Day 132: August 25; 32.5 miles
It was a long drive from Cascade Locks to Winthrop. It provided a lot of time to think about and study the trails I would be taking the next day to Monument 90. It also gave me time to look at the alternates from Snoqualmie Pass to the border… it was so tempting to hop back on trail and say I did a continuous footpath from border to border. However, my circumstances didn’t allow for it. It’s not that I felt necessarily uncomfortable with the routes or that the fires presented too much of a danger, but it was simply that it would place me right back in the path of someone I didn’t want to be near. All the work, time, and money I put in the last few weeks would be for nothing. And it made me so upset. I can fake positivity on it, but when push comes to shove, I was downright upset and bitter.
But, let’s not dwell on that which is out of our control, right? So that morning, after a bit of sleep, I woke up at 4am ready to hit the trail for one last time. My dad had some trepidation taking a rental car up to Billygoat Trailhead (a 16 mile unpaved road), but he managed just fine and I was off to Canada by 5:15am.
I took a series of trails to the border, each with various levels of maintenance. Billy Goat trail and Larch Creek Trail were glorious. Easy to follow without a blowdown in sight. Sure there were like seven passes with a ton of elevation gain, but it was all manageable. Where things started to get dodgy was Sheep Pass trail. In the middle of a burn scar, it was pretty difficult to find the trail. It turned into a “make your own journey”, really just try to find the path of least resistance. And with blowdowns and loose sand everywhere, there was a lot of resistance to navigate. I was familiar with this type of terrain, so I got through it in one piece, albeit a very dusty piece.
Then the trail just disappeared. I tried to follow the blue line of the Gaia app, but found it to be unnecessary. I could see which mountain I had to climb, and judging by the topo map, I was climbing 500′ in 600 meters. Basically, I was scaling the mountain right in front of me. Slowly I ascended, realizing that finding this monument was going to likely be like finding a needle in a haystack. But I was determined. I didn’t come all this way to miss out on finding the monument.
As I climbed, a helicopter flew right overhead. I took that as a sign that I was close… surely the US government is concerned about who is entering/exiting the country by Monument 90! As I got to the top, I looked at the map. I overshot the monument by a little, so I walked the ridge until I spotted something shiny… the monument was gleaming beautifully in the distance. I quickly walked to it, full body shivers guiding my way. I did it… sure, not all by foot, but I was at the border. The culmination of the last 132 days led me to this moment.
I was surprised I wasn’t alone. Chipmunk was there, enjoying her moment too. She took the alternate route to the monument, completing her continuous footpath. I asked her if she saw the helicopter. She said it flew extremely close to her, hovered for a moment, and went on its way. She said at the time she was on the Canada side of the monument but quickly took a step to the US side, apparently appeasing the helicopter and off it went. We shared stories and some time together, but she went on her way. I later learned that when the terminus opened, she returned to Harts Pass to officially finish her thru-hike.
I spent about an hour with the monument, taking it all in. Totally exposed, I could see two fires on the horizon. One was the Ptarmigan Fire, the infamous one holding the terminus hostage. Plumes of smoke were floating into the sky, making it clear why the trail was closed. I sat there and reflected on my journey, good and bad. I was so happy I made the decision to come to this monument in particular. It felt safe. It felt like an appropriate closing to this chapter of the PCT.
I said goodbye to Canada and started out for my return back home. Now familiar with the trails, I quickly made it 10 more miles to camp, hiking through sunset, which provided me a gorgeous last farewell. I set up camp in a random flat space just off trail. It was my last night pitching the tent. It was my last night inflating my air mattress. It was my last night eating Kraft Mac & Cheese, the only thing I could keep down at this point. There were so many emotions coursing through my body, but after over 32 miles and over 7,000′ of elevation gain, fatigue and exhaustion took over and off to sleep I went, for the last time on trail.
The next morning I took my time completing the 13 miles back to the trailhead. Having only run into Chipmunk yesterday, I didn’t think I’d see anyone else. To my elation, I ran into a familiar face! The last time I saw Prophet was way back in Wrightwood, CA. Still very much in the desert, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. But here he was, in the flesh! We spent a good half hour talking and catching up. He too skipped around the trail, for much different reasons. I couldn’t keep up with where he went and how he did it, but he said he was taking the time to get to the border now so he didn’t have to worry about it when the weather started to change in the fall. He still had all of Oregon to conquer. Quite the speedster, I’m sure he’ll cruise through. After giving him an in depth description of the trail, we said our goodbyes.
I soon met my dad at the trailhead and it was official… my time on trail was complete, for now. I didn’t feel any overwhelming kind of emotion, the miles back to the trailhead didn’t count for anything. Besides, reaching the monument yesterday was the cathartic event I had been hoping for.
