DAY 160: SUIATTLE RIVER

miles: 26

First, some more photos of the descent from Fire Creek Pass, before the darkness swallowed us...

Finally out of the ice zone, but the ground was still slippery.

Like another planet.

Near Mica Lake....

Okay, on to Day 160!

Woke up to ice lining the inside of the tent.

5:00am wake-ups have become a thing of the past. These days we are rising between 6:00-6:30. This is because we are too damned cold to emerge from our dry cocoons (dry is relative here). 

We've taken Dr. Slosh's advice and have started sleeping with our wet socks, insoles and gloves pressed up against our skin, in between our pajama bottoms and our skin, to allow them to dry out by morning. This is a magical, magic trick that, after much skepticism, ACTUALLY WORKS. It is the least comfortable thing you could possibly do at the end of the day (I know, I know) and completely counter-intuitive, but by taking those filthy, cold, wet garments and sleeping with them, the warmth and humidity actually dries them! It's a magic trick, I swear.

The smell of these garments is a completely different story.... It's just something you have to get over. We're already as filthy as can we can possibly be, why not rub our bodies in muddy shoe juice and allow our skin to bake it into our pores?

Frozen mud pants come in the tent with me.

Donning my mud pants and about to stick my warm, happy feet into frozen shoes.

It may not look like it, but those shoes are frozen... solid.

This would turn out to be, approximately, our 4th morning of frozen shoes. The Sierras held a few of those mornings, but a few have been in Washington.

Putting these shoes on has turned into one of my least favorite activities of the day, these days.

View form the tent on this morning.

We broke down camp slowly this morning, allowing the sun to fully rise before we started hiking, so that we could thaw out a bit and dry our sopping gear. The condensation in our tents is really terrible, and it's even worse when you wake up to find the moisture has frozen above you. This means it will take much longer to get your tent dry... The ice falls all over your stuff when you go to wipe it down, instead of soaking into your rag and becoming easily rung out.

It's a production, to say the least.

View of Smiles and Dr. Slosh's tent on this morning.

Compact little guy.

...

The sun makes an appearance and starts the thawing process!

One of many "outdoor toilets" we came across in Northern Washington.... 

The view while you are on the toilet.

And this view...

This was one of our later starts, as none of us could seem to pull ourselves away from the suns warm rays.

Smiles got started first today, plugging in and going for it!

I brought up the rear today and was very happy to see the sun.

What is that? In our tent?

A snowball!?

A snowball.

Breaking camp.

The trail we didn't see in the dark.

Fog rolling in, over us.

Leaving camp in the a.m.

Deep valleys...

We're climbing this.

Where we would have had to camp if we had made it to our projected destination last night - ON this bridge.

Today started with a long descent down to a bridge, at which point we would immediately head straight back up for one of our longest climbs to date.

The climb really wasn't that bad, I felt fit, rested, and in the best shape of my life (for some unknown reason - these things are hard to gauge). Why a hiker feels great vs. exhausted is a total mystery. Never to be known. Sometimes you feel like superman and sometimes you feel like a corpse.

And sometimes you feel like a prisoner. And that's okay.

Looking back at where we came from...

This sign...

The time of constantly threatening weather.

The land of many marmots.

Marmots. So many marmots today. They all went into alert mode as we passed, each in rapid fire succession. Some with grass in their mouths, some with their babies nearby, and some running for their lives. 

The scenery was dramatic and breath taking, as the recent snows have blanketed the higher elevations in a coat of snow... We wove our way up into and out of the snow all day.... crossing rivers, and encountering giant blow downs... 

All day, however, I was dreading the Suiattle River crossing. Dreaded. Actually - I've dreaded this river crossing since I began reading about the PCT. There once was a bridge over the Suiattle River, but it got knocked downstream by a storm, so for many years this section of the PCT held a very intimidating, often dangerous, river crossing that hikers dreaded. It wasn't until a few years ago that a new bridge was built to replace this old bridge - only, it was built many miles downstream. So the official PCT is now almost 6 miles longer than it used to be, redirecting hikers over this fancy bridge, downstream. 

We had been pondering what to do, as a group, for quite some time. Our maps showed that the old PCT could still be a viable option, since it was still in use just 2 years ago. Surely, it wouldn't be too overgrown to follow across the bridge-less crossing.... 

You may be wondering why we would opt out of the safe, new bridge crossing, in favor of a potentially hazardous trek on the old PCT only to be faced with a terrifying river crossing? Well - time. This would be a serious shortcut, to take the old PCT. It actually would make or break us getting to Stehekin the next day vs. an entire day later. If we didn't take this shortcut, we would not get to Stehekin until the following day. Why is this bad? Because the post office is closed the following day. It is open tomorrow - we NEEDED to get to Stehekin TOMORROW. 

So here we were. Going for it.

The trail was a bit overgrown (actually a lot overgrown - mostly trees that had fallen over) and we were slowed down to a snails pace as we made our way to the river.

My heart was pounding over this river crossing. 

We finally reached the wide shore of the Suiattle River, anxious to see what it was all about, see how bad it would be.... 

Following the "trail" was impossible, as the trail suddenly fizzled into a non-trail at this point. So we marched on blindly in hopes of finding an adequate log to cross this rushing, opaque river. 

I'm trembling at this point (with fear)...

The blow-downs.

The blow-downs.

The blowdowns.

Smiles being so brave. 

Butt scoot method.

I can't believe it took me this long to discover the "butt-scoot" method. I scooted my way across this log, no problem. I would not have been able to walk across. Smiles is so so so brave! 

Once on the other side, we snacked on what little we had left, a few handfuls of nuts, candies, a few fun-size Snickers... and we were good to go. It was already starting to get dark and struggled to find the trail. Dr. Slosh boldly scaled a vertical embankment and luckily found the trail a ways up. We all did our best to climb the vertical wall of foliage and within no time, we were back on the trail, our home. Our 16 inch wide home. 

We night hiked in a close pack for morale and safety, and kept the conversation lively and strong the entire time in order to distract ourselves from the exhaustion. There were a few near-breakdowns, maybe a few tears, but it was one of the most memorable nights of hiking. We made it to mile 2,258 that night and found a flat, soft, oasis in the trees along a river in which to camp.