I arrived in Manning Park, Canada, on Sept 12, 2008. Done! When I finished, I immediately turned around and walked 100 miles back to Stehekin. I liked the last section so much, and the weather was so beautiful, that I decided to continue for a while. After the first night on my return journey, I nearly turned back around to the the terminus of the PCT. It was so agonizing to continue in that moment. I suppose it was because I had completed my goal and therefore lost the drive that had helped me through the cold and tired moments. On that chilly, exhausted morning, I had to find another motivation within myself to continue walking 100 miles back the way I came. I did put on my pack. I did walk southward. And, in the 5 days I took back to Stehekin, I was able to relax and enjoy myself to a degree I couldn’t while I had a destination. When I ran into a friend walking northbound, I turn around and walked 2.5 miles up 1000 ft just to camp with him! The next day we said goodbye and I headed southward again. Walking back the way I came for any reason would have been unheard-of just days before.

Actually, I have skipped 260 miles over the course of these 5 months and 10 days for injury and fire closures. I’ve decided not to return to these sections to complete them because of travel costs and such, though I have hiked 100 extra miles here in Washington. This is the only time I’ll mention the missed sections, because I honestly don’t care that I missed them. Over this almost-half year, I have become much less focused on the goal of walking every step of the path from Mexico to Canada. Instead, I began to enjoy the simple act of walking in the mountains for a long period. And, while the goal of finishing was clearly VERY important to me, my love of long-distance hiking was the daily motivation, the daily joy, that got me up every morning.

I’m in Portland now, staying with family friends, Jim and Morley Knoll. I’ll be bumming around here for about a week. After that, down to San Fransisco to see one of my dearest friends. I’ve been invited to San Diego for a bit after that, but we’ll see how long I’ll stay since I am also eager to get back to Minnesota.

Instead, I’m contemplating hiking the Continental Divide Trail, which hugs the continental Divide for somewhere between 2300 and 2600 miles.  The CDT is much less well established than the PCT.  Many miles of the trail are not even complete, making a CDT through hike a trail and route-finding challenge.  The CDT is more remote, more rugged, and has worse weather.  All in all, it sounds right up my alley. 

Nothing is set in stone, but I think I have caught the long-distance hiking bug.  There is no known cure, I’m told, and it only gets worse as the years go by.

I’m almost done with the PCT (4 days left).  I’m liking it so much, I decided not to stop.  The plan is to walk south from Canada through Washinton for a bit, until I get sick of it.  I’ll still be updating this page and posting my SPOT locations.  I’ll also put up my pictures (finally!) .  So, don’t change that dial and thanks for following me all this way.

But, in White Pass, we both arrived wet, cold, and generally bedraggled from days in a long, Washingtonian storm.  Neither of us wanted to go back out into the rain, and so we got a hotel room at the ski lodge.  Turns out there were 12 or so other hikers there.  They had the same good idea to wait out the storm and dry out their stuff.  We had a cute little efficiency with a lovely view of the mountain and, most importantly,  a really, really powerful heater.  We took off our sopping shoes and sat, toe-to-toe, with out bare feet right underneath the vent of heated air.  Ah, heaven!  I’m not sure how I can express the deep delight we took in being inside, warm and dry.  We gleefully watched the rain pour down outside.  It was such a pleasure to relax and allow an external heat source to warm me, instead of requiring my own body to produce all the warmth.  It is surprising to me every time I go out in the cold how much extra energy I expend just to stay mostly warm.  That’s the bad part about hiking in the cold and rain; your body has to work double time to dry the moisture on your skin before it can even address your own body’s heat needs.  If your not hiking or in you sleeping bag, you get cold!  Well, some thoughtful and well-prepared people bring warmer clothes, but I found that strategy to be far too reasonable to ever work for me.

Well,  Billy and I had a lovely 2-day hiatus from walking, curled up in our room, loving every minute of it. He seems to appreciate my company as much as I do his.  So, despite the fact that we had a widescreen plasma TV, we never turned it on.  Instead we spent hours talking. as if we could stock up on social interaction before heading our separate ways (he was southbound, whereas I am northbound).   On trail, you can walk with someone going the same direction as you for as long as you  both like.  But, when you cross paths with a southbounder, the meeting must be short, for you both have more miles to cover that day. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to spend a full two days getting to know him better.  An extraordinary synchronicity, and highly enjoyable for all.

