Day 48: An ominous re-start....

July 22: As you might remember, I ended my PNT thru-hike last year at Harts Pass after getting sick. It took me five days to hike out and seek medical attention, and while I did get better, I never returned to the trail. And there were still 500 miles to complete.

It was finally time to complete it! Which is why I had returned to Harts Pass. Amanda drove me up the day before and we camped at the Harts Pass campground overnight. I took my time getting ready in the morning. There was no big rush. I had planned to only cover about 15 miles, and it was mostly easy PCT tread and mostly downhill. So I slept in late and watched the sun rise.

Check-in station for the Pasayten Wilderness.

Of course, I wasn't actually on the Pacific Northwest Trail just yet. The PNT was something like 13 or 14 miles down the trail. It was one of the things that most annoyed me about ditching the trail last year at this point--the long distance of off-trail hiking to the trailhead. Now I had the long distance of off-trail hiking to get back to the trail. Today, my plan was mostly to get back to the trail, but I wouldn't do more than a mile or two of the actual PNT.

The bugs were relatively bad in the morning which didn't surprise me. I hoped they would go away during the day while I was hiking, but by the time I left at 9:45, they were still persistently annoying. That didn't bode well.

I picked up my pack, a ridiculously overloaded pack with 10 days of food. The next place I planned to resupply was Concrete, WA. Initially, I planned to use the same shoes I wore on the PNT last year, but when I pulled them out at the last minute they looked like something from a hazardous waste dump, so I replaced them with a new pair of shoes. Normally I wouldn't start a hike with an untested pair of shoes, but this was a brand and model I had worn many times before and had no trouble so I didn't worry about it.

I had my SPOT device again. After ditching the trail last year when I got sick, I set it up so if I pressed a specific button, it would send a signal that signaled that I was planning to get off the trail. Just in case I ran into another problem or issue that would require my getting off the trail--but without the need of a helicopter rescue.

So I pulled on my shoes, and started up my SPOT device. But the SPOT device still had the same batteries from last year and immediately pooped out. I didn't feel like replacing them with fresh batteries right then, however. I was on the PCT. I didn't really need a SPOT device until I reached the PNT anyhow.

One new piece of equipment I carried was a mask. It was a new era of COVID-19, after all. I felt it would be pretty easy to social distance on the PNT, but when I went into towns to resupply, I'd need a mask. It was the law!

Wildflowers were in full bloom around Harts Pass!

Amanda took a few photos of me with my pack, my triumphant return to the trail! Then we parted ways. She had a scary drive down from Harts Pass that she'd later describe made her hands ache from holding the steering wheel so tightly. She hoped to get down the scariest sections of the road before anyone else started the drive up so she wouldn't have to get around other vehicles going in the other direction.

And I started hiking.

In the open areas, wildflowers of all sorts of colors flourished. It was quite scenic. The trail was wide, well-maintained and maintained an easy grade. It was ideal!

But about a mile into the hike, the back of my left foot started hurting. A hot spot from the new shoes. I was a little annoyed at the intrusion, but not a big deal. I stopped, pulled off my shoe and sock to treat it with moleskin, but I was more than a little surprised when I saw how badly the back of my foot had been rubbed raw. I thought it was just a hot spot, but it looked a lot worse than that! I pulled out my Neosporin. It needed more than just a band-aid or moleskin!

Blowdowns on the PCT

But it should be fine now that I treated it. I put my sock and shoe back on and continued hiking. The pain on the back of my foot didn't go away, but knowing what it looked like, I knew why. It was just rubbed raw. It would take time to heal. But it was covered and that would hopefully prevent it from getting worse. I had planned to take it easy the first few days on the trail, hiking no more than 10-15 miles per day. I wasn't in thru-hiker shape anymore and had set my expectations accordingly.

I continued the hike and was surprised when I came to a small patch of snow on the trail. It was only a small patch, but it near the end of July! How could there still be snow on the trail at all?! Was it a heavy snow year this past winter? I'd come across several small patches of snow throughout the day, and every time it would surprise me.

I soon met one group of 4 people who were hiking back to Harts Pass, and one of them asked how much water I was carrying.

"About one and a half liters," I answered.

He seemed concerned that I didn't have enough, but finally concluded. "Hmm.... well, that's probably enough. You're in a long dry stretch," he warned me.

Really? There were certainly dry patches, but I didn't think any of them were particularly long on this stretch of the trail. Maybe later in the summer when some of the smaller water sources on the trail dried up.

Then I passed a creek another mile or so up the trail. In fact, during the whole day, the longest stretch without a water source was maybe 3 miles. It would have been very easy to hike this trail literally carrying no water at all and just drink what I needed when I reached water sources. I'm still puzzled about the guy's apparent concern about the lack of the water.

I also reached a few blowdowns along the trail. I knew for a fact that there were absolutely zero blowdowns on the trail when I got off last year. A trail crew had just departed earlier the day that I had, including a pack of horses, and the trail was completely cleared of blowdowns. So any blowdowns I reached had to have happened since I got of the trail almost 11 months earlier. And clearly, no trail crews had been out to remove the new blowdowns.

They weren't especially problematic. Each blowdown was isolated and none of them were difficult to get around or over. For horses, they might have been more problematic, but I didn't have a horse to worry about.

In all, I met 5 groups of people throughout the day. It was too early in the season for the hoards of thru-hikers to be arriving, but the trail certainly wasn't empty of people either.

One woman hiking solo was about to finish her PCT section hike. She had been hiking the Pacific Crest Trail in sections for several years and was about to finish this last section to the Canadian border. She carried an ice axe and reported horrible snow conditions around Glacier Peak a short ways south of the trail. It sounded a lot like my experience of the High Sierra during my own PCT thru-hike, including the dangerous river crossings.

I congratulated her on her impending completion and wished her a lack of snow the rest of the way. I had no idea if there was any real snow on the trail between here and the Canadian border.

It also occurred to me that no PCT hikers could legally hike into Canada this year due to the coronavirus. That's a shame. Manning Park is kind of a legendary location at the end of the trail, and also the quickest way off the trail. With the Canadian border closed, all of the hikers would have to turn around at the border and return to Harts Pass to get off the trail. Bummer for them, but fortunately not an issue I had to deal with.

Some of the hikers I passed would quickly put on a mask when they saw me approaching. I didn't bother doing the same. I had read that it was very unlikely one could catch the coronavius just by walking past someone briefly, especially when one is not in an enclosed area. Putting on a mask for the half-second I passed someone on the trail didn't seem like it was worth the effort, but I would step off the trail as far as I could to let people pass. Most of the time, there was no trouble keeping 6 feet distance, although along some steep areas, it might have been half that. But I didn't worry too much about it since they were only within that 6-foot gap for perhaps a half-second as they passed.

It felt strange hiking like this, though. So strange.

Later in the afternoon, a PCT thru-hiker caught up with me. He introduced himself as Tree Monkey, and the PCT was to be his first thru-hike. He was just starting today, hiking north to the Canadian border, then turning around and hiking back to Mexico.

He had attempted to start a month earlier but quit while trying to navigate around Glacier Peak because of too much snow and he suffered a bad laceration when he postholed at one point. He thought he might have broken something and got off the trail to recover and let the snow melt. Then he meant to get back on the trail a week earlier, but his friend's mother was murdered and he delayed his departure again.