Being that our flight home was that night, we headed to Seattle. We passed through Rainy Pass, making a quick stop to sign the trail register. Did I walk there? No, but this had been the lost stop for quite a few hikers due to the fires. Someone had erected a small “fake” terminus in honor of those leaving trail here. For the first time in a month I signed the register, leaving a sassy little note. For the last time, I left my mark on the trail.
The PCT in Retrospect
I have been home for a month and the PCT has been a constant on my mind. Sure, I’m back to my routine… gym, work, hydroponics, animals, bed. Throw in friends and family, and it’s like the PCT never happened. And that’s exactly what it feels like. It feels like a fever dream… I mean, how the heck did I manage to hike day in and day out for 133 days!? It feels impossible to believe.
I never set out for the trail to change me or be some profound life changing experience. I went into it a complete person and came out of it the same, but in a different and changed way. It’s hard to put into words the impact an experience like this makes on a person. The miles gave me the opportunity to better understand myself, my boundaries, and the difference between keeping the peace and actually being at peace. I walked away a calmer person, someone who adapts to change rather than fights it. I refuse to let another person dictate my emotions and I have learned that sometimes not reacting at all is the best approach.
If you have been keeping up with this blog, you know my journey was unique. Unfortunately, this is what is still forefront of my experience. I spend a lot of time thinking back on what I could have done differently. I should have listened to my gut a lot sooner. I should have walked away from a situation the minute it didn’t feel right. I should have acknowledged and been more receptive of other hiker’s reactions. I should have stopped giving the benefit of the doubt. But all the “should haves” in the world won’t change a darn thing. The journey is what it was, and it’s my experience and story after all. As time progresses, I’m sure the nightmares will fade, the opening chords to “Choosing Texas” won’t cause me to freeze, that night and morning in Ashland will stop replaying in my head, I won’t pause when someone asks me, “how was the PCT?”, and maybe one day I’ll actually read The Alchemist (though yesterday I did read the prologue and the irony was enough for me to chuckle and put the book down, quite satisfied with just those few paragraphs).
Oof… that last paragraph was a downer. Let’s talk about the good, cause there was SO much good. I met some incredible people on trail. Other hikers and trail angels made this journey an unbelievable experience. The kindness from strangers is something I’m going to carry with me and give in likeness to those I encounter in my day to day life. I had so much support from those at home. My parents sacrificed their summer to take care of my animals (they didn’t make it easy) and assist me with navigating the last portion of trail. I have also been blessed by amazing friends, who offered support from thousands of miles away. I’d like to formally apologize to both my friends and family for worrying them as much as I did, but we can all breathe a sigh of relief that it all ended safely. The beauty I found on trail will live within my soul for the rest of my days. I’ll think constantly of the sunsets in the desert, the snowy mountains of the Sierra, the rolling beauty of Oregon, and the spectacularity of Goat Rocks Wilderness in Washington. And sure… NorCal had its own beauty, but I still need some time to heal from that trauma, ha! The trail presented challenges that made me a stronger person. I doubted myself going into this journey, but found myself up for every challenge. The trail became my home, it encompassed every aspect of my life. I miss the simplicity of that life. I have dreams where I am being beckoned back to trail. I wake up yearning to go back. The countless scars on my legs serve as reminders as to the impression this trail has left on my life.
The week I came home the northern terminus opened. Other trail closures were still active, but hearing that after just leaving the trail was soul crushing. Since I’ve been home I’ve seen countless hiking buddies reach that terminus. While I’m so proud of them and happy for their accomplishment, I can’t help but feel jealous. I’m not one who suffers from FOMO, but in this instance I certainly am. Granted, I wouldn’t change my experience at monument 90, even if it meant reaching the PCT terminus.
With 250 miles still to complete, I will be back. Will it be next summer? Who knows. It all depends on what life looks like 10 months from now. But I do know I will someday reach that terminus. For now, however, I am trying to enjoy settling back into a life in four walls, void of the stars, waterfalls, joshua trees, epic views, and critters. A life where hitchhiking is not a normal way to travel, you have to find a toilet for relief, donuts and candy aren’t a meal, dirt isn’t a fashion accessory, and showering once a week is unacceptable.
I would encourage anyone and everyone to hike this trail. If you have the time, the means, and the desire, it’s yours for the taking. Enjoy every second and every opportunity the trail provides you. I have so many memories that bounce through my head I wouldn’t trade for the world. After all, the PCT has become my world.
Thank you for following along, even just reading one post showed support for my journey. And keep your eyes peeled… maybe one day I’ll just have to write a book about this adventure.
