Glorious Sunrise!

Waking up to perhaps the best sunrise of my life! =)

September 15: And what a beautiful sunrise! I lingered in camp a little longer than I normally would have, just to admire the sunrise. Glad I'm not using film in my camera anymore because I probably would have used up everything I had on this sunrise. As it was, I took a liberal amount of photos, doing my best to use up the memory card as quickly as possible. (I'll only post a few of the sunrise photos here, though!) White Beard and Third Monty didn't linger. I'm not sure exactly where they camped, but they passed by early in the morning as I was still admiring the sunrise. =)

Once I got hiking, the trail headed down from Glacier Peak through a series of thick blowdowns. Enormous trees--some the biggest I've ever seen blocking the trail--and a lot of them. It quickly grew frustrating and annoying. The biggest tree of them all left me wondering how to get to the other side. The tree was laying on its side, but was so thick, the thickness of the truck was taller than I stood. Getting under it wasn't an option. And both ends stretched out into the thick brush on both sides. The tree, at first glance, seemed impossible to get around.

I knew that wasn't the case, though. First of all, White Beard and Third Monty would have had to have passed it already since I never saw them double back up the trail. And second of all, I've never come across a tree that couldn't be passed. It might require a lot of bushwacking, but by golly, I would get through. I set my pack down while studying the situation.

Close up, I could see a few small bumps that I could use as handholds and footholds and finally decided to go over the tree, and I scrambled up without pulling too many muscles. Once I made it up to the top of the trunk, though, I started having second thoughts. Getting down the other side looked positively dangerous! There might be footholds down there, but I couldn't see them from my vantage point. I walked along the length of the tree a bit, trying to figure out the best place to get down at. I didn't want to break a leg by jumping down from this height!

One step at a time. First, I'd lower my pack down with a rope. I could have dropped the pack, but no reason to be any harder on it than was strictly necessary. I pulled out a length of rope, attached it to the loop at the top of the page, and started lowering it down the other side. The pack was still heavy, though, and its weight started to get away from me, pulling the rope through my fingers a little quicker than I anticipated, and I finally let go completely when it was halfway day due to rope burn. Crap! The pack dropped hard the rest of the way, and I threw the rest of the rope down after it, and I sucked at my hand where I suffered the rope burn. I felt a little stupid to have not identified that as a potential problem. Had I wrapped the rope around my wrist so it couldn't slide through my fingers so easily, it wouldn't have been a problem. Oh well.... At least my pack was down, and that would make it a little easier to get myself down.

I grabbed a couple of handholds and lowered myself as far as I could, then dropped down the rest of the way. Stupid blowdowns!

The bridge across the Suiattle River was missing, the last of the bridges washed away from the 2003 flooding and the only reason the PCT was officially still detoured around the east side of Glacier Peak. The river didn't look too bad, though. Certainly rambunctious, but no worse than the river crossings in the High Sierras. I didn't even need to get my feet wet, though. A log had fallen across the river, and it was clear that that was what people were using to get across, and I followed suit.

I had reservations about using the natural bridge, though. It was pretty high over the river. If I slipped or fell, it could have been a serious injury. The creek fed through a narrow channel at this point, fast and furious. Had I crossed the creek directly, I'd go downstream where it was slower and shallower. The log bridge looked solid and dry, though, and I decided it wasn't too bad and went for it. If it was wet, I'd definitely have forded the river on foot. A wet, slippery log just wouldn't be worth the risk.

About halfway across the log, I decided that a dry, non-slippery log wasn't worth the risk either. I was looking down at my feet--you have to, to make sure of your footing--and you can't help but notice that fast-churning water far below. Big breaths. Steady, Ryan..... This is so not the place to get a panic attack! I was already halfway across when I started losing my nerve, though. Going back would be just as dangerous as to continue forward, so I kept pushing forward, one slow step at a time.

