them.
I found a big tree that, had there been sun, would surely have provided me with some nice shade. But there was no sun and I needed a pair. These shades had lasted me ten years. I had been looking for an excuse to get new ones. So I wasn't overly disappointed when I couldn't find them.
Day four is turning out to be another promising one. After over four months, I have finally figured out how to crack the one hundred miles to go barrier. I had a pair of sunglasses' weight less to carry. Gravity and I came up with a stand-up plan for the day. And again, I was one day closer to the Stehekin bakery. One day closer to cinnamon rolls. One day closer to pies. One day closer to cookies. Oh right. I was also one day closer to what's-her-name.
Day five: 8:13a. "Why is it still dark and how was I able to sleep so late?," I wondered. Let me double check the time. Yup, 8:13a. Wait a minute. How was I able to check the time without opening my eyes. Oh, that's why it was so dark. 3:45a. That makes more sense. I must be the world's most boring dreamer.
Day five: 3:45a. After hiking into Stehekin yesterday (22 miles on 120 calories), I had hit the bakery. A giant cinnamon roll, a big slice of pizza, and a piece of pie later, I walked back to "town" with the rest of the pie in hand getting eaten alive by the worst mosquitoes of the summer. Once there I killed a couple of hours (and a couple hundred mosquitoes) talking with hikers and vacationers, accepting a beer and offering pie in return (a decision I would later regret). After a giant plate of nachos, more pie, more hiker talk, and more pie, I went off to bed under a starlit night. I had done the same the evening before and was awakened in the middle of the night by someone pouring water on my face. So tonight I made sure to put a roof between me and the stars. Good thing I did, as I was awakened again by the rain. This time I'm thankfully dry. Dry, yes. But hungry, and with no pie. Damn my generosity (Can I say "damn" on the Internet? Fuckin' right I can!).
Now all I can think about (other than my brethren, those poor mittenless kittens) is that Caroline is only 12 hours away.
- Lovesick and Pieless (much preferred over Loveless and Piesick)
Perhaps it was the purple dress I had the honor of wearing (at least they told me I was supposed to feel honored). Yes, of course it was sequined. Yes, of course I will post pictures eventually. And if you are lucky, I might even post a picture of me in a purple sequined dress. One word: stunning. Six more words: not the good kind of stunning.
Maybe it was the bacon that was put into my egg scramble instead of sausage. The waitress didn't want to make any promises because her brother the chef sometimes didn't like doing substitutions, but she'd ask really nicely by putting a question mark next to the bacon on the order slip. I agree, first rate service at Der Baring cafe/general store/post office, the only store in town. At least I could order something other than prime rib this time.
Maybe it was the fact that I now had zero town stops between here and Caroline. That's right, zero. Count 'em with me.... good.
Maybe it was the fact that I left town in a new ir of socks. Oh, if only you knew how much new socks mean to me. Let's just say that I don't plan on removing myself from the socksaddict.com mailing list anytime soon. I'm hoping they will one day start a sock of the month club. I'd join that in a heartbeat. Even better would be a pair of socks of the month club. But I'm okay taking one thing at a time.
Maybe it was the sunshine. Maybe it was the lack of post-ultra soreness in my legs. Or maybe it was just the methamphetamines. But whatever the reason, I left Steven's Pass feeling great.
As good as day one was, day two was even better. I was one day closer to Caroline. The sun was shining brighter. The birds were singing in greater harmony. And I got to walk through Glacier Peak Wilderness. One word: wow. Six more words: wow, wow,wow,wow,wow,wow,wow. OK, that was seven words. But who's counting. Besides me (and perhaps now you). I haven't settled on an ordering yet, but Glacier Peak joins Goat Rocks and the High Sierra for my top four (will you stop counting already?) scenic spots on the PCT.
And the good times keep rolling. Day three started out even better. The sun was shining even brighter (I assume, it was hidden behind a sky full of clouds). And I was still one day closer to Caroline (again an assumption. My math skills have really gone to pot out here).
Since there were to be no views today, I decided to spice things up a bit by hurling myself down the side of the mountain. To be fair, this was more of a collaborative decision on the part of me and Gravity. While coming up with a plan, I kept proposing ideas the that were out of this world, but Gravity kept pulling me down to Earth. He really was able to keep me grounded. We then had a weighty discussion about how he was getting me down. I felt I had been doing all the heavy lifting in our relationship. So I jumped at this plan where I would just have to step off the trail and Gravity would do the rest.
