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)
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