Okay, that's the last of the sunrise photos.....
I just love how you can see the sunlight streaking through
the mountain ridges in this photo. =)

I finally made it to the other side, and sat down to get ahold of myself. I felt like I could have thrown up. That was a stupid thing to do. I should have just forded the river. Fortunately, nothing bad happened, but it was a stupid, needless risk to take just to keep my feet dry. It didn't seem so bad looking up at the log. It looked big and easy to cross. And if it was two feet off the ground, it would have been big and easy to cross. On it, though, it didn't seem as big or easy and was just a stupid, needless risk.

A short distance further up the trail, I caught up with White Beard and Third Monty, and we compared notes about the Suiattle River crossing. Third Monty admitted that crossing the log made her so nervous, she scooted across on her butt. White Beard walked across it, but didn't much care for the experience either. =)

The rest of the day was uneventful. Somewhere along the way, I passed the 100-mile mark--less than 100 miles to the Canadian border! I was tempted to mark the moment in rocks on the trail, but by late afternoon, the clouds started to look like rain and I pushed on hoping to beat the rain. It did start to sprinkle, and I stopped at Hemlock Camp for the night before it turned into a heavy rain.

Hemlock Camp is perhaps the cutest backcountry camp I've ever had the privilege to use, with trails lined by solar powered lights and an elaborate entrance with a welcome sign. It was only 5:00 in the afternoon, but by golly, I managed to have my tarp up and was safe and dry underneath before the heavy rains started without a moment to spare.

It was a beautiful morning!

Some sort of nest in this tree.... Wasps? I don't really know my insects very well. =)

There was no one around to put in the photo to get a sense
of scale of three tree, so I put my trekking pole in the photo.
The darn thing was as tall as I was!

I made it up the tree, but how to get down safely? In this photo, I already
dropped my trekking pole down the other side, but I hadn't lowered
my pack down with a rope yet.

You can see the original bridge that used to go across this creek
on the far shore. This creek was positively easy to get
across hopping on rocks, though. This wasn't the Suiattle River, either!

This blowdown I decided to go under. There were probably over
a hundred trees blocking the trail along this section. Very annoying,
and it slowed me down considerably!

It's almost embarrassing to admit this river crossing scared me because it doesn't
actually look very bad in this photo--probably the reason I fooled myself into
crossing over the log because it doesn't "seem too bad." It's a lot more nerve-wracking
when you're crossing it, though! And unfortunately, nobody else was around
so you can really get a sense of scale. The river and log actually looked a lot larger
in real life. *shrug*

The Suiattle River was a ferocious little thing!

It's so green, you'd think we were in a rain forest!
(Technically, I don't think this counts as one, but it's certainly typical
Pacific Northwest!)

Nearing a pass, but I forget what it's called.

Clouds are starting grow increasingly angry!

Hemlock Camp is open for business! =) So I did my business.....

Such a cute campsite. They really out-did themselves here!

Around Glacier Peak

Sunrise from camp!

September 14: I woke up to howling winds on Red Pass. My tarp protected me from the worst of it, but I had actually set it up to protect me from condensation which turned out not to be a problem at all. Funny how things work out.

The trail dropped back down into a tree-filled canyon for much of the morning, but by afternoon, it was back above the treeline with million dollar views in every direction. The trail wound around the west side of Glacier Peak so close that I could see the crevasses in the glaciers. Spectacular!

I caught up with two more hikers early in the afternoon, White Beard and Third Monty. This wasn't completely unexpected since Colter had mentioned that they were just ahead when I hiked with him the day before. I hadn't met either of them before, but White Beard had a thick, white beard and I assumed that must be him. =) What I did not know, however, was that White Beard was 70 years old and could kick the ass of people half his age. Holy cow! I did, admittedly, move faster than he hiked, but not by much. And yes, White Beard was a thru-hiker, having started from the Mexican border. And, in fact, this was the second time he was thru-hiking the PCT after having done it his first time in his 60s. I hope I'm still that active in 2045 when I turn 70! =)

Today, I'd pass Glacier Peak.