I must have fallen 200-300 cm before I finally came to a stop. Quick check to make sure I was okay. Uh oh. I knew I would have difficulty finishing the last 125 miles of the hike with my right leg broken in two. There was no pain though, which surprised me until I realized I had simply been looking at my knee. I climbed back to the trail and did a more complete check. Everything seemed to be in order, but I couldn't seem to find my spleen or my sunglasses. Since I wouldn't have been able to find my spleen before the fall, I decided not to worry about that one. My sunglasses were another story though. "Here we go again," I thought as I hurled myself down the mountain a second time in search of them.
I found a big tree that, had there been sun, would surely have provided me with some nice shade. But there was no sun and I needed a pair. These shades had lasted me ten years. I had been looking for an excuse to get new ones. So I wasn't overly disappointed when I couldn't find them.
Day four is turning out to be another promising one. After over four months, I have finally figured out how to crack the one hundred miles to go barrier. I had a pair of sunglasses' weight less to carry. Gravity and I came up with a stand-up plan for the day. And again, I was one day closer to the Stehekin bakery. One day closer to cinnamon rolls. One day closer to pies. One day closer to cookies. Oh right. I was also one day closer to what's-her-name.
Day five: 8:13a. "Why is it still dark and how was I able to sleep so late?," I wondered. Let me double check the time. Yup, 8:13a. Wait a minute. How was I able to check the time without opening my eyes. Oh, that's why it was so dark. 3:45a. That makes more sense. I must be the world's most boring dreamer.
Day five: 3:45a. After hiking into Stehekin yesterday (22 miles on 120 calories), I had hit the bakery. A giant cinnamon roll, a big slice of pizza, and a piece of pie later, I walked back to "town" with the rest of the pie in hand getting eaten alive by the worst mosquitoes of the summer. Once there I killed a couple of hours (and a couple hundred mosquitoes) talking with hikers and vacationers, accepting a beer and offering pie in return (a decision I would later regret). After a giant plate of nachos, more pie, more hiker talk, and more pie, I went off to bed under a starlit night. I had done the same the evening before and was awakened in the middle of the night by someone pouring water on my face. So tonight I made sure to put a roof between me and the stars. Good thing I did, as I was awakened again by the rain. This time I'm thankfully dry. Dry, yes. But hungry, and with no pie. Damn my generosity (Can I say "damn" on the Internet? Fuckin' right I can!).
Now all I can think about (other than my brethren, those poor mittenless kittens) is that Caroline is only 12 hours away.
- Lovesick and Pieless (much preferred over Loveless and Piesick)
Sunday, September 1, 2013
There Are Fungi Among I
Did you know that there are more mushrooms in Washington than there are in the rest of the states combined? Neither did I until I made that piece of trivia up. What? You need your trivia to be factual? How utterly pedestrian. But just for you, the Puget Sound Mycological Society has over 1200 members, one of the largest such societies in the country.
All this is to say that there are a lot of big, odd and/or fascinating mushrooms to look at while hiking. I mention this only to tell you that that implies there is a lot of rain in Washington. In fact, it rained the very first day I entered the state, welcoming be back as well as reminding me why I left.
After spending a nice time in Seattle visiting some old friends (and a sister who just happened to be passing through as well), I set off on this short three day section by hiking for a day and a half in the rain. The rain, the soreness from the ultra, the heavy mind, the obsessive focus on the destination and not the journey; (I don't think I've ever used a semicolon before. I can't imagine that I'm using it correctly ;-) all managed to make this section my least favorite yet. And to top it off, the only restaurant in town was only serving prime rib. I have never tried it before. And if my hiker hunger wasn't enough to overcome my aversion to that mooing cut of meat, I can't imagine that I ever will.
Instead of focusing on the negative, I will instead focus on this tiny keyboard on my phone while I try to keep you entertained.
Washington is like a five hundred mile victory lap. On one hand, we know that five hundred miles is an insanely far distance to walk. On the other hand, we have already done it four times in a row, and are in such good shape that it seems like we are walking on cake. Ever since I crossed the border I have been getting congratulated by anyone who knows anything about the trail.