I’m now at the border between Oregon and Washington.  Wow! I know, only I say it louder.  I wanted to tell you all about my excitement at crossing the California-Oregon border, but I suppose that’s old news now.

The difference between the Cascades and the Sierra is startling, to say the least.  While the Sierra is a tectonic mountain range, with the entire continental plate being pushed upward, the Cascades are primarily volcanic.  So, in stead of panoramas of peaks, the southern Cascades display dramatic individual mountains that rise high above the surrounding landscape.  They are really quite stunning, due to the stark contrast with their neighbors.  So far I’ve had my breath taken away by Mt Shasta, Diamond Peak, Mt Bachelor, the Three Sisters, Mt Washington, Mt Jefferson, and Mt Hood.  Visible on the horizon are Mt St Helens and Mt Adams. 

More than anything else, these looming mountains remind me of Mt Kilimanjaro, in Tanzania.  While the surrounding landscape is clearly VERY different from the seimi-arid rangelands of East Africa, all these mountains share a looming quality, their imposing presence seems to anchor all the surrounding mountains and hills.  I’m afraid that my pictures will not capture their grandeur.

Not that my pictures are up yet, either.  Please be patient with me.  I will get them up as soon as I can, but that may not be until after I reach Canada.

Aside from the beauty through which I walk daily, I think I have finally hit my hiking stride.  I know, it certainly took me long enough.  I just celebrated 4 months on trail.  I have finally allowed myself to slow down to 20 miles a day.  As my friends continually remind me, 20 miles is not really “slow.” But, I have had trouble quieting the fiercely competitive side of my nature.  Starting around northern California, the faster of my fellow PCT hikers began catching me in earnest.  They all had started 3-4 weeks after me, so, needless to say, I couldn’t keep up with them.  I tried, and only succeeded in running myself into the ground. 

On the other hand, that time has slowly taught me to believe that which I’ve always said: this is my journey, not a race.  I am not a failure for not being the best.  In fact, this whole endeavor lot more fun when I let my body enjoy itself.  It’s extraordinarily odd how I compare myself so harshly to those around me.  I seem to wrap my whole self-esteem around success in competition.  I know it’s not just me.  Everyone makes the same comparisons; it’s part of our nature.  I’m glad to have had this opportunity to learn (again) how to let go of that judgemental view.  I think I must be a slow learner, since I’ve had the same opportunity umpteen billion times before!  An endless balance between ambition and self-esteem.  The best thing about separating my performance from my own sense of self-worth is that the only way I can ever fail at something is not to try at all.

Does this make any sense?  I’m writing in a sort of unedited thought stream. So, my apologies if I am seem to be babbling on about something incomprehensible.  Just nod and smile. Thanks.

500 miles left…

The fires also mean that there is a 100 mile section of the Pacific Crest Trail closed right where I want to go. Clearly, the consequences of these fires are much more dire for most people than missing 100 miles of trail. But, to me it is highly disappointing and frustrating. It means finding another route though those areas, a feat easily accomplished if you don’t mind walking on roads for 140 miles. As much as I want to walk my entire path from Mexico to Canada, I’m contemplating hitching up to Chester and starting again there. I’d be “cheating,” I suppose. I’ve discovered that it is rather important in the thru-hiking community to walk around trail closures, even if you are on roads, instead of hitching a ride. While you may not be able to walk to entire PCT, most people believe that you should at least actually walk the whole way from border to border. I agree with that in principle, but 140 miles on major roads is not my idea of a good time. I also don’t want to sit and wait until the fires are contained. I’m antsy to get going again! What to do? Well, you all will be able to see on my map as I go along.

Oh, and I’ve had requests to reveal my trail name, but I don’t have one yet. Perhaps I’ll never get one. There are a few people that still don’t have a trail name after many years on the PCT and the other long trails, some of them quite well-known. Some people name themselves, but I’m kind of a fan of Claire, so I’m in no hurry to be re-christened anything else.  I’ll let you know right away if I get a new name.

Hiya folks. I’ve posted a new set of pictures from my PCT travels on my Flickr page: www.flickr.com/photos/clairesgallery/sets/72157605721764386/

Enjoy!