I'm not sure about the age of his wife, Third Monty, and it seemed kind of rude to ask so I didn't. She might not have been 70, and while I don't want to call her "old," she definitely wouldn't need to be carded either. Those two are nothing short of inspirational, though, and we passed each other several times during the afternoon as we took snack breaks along the way.

High on a ridge, I looked down on the canyon where Milk Creek rushed through at the bottom, with Glacier Peak to the east, when a low-flying aircraft flew over the ridge, just above Milk Creek. A practice bombing run? The jet was so low, it was actually flying below me, and I couldn't help but be a little envious of the pilot of the plane. While the noise was loud and obnoxious, it was still pretty cool seeing that plane hugging the ground below me.

Much of the trail along this section was severely overgrown, except going down into Milk Creek where it looked like they rerouted the trail and I saw evidence of blasting along the trail. Nobody was working on the trail then, and the trail seemed to meander a lot longer than I expected before crossing the bridge at Milk Creek. It took at least a solid hour longer than I expected, which annoyed me to no end. Best I could figure, the trail had been rerouted and added an extra three-or-so miles I hadn't planned on. Blah. For awhile, I thought maybe I had taken a wrong turn somewhere and was going in the wrong direction--surely I should have crossed Milk Creek by now? But I never saw any other turnoff, so I kept going forward. It wasn't until I crossed Milk Creek and finally started heading back up the other side that I was confident I was going in the correct direction, and on the other side I spotted a junction in the trail that I figured was the end of the reroute. I never caught the beginning of the reroute, but it was nice to realize that I wasn't going crazy.

Much of the morning was spent
in the trees.

Coming out of Milk Creek, the trail climbed a steep slope in a seemingly endless serious of switchbacks, which I affectionately called Bitch Mountain because I bitched so much about it while going up. =) It went up a south-facing slope where few trees grew, and the sun beat down unmercifully, climbing a couple of thousand feet while the overgrown brush ripped at my arms and legs. You bet I was doing a lot of bitching!

I finally reached the top of the mountain late in the afternoon, and pushed on several more miles until just after sunset, stopping to camp at Dolly Vista.

The views from Dolly Vista were nothing short of awesome. I camped under a small cluster of trees cowboy style--the first time I hadn't used my tarp in the whole state of Washington! Condensation hadn't been bad the night before, and I figured the cluster of trees would help protect me from any condensation that otherwise would form. The campsite was largely above treeline, though. Except for the few trees in the campsite, there weren't any others nearby providing a huge, expansive view.

Blasting! Oh boy! I new kind of obstacle to overcome! =) Even if this sign
was posted two years ago. Even if someone wrote in that blasting continues the
year after that. Nothing about blasting in 2010, but who knows?

I understood the symbol for an outhouse, but I wasn't
sure what the PCT sign attached to it was about.
(Well, the PCT and arrow part I understood. I wasn't sure about
the writing below it, though.)

I think this bridge needs to be fixed....

Glacier Peak in all its glory!

White Beard and Third Monty up ahead!

This trail looks freshly built--and that rock looks like it would have
required a bit of blasting to get through!

There's a trail in there somewhere....

There's still a trail in there somewhere.....
(Notice Glacier Peak in the background.)

What a wonderful photo of Glacier Peak with the moon rising behind it! =)
At first, I thought that was a small hole in the ridge in the front. Cool, an arch!
When I got closer, I realized it was just a patch of unmelted snow. Oh, well....

Canada is out there somewhere.... I could almost smell it!

It's been awhile since I had an icky-foot photo. =) They look bad, and they're
always a little sore, but despite how bad they might look, it doesn't really actually hurt much! =)
It's mostly just dirt that can easily be washed off in water.

These are a few of my favorite things....

Janus Lake, at sunrise.

September 13: The weather had greatly improved my morning. A few wispy clouds blew around, but nothing that looked remotely like rain. Still quite a bit of tree snot falling, but that would diminish as the trees wrung themselves out. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day!