"Murdered?!" I said, shocked.

He told me some of the details: an ex that she was in the process of getting a restraining order against, but it was too little and too late. Not actually that unusual of a story, but sad nonetheless.

I've heard a lot of reasons why people have gotten off the trail or delayed their trips, but this is the first time I've heard someone use murder as a reason.

Tree Monkey was hiking quickly, but I enjoyed chatting with him and tried to keep up. The back of my left foot was screaming with agony. Trying to hike so quickly probably wasn't doing it any good, but I'd have plenty of alone time once I veered off on the PNT. Until now, I'd been poking along relatively slowly mostly because I had no reason to rush. The back of my right foot started feeling like a hot spot as well, but I planned to camp just a mile or two up the trail and figured I could wait it out.

We arrived at Holman Pass a little while later where our paths parted. This was the junction with the PNT and where I would be leaving the PCT. Tree Monkey would continue north on the PCT. I'd head west on the PNT.

An old, abandoned cabin on the PNT.

We chatted a few more minutes at the pass, both of us ready for a short break anyhow. Then he took off. Now that I was back on the PNT, I pulled out my spare batteries to turn on my SPOT device. I popped open the cover of the device and was shocked to see four AAA batteries. I thought it ran on AA batteries. I didn't have four extra AAA batteries. Oh, crap!

I did have 4 AAA batteries, though. There were two in my headlamp and two spares for when the ones in my headlamp died. So I cannibalized the batteries in my headlamp hoping they still had enough power to work on the SPOT device.

I couldn't know how long the SPOT device would work with those batteries from my headlamp, though, and decided that I would only use the SPOT once each day, to check in when I reached my campsite. I wouldn't let it run throughout the day tracking my progress every five minutes. Friends and family might not know why they couldn't track my movements throughout the day, but at least they can see I am moving each day. And hopefully the batteries will have enough power to get me through the next 10 days.

I took two of the batteries from my SPOT device and put them in my headlamp. Maybe they still had enough power to at least let me see at night.

After playing musical chairs with my batteries, I was ready to continue.

I walked for about 5 minutes when a sudden shooting pain shot up from my right foot. I shouted with pain. What the heck just happened?

I sat down on a log, pulled off my sock and shoe and was stunned to see the same raw tearing of my skin that my left foot suffered earlier this morning. It was extremely tender. I put on Neosporin and moleskin, put my sock and shoe back on, and continued walking. Now with the backs of both ankles causing excruciating pain with each step, my progress slowed.

Then, in less than one mile, I lost the trail and fell into a creek. "Goddamn PNT!" I shouted angrily into the wind.

And it's true. I hadn't been on the PNT for even one full mile when the trail reached a creek. I lost the trail near the creek, then tried to cross the creek on a log when I slipped and fell in, soaking both feet. Which actually felt nice, kind of numbing the pain on the backs of my ankles from the ice cold water.

I eventually found the trail again on the other side of the creek after about 10 minutes. The blowdowns across the trail were much more common than on the PCT, which annoyed me since I knew for a fact that a trail crew had come out just the year before to remove the blowdowns along this section of trail. Had I been able to hike this section last year, I probably wouldn't have had a single blowdown to get around.

At one point, a tree had fallen next to the trail with jagged branches sticking out like knives. I tried to move around it, walking sideways like a crab along the trail, when my pack hit a bushy tree behind me that nearly pushed me into the knife-like branches.

"ARGH!" I shouted at the trail. "The PNT is trying to kill me!"

Why did I get back on this trail? The PCT had been so wonderful, despite my shoe trouble. I literally hadn't been on the PNT for even one full mile--and I had lost the trail, fell in a creek, and had one assassination attempt on me. And my only protection was a SPOT device with, pardon the pun, spotty service.

The thought crossed my mind that maybe I should turn back. Return to Harts Pass and get off the trail.

No! Hell no! At the very least, I was going to walk to Ross Lake. If I got off the trail, it was going to be somewhere that didn't require a 13-mile off-trail hike!

So I pushed on, eventually setting up camp near a creek. I had hiked about 15 miles for the day, but only the last 1.8 miles was on the actual PNT. It didn't bode well. That's a lot of pain and suffering I endured to cover a mere 1.8 miles.

In camp, I took off my shoes and socks--in that order, of course--and examined the back of my feet and was shocked at how badly they had deteriorated. My right foot I had looked at just a half hour earlier when I applied Neosporin and moleskin and it looked 10 times worse now! My left foot I hadn't seen since earlier this morning, but it too looked 10 times worse.

I was too tired to cook dinner and instead chose to eat a few snacks. Then I watched Netflix shows on my phone the rest of the evening before going to sleep.

It was had been an ominous start to my hike, but I hoped things would be better after a good night's sleep.

The back of my right ankle wasn't doing so well....

My left foot didn't really give me any trouble until near the end of the day, but then things went downhill very quickly! This was going to be an issue....

Day 47: Civilization! Wonderful civilization!

August 31: I woke up still feeling... well, crappy... and faced another episode of explosive diarrhea. Unfortunately, some of it splattered and got on my pants. Argh! This sucked!

I wasn't around any water to clean up, but this, I knew, was also my last day on the trail for a while. I changed into my hiking clothes then put the soiled clothing into a large, one-gallon Ziplock bag. I'd wash it when I got home.

You don't want to open that Ziplock bag! It's a bio-hazard. *nodding*

For the fifth day in the row, I continued to have absolutely no appetite. I considered eating the last three Jelly Bellies I had for breakfast but decided against it. I didn't have time for that--I needed to get off trail and get some medical attention!

And, honestly, I just couldn't stomach the idea of eating even 3 Jelly Bellies.

I only had four or five miles to hike to reach Harts Pass and help--a relatively short day of hiking for once. Even in my weakened condition, it shouldn't take more than a few hours to get out.

Upon my arrival to the trailhead, I wasn't sure where to go. There was a gravel road, but I didn't know which way I needed to hitchhike on it. Nor did anyone appear to be around to ask. But first... there was a pit toilet available and I decided to use it. I didn't have to use one, but I wanted my bowels as empty as possible once I was in a car and heading down a road! I also decided not to drink more than a few sips of water from here on out. I did not want to need to pee until I reached my destination for the day: Seattle. Bad things can happen if I had to pee!

So I used the toilet, during which time some hikers arrived in a vehicle and after exiting the outhouse, I asked about which way I needed to go to get off the trail. They pointed down the road in the necessary direction, and I asked if they had any suggestions about the best place to hitchhike down the mountain. They mentioned a campsite down a road a bit and perhaps at the junction with the campsite road would be better since I might nab a ride from someone leaving for the day. Sounded good to me, and that's what I did.

It worked out well--I got a ride from the first car heading down the mountain. I had to wait about 15 minutes, but the guy had just dropped off his wife and daughter who were hiking a couple of days to Rainy Pass, and his kid was in the backseat. He lived in Mazama which has a bustling population of about 200 people. It was as far as he could take me, but that was good enough for me. It was civilization!

