Stevens Pass to Stehekin

PCT MILES COMPLETE: 1771.2
PCT mile 2476 to PCT mile 2580
Section mileage: 104
Days: 9/18 - 9/23

Before we left the resort, Craig asked one of the employees if there were any pizza places that delivered there. She said, "unfortunately, no. Wait here for a minute." Around the corner came another woman with a pizza. "Would you like a slice?" She asked, "we're testing our new pizza ovens today!" Saying goodbye to our new trail friends as they headed into Skykomish, we hiked a few more miles back into the foggy drizzle. We set up camp next to a little trickle of a stream before the rain really started in earnest again, watching TV (yes, TV) on my tablet until we were sleepy.

I woke up with a start to a girlish squeal in the middle of the night. "It was nibbling on my ear!" Craig said, "there was a mouse standing on my head, chewing on my ear." The mice kept us up again, scampering around outside the tent for the rest of the night. To our dismay, we woke late to more rainy mist.

At 10, we started hiking, feeling some regret that we had chosen to skip town. We climbed up and down over ridges, pikas calling back and forth in the mist. We saw no other backpackers all day. Maybe they were too smart to hike today, I thought gloomily. All of the views were socked in, and we can't wait for the mist to lift. We did run into another bear, once again eating berries. Once again, he lumbered off when he heard us approaching. We hiked until after dark, yet only managing to fit in 18 miles due to our late start. After last night's mouse trauma, we chose to hang the food on a nearby tree stop we could at least get a good night's sleep.

We were relieved to wake up the next morning to clear blue skies. The next couple days, the weather stayed sunny and the views were incredible as we approached Glacier Peak. The higher elevations were exposed and carpeted with ripe, sweet blueberries. Under the canopy, we collected edible oyster and lion's mane mushrooms, adding them to almost every meal. Our mileage climbed back into the 20s and spirits lifted as well. "I think this section is supposed to be the hardest in Washington," a hiker friend had told us at Stevens Pass. I hoped so. The days were filled with endless, long ascents and descents reminiscent of the Sierras. We ran into more hunters than thruhikers. At dusk, we ran into a sectionhiker we'd met back at White Pass before the wedding. We camped with him in a little clearing. The night was so warm and clear that we decided not to put our rain fly on.

I'm missing the fall colors in the northeast; they start now and peak in October. In this section, however, the colors have been amazing in their own way. The blueberry bushes are red and purple, other shrubs are turning yellow, and the evergreen conifers are, you know, green.

We woke up, predictably, to rain on our tarpless tent. It wasn't quite dawn, but we packed up quickly and started hiking. We were descending into a deep valley. In the distance, we could hear the rumbling of thunder. I counted the seconds between flashes of lightening and cracks of thunder; the storm was approaching. At last, we reached a grove of giant old growth trees, thick enough to provide cover from the rain. Silence. We filtered water, both unhappy with the rain. The stream at the bottom of the climb was a frothing torrent, milky white from glacial silt.

On the other side of the bridge, we began another huge climb into the clouds. We were running low on both food and fuel. At lunch, I ate cold mashed potatoes with crunchy mystery bits while Craig made the saddest burrito of all time: a tortilla with Taco Bell sauce and the rest of an Ez cheese can. We finally emerged into blueberry land with its adorable pikas and incredible colors.

Over the crest of the ridge, the misty views were replaced with an endless vista of naked, granitic mountains. We hiked in awe past a glacier and streams with just-melted ice cold water. Despite the beautiful views, I felt hungry and faint. As Craig filtered water in a glacier stream, I crunched on a dry packet of ramen noodles.

Twenty-nine miles into our day, we camped at dusk. Both of our feet killed. Mine were bleeding and Craig's felt like they were breaking. To compensate for our long, hard day, I made a massive pot of noodles for dinner.

We woke up at 5 am and hiked like mad to get to the ranger station before the first bus left at 9 am. Still in the dark, I saw Craig's light ahead stop and swing back and forth up the hill. I heard a small rustle and then silence. "What was that?" I asked. Craig's eyes were wide. "I think it was a mountain lion." Until it was light out, I felt unease, swinging my light behind me to look for the wideset eyes.

We arrived at the ranger station ten minutes early, where two other thruhikers were waiting, surprised to have us roll up from behind. The bus was driven by a friendly woman with minute braids. She stopped at the bakery long enough for us to run in and buy armloads of day-old balked goods. We happily crammed cookies and pie into our faces as the bus rolled into the magical town of Stehekin.