The trail climbed out from Janus Lake to some absolutely fantastic views that reminded me of the Swiss Alps in The Sound of Music. I stopped early at the first of the incredible views to throw some of my gear in the sun to dry out. Amazing! For the first time since the Goat Rocks, I could see Mount Rainier--but now it was far to the south of me rather than the north. Went right by that enormous mountain and never even saw it close up.

I also got my first views of Glacier Peak, another snow-covered glaciated peak dominating the horizon to the north. And I was amazed--the scenery was absolutely incredible, and even though I lived all of about a two hour drive away, I never knew all this existed! *shaking head* Shame on me. Oh, I knew that there was a Glacier Peak Wilderness, and I knew the PCT went through the terrain out here, but nobody ever told me how incredibly awesome the area was! I hummed a little of My Favorite Things, not really being able to remember the words. =)

Glacier Peak, I'm coming for you!

The hike was largely uneventful. I didn't see a single person until late in the afternoon when I caught a guy wearing a bright orange hat ducking into some trees along a ridge just before I arrived. It seemed a little strange, almost like he was trying to hide from me, and I didn't bother to stop and ask why. A hunter, perhaps? I didn't know, and it didn't seem like a good idea to stop and ask. I was sure he had to have seen me, and if he didn't want to talk to me, I certainly didn't intend to seek him out and force him to do so.

At one point, I had a decision to make. The PCT through most of the Glacier Peak Wilderness was officially closed. Flooding in 2003 wiped out several bridges and large sections of trail, and a detour has been in place for the past seven years! Criminal that a section of National Scenic Trail could be closed for that long, but rumor had it that it wasn't actually that hard to get through the closed section. I had asked hikers going southbound what they did, and those that took the reroute complained bitterly about how horrible the reroute was and that they regretted they ever took it, and those that didn't follow the reroute gushed about how wonderful the trail was. There was one bridge that had yet to be replaced, but crossing that river was no harder than anything we faced in the High Sierras. So I didn't think twice--I did not follow the official detour and stuck with the original PCT tread instead. A sign at Stevens Pass warned that there was "blasting" going on near Milk Creek, part of the process of fixing the trail, but even that sign seemed to suggest that the official closure might be recommended, but wasn't actually required. So no, I gladly skipped the detour. In many sections, it looked like the trail hadn't been maintained since the washout, heavily overgrown and in need of brushing, but if that was the worst of my trouble, I wasn't going to complain. =)

Closer to sunset, I caught up with Colter, who turned out to be the only person I actually talked to the entire day. I didn't recognize him at first, but when he introduced himself as Colter, the gears in my head started clicking. Didn't I meet a Colter hiking southbound near Lake Tahoe? He had skipped up from Kennedy Meadows to Ashland and started hiking southbound hoping to avoid the worst of the High Sierra snowpack? Yes, that was him! That little two minute chat passing each other on the trail near Lake Tahoe was the only time I'd met this fellow before, and he didn't seem to remember the chance encounter.

We hiked together for a couple of miles before reaching White Pass. A sign at the pass said that camping was prohibited there, which disappointed Colter since that's where he had planned to camp. There were pulaskis and shovels lined up at the pass, though, tools left by trail workers who were probably camped by the lake just down from the pass. Colter didn't like the idea of hiking off of the trail to camp, but I encouraged him saying that those trail crews were friendly folks, and by golly, if they had extra food or snacks, they might share some good eatin'. I told him about the huge hunk of apple pie I scored when I camped with the WTA work party. I hoped that lifted his spirits. =)

I didn't much want to hike off trail to camp either, and decided to push on. I wanted to use as much of the good weather while I could because I knew more rain was in the forecast in the near future.

And that was when I saw it. A black dot, on a side of a steep meadow slope, moving. A BEAR! It had to be a bear! Damn! I finally saw a bear!!!! Had to hike 2,500 miles, but by golly, I finally got to see a bear with all of about a week left in my hike! YES! I scanned the slopes some more, and saw another tiny black dot moving around above the first one. Two bears! And a third dot, below the trail. Three bears!