The drive was slow-going on a narrow, windy gravel road and a little unsettling at some places when the road went next to a very big cliff. One of the scariest roads I've ever been on. *nodding* He told me that one particular section of the road was called Deadhorse Canyon or something to that effect because back in the day, a train of horses had fallen off to their deaths. Pleasant thought.
The we wound slowly down the dirt road and I just about crapped myself whenever we had to pass a vehicle going up the mountain. The roads were not designed for two-way traffic! One of the vehicles would invariably have to back up to a wider section of the trail which is not a pleasant feeling when you're next to a thousand-foot cliff with no guardrail. Was this going to be the most dangerous part of my entire hike?!


We finally arrived at the bottom of the mountain where the road became paved just as we entered Mazama. He drove me out to the junction with Highway 20 and dropped me off and I pulled out my cell phone. Service! I finally had service! Yes! I called Amanda hoping she was around and could pick me up somewhere but the call went to voice mail. I left a message. Then I called my mom to give her an update about my situation--not that she knew there was a situation, but she could check my location on the SPOT device and might find it odd that I had suddenly veered wildly off trail and might want to know what was up.

Then I sent an email to Amanda in case she was able to check her email before she got my voice mail message.

Now... I just needed a ride west. I stuck out my thumb for every passing vehicle. In fact, I had already been sticking it out while talking to my mom on the phone. I could multi-task that way. *nodding*

It took the better part of an hour before I got a ride. Two vehicles had pulled over and offered me rides, but they were only going 3 and 8 miles up the road respectively which didn't seem worth the effort. I needed distance! It would take me a week to get home at 3 to 8 miles at a time!

But finally, after the better part of an hour, a couple of guys pulled over who said they were driving to Tacoma. Tacoma?! Oh, please! My prayers have been answered! "Can you take me all the way to Seattle?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure, hop in!"

I was sure it would take at least two or three more hitches to make it all the way to Seattle so I was enormously happy that I could get there in a single ride! Wonderful!

The gentlemen in the front seat didn't seem too interested in chatting with me, which I was perfectly happy with. I was tired and mostly just tried to fall asleep in the backseat.

Most of Highway 20 didn't have cell phone coverage so I was off the grid again. When we passed through Newhalen, my drivers wanted to stop for a pee so they stopped. I didn't need it, though, and waited in the car and tried checking my messages to see if Amanda had replied leaving me email or a voice mail, but she hadn't. I still had no idea where in the world she was.

On the road again, I lost the cell phone signal until we reached Marblemount, but I didn't try using it there since we were just passing through and I figured I'd quickly lose the signal again.

Going through the town of Concrete, I couldn't help but think this was the town I had been trying to hike to. This was where I was supposed to reach. If I hadn't gotten sick, this would have been my next resupply point. This would have been where I took my next zero day. On foot, it would have taken me another week to reach. It took only a couple of hours in a car.

As we approached the I-5 corridor, I knew cell phone signals would be much more reliable and tried checking my voice mail and email and I finally got a response from Amanda. In an email, she told me that she was currently in Lisbon. The one in Portugal. Eight timezones away. Okay, she definitely couldn't pick me up or help for the time being. I was on my own!

I texted my mom that I was an hour or so from Seattle and my ride was taking me the rest of the way. I just needed get to a doctor now and get some drugs!

And minutes later, my phone stopped working. It just up and stopped completely. I tried restarting it. Nothing. It was dead as a door nail, and not because the battery had died. It had plenty of power. It just stopped working. I had been having issues with my phone for months--restarting for no apparent reason and such, but it apparently gave up the ghost for good. Great timing. *sigh*

I put the phone away.

When I told the two guys I lived in West Seattle, they offered to go out of their way and drop me off there. They liked West Seattle and wanted to stop somewhere for lunch and check out Easy Street Records. I certainly had no complaints! So they actually drove me all the way home! Cool!

I had one problem, though. I didn't have a key for our place. I had been hiking on the trail and didn't expect to be home again for at least another month. My keys were in a duffel bag--presumably inside the apartment I wanted to get into. Although it was possible that they were in Amanda's car (which would be at the employee airport parking lot) because that's where I left the duffel bag when she left me in Republic.

So I was locked out. I tried knocking on some doors of neighbors who could help, but nobody answered. Nobody was home. Shoot. I might be sleeping outside with the homeless tonight! At least I fit in and I had all of my camping gear. =) Actually, if push came to shove and I couldn't get into our place and none of my neighbors would let me crash at their place, I could have gotten a hotel room. I really wanted to get into our own place, though!

But I still needed some medical attention so I walked up to one of those walk-up clinics a couple of blocks away to see a doctor. I told her that I thought I had giardia and described all of my symptoms, and although she agreed that that was a good possibility, she didn't feel comfortable prescribing me the drugs for it without confirming that that's what I really had and she didn't have the equipment to run those tests. So she told me to go to an urgent care center in Capital Hill.

Ugh. I just want drugs! Give me drugs!

I've been tagged. Here I'm waiting for to be called for my turn at the urgent care center.

She gave me a sheet with directions to the urgent care center, although they were driving directions rather than transit directions. I didn't have a car and would need public transit. And with my phone still out of action, I couldn't even google for information about which was the optimal route to take. But I already knew how to get to Capital Hill with my vast experience riding public transit, so I hopped on the first bus into downtown then took the light rail to Capital Hill. After that, I walked the quarter-mile to the urgent care center.

Still, of course, carrying all of my backpacking gear which I had been unable to leave at home. I walked in looking like a homeless guy off the street and asked to see a doctor. I had to wait around for 10 or 15 minutes before they took me in.

They told me to get into one of those stupid little gowns that people's butts hang out of and decided that I should have an IV. "You'll feel a lot better with an IV," they told me. I'd feel a lot better with drugs! I thought.

They took blood samples and left me on my own for an hour or so while the IV fluids leaked into my arm. I was kind of bored at this point. I couldn't even play on my phone with my free hand. And I had little doubt that by this point, my mom was starting to worry about me. The last she had heard from me, I was sick and weak, in a car with two strange men on my way to Seattle and that I'd arrive there in an hour or so. Then... radio silence. The timing was really bad for radio silence.

The blood tests came back and they declared me slightly dehydrated but that was about it. I wasn't surprised to learn that--I had drank almost nothing since leaving Harts Pass because I had been deathly afraid that I'd need to pee on the ride home. They couldn't test for giardia without a stool sample and those tests would take a few days. This doctor also didn't want to prescribe medications for giardia without first confirming it was actually giardia because those drugs could have unpleasant side effects but gave me a prescription for another antibiotic instead with less risk of side effects. Swell--I'd take it! Just give me drugs! That's all I wanted! She told me it should help regardless if I had giardia or something else entirely, but to come back again if I didn't get better within a few days.

My first IV! There's always a new experience for every trail I hike!

They gave me a stool sample kit and told me how to use it. (I've never given a stool before! This was new territory for me!) And I headed into the bathroom and proceeded to provide a sample.

I was in there for awhile doing my thing when someone else outside tried to get in. "Sorry, I'll be a moment!" I finished up and eventually left. Outside was a young woman waiting to get in. "Horrible stuff just happened in there," I told her. "Probably more than you wanted to know, though. I'm so sorry."

At this point, it was after 7:00pm. I had been at the urgent care center for close to two hours. One of the guards walked me through a labyrinth of corridors to where my stool samples needed to be dropped off, then to an on-site pharmacy since most off-site pharmacies would already have closed for the day.

