Oh my gosh. Here I am at 8:10 in my tent at Lake Susan Jane, just 4 1/4 miles from Stevens Pass where I will meet Chris tomorrow morning at about 11am.
But did I ever go through some drama getting here. It began during my noon rest stop, when I took my second Tylenol and naproxen of the day. I was keenly aware that the walk had been difficult at first and I suspect it was because I did not take a nighttime dose of naproxen and it took a long time in the morning for the medication to take effect. And then I discovered I had only one naproxen left--not enough to cover tomorrow's hike. At that point I decided I had to hike all the way to Stevens Pass. I knew I could not hike on that ankle yet without medication. So...I see Stevens Pass is about 8 3/4 miles, with elevation gain of about 2000 ft, and I calculate that it will take me 6 hours if I can take only one rest stop and limit it to 30 minutes. It's already 12:30, so that would make it 6:30 at the earliest and I'd still have to hitch into town.
So I'm off hiking as fast as I can and a little bewildered that I have to adjust my pokes right away to going uphill (wasn't I going downhill before the break? Odd it would switch so fast. Oh well. ). Then very bewildered when my app tells me it is now 9 3/4 miles to Stevens Pass. This app is really messed up, it really isn't working right, the distance can't be getting bigger. Unless. Unless I am hiking the wrong way. And as you have guessed (more quickly than I did, I am sure) I was indeed hiking the wrong way. I turned around. I had a mile to backtrack. Now it would be 7:30 at the earliest. I really needed to arrive before dark so I could hitch and it was supposed to be a difficult hitch. Could take an hour.
Look I say to myself. All this may not be necessary. Some hiker may come along who you can ask for ibuprofen. (Yeah I prefer naproxen but in an emergency ibuprofen will do). Odds are I will meet a hiker. Odds are they will have ibuprofen. Odds are they will be able to spare some. But -- I can't count on it. Keep on hiking as fast as I can (thank goodness the ankle has begun to calm down).
And then I am overtaken by Kirby, a hiker hiking with his wife Blanket who I first met several days ago at Athens same water spot where I met JJ. Yesterday Kirby told me they were taking it slow (yesterday I was hurrying out), today they were hiking out. Kirby was sick and tired of sleeping in the wilderness. Did he have ibuprofen? Sure, take all you want. Blanket catches up and asks if I want any food. I ask about trail mix and she gives me a ziplock bag half full of trail mix.
They hike off much faster than me (after I get their "real names" and addresses for my thank you list). And suddenly I am not rushing anymore, I am relaxing again. Except that it's hard (especially for an adrenaline addict such as me) to turn the arousal down.
I hiked slowly to the next lake. I sat on the sun. But I was itchy to be on an adrenaline trajectory, on a mission. I didn't know how to just sit there and be and enjoy. I couldn't persuade myself to get into the muddy water. But I did rinse out my socks, gaiters, bandana, pants, underpants (of which I now have only the one pair I wear), and shirt. And I washed and wiped off the worst dirt with the bandana. By the way, obviously I had to do parts of that nude -- hoping no one would come along who would find it too embarrassing. Just before I got to the lake I passed a male hiker wearing nothing but a backpack (actually he probably wore socks and shoes, I have to admit my eyes went straight to the dark pubic hair and make genitals just under the hip strap and I couldn't quite believe what I was seeing. He was singing "merrily merrily merrily merrily, life is but a dream" as he passed. That was a first in my 2000+ miles on the trail.
But what really brought me out of my somewhat grim adrenaline-deprived mood was meeting a family on the trail. A father and two young sons, one of whom had never backpacked before. Dad commented that Mom was back a ways on the trail with grandpa, who was having trouble. I hiked on thinking of Grandpa and how (I think) it's harder for older people to adjust to elevation changes. So I get to Mom and Grandpa --who takes one look at me and says "tell me you're 48. " and I try to get grandpa to accept a little packet of endurolytes (electrolytes) and one of iron. Grandpa seems reluctant but Mom accepts them just in case. Grandpa says he has lunch with buddies he's known since grade school. "Alright with you if I tell them I met my drug pusher on the trail?"
I left happy as could be. Like when that little bird led me down the trail. So happy to have noticed, cared, wanted to help--whether it would actually help or not. I felt great.
I forgot to mention that at Mig Lake I met Jonah again, a young man I have enjoyed talking with very much. This time I asked about his trail name -- he said lots of trail names are lighthearted jokes but his emerged from serious conversation. (Not surprising for my young philosophy major trail friend). He told a trail friend, Hummingbird, that he had tried to"cure" himself of religion, of a need for God, but had failed. Something bigger than himself had engulfed him. He showed me his tattoo of a little man inside a big whale. "That's your trail name" Hummingbird said. "Jonah."
Photo 3. Kirby and Blanket my trail angels who gave me ibuprofen and trail mix.
Photo 4. Jonah.
Photo 5. Mig Lake my second water stop where I washed my clothes and ran into Jonah again (after not seeing him for at least a week).
Photo 6. View from my tent at Lake Susan Jane. I know you can't see the lake, but she's there. Turns out Jonah camped here too and if he hadn't found a ride to Skykomish before Chris arrives, I told him we'd give him a ride.
Coming over the last pass I did get a brief weak signal but was able to call Chris and confirm our meeting tomorrow. A big relief for both of us!
Happy trails -- tomorrow really will be my last day on the trail. At least for now.
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