WOW! Three bears! The last two bears I spotted were pretty far off from the trail, one upslope and the other downslope. That first bear I spotted was a bit upslope from me and well off the trail, but close enough that I might be able to see some details. The sun was already setting and the light was terrible. I might not be able to get a decent photo at all.

Not only did I dry out in the sun,
but so did the trees and rocks!

I stayed on the trail, slowing my pace, and the closest bear finally noticed me, watching for a bit before moseying higher up the slope and away from the trail. I took pictures, but they turned out awful. Just tiny black dots, and I have to point them out to people since they're completely unrecognizable as a living creature. I was thrilled, though. Finally, at long last, I could tell people I saw a bear--three of them!--while thru-hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. I had pretty much given up hope that that would happen.

The sun set during my traverse from White Pass to Red Pass, and a spectacular sunset it was. The clouds had drifted down the canyon below me, filling up the canyon with a ghostly calm. From high on the ridge where I was located, it seemed like I could see for a hundred miles in every direction. A half-moon rose above Mount Rainier, and Mount Rainier seemed to glow in the available moonlight.

When I reached Red Pass, it was started to darken rapidly, and I decided I finally needed to stop hiking. When I arrived, though, another sign posted at Red Pass asked for people to camp "elsewhere." Crap. It was late in the day, getting dark, and I had already hiked 29.2 miles today. Sorry, sign. No, I was going to camp here, and I felt horribly guilty doing it. I don't like to break the rules, and if it was still earlier in the day, I would have pushed on, but it wasn't, and I didn't.

Although the chance of rain overnight was next to zero, I set up my tarp anyhow because condensation had already been forming on my hat while I was still hiking. It might not rain overnight, but it was clearly going to be a very wet night.

On an unrelated note, I made myself giggle when I read in my journal: Colter stopped to camp @ White Pass. I pushed on for Red Pass. (And what about Blue, Purple, and Yellow Passes?!)

I crack myself up sometimes. =)

Technically, there was a PCT detour here. (Or a "detoure", as the sign suggests.)
But I decided not to follow it!

The shirt I'm wearing, you can see a hole at the bottom of it.
For those of you familiar with my AT adventures,
this was the shirt I was wearing when I accidentally lit my
crotch on fire, and that's what the hole is from!

This is the slope where I found the three bears foraging.

I cropped this photo so the "black dot" would show up better,
but this is the best photo I could get of the closest bear.
Yeah, I know, it sucks! If only I had a zoom lens....
Actually, that probably wouldn't have helped because the light
was so bad to begin with. It would have just been blurrier!

Red Pass.... actually seems well named, at the moment!

Avalanches, Murders, and the Dressmaker's Doll

The weather looked threatening when I woke up in the morning.

September 12: I woke the next morning to ugly clouds, but no rain. Not yet, at least. I hit the trail early, hoping to warm up (boy howdy, nights are getting cold!) and get as many miles in before it does start raining. So by 6:30, I was on the trail hiking.

Noga and Daredevil caught up with me about an hour later, which surprised me. Noga I knew was somewhere in the area since we got into Snoqualmie Pass the same day, and assumed she was behind me somewhere since none of the southbound hikers I passed had mentioned seeing her. I figured with my early morning start, though, it seemed unlikely that anyone would catch up to me.

But I returned the surprise when I snuck up behind them. I was off to the side of the trail doing some "important business" and they passed by not even seeing me. (Definitely a good thing!) So when I caught up with them again, they couldn't figure out how I got behind them. They knew I was just up ahead--they stopped to talk to Ed from Issaquah at the ridge top where I camped and he told him I was up ahead. They expected to catch up to me--they didn't expect me to sneak up behind them! =)

I had met Daredevil briefly just north of Burney Falls, and after I had seen her, it occurred to me that there could be an interesting story behind her trailname but I hadn't thought to ask at the time. Now was my chance! Except I did the same thing again, and completely forgot to ask. Oh, well.... To this day, I still don't know the story behind her trailname. Perhaps she bungee jumped or liked to go skydiving. Maybe she was a stuntwoman in movies. Who knows? Not I, though. I don't know, because I forgot to ask.

