In this 268 mile stretch from Snoqualmie Pass to Manning Park, I hit bad weather in the Cascades, visit a tacky tourist town, and finally make it to the Northern Terminus on the Canadian Border!
The trail gains elevation, winding up switchbacks through the old growth forest and enters my home turf: the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. It’s a tough climb in an area that I’m very familiar with. We reach Kendall Katwalk, and stop to take a break and enjoy the views.
We start out by gaining elevation, climbing up brutal switchbacks in the pouring rain. We’re both soaked through and chilled to the bone, and when we stop at a lake for water at the top of the climb, the bitter cold feeling is only exasperated. We try to walk fast to warm up, but it’s of little use. My face and hands are numb, and I’m on the verge of tears. We stop for lunch midday, and huddle under a tree out of the rain. Things are looking grim for us, and I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of hypothermia.
We make it to the river and find some campsites on the other side of the bridge. We set up camp, and I strip out of my wet clothes and then crawl into my bag. The rain continues to come down hard, creating a steady stream of water flowing down the trail. I try to warm up with some hot coffee, and then doze off early in the evening to the sound of the rain pounding against the tent.
We follow along a ridge, where a pair of grouse scare the shit out of us by flying off just as we’re about to step on them. We cross under some ski lifts, and then begin a decent towards the ski resort at Stevens Pass. We hurry down the exposed switchbacks, kicking up clouds of dust behind us as we go.
Once at the lodge, I sift through the hiker box and grab some tea and snacks. In the parking area, we are able to secure a ride from a trail angel called Apple Bob, who is dropping more hikers off at the trailhead. He’s only going as far as the rest stop, miles before Leavenworth, but we hop in his truck anyway.
At the rest stop, we continue trying to hitch alongside Highway 2 towards town, but aren’t having much luck. There are a lot of cars flying past us, but they are driven by retirees who glare at us from the comfort of their gold-colored luxury sedans. Finally, a nice man driving from Seattle to Spokane, offers to give us a lift.
In Leavenworth, we find a room at a cheaper motel (not an easy feat in a tourist trap). We head to the post office and I retrieve my resupply box, and we go about completing our errands and hitting up the beer garden in town. I eat as much food as I possible can, including German sausage, a liter of beer, and a variety of deep-fried goodness.
At the trailhead at Stevens Pass, there’s a flat of Monster Energy drinks sitting next to the trail register. We sit and drink a couple of cans and flip through the register, looking to see who’s ahead of us, and see who made it to the trail just before us: All the Way, Shake n’ Bake and Fun Size.
The next day is grim; cold and windy. We break camp early, and head into the mist. The views are obstructed all morning and into the afternoon, and we spend the day getting thoroughly soaked, grumpy and miserable. By late afternoon, and after we’ve had our lunch, the clouds clear temporarily to give us a fleeting glimpse of Glacier Peak ahead. Our happiness doesn’t last long, though, and the bad weather returns to spoil our evening. Our spirits are lifted for a moment as we witness a porcupine bumbling its way up the trail in front of us.
We roll into our destination at Lake Sally Ann as the weather is worsening, and quickly try to make camp without getting all of our gear wet. The wind is whipping across the landscape and driving the rain into us. I tremble as I collect water from the lake and filter it with frozen fingers.
We reach the bridge over Milk Creek by late morning, and pause for quick lunch. There’s a massive climb ahead of us, and the weather is worsening. Once we start to climb and gain a bit of elevation, the rain turns into light flutters of snow. We push forward, trying to stay warm. But the overgrown and wet bracken is soaking us to the bone.
By evening, we are completely done in. We reach a campsite, overflowing with other hikers, as it’s getting dark. The only available free spaces are uneven bivy sites with no room to peg out the guylines on our tents. I do the best that I can with what I have, pitching my tent next to a rotting nurse log, and settle in as the storm worsens outside.
We hike on level, soggy ground through old growth forest, where the massive cedar trees tower above us and the rest of the forest.
The day is warm and rather enjoyable, meandering through the hills. By evening, we reach the boundary of the North Cascades National Park, camping just before it and near a rushing creek.
We hang around the closed up ranger station for around an hour, with a herd of other thru-hikers sharing our same frustrations. Finally a van from a nearby lodge rolls in to drop off some tourists at the trail, and the driver takes pity on us. For a ‘tip’ he’ll drive us the several miles into Stehekin, and we all happily agree.
Stehekin is a charming village, located at the head of Lake Chelan and completely inaccessible by road. The only way in is by ferry, float plane, or in our case, hiking in on the PCT. After grabbing my resupply from the post office, as well as a nice care package from my Auntie Sig, I head to the lodge at the ferry landing and get a room for the night. I have a hot shower, a couple of beers, and then mail off a few post cards to friends, before spending the rest of the evening having dinner at the local restaurant with Bear Bait and several other hikers.
Just before dark, we find the designated campsite on our permit, which comes with a slimy loo and a broken bear wire, and we retreat to our tents before it starts to pour rain.
The trail from the monument to Manning Park isn’t maintained, and it’s mucky and slow going. We see some day hikers who are actually complaining about the distance they’ve trudged from the park, and we roll our eyes.
By dark, we reach a series of gravel roads that we follow to a day use area, then have to walk along a highway until we reach the lodge. It’s Canadian Thanksgiving, so no rooms are available, but the lodge is kind enough to let us hang around until we can catch the passing Greyhound Bus at 3:00 in the morning. They have a space in the lower level for the thru-hikers to sleep in if they choose, but the smell of hiker funk is overwhelming. We change into our sleep clothes and then head to the bar, where we devour burgers and fries, and nurse on a few beers in front of the fireplace until they close.
Back at the lodge, we purchase our bus fares online, and wait around in the lobby with some other hikers until the bus arrives. My adventure is over, I’m going home.
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