Today’s miles: 25
Total trip miles: 259/2690
I wake up to the feeling that it is normal to see daylight streaming in my tent first thing in the morning. And to wake up on the edge of a meadow or alongside some running river. Isn’t there something about after 21 days a behavior turns into a habit? I’m approaching three weeks out here and it’s becoming more and more the norm to find my life simply to exist outdoors.
This morning I’ll be climbing Piper Pass, which Chezwhick warned me still had snow remaining on it. I come into sight of Piper Pass and see a giant snow covered bowl. But I’m not looking at the route right. I’m switchbacking around the side of that. Thank God.
As I’m climbing Piper Pass, I pass a French hiker named Remi. He’s a wearing a safari like outfit with a big old-fashioned pack. He has a thick accent and smiles as he talks. I ask him if he has heard anything about the apparently dangerous upcoming river crossing we will reach in 5 miles. He says yes, someone posted about it on the Facebook group, but we don’t know till we get there right? Truer words have never been said.
I get to the top of Piper Pass and look down on Glacier Lake. Morning climbs are infinitely easier than afternoon ones. I climb down and after covering 7 miles by 9 am, I arrive at Deception Lake. It’s the perfect spot to take a dip and eat some good real calories, as I’ve only had morning coffee up until this point.
The morning fades into what feels like midday, even though I check my watch and it reads only 11am. The purity of the morning seems to have disappeared and I think about the upcoming river crossing.
My worry over it heightens as I approach a sign that says “Dangerous river crossing in 2 miles. Alternate route Hyde Lake.” I check my map regarding this alternative and it would add an extra 3 miles to my day. Plus, who knows the conditions of that trail.
As I approach the crossing, I can hear the water crashing in the distance. I’m getting flashbacks from a few days ago with my difficulties regarding the glacial river. Focus, focus, focus, I tell myself. The river finally comes into view and at first glance it looks easy. You can go downstream a bit and cross in only shin high water, easy-peasy. I do just that and feel quite proud of myself and a little smug on how easy that was. I walk up another 10 yards or though and then, of course, there is the real river that needs to be crossed. What I crossed was just a little fork of the main river.
The water crashes loudly but at it least it is clear and I can see its depth. I work my way a bit downstream and decide this is where I’ll cross. The water isn’t too deep, coming up to my knees and it runs swiftly but not insane. The thing with this crossing though is a slip will bring you down a 15 foot waterfall which would be really, really bad. I don’t slip though and make the crossing in 20 seconds or so. Not so bad. This was, I reflect, 100 times easier than that hellacious one from last week.
I turn the corner away from the river and take a lunch break and pull out salami, trail mix, and electrolytes. I’m basically plopped in the middle of the trail but I need to stop and rest and eat before I begin a big climb. What looks like a mother and son backpacking duo turn the corner towards and I shuffle my stuff out of the way. “Just did that ourselves. Plopped on the trail for lunch,” the mom says. I laugh and nod, and tell them there is a pretty decent river crossing right ahead but it’s not too bad.
1 o’clock rolls around and it’s time to keep moving. I make what feels like an eternal climb up and on my way down from the other side, I see two older guys. One is skinny and has a big white beard and the other is tan and wearing headphones. “We are seeing all the SOBO’s today,” the tan one says. It’s the first thing he says to me and it’s curious he can recognize me as a thru-hiker from appearances alone. I ask them where they are headed and they are NOBO thru hikers! Damn, didn’t know that NOBO’s were this far along. The skinny one tells me most aren’t and there are only 5 or so hikers ahead of them, as far as he can tell.
We begin to walk our separate ways when the tan one calls out “What’s your trail name?”
“Northstar,” I call out.
He pauses, lets this sink in, and responds “Don’t you know you’re heading south?”
“Yup,” I say. He nods his head like this explains all and keeps on walking. And I’ll never see those two again, I think.
I catch a second wind around 5:30 p.m. and decide I’ll push on and camp a mile or two past Waptus Lake. It would give me 25 miles on the day and I’m hoping to see the group of four I’ve run into a few times, Lynx, Boyband, Moss, and Rocky. I’ve been hiking by myself for a while and I could use some company. Not that I really know this group at all. But I know they’re a little ahead of me and there’s a big, big climb three miles after Waptus Lake, so it makes sense they could be camping right before that climb.
By 8:30, I’m still walking and have just about had it. The bottom of my feet are killing me and I feel so tired. I just want to stop. Mercifully, I find a fantastic camp spot right before a bridge. It puts me only a mile away or so from the start of the big climb tomorrow. 15 minutes later and I have my tent set up and am sitting on my sleeping pad eating lots and lots of food. I eat a tacos dehydrated meal from the company Next Mile, which makes high protein/low sugar backpacking meals. These meals are so, so good and I’m beyond thankful I have good food right now. After that, I eat a packet of tuna and finish it with a whole bar of 85% dark chocolate. I just put down an easy 1,000 calories, mostly made up of protein and some fats and carbs. I’m ready for sleep and don’t think twice about how exhausted I felt only an hour ago.