I filled out my prescription and immediately took the first pill. I'd like to say that I immediately felt better, but it was too much to hope for to feel better seconds after taking the pill. Maybe by morning.

One of the things the doctor recommended was drinking something with electrolytes in it like Gatorade--which, ironically, I had already been thinking about doing. I desperately wanted to drink something with calories in it after my starvation diet and water wasn't cutting it. But since I couldn't eat anything, I had been thinking about what I could drink that had calories--and Gatorade sounded really good to me.

So I headed across the street from the urgent care center to a Safeway and picked up a few large bottles of Gatorade. Then I walked back to the light rail station which I took downtown, then a bus back to West Seattle to make another attempt at breaking into our place.

By the time I arrived back at the apartment, it was about 9:00 at night. I knocked on a neighbor's door who I thought could help and I heard her shuffling on the other side of the door.

"Who is it?" she asked through the door. She probably looked through the peephole and saw me but didn't recognize me with the beard and wild hair and general homeless look.

"It's me! Ryan!"

She opened the door. "Oh my god! You look horrible!"

"Yeah.... I know....."

So I told her what was happening and that I was locked out of my place and, fortunately, she was able to help me break in. I made it home! Yeah!

The first thing I did upon getting home was to call my mom--she had to be freaking out by now with the lack of updates I'd been providing. And she was! She was happy to know that I was safely back at home and hopefully on the upswing.

Then I took a much needed shower and called it a night.

 

****************

By the next morning, I was already feeling better. I was able to eat a half-bowl of cereal for breakfast and within 24 hours, my appetite was back to normal. I still felt weak, though, but that's to be expected after eating almost nothing for five straight days and hiking about 70 miles over rugged terrain to get off the trail.

My plan was to take a week or so off the trail and recuperate, then get back on the trail and continue the hike. At this point, I had serious doubts about completing the trail this year. I had already started fairly late in the year making my completion date a little iffy before I even stepped foot on the trail, but losing an entire week of hiking this late in the hiking season could be catastrophic. At the very least, however, I figured I could finish through the Cascades and save the last couple of hundred miles through the Olympic Mountain until next year.

Except a week came and went and when I checked the weather forecast... there was a lot of rain in it. And I saw no good reason to be miserable hiking in rain. September typically had great weather in Seattle. I could wait a little while until a nice stretch of weather settled in.

And I waited. And waited. And waited.... Then, in the last week in September, a big snow storm struck the area and I officially called an end to the hiking season. My Pacific Northwest Trail thru-hike had failed. I was done.

I had completed 700 miles of the trail and still have 500 miles left to do. That's why you won't find the Pacific Northwest Trail on Walking 4 Fun--it's not done. Not yet, at least! I will return and finish. Someday. But I won't be a thru-hiker. Nope, I'll officially be a section hiker when I finish this trail.

A few days later, I got test results back from my stool sample and--I was surprised to learn--I did not have giardia. As it turned out, I had acquired Campylobacteriosis--a disease I had never even heard of before.

Evil beast! Be gone! This little organism was my downfall....

A fact sheet that the public health center for Seattle and King County sent me later describes it as:

Campylobacteriosis is an infection of the intestines caused by a bacteria called Campylobacter. The bacteria is commonly found in the feces of infected people and animals, and food products contaminated with the bacteria during processing or preparation.

Additional information, I learned, includes that symptoms develop within 1 to 10 days after swallowing the bacteria, but usually 3 to 5 days. So I figured I probably acquired it shortly after leaving Oroville--although maybe just before I got to town. Somewhere near Oroville. Which isn't at all surprising given the large number of cattle running around that area who can and do carry the disease.

Symptoms typically resolve on their own after about a week so if I hung in for a couple of more days, I probably would have started feeling better even without drugs. Oh, well!

Apparently it's a pretty common cause of food poisoning--according to the CDC, about 1.5 million American get the disease each year. Usually from contaminated food, but in my case, drinking untreated surface water is much more likely.

So... after about 15,000 miles of mostly drinking untreated surface water, my number finally came up. But still.... that's a pretty good record, I think. And I have yet to get giardia that you typically always hear about. Nobody ever warns you about Campylobacter!

I've had a few friends ask me if this experience means I'll start treating water in the backcountry. Maybe... in cattle country. But for the most part, no. I'll still take my chances.

Day 46: Evacuate! Evacuate!

August 30: At 2:30 in the morning, it started to sprinkle. Shirtless had told me the day before that he heard it might rain in nearby Manning Park overnight, but it was so beautiful when I went to sleep and the weather had been so nice lately, I didn't really believe it. So I didn't bother to set up my tarp and cowboy camped instead.

Now, I was frantically trying to get my tarp up before things got too wet. At least I had the foresight to select a location where it would be relatively quick and easy to set up the tarp without moving any of my stuff. I had strategically picked a location where I could hook my tarp up to nearby trees in the "unlikely" chance that it did rain. I was really glad I did that!

But then I had to pee. Bad! Before I could even finish setting up my tarp. Once I got out of my sleeping bag, I had to go! I tried to hold it, desperately getting my tarp up in the rain but I knew I wasn't going to make it. I finally abandoned the tarp and pull down my pants to pee. I wanted to pull them all the way down in case some unexpected poop came along with it.

Fortunately, no poop came with it, but I wasn't quite fast enough getting my pants down and wound up peeing myself a tiny bit. #$#@*(! It could have been a lot worse, though.

I finished setting up the tarp which was low and saggy. It was a bad job of it, but it was doing its job of keeping me dry so I didn't fuss with it any further.

I set out my bowl to catch water dripping off the tarp. I had hoped to reach a water source before camp but had failed so I was a little low on water. At least I could fill up with free water from the sky. It sprinkled almost non-stop through 7:00am, but it was never more than a light sprinkle and after all those hours, all I got was a single sip of water for my efforts.

For breakfast, I ate five Jelly Bellies. It was all I could stomach. My utter lack of hunger continued. I had to be losing a horrendous amount of weight. I normally ate 2.5 pounds of food per day and this was now my fourth day of eating almost nothing. I didn't feel like I had lost weight, but I'm sure I was losing it faster than I ever had in my life. I was essentially on a starvation diet and burning 5000+ calories a day hiking 15-20 miles each day since getting sick.

I was glad that the rain stopped before I had to start hiking for the day, but I did have to hike through a lot of fog. Some of it was pretty, in the swirling clouds in the distance, but other times it obscured my views which I found annoying. I wanted to see all of the dramatic scenery around me!

A couple of hours into the day's hike, the fog finally lifted and the sky cleared up again.

Late in the morning, I reached Holman's Pass. This is where the PCT and PNT split ways. The PCT continues south toward Harts Pass while the PNT continues west toward Ross Lake. I wanted to go to Ross Lake. I could hop off the trail and back on so easily--except for the fact that it was further away than Harts Pass. I needed help. I was terribly weak, getting weaker with each passing day, and at least there were people nearby to help if I stayed on the PCT.

I decided that I needed to go to Harts Pass, and I sat down and cried when I saw the sign saying it was 14 miles away. I'd have to hike 14 miles OFF TRAIL to get there. And I'd have to hike another 14 miles OFF TRAIL to get back later. But my health and safety needed to come first. But still, I cried. I didn't want to do it.

