In the fading light I hoofed it from Rainy Pass to the boundary of North Cascades National Park. The trail was quiet and my only company was a lone black bear who seemed unbothered by my presence. I camped at the park boundary as my camping permit was only valid for the following night.
The next morning brought a steady rain. The trail was choked with shoulder high devils club and barely visible. If you’ve never hiked around this noxious plant, imagine walking through a tunnel of fiberglass insulation. It gets a little itchy! I arrived at my designated campsite that evening during a brief break in the rain. A backcountry ranger and I chatted over dinner. However, we retreated to our tents when the clouds opened again. I was soon lulled to sleep by the soft pitter-patter of rain.
Day break arrived with much welcome sunshine and I pressed on toward Stehekin (a tiny town on Lake Chelan). The early morning silence was only briefly interrupted by a passing train of pack horses. I hiked alone with my thoughts for several hours until I was startled by a bellowing voice calling, “ICE AXE!” I turned to see Pep Talk, Jas, and Shnacks. I hadn’t seen them since Winthrop and it was great to have some company. Pep Talk and Jas regaled me with tales of Australia as we pressed on. They were much faster than me on the downhills but I managed to keep up and we arrived at the dirt road just in time to catch the bus to Stehekin.
Initially, I was determined to retrieve my resupply package and immediately get back on trail. However, my companions had other ideas and convinced me to stay the night. The tiny town was bustling with hikers. I saw a number of familiar faces as we meandered to the post office and general store. We eventually settled in at our campsite on the shore of Lake Chelan. Schwing, Dad Jokes, and pile of other hikers soon arrived. A dozen of us sat around a picnic table eating dinner and carrying on while the lake gleamed with the last rays of sunset.
I slept like a rock and woke long before everyone else. The water lapping at my feet was the only sound as I lingered on the lake shore taking in the sunrise. My trance was broken by the noise of the diesel bus surging to life. That bus was my ticket back to trail. I hastily packed and climbed aboard eager to start hiking. The trail traced the bank of a river for many miles and I walked to the sound of its current. That evening I camped with Schwing and a very entertaining Crossfit instructor in a grove of massive hemlocks by the water.
Morning brought a quandary. Another hiker and I waded through the creek side brush searching for the least treacherous crossing. We eventually tiptoed across a tangle of logs suspended above the swirling water. On the opposite bank we began the first of many big climbs in this notorious section of the PCT. Before this 100 plus mile stretch was through I would complete over 31,000 feet of elevation gain and another 31,000 feet of loss.
Over the next few days I played catch-up with Pep Talk and Jas. Inevitably catching up to them during breaks or at camp. Pep Talk exuded a calm that was contagious and was ever encouraging. Jas was always upbeat and happy to see you. Combined this dynamic duo made it seem like you were the most important person they had seen all day. The uplifting company was amazing and made it easier to keep pushing through this grueling section of trail.
One evening I stumbled into camp exhausted only to find the tiny creek-side site packed with five other tents. I faced the prospect of hiking into the darkness to find another flat tent site. I hadn’t said a word but Dad Jokes recognized my dilemma and graciously moved his already pitched tent to make room for mine. Later we lounged in a circle eating our dinners. Pep Talk and Jas asked me about my day while Dad Jokes told terribly hilarious (you guessed it) dad jokes. Our conversation lulled as we intently watched a black bear sow and her cub. The sow had fallen down a steep scree slope on the opposite creek bank. The cub’s distress calls echoed through the gorge. We all watched in amazement as the sow artfully scaled the near vertical slope. The reunited pair quickly disappeared and our banter resumed. When darkness fell, I settled into my quilt grateful for these awesome people.