I passed Noga and Daredevil a couple of times throughout the morning. The trail was steep, rocky, and muddy, and views were few. I told the girls that I was going to contact the PCTA to complain about the conditions. "I explicitly asked for no mud and no rain, and there has been huge quantities of that!" Noga got into the spirit and added, "Yes, and not enough trail magic!"

"Yeah!"

Take that, PCTA! =)

We passed the AmeriCorps workers, one of which had offered me up a lighter the evening before, and they appeared to be building a turnpike. It was hard to tell, though. It was either a turnpike, or they were mud wrestling. The two activities seemed largely interchangeable. We didn't stop very long to talk and distract them, though. We pushed on.

The trail finally spilled us out at Stevens Pass, where an ice chest with trail magic was waiting. Noga and Daredevil arrived before I did--I stopped for a half hour taking a snack break and never caught up with them again. I knew they were planning to get a ride down to Skykomish, so when I didn't see them at the trailhead, I figured they must already be on their way down there.

I plopped down and drank a Coke, and started making phone calls and checking e-mail--I could get a signal! I had hoped Amanda was in Seattle and could drive out to visit me. Stevens Pass isn't that far out from Seattle, and I would have loved if she could pick me up and drive us down to Leavenworth to the east. I'd never been to Leavenworth before--a Bavarian village about 30 miles to the east. Most hikers hitch down to Skykomish to the west to resupply. Leavenworth was a little further away in the opposite direction, but it also seemed more interesting. In any case, Amanda was in North Carolina trying to clean out their mom's house before the sale was official, and she wouldn't be around for another visit.

I didn't want to bother with getting a ride off of Stevens Pass and back, so I planned to hike through. Absolutely everyone I had talked to recently planned to resupply at Stevens Pass, but not I. Nope, I'd push on. If Amanda was around, though, I'd have gotten off for a side trip to Leavenworth. Another day, another time.... (Amanda and I did drive out to Leavenworth a month or so later, after I had finished the trail, but that's another story....)

While drinking my Coke, making phone calls, and checking e-mail, Rising Sun and Em arrived. Another couple of people I had no idea were so close behind me. And finally Epic arrived, but I knew he wasn't far behind me.

They worked on getting rides down to Skykomish, and I dared the weather gods by pushing on.

I crossed Highway 2 and followed the trail along what appeared to be an old railroad grade. A few years ago, Amanda and I read a book, The White Cascade, describing the worst avalanche in American history killing 96 people, right here near the summit of Stevens Pass, a hundred years earlier. The original Cascade Tunnel, four miles long, lurked somewhere under my feet, and a newer Cascade Tunnel still in use today, seven miles long, lurked somewhere below that. But before either of those tunnels, there was another track that crossed the very summit of Stevens Pass, and I wondered if the PCT was following that original track. It could have been an old logging road, but it had such a gentle grade, it made me think that it was built for trains.

Daredevil (in front) and Noga (in back).
And look at how muddy this trail is!

Reading the book is a little morbid. You know how it ends. You know there will be heroes, and there will be victims. Two trains got stuck in the small town of Wellington (which no longer exists), a mail train and a passenger train. It was winter, and an unseasonably strong snow storm trapped the two trains at Wellington. The passengers had suggested parking the trains just inside the tunnel (the first Cascade Tunnel) as protection from possible avalanches, but no avalanche had ever been seen on this particular stretch of tracks, so the railroad folks weren't terribly concerned about that. The science of avalanches and predicting them was non-existent, so they left the trains exposed. And anyhow, the trains back then burned coal, a dirty little business and parking the idle trains in a tunnel would probably suffocate everyone anyhow. No, they were confident the trains were better off where they sat. And then, in the early morning hours of March 1, 1910, disaster struck, killing 96 people on the two trains. Help was far away. The snow had blocked the tracks in both directions, and help had to come on foot through the snow. Bodies were carried out on sleds. It was the Katrina of the day, making headlines around the world.

