Today’s miles: 14
Total miles: 234/2690
I wake up this morning feeling excited to grab my resupply box today. I’m hopeful for phone service at Steven’s Pass which is always exciting after going some days without. I find when I come into phone service there is the initial surge of receiving messages from friends and seeing what is going on in the outside world. And then after a bit, you get over it and you’re ready to hike again without service and the deep never-ending Internet.
The five miles into Steven’s Pass are downhill and flat, and I walk quickly. As I approach, I hear the whooshing sound of cars traveling the highway. And then soon see a scattering of cabins below me. Ah civilization, I think.
But it’s empty civilization as when I arrive to Steven’s Pass Ski Resort it’s absolutely abandoned. There’s not a soul in sight, just big empty ski resort buildings and lifts. I find a sign taped to a door addressed to PCT hikers. It says hikers can pick up their resupply boxes from the hours of 10 am- 2 pm and gives a number to call. It also says there are no services being offered to hikers due to COVID-19, but there are pit toilet and a hose around the corner that can be used by PCTers. A hose? I think back to last night in which I read a Guthook comment about there being an espresso bar here. Somehow that got turned into there absolutely should be one here right here and I’m bitterly disappointed over that right.
As I’m sitting there, brooding in negative thoughts and emotions, a man wearing a Steven’s Pass shirt approaches me. He’s a maintenance worker and also handles the resupply boxes. Ya sure, he can get me my box now, he says.
He takes me across the other side of the ski resort to grab my package. As we walk, he talks about how weird of a ski season it was last winter. “People had to bring their own food and eat outside. Not like it used to be. We used to have a great taco bar going. They would do these big burritos with carnitas, chicken and all the sides you can think of. Cheese, sour cream, guac. Burritos turned out to be the side of my arm.”
He’s clearly oblivious to the fact I’ve been eating dehydrated food for the past week and I stare out at the resort in a glaze. I’m feeling way better now though, and I find this whole thing more humorous than anything. I become aware to the fact that Steven’s Pass didn’t have to accept PCT hiker resupply packages. It’s really not convenient and it’s probably a pain for them and this worker guy. So I appreciate this guy helping me out and I grab my box in better spirits.
My morale continues to grow as other hikers arrive, most coming back from their hitch into Levinworth. I talk to Black Dog and Grace as they depart, both who I say I’ll see them down the trail. And then I plop down on a picnic table, find outlets to recharge my phone and external battery pack, and sort through my resupply box. This is good, I think. I’m sitting on a picnic bench, have electronics charging, sorting through this resupply box. Why again was I hanging out near a pit toilet earlier?
It’s about noon and I’ve been at Steven’s Pass for three hours or so when I decide to head out. The PCT goes right through the ski resort, heading up to the top of the steepest lifts. It’s a fun change of scenery hiking underneath lift chairs. It’s so green and bright and sunny that it’s hard to imagine this place in winter, covered in a blanket of snow with skiers and snowboarders riding down it.
I hike 9 miles that afternoon, jumping in not one but two lakes lakes. That makes three lake jumps in the past 24 hours. I find my two quickest ways to recovery midday are cold plunges in lakes and short naps. And of course eating. A snack always helps, I think, munching down on a dark chocolate bar in my tent before falling asleep.