One notable exception was the Safeway checkout lady who asked if I was hiking back to Mexico once I reached the border. Wasn't she impressed enough by one direction, I wondered? Apparently she asked "just to find out how crazy [I] really [am]".
After telling the following story a couple of times, I have since learned that I should not start with "I had a nice time with a ten-year old girl". So, about a week ago, I had a nice time with two sisters (seriously? It was a nice 'conversation'. Get your minds out of the gutters folks.) One was about eight, the other ten. The eight year old played the part of almost all adults that I've talked with about the trail. She would ask question after question about the logistics of the hike. Where do you sleep? What do you eat? How many Sasquatch have you seen? No matter what was asked, no matter what was answered (wherever I want; whatever I can; as many as the number of bears I've seen), the older one's response was always the same. She would look at me with wide eyes and say "That is SOOO cool!" (By the way, did you notice the proper use of semicolons a sentence back? sorry; it shan't; happen again.) It got me to thinking about why we hike the trail. Yes, for some people it surely is the allure of maple syrup. But for most of us, it is simply because every time we heard about the trail, our eyes lit up and "That is SOOO cool!" flashed in our head.
It is now three in the morning (yup, there is apparently a three in the AM as well), and I can't seem to go back to sleep. Maybe it is the trains that keep coming within 50 years of me at the Dinsmore's house where I'm staying. Or maybe it's all the Coke I drank instead of dinner (ok, I exaggerate. I did have pie and ice cream). But either way, I sit here counting down the five hours until the restaurant opens. After which I will get on the trail and count down the 104 miles until I get to see Caroline again.
; Fun Guy
All this is to say that there are a lot of big, odd and/or fascinating mushrooms to look at while hiking. I mention this only to tell you that that implies there is a lot of rain in Washington. In fact, it rained the very first day I entered the state, welcoming be back as well as reminding me why I left.
After spending a nice time in Seattle visiting some old friends (and a sister who just happened to be passing through as well), I set off on this short three day section by hiking for a day and a half in the rain. The rain, the soreness from the ultra, the heavy mind, the obsessive focus on the destination and not the journey; (I don't think I've ever used a semicolon before. I can't imagine that I'm using it correctly ;-) all managed to make this section my least favorite yet. And to top it off, the only restaurant in town was only serving prime rib. I have never tried it before. And if my hiker hunger wasn't enough to overcome my aversion to that mooing cut of meat, I can't imagine that I ever will.
Instead of focusing on the negative, I will instead focus on this tiny keyboard on my phone while I try to keep you entertained.
Washington is like a five hundred mile victory lap. On one hand, we know that five hundred miles is an insanely far distance to walk. On the other hand, we have already done it four times in a row, and are in such good shape that it seems like we are walking on cake. Ever since I crossed the border I have been getting congratulated by anyone who knows anything about the trail.
One notable exception was the Safeway checkout lady who asked if I was hiking back to Mexico once I reached the border. Wasn't she impressed enough by one direction, I wondered? Apparently she asked "just to find out how crazy [I] really [am]".
After telling the following story a couple of times, I have since learned that I should not start with "I had a nice time with a ten-year old girl". So, about a week ago, I had a nice time with two sisters (seriously? It was a nice 'conversation'. Get your minds out of the gutters folks.) One was about eight, the other ten. The eight year old played the part of almost all adults that I've talked with about the trail. She would ask question after question about the logistics of the hike. Where do you sleep? What do you eat? How many Sasquatch have you seen? No matter what was asked, no matter what was answered (wherever I want; whatever I can; as many as the number of bears I've seen), the older one's response was always the same. She would look at me with wide eyes and say "That is SOOO cool!" (By the way, did you notice the proper use of semicolons a sentence back? sorry; it shan't; happen again.) It got me to thinking about why we hike the trail. Yes, for some people it surely is the allure of maple syrup. But for most of us, it is simply because every time we heard about the trail, our eyes lit up and "That is SOOO cool!" flashed in our head.
It is now three in the morning (yup, there is apparently a three in the AM as well), and I can't seem to go back to sleep. Maybe it is the trains that keep coming within 50 years of me at the Dinsmore's house where I'm staying. Or maybe it's all the Coke I drank instead of dinner (ok, I exaggerate. I did have pie and ice cream). But either way, I sit here counting down the five hours until the restaurant opens. After which I will get on the trail and count down the 104 miles until I get to see Caroline again.
; Fun Guy
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