After the disaster, they build a concrete snow shed to protect against future avalanches, along with several dozen miles of wooden snow sheds along the train route. The exorbitant cost of maintaining the sheds finally led to the second Cascade Tunnel a thousand feet lower through the pass and bypassing the town of Wellington completely. The old railroad line has since been turned into a hiking trail with interpretive displays--an absolutely fascinating hike. The concrete snow shed is still standing, but the wooden ones have long since fallen into a jumble. The first Cascade Tunnel is still there, but is no longer safe to enter. And all that is left of the town of Wellington are foundations of where building used to be.

So this was what I was thinking about as I crossed over Highway 2 and continued my hike north. The first sprinkles of rain started to fall. Perhaps my thoughts about the Wellington disaster made me think of some other morbid, true-life stories, because then I started thinking about the Pinnacle Lake Trail murders. A mom and her daughter, off hiking for the afternoon, and shot to death for no apparent reason. Those didn't happen on the PCT, but I wasn't hiking that far away from where those killings happened either, and those killings were still unsolved. The killer could still be out there, hiking the same trails.

And I started wondering, what would I do if I discovered the bodies of two women, dead on the trail, still warm, with bullet holes in them? My cell phone worked at Stevens Pass and I could call for help there, but it could take hours to hike out to cell phone reception. And would it even be safe to do so? If I knew there was a killer on the trail, following trails didn't seem like a good idea. And it was starting to rain. Would that wash away important evidence before the police arrived? Would it be better to cover the bodies with my tarp, or would that screw up any evidence that the killer might have left behind? I should probably be careful not to disturb any footprints that were in the area. Given how muddy the trails were, some of them undoubtedly would have belonged to the killer. Oh! Of course! I should take lots of pictures! If I left to contact the authorities, animals could move the bodies around and destroy evidence. The rain could destroy footprints. I should use my camera, take photos of everything, then go for the police.

Wow, my mind was really running morbid today, and I started freaking myself out a little. This is just the kind of weather a killer would like. Dark, cold, and wet. Around every turn, I started thinking I'd run into a killer. As it turned out, I ran into absolutely nobody. Probably just as well. If I did bump into an innocent hiker out for the day, I might have screamed. =) Nope, once I left Stevens Pass, I saw absolutely nobody.

The rain increased steadily, and I finally took a snack break under a large, overhanging rock alongside the trail. I waited for nearly an hour, hoping the rain would let up, and it finally did... a little. I hiked a bit further, finally stopping to set up camp at Lake Janus. Originally, I intended to hike further than that, but I was cold, wet, and feeling miserable. The weather forecast still showed a chance of rain for the next several days, but the chance was growing smaller. I'd rather save my big-mile days for better weather than the crappy weather I was in now.

So I stopped at Janus Lake for the day, at 4:30 in the afternoon--in extraordinarily early end to the day. Because of my early start, though, I still pulled in a solid 21 miles of hiking for the day, and didn't find a single dead body that entire distance. =)

That gave me several hours light to read, and I hunkered down under my tarp to whittle away the rest of the afternoon. I read Agatha Christie all afternoon, which did not help my morbid state of mind at all. In particular, there was a story called The Dressmaker's Doll, and it would give me nightmares all night long. I still get goosebumps thinking about that story. Creepy, evil little doll.

To say I was a little on edge would be an understatement. Then, a little after sunset, I felt something jump onto me. I was in my sleeping bag, writing in my journal, and something alive jumped onto my legs. I about wet myself, kicking hard. I tried to aim my headlamp to see what mysterious creature of the night would attack me while I was still awake, but I didn't see anything. It was out there, though. It was watching me. It probably wanted my food.

I didn't sleep well at all.....

The trail passes the ski resort at Stevens Pass.

Skid Road, or Crest Trail? Decisions, decisions...
I'll take Crest Trail for $400, Alex! =)

Stevens Pass, here I come!

I'm absolutely baffled why there was a metal plate in the trail here.

This was my view for an hour or so as I tried to wait out the rain
under the protection of a large, overhanging rock.

Janus Lake, and the view from my campsite.