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Writer's pictureAutumn Kruse

Washington: part one


We’ve never been so excited to start hiking again as we were leaving Cascade Locks. After hastily packing our bags and eating a marvelous breakfast of omelettes and cinnamon rolls, we made a bee line for The Bridge of the Gods. We took our time hiking across the bridge, taking in the beautiful view of The Columbia River Valleyand waving goodbye to Oregon. When we finally made it across the bridge and stepped into Washington, we whooped and woooed with glee. It felt incredible. We were proud of how far we’d come and excited for what we imagined Washington had in store for us. Then, the trail quickly reentered the woods and the views faded. We spent the next three days in the dense forest. It was beautiful in its own way, but we began to wonder if we’d ever find our way out.


On our third morning in Washington, the landscape began to change. As we climbed, the forest thinned, and eventually we were face to face with Mount Adams. Hot damn, she’s a beauty! Before we’d get our best look at her, though, we’d hitch into Trout Lake, a lovely small community near the southern base of the mountain. A group of retired gentleman from Trout Lake offer shuttles in and out of the town. When we arrived at the pickup point, we were perturbed to see the horde of other hikers waiting for the same shuttle. We were most definitely still in the midst of the massive bubble of hikers who’d skipped ahead to get around the wildfires, but our technique of hiking fast and taking minimal breaks to get into camp early, plus picking campsites a short distance off trail, made it tolerable. We’d actually managed to camp alone the last two nights - something we rarely accomplished even before being swarmed by bubble bastards (Amy and Paul’s term for the skippers).


We were anxious we wouldn’t fit on the shuttle, but the townspeople had our backs. They showed up with three pickup trucks and packed all 20 of us in. Apparently the 8am shuttle had even more hikers, and there were still four more shuttles to go.


We spent the next few hours in the small hiker-friendly town doing our chores and eating our hearts out. The town was jam-packed with hikers, but its people were incredible and made it the most organized and efficient stop we’d had on the trail. We got back to the trail a couple hours sooner than we expected, which allowed us to hike a few extra miles and land one of our favorite campsites yet. We pitched our tent in a gorgeous meadow alongside a glacial stream with an extraordinary view of Mount Adams. Like many nights, we had family dinner with Amy and Paul, but on this night we sat a little longer watching the sun set behind the mountain and reminiscing on trail days passed; we were beginning to realize our adventure on the PCT would soon come to an end, a realization we all agreed was bittersweet.


Along the PCT, Mount Adams acts as the gateway into the heart of the Cascades. From that point on, the landscape only continued to grow more impressive. As we made our way into Goat Rocks Wilderness we could hardly believe what we were seeing was real. The trail led us high into the mountains along a rocky knife-edge path with deep valleys on either side. For miles we awed over the landscape, often seeing Mount Adams, Mount Saint Helens, and Mount Rainier all at once. The only downfall was the return of the snowy traverses. We had to cross two, what I call, death-wish chutes - snowy sections of trail you might love to walk upon if you had a death wish. To most, the two snow traverses would probably be described as “moderately sketchy”, as you’d be totally f*cked if you fell, but the snow was in good condition and fairly easy to walk across. To me, the two snow traverses could be described as “certain death” or “dropping-a-load-in-my-pants terrifying”. I’m completely traumatized from the fall I took back on Carson Pass. Chris said I looked like Elvis doing his iconic rubber legs dance as I traversed the death chute - my legs shook like a baby giraffe fresh out of her momma’s coochie.


The following morning we hiked into White Pass. White Pass consists of a single gas station/convenience store, and there were about 50 hikers there when we arrived. It was absolute chaos. We picked up our resupply package then organized our packs and ate gas station burritos while we waited for our turn to shower and do laundry. Once our clothes were clean, or at least as clean as hiker clothes can get, we got out of there as quickly as possible.


After White Pass, the trail continued to deliver gorgeous views. We were definitely working for them though, averaging between 10,000 and 12,000 feet of elevation change each day. Mount Rainier was in sight for days, constantly showing off her grandiosity and beauty. As we continued north, we awed over the constant beauty around us, picked loads of berries, and searched frantically for elk. We never ended up seeing any, but we eventually heard a bull elk bugle - close enough.


The day before arriving at Snoqualmie Pass, we were surprised with trail magic as we crossed a remote and random dirt road. All it took was one White Claw each, and Chris and I were like teenage girls who just indulged in their very first Smirnoff. Tipsy and suggestible, we were convinced by the gentleman who supplied the trail magic to take an alternate route into Snoqualmie Pass. We’d follow the dirt road down to Keechelus Lake - apparently a “must-see” and something we’d miss if we stayed on the PCT. We were told of a lakefront campground we could camp at, which sounded much nicer than the sloped rocky site we thought we’d be staying at that night. Additionally, the alternate route would make for much easier hiking - something we were very grateful for since we were swerving all over creation after our White Claw.


When we arrived to the campground, we found no water in sight. Chris got to pitching our tent and I went in search of some much needed water. Luckily, it only took a few minutes of running down the gravel road to see the lake. I set off across dried lake bottom toward what remained of the lake. When I finally got to the water, I was greeted by an older gentleman who’d just finished bathing in the lake. He stood head on, butt-ass naked, without a care in the world. As a nurse, I’ve seen tons of naked old men, so I was hardly disturbed, but I still hurried out of there after fetching some water. After telling Chris the tale of the naked man, he was inspired, and set off toward the lake to have a skinny dip for himself. Then we ate dinner with Amy and Paul. As we choked down our freeze-dried dinners, we discussed all the things we planned to eat tomorrow in town. It was getting late, so we all turned in to our tents. About an hour after falling asleep, I woke up to something crawling up my leg. I’ve gotten used to this at this point, as our poorly renovated tent doors often invite in a bug or two, so I smooshed whatever it was and went back to sleep. Maybe 30 minutes later I was up again. Chris was up too this time. We’d been completely invaded by ants. They were were everywhere - all over the tent floor, all over the tent walls, all over the insides of our sleeping bags, and all over us. We spent the next couple hours killing ants, brainstorming ways to keep them out, and debating whether to just pack up and hike the eight miles into town in the middle of the night. We eventually rigged up a decent barrier using Chris’s sleeping mat. With him now sleeping on the ground and a few ants still finding their way in and onto our bodies, neither of us got much sleep.


Snoqualmie Pass was nothing to write home about, but a nice break nonetheless. As usual, we did our chores and restored some calories. Chris and I practically got a standing ovation from the table next to us when we finished a whole 21inch pizza in one sitting. If we continue eating like this when we get off the trail, we’ll soon be the next stars of My 600lb Life or Fat and Fabulous.


We stayed the night in Snoqualmie Pass, but we were fairly eager to get back on the trail the next day. We’d talked with several hikers suffering from a nasty GI bug, and we didn’t want any part of it. A couple days after we left Snoqualmie Pass, we found out the hostel in town had been temporarily shut down because of the illness. Almost every single hiker who’d stayed there the past couple days ended up getting sick. Once again, we just escaped! We felt like our luck might run out if we didn’t continue pushing through Washington. We hadn’t taken any zero days yet in the state, and we planned to keep it that way - something was telling us we had to go. We’d later learn that “something” was right.


Leaving Snoqualmie Pass, we had 260 miles to go until we’d reach the northern terminus. We were feeling strong and motivated. Part of us felt like we’d been on the trail forever, and part of us couldn’t believe we were just a couple weeks from reaching the terminus.


Hump on, friends.

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