One nice thing about veering off the PNT, however, was that I didn't feel the need to keep taking photos all of the time. I typically take 200 photos per day so I can add the route to Walking 4 Fun, but now that I was veering off the PNT, I didn't need photos. And they were a pain in the ass to take. Especially now when I really didn't feel like "working." It felt liberating to be able to hike without feeling obligated to take photos every step of the way.

I started asking hikers I passed if they had a topo map I could take a photo of. My maps were for the PNT and I was now off the PNT. I had no idea where to find water or campsites along the trail. I had no idea what sort of hills and mountains were in my way. I had no maps for the PCT. But nobody had paper maps anymore. Everyone had their digital devices and I had to ask about 15 people before a friendly, older gentleman had one. He opened it up and I took a photo of it with my camera. At least I had some idea of what was coming now. I was a little sad that more people didn't carry topo maps. I love topo maps. Sure, I also carried a GPS and a cell phone, but I still preferred using my topo maps, but I guess I'm officially old-fashioned. When did that happen? Back when I did my PCT thru-hike in 2010, most people still carried topo maps. It was amazing how much had changed in the last nine years.

In the afternoon, I ran into a group of three hikers who, after hearing about my sickness, one of them offered me some pot. It was a little tempting... I've heard it can help with people's appetites (the infamous "munchies") and I could certainly use some help with that but I turned him down. One, I wasn't even really sure how to smoke it--it's a skill I never bothered to learn--but more importantly, it seemed like a bad idea to get high for the first time in my current condition.

For lunch, I ate another five Jelly Bellies.

While climbing up a hillside, a ranger on horseback with a mule train caught up with me. They were packing out gear from the PNT work crew who had left earlier in the morning. I told him about my problems and he asked if he could help. I kind of wanted him to carry my pack--he had a horse to do it! But I didn't think I could make it to the trailhead this afternoon and needed to keep my pack with me. He continued onward but said he'd tell the ranger at Harts Pass to look out for me.

Late in the afternoon, I really needed to pee. It was a very exposed location above treeline, and although I didn't feel a particularly strong need to poop, that was no guarantee it wouldn't happen. I couldn't hold the pee anymore, though, and there was nowhere to go off trail that would leave me with some privacy, so I went off the side of the trail. I hoped and prayed nothing else but pee would come out and--whew!--dodged a bullet. About two minutes after I zipped up, a group of several thru-hikers rounded the corner. If diarrhea had struck, they would walked into an uncomfortable situation--uncomfortable for everyone involved! It was a close call.

I finally stopped hiking at 5:30pm after 15.3 miles and about four miles short of Harts Pass and help. I wanted to get off the trail today, but I was just too tired. I couldn't keep going. I threw out my groundsheet and laid down to rest for a bit. I had been laying there for what felt like 5 or 10 minutes when I realized how low the sun was getting in the sky. It seemed awfully early in the day for the sun to already be setting and I looked at the time and was shocked that it was already 7:00pm! I had fallen asleep for 1.5 hours and had no idea! I thought I'd just been laying on my groundsheet resting for a mere 5 or 10 minutes and was awake the whole time.

Now that sunset was imminent, I quickly changed into my camp clothes and got into my sleeping bag. A couple of thru-hikers set up camp about a hundred yards away but never dropped by to introduce themselves, and I certainly had no intention of getting up to walk over to them.

For dinner, I ate five more Jelly Bellies and a beef stick. That was a big meal by my current standards! So for the entire day, the only thing I had eaten were a total of 15 Jelly Bellies and a small, thin beef stick. Ugh. I needed to get off this trail. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.... I was only about 4 miles from help.

I pretty much stopped taking photos once I reached Holman Pass. At this point, the PNT veered off the PCT, and I decided to follow the PCT to Harts Pass and get off the trail, and for Walking 4 Fun, I didn't need photos along the PCT. So... there are pretty much no photos after this trail junction.

Except for a photo of a topo map that an older gentleman on the trail let me take since I didn't have any maps of the PCT to Harts Pass.

Day 45: Connecting to the PCT!

August 29: In the morning, I woke up still feeling ill and ready for another horrendous poop. It had now been well over 24 hours since the full-blown symptoms of my sickness struck and I was not improving. More than ever, I was certain I suffered from giardia.

A warning to hikers everywhere?

I still didn't feel hungry but knowing I needed sustenance, I managed to get down a little cereal but it was a tiny fraction of what I normally ate for breakfast.

Out of camp, I had a long, steep climb to Frosty Pass. I struggled, slowly making progress and taking short breaks every five minutes. I felt so weak. It didn't help that my pack felt like it weighed a ton and it was not getting any lighter because I wasn't eating the food in it.

The views were spectacular--even being sick couldn't diminish the views! But it didn't exactly put a smile on my face. I felt miserable.

After what seemed like forever, I finally reached the top of Frosty Pass, then the trail headed steeply downhill to Castle Pass where it connects with the Pacific Crest Trail linking Mexico to Canada. Before heading down, I decided to do another poop at Frosty Pass. I didn't have to go, but I knew the PCT would be a lot busier with people than the PNT and privacy in an emergency would be a lot harder to come by. I figured it was best to evacuate my bowels on the PNT where privacy reigned supreme. I had only seen one person on the trail in the last 72 hours, so it seemed unlikely someone would show up just as I pulled my pants down. On the PCT, it would be a good possibility.

So I did my thing and took a short rest, then headed downhill to Castle Pass and linked my steps to the PCT. Having thru-hiked the PCT before, I was back on familiar terrain. Additionally, I could now say that I've covered the entire distance on foot from the Mexican border to Glacier National Park! And not by using the CDT!

It was a huge milestone for me.

A few blowdowns blocked the trail on the PNT. (The PCT was wonderfully maintained, however!)

The PNT overlaps the PCT for about 10 or 15 miles, and I headed south on the PCT. Within a couple of minutes, I passed four different hikers and a dog! Holy cow! This really was a highway! I thru-hiked the trail in 2010 and had heard the number of hikers has sky-rocketed since that time and I was now seeing it for myself. The PCT wasn't this busy during my thru-hike! Busier than the PNT, for sure, but four people in a couple of minutes? Wow!

I passed countless hikers on the trail. I actually lost count! It was nice having people around, and I chatted a lot of them up. Most of them were hiking toward the Canadian border so we were like ships passing in the night, and several of them congratulated me. "Good job!" they'd shout.

"For what?" I'd humbly say.

"For reaching Canada!"

"I didn't reach Canada," I replied. "I'm not hiking the PCT."

They'd look at me strangely for a moment. I could almost hear the wheels in their head turning, wondering if they should tell me if I was on the PCT.

"I'm thru-hiking the PNT," I finally said. Or at least I'm trying to! My illness could be a problem.

"Oooh! Well... that's cool!" I was surprised how many people were already familiar with the PNT. I knew most of the hikers I met were hard-core hikers--largely PCT thru-hikers and section-hikers, but they don't necessarily know about other, lesser-well known trails. The big three (AT, CDT and PCT), certainly. Outside of that... maybe. Maybe not.

The hoards of people was a double-edged sword for me. I liked the company and I liked the fact that if my condition suddenly took a turn for the worse and I passed out on the trail or something, it wouldn't be long before someone found me and could get help. A lot of them would even know how to use my SPOT device and could press the SOS button if for some reason I could not. I felt safer among the hoards of the hikers.

