PCT Day 13: The River Crossing From Hell (7/6)

Today’s miles: 22

Total Miles: 181/2690

I keep beginning mornings with descents. The descent this morning begins innocently enough. It’s smooth, packed dirt making for easy walking. However, to my dismay the trail begins to disappear under overgrown vegetation. This vegetation is sopping wet with morning dew and as a result, I’m soon sopping wet from the waist down. I thought you were only suppose to get wet on trail when it rains?

After going up and down all morning, I’m hopeful I can take a dip at Mica Lake which I’m soon approaching. When I get to the lake, I exclaim to nobody “This is the lake!?” It’s completely frozen minus a tiny sliver, where the water is the darkest blue I’ve ever seen. I read that’s it’s a glacial lake that feeds from the Ptarmigan Glacier. I dip my bottle to fill from the glacial like and it’s so cold I instantly retract my hand. I brave a second dip and drink the water from bottle, thinking nothing has ever tasted so good.

In the middle of the day, I see another hiker in the horizon! This is Day 3 of not seeing anyone and I’m ecstatic. Who is this mysterious hiker? From a distance, it looks like he is wearing blue pants and is going very slow over Fire Creek Pass, directly above me.

After I climb the pass, I see this hiker 10 minutes later plopped in the middle of the trail. “Hey,” I say. He responds with a hey of his own and I ask him if he is a thru hiker. He is indeed and he immediately asks me about how many daily miles I’m doing. “I don’t know, like 20,” I say.

“Well, you are doing way more than me. I go really slow. It’s cause I’m always taking breaks. It’s how I got my trail name- Still Same. Because I’m always still in the same spot!” With this he and I laugh and I make a move to depart. He tells me he probably will never see me again and I nod

my head. Yay for a human interaction!

The afternoon turns downright social as it’s only an hour later and I see an older couple with bushwhackers in hand. They are volunteering their time to do trail maintenance out here, a section they tell me “gets no love”. The conversation moves to other hikers they have seen and they tell me they saw a guy and girl not any longer than a hour and a half ago. “Victor and Squegy?” I reply. “Didn’t catch their names, but the lady was from the East Coast and the gentleman was wearing a yellow hat.” Oh ya. That’s Victor and Squegy. And they are close.

I take an awful lunch break in a spot that’s damp and covered with many various bugs. Well, no nap here. I eat quickly, examine a maybe first blister forming between my toes, and keep a move on.

I turn a corner after a long descent and there is a glacial river roaring in front of

me. I check Guthook, the navigation app I and many hiker use out here, and the trail is indeed on the other side of the river. The comments on Guthook say there was a bridge but it collapsed last year.

I put on my sandals and walk 15 minutes upstream. Nothing looks good for crossing and it’s impossible to tell how deep it is because the glacial melt makes the water a murky brown color. I try one spot that looks maybe promising and stick my trekking pole in only to watch it complete submerge. Well, definitely not crossing here.

I walk the 15 minutes back and then try downstream. I navigate on a sandy ledge that’s right above the river. As I’m walking on the ledge, to my horror it begins to crumble. I drop down 7 or 8 feet, to the edge of the roaring river. Miraculously, no large rocks landed on my exposed feet. I’m shaken, take a moment to catch my breath, and continue to go downriver getting further and further from the trail.

Finally, I find a log that’s looks like a plausible cross. I rock hop to it and realize it’s too skinny to walk across. So I butt scoot it, praying the skinny log doesn’t flip with my weight. It holds and I’m across the river. My elation is short lived as I’m 25 minutes down river from the trailhead and need to bushwhack alongside the river to get back to the trail. To make matters worse, I’m getting heavily with this new type of hellish insect. It’s black and yellow like a bee but looks like a fly. It bites hard and I’m being swarmed by them in this late afternoon shade. As my feet stub on rocks and I’m being bitten by these insects, I realize this is what one may call a low point on trail.

Finally, finally I’m back on trail. I’m so happy to just be on the trail and across the river my mood turns ecstatic shortly. Overcoming hardships is one thing the trail gives you an abundance to practice with. And I’m not going to lie- I was really frustrated and even scared back on that river. But now? Life is good. I walk another 6 miles or so, and set up camp by a river, falling to sleep to the sound of running water.