However.... the downside was that I still had bowel issues and if I had a sudden bout of explosive diarrhea, privacy might be hard to find.

I did meet a few hikers heading in the same direction as myself. They had reached the Canadian border then turned around and were heading back. I tried to keep up with some of them to chat but eventually I would need to stop for a rest and they'd pass me by.

One fellow I hiked with a bit was named Shirtless. He got his trailname when his shirt went over a 40-foot waterfall and he had to hike a few days without a shirt. I love that origin story! I had told him about my illness and he offered to contact Amanda to let her know that I would be getting off the trail to get medical attention. I'm fine... but not fine. He was hiking faster than me, however, and therefore would get a cellphone signal before me. He planned to get off the trail tomorrow. I would need more time.

The hikers heading back were going to Harts Pass--the closest trailhead to the Canadian border on the PCT. I could get off there but I was loath to do so. It was nearly 15 miles off my trail! Although I wanted to get off trail, I didn't want to hike off trail to do it. If I could push on an extra day or two, I could get off at the trailhead by Ross Lake without any off-trail hiking. Easy off, and easy on when I got back on the trail again. It was further away than Harts Pass, though. I still was weak and not eating anything.

Several people asked if there was anything they could do to help. I asked them if they had drugs for giardia. It seemed like a long shot but it didn't hurt to ask, right? But that's not the stuff most people carried and none of the hikers I met carried it. They often offered me food, however. "Ahh! No! I have three days of food on my back that I was supposed to have eaten but haven't! I need to start giving my food away to lighten my load!"

Of course, I'm not sure anyone would want to take food from someone suspected of having giardia.

In the middle of day, I had a sudden bout of nauseousness. It came suddenly and unexpectedly. For the most part, I haven't really felt like throwing up except when I was actually eating something. I wasn't eating anything but POW! It hit me and I found myself on the side of the trail throwing up--the first time I actually threw up since becoming sick. A bunch of water came spilling out. If I had a cup and caught it, it would have looked remarkably pure for having come out of my stomach. There was no odor and it didn't taste bad. As far as throwing up goes, it was the nicest experience ever. Normally my mouth tastes terrible and just the taste makes me want to keep throwing up! It just tasted like water, though--because that's all that was in my stomach.

Once my stomach was emptied, I dry-heaved for another minute which actually felt a lot worse than the actual vomiting did. The feeling finally passed and I sat down and rested for about 5 minutes before continuing onward. Hell. This was hell.

Another couple I met named Lori and....I forget the guy's name, and I feel bad about that because I'm sure they're going to read this blog later so I'm totally busted for forgetting his name--offered me salt, electrolytes and a small sampling of Jelly Bellies. I was happy to take all of them. I was still worried about my lack of salt and how it was affecting my body. I filled one of my water bottles with the electrolytes and it tasted delicious! Heaven on Earth! I didn't drink all of it, though. It was all I had and I wanted to spread it out.

I dipped my finger in the small bag of salt and licked it off my finger. I didn't enjoy doing this. I like salt--who doesn't?!--but pure salt that actually wasn't on something? Yikes.

Between the two, I felt my chances of water intoxication were much lower. I was going to get off this trail on my own power. Lori thought I should get off at Harts Pass for safety's sake, but she mentioned that there was a PNT crew working on the trail shortly beyond where the PNT veered off from the PCT. They were logging out fallen trees but apparently didn't think they would finish because there were too many blowdowns. Ugh.

By the end of the day, I was leaning toward getting off at Harts Pass. It was the safe and smart thing to do. But ugh! I so did not want to hike nearly 15 miles OFF TRAIL to get help! I figured I'd probably be off the trail for at least a week recuperating, and when I returned, I didn't want to hike another 15 miles just to get back to the trail.

Also, if I hiked to Harts Pass, I'd stay on the PCT and near people the entire way if my health took a turn for the worse. If I left the PCT and something bad happened to me, it could be days before anyone found my body. And when I pulled out my topo maps to check the trail ahead, it looked brutal. Lots of steep uphills, and I was growing weaker and weaker with each passing day. Today I was on track to complete a mere 15 miles. And although I knew there was trail work being done to clear out the PNT of blowdowns, the conditions were so bad that the work crew didn't think they'd get the job done. It could be tough going.

I didn't have to commit to a decision until I reached the junction where the PNT diverged from the PCT which wouldn't be today, though. It was a decision that could wait until tomorrow. Theoretically, if I headed to Harts Pass and could pull off about 18 or 19 miles tomorrow--a big if given how weak I was--I could be off the trail tomorrow and back on my way to health. I loved the idea of getting off this trail tomorrow. Maybe... maybe....

But damn, it was a terrible decision I had to make.

Late in the day, I finally stopped and set up camp at a nice overlook just past Woody Pass. I had initially hoped to reach the next campsite, but I was just too tired. I couldn't make it. My GPS had recorded a mere 14.5 miles of hiking today. It was a pathetic showing. If I weren't so sick, I could have easily have knocked off over 20 miles.

After setting up camp, once again I decided to skip dinner. I just couldn't eat a meal. Not even a small one. Instead, I decided to eat the Jelly Bellies that Lori gave me earlier in the day. I ate them one at a time, savoring each flavor. One, two, three.... I stopped after eight. It was all I could eat. Eight Jelly Bellies was my entire dinner.

What a horrible existence.....

Day 44: Considering Evacuation Options....

August 28: I woke up at about 4:00 in the morning with an urgent need to pee. Ugh. It was still dark out and my bladder felt like it was about to burst. I didn't want to get out of my nice, warm sleeping bag but I knew I couldn't hold it for another hour or two when I usually got up.

Not wanting to get fully out of my nice, warm sleeping bag, I decided to pee off the side of my groundsheet. Unzipped the bag enough to get the job done, but I didn't have to put on shoes and expose my whole body to the cold air outside.

It was the biggest mistake of my life. I started to pee and almost immediately, explosive diarrhea hit out of nowhere. I immediately clenched everything up and stopped peeing, but I could feel the shit in my underwear. This was bad. This was very very bad....

I let the sleeping bag drop to my feet and stepped out barefoot onto the cold ground, trying desperately to keep the rest of my bodily fluids inside my body. I took off my pants--I wasn't sure how much of the poop escaped my underwear and into my pants, but I didn't have time to check that yet. I set them aside on the ground. Then I pulled off my underwear trying to keep whatever crap was on them from rubbing against my legs.

And I was now completely naked from the waist down, in freezing cold weather, in the dark, with shit on my ass. I cussed. I cussed a lot. *nodding*

But priorities are priorities. I needed to get these bodily fluids out of my body! I took a few steps from my campsite, squatted and let it all go. Oh, the horror.... It didn't sound good. It didn't look good. I was glad nobody was around to witness the spectacle I made.

It was bad. Like horror movie bad.

Finally my body was done expelling noxious substances and the cleanup could begin. My ass was smeared with crap. I used an enormous amount of toilet paper cleaning up the mess, then wiped my hand-sanitizer all over my ass. It was the best I could think of to clean up with. All the while I'm freezing cold, naked from the waist down, and working by moonlight. My feet felt like frozen blocks by now.

Then I returned to my campsite. I didn't dare put my underwear and pants back on. The underwear was covered with crap. The pants... maybe had some. I couldn't be sure without checking, but that wasn't a priority for me at the moment. Instead, I pulled out my hiking clothes and put on those. The clothes were filthy, but at least they didn't have literal crap all over them.

I also pulled out my headlamp and checked my sleeping bag for crap. I wanted to get back in my sleeping bag--but only if it was free of crap. I checked both the interior and exterior and was happy to not find anything. At least that accident didn't escape the clothes I had on at the time.

Then I curled back up into my sleeping bag and tried to warm up.

I didn't fall asleep, though. I had problems. Big problems.

Eventually the sun started to rise. I had absolutely no appetite and decided to skip breakfast. I had skipped dinner the night before and now I was skipping breakfast. That was not sustainable. I started to worry if I could make it out of this wilderness on my own. I was about as far in the middle of nowhere as a person could get--smack in the middle of the Pasayten Wilderness.

I still hoped that maybe it was something like a 24-hour bug and by evening I might start feeling better. Then with another overnight rest, I'd be ravishingly hungry the next morning and everything would get back on track. I wasn't actually optimistic that this would happen--more of a hope that it might happen. I felt absolutely certain I must have acquired giardia. Probably from one of those water sources from cattle country a week earlier. Maybe a day or two before I arrived in Oroville. And I knew giardia wouldn't go away after a day or two.

With the sun now out, I checked out my pants to see how well they survived the explosive diarrhea and except for a couple of small spots, they had come out relatively unscathed. Relatively, of course, still made them unwearable. It was liquid poop. Even one small spot would have made them a bio-hazard!

I carried my pants and underwear to the creek where I tried to wash them out as best I could. I started with the pants since there was so little on them, and filled up water bottle after water bottle cleaning my clothes.

As I was doing this, a hiker approached from the other direction. Where did he come from?!

Normally, I would have liked chatting with him all morning long but as I was in the process of trying to clean my soiled underwear, now wasn't a very good time. I just wanted him to say hi and continue onward, but he seemed as starved for conversation as I did and he probably spent 15 minutes telling me his entire life story. "Yeah, uh-huh." I said as he told me something but I wasn't really listening very closely. "That's nice." I wonder if he's noticed the shit on the underwear sitting on the ground. Probably not. If he had, he'd probably have kept on hiking.

The hiker filled up with water--it was the only water source for miles in either direction--and eventually left me and I finished cleaning up my clothing. They were soaking wet now so I shoved them onto the back of my pack to dry out in the sun.

After the creek, the trail headed uphill and I found myself quickly exhausted. The hill wasn't especially steep, but I felt insanely weak. Probably not surprising since I had eaten absolutely nothing for breakfast this morning or dinner the night before. I had no energy!

I took a lot of breaks along the way to catch my breath. An hour or two into the day's hike, I tried to force myself to eat something. I knew I needed energy. I ate a few peanuts and a couple of almonds then a small beef stick before almost throwing up. That was enough. It wasn't much, but it was still better than nothing.

I continued the hike and my stomach gurgled noisily with the fresh food. A half hour later, I had to stop and do another poop. It was just as ugly as before, but at least I didn't soil myself this time around. I was prepared for a bad experience! I was running through toilet paper at an unprecedented pace, however. I had planned to go for 16 non-stop days on the trail and had quite a bit of toilet paper already but given the particularly long stretch without resupplying, I got an extra whole roll before leaving Oroville. At the time, I thought it was excessive, but now I hoped it would be enough!

I also found myself not wanting to pee. I was afraid the explosive diarrhea would hit if I relaxed enough to pee, so when I did want to pee, I would pull my pants down like I was about to do a poop. I would be ready if the explosive diarrhea tried to strike!

I finally reached the top of the hill at which point the trail headed downhill and my pace picked up dramatically. My sickness didn't seem to slow me down at all when I was going downhill, but the uphills--even short, small grades were absolutely exhausting and it seemed like I needed a five minute break every quarter-mile.

Later in the day, I tried to force myself to eat a second time. And again, I forced down a few peanuts and a couple of almonds. Then, rather than a beef stick, I ate a few Twizzlers. The Twizzlers seemed to go down better than the beef stick, but I could only eat three of them before it was too much. I started feeling nauseous and stopped.

For the most part, I didn't feel nauseous except when I was actually eating something. While on the trail and hiking, I had no urge to throw up. I just wasn't hungry. At all. And fortunately, my lack of appetite didn't appear to affect my ability to drink. I was able to drink plenty of water with no trouble at all. I wasn't going to die of dehydration.

But as the day progressed and I sweated out salts, I started worrying about the water-salt balance in my body. I knew water intoxication was a real thing and people could die consuming too much water. I didn't feel like I was drinking an unusually large amount of water, but I definitely was not replenishing the salts that were leaving my body. So I started worrying if that was a health concern. Were there symptoms I'd recognize if my salts got too far out of whack? Or would I just pass out on the trail unexpectedly? I had no idea. And I couldn't even google for the information--I was far outside of cell phone signals.

At least I had my SPOT device. There was a button I could press that would send an SOS signal to a satellite and help would be on the way. It would probably take hours for help to arrive, but it would arrive. Eventually.

It was meant to be used for "life-threatening emergencies." Did my situation count as a life-threatening emergency? I felt like crap, but for the time being, at least, it didn't feel life-threatening. On the other hand, it would take some time and effort to get help out here. If I waited until I felt like it was life-threatening, would it be too late by the time help could actually arrive?

I really didn't want to have a helicopter come out and pick me up--but if it was the difference between life and death, I'd take it. Ugh. This was bad. I was actually thinking about clicking that SOS button and getting evacuated.

If I did have to be evacuated, helicopter was really the only option. I looked around the terrain wondering where a helicopter might be able to land but I didn't see anything. Most of the time I was hiking through burn areas, but dead trees covered the landscape. There weren't open clearings for a helicopter to land, and I could imagine that a helicopter hovering above the trees could pose a hazard by the high winds from the helicopter knocking over the dead trees. How would a helicopter evacuation work? Was it even feasible? No, I didn't want a helicopter rescue. Nor even a rescue attempt--because for all I know, it might end up being a mere attempt.

My map showed an old airfield ahead on the trail. It was built in the 1920s or 30s or something long before the area become a wilderness area. It had no roads to it and nobody is really even sure how it was built. At the time of its construction, it's not like they could have carried heavy equipment to the site in helicopters--helicopters weren't around back then! The airfield hadn't been in use for decades, though, so I figured it was probably filled with trees. But maybe.... there was a spot large enough for a helicopter to land? If there was, maybe it would be a good idea to call for help from there?

And an idea started to form. If I could reach that airfield tonight, I could set up camp and see how I felt in the morning. If my sickness passed, I'd just keep hiking. If my condition continued to deteriorate during the night, I could call for help. I didn't have to use it, but I liked the idea of camping near where I could be rescued relatively easily. Assuming, of course, there was even an area large enough for a helicopter to land.

So that was my new a tentative plan.

After my second snack break, once again my stomach started its gurgling and once again I found an urgent need to do a poop. It seemed like the little food I was eating was rushing through my digestive track before any of it had a chance to digest.

The trail descended down a steep slope to another river that I had to ford. The knee-deep ford didn't cause any problems except for wet feet.

Late in the day, I finally arrived at the airfield which, as I suspected, was completely covered with trees. I didn't see any breaks large enough for a helicopter to land. I hadn't seen anywhere a helicopter might be able to land the entire freakin' day. I know it's possible to do rescues without landing a helicopter, but I imagine the logistics are a lot more difficult, complicated and potentially dangerous. Especially if I were surrounded by dead and burned trees.

Seeing as the old airfield provided no help for a potential rescue, I decided to continue on. I still preferred to hike out on my own and I needed to get the miles in if that were to happen. It was late in the day, but I still managed to knock off a few more miles.

By the end of the day, I had knocked off 19.1 miles according to my GPS with about 7,500 feet of elevation gain and loss. It was an astonishing number, I thought, considering how bad I felt and the fact that I had eaten almost nothing for the last 24 hours.

This was the creek I had to ford today. Not a big deal, though!

I set up camp under some trees. I had made it out of the burn area so I didn't worry as much about falling trees during the night. I still had absolutely no appetite, however, and decided to skip dinner again. Not eating my food was causing me two problems. The first was a lack of energy, but the other problem was that my pack wasn't getting lighter! I typically ate about 2.5 pounds of food per day. I probably had eaten 2 ounces in the past 24 hours so my pack was already 2.5 pounds heavier than it should be at this point! And unless I started eating, it was just going to get worse.

I did one more poop before going to sleep. I hoped a late-evening poop would get me through to sunrise. At this point, it was still explosive, noxious diarrhea--but since I hadn't been eating, the volume was much reduced.

I knew Amanda was probably watching my progress through the wilderness with my SPOT device. I had no way to communicate my distress except the extreme SOS option which I wasn't willing to use--not yet, at least. She probably saw my movements and thought everything was going fine. If she only knew what was happening. I wished I had a way to contact her and let her know of my trouble. Maybe she could pick me up at the next trailhead a few days from now.... assuming I could make it that far on my own. But I had no way to contact her so that wasn't an option.

I went to sleep restless and unsure of what the days ahead would hold.....

This is the old airfield which is why the ground is so flat. But it would be hard to land even a helicopter here now with all the trees! Looked like a nice place to camp, but I decided to push on.

Day 43: The Beginning of Something Bad....

August 27: I woke up to a beautiful morning, ate breakfast and packed up like usual. I took a brief detour a mile or so up the trail where the trail passed a horse camp and ranger cabin. The ranger cabin was locked up tight and nobody was camped nearby, but a sign pointed to a wilderness toilet and as rare as those are out here, I figured I should make use of it while I can.

Along the way, I ran into a deer. It was in the trees and shaded and I had trouble getting photos of it so early in the morning. The light just wasn't very good.

Then I did my thing on the toilet as the deer watched. Pervert!

The toilet was an open-air experience. No walls. Just a small stool to sit on over a hole in the ground. Everything went well, although I was a little surprised when the last half of the poop came out a little softer than I would have expected. Too much detail? Yeah, okay.... Probably....

Privacy was minimal, but the ventilation system was amazing!

Let's continue.... The trail through the Pasayten Wilderness continued to be in fairly good condition and I hiked the next four hours pretty much non-stop. Which was unusual--usually I would stop for a short break after two or three hours to grab a snack but I didn't feel particularly hungry so I just kept hiking.

The biggest obstacle was the huge burn area. There weren't a lot of blowdowns across the trail--thank goodness for small favors!--but the sun was warm and there was no escaping it. And sometimes, the trail was hard to see in severely burned areas. Much of the burn area looked like it could have happened last year and even flowers and vegetation hadn't grown back yet. So it was sometimes hard to distinguish between the trail and non-trail areas.

Then the trail descended 2000 feet to the Ashnola River which I had to ford. It wasn't a problematic ford. Maybe 6-8 inches deep with slow, languid water. The trail down to the creek was the biggest change in elevation since I had entered the Pasayten Wilderness.

I took a break by the creek, then started the long march back up the other side.

The ford wasn't a big deal. Just some wet feet but no real issue!

Late in the afternoon, I stopped by a creek under a single tree that had somehow managed to escape the wildfires so provided a small bit of shade. I was well ahead of schedule having taken few snack breaks and decided to lounge around until the shade moved and my position was in the sun again--which eventually took about two hours although I didn't know exactly how long it would be when I started my break.

But I felt like having a long break. I wasn't tired, but I kind of felt crappy all day. Not for any particular reason except for being tired of the trail. I had really enjoyed the scenery yesterday, but the burn area didn't excite me as much. And I was lonely. I hadn't seen a person all day. Not one, single person. (Nor would I see anyone the rest of the day--although I couldn't have known that at this time.)

To kill the time, I cooked one of my dinners, read a book and watched The Office on my phone while my solar charger was in the sun collecting all of that sunlight. May as make use of it while I could!

About two hours after I started my break, the shade from the tree left. It had been a good break. I enjoyed just sitting and relaxing and listening to the babbling brook. But I still had a few more miles to knock out for the day.

I took a two-hour break in the shade of that big tree on the left that managed to escape the wildfires.

The last few hours of hiking I felt really tired. I just wanted to lay down and go to sleep, but no.... I had a schedule to keep to! Onward! Always onward! I could take a nap when I reached camp.

I finally reached Dean Creek and my goal for the day, but it was in a heavily-burned area. The area looked like it could have burned just the week before. I didn't like the idea of camping under all of those tall and very dead trees, but I just felt so darned tired. I really didn't want to keep hiking who knows how far until I found a place to camp that wasn't in a burn area. I decided to set up camp anyhow. There was absolutely no wind or rain. The chances of one of the trees fallen down on me during the night seemed slim.

I wanted somewhere with shade to set up camp but there was absolutely none so I threw out my groundsheet in the sun then laid down and took a nap. I threw my fleece jacket over my head to avoid sunburns.

After sleeping for an hour, I felt a lot better. So much more refreshed! But now my stomach starting making some strange gurgling sounds like I should go do a poop. But I pooped this morning. I shouldn't need to do another one so soon. I was good until tomorrow.

I tried to ignore the unsettled feeling in my stomach but eventually I decided to hell with it. Just do another poop and get it done. At least I won't have to worry about it in the morning.

So I found a suitable place, squatted and... oh, the humanity! The horrible, horrible stuff that came out! To call it explosive diarrhea would have been a major understatement. This was bad. Really bad.

Suddenly all of the clues earlier in the day started flashing through my head. My poop this morning that started hard then ended surprisingly soft. My unusual lack of hunger. My feeling so unusually tired.

I was sick. And my next thought was, I really hope this isn't giardia.

Maybe it's one of those 24-hour flu kind of things. I hoped that was all it was. Maybe in the morning I'd feel better. Maybe in 24 hours. If I had giardia.... the next section of this trip was going to be pretty miserable....

My campsite had no shade so I threw my jacket over me to keep the sun off when I took a nap. I didn't want to wake up with a sunburn!

This was the pervert deer that watched me poop in the morning.

Ranger cabin

I was a little worried when I found this sign about trail closures due to wildfires. Then I realized it was from last year! *whew*

The bridge that used to cross this creek flipped over and sideways in a flood. Not very useful anymore!

What is that snow-covered peak in the distance? Hmm... (I really don't know!)