It's nice that terrorists are lazy. Otherwise, they could
easily walk from Canada into the United States via the Pacific Crest Trail.
That's right, there is nobody policing the border there. I waltzed across the border
at high noon with only the mosquitoes to check my passport.
Why the lax security post-9/11? Easy! How many terrorists are willing to walk 40
snow-filled miles over intimidating mountains to get to an obscure road, or
backpack 70 miles and a dozen mountain passes to get to a decent sized one?
None. It's just not worth walking that so far over treacherous terrain to blow
up a few innocent souls.
I planned to hike those 70 miles in less than 48 hours. My equipment would be
Spartan:
No GPS
Sleeping bag
No tent or tarp
No stove or pot
No raingear or umbrella
No water purifier
No snowshoes or crampons
I would only carry 3 pounds of gear, plus food (lots of energy
bars and trail mix). My gear:
Why did I take on this crazy challenge and did I make it? Read
on.
Choosing a Start Date
The window of opportunity to thru-hike the PCT southbound is tight: June 15 to
July 15. Those who start in June have to deal with more snow in Washington than
those who start in July, but they have more time to complete the whole trail.
Those who start in July deal with less snow in Washington, but must be confident
that they can haul ass and get out of the California Sierras by September or
risk becoming the 21st century version of the
Donner Party.
I prefer having a buffer in case an unplanned event occurs. Also, I love hiking
during the long days around the summer solstice, so I opted for a June 23 start
date. I couldn't start earlier because I had an REI presentation in Bellingham,
WA on June 22.
In Bellingham, near the Canadian border, I stayed at the house of Charlie, an
REI Outreach Specialist. Charlie's amazing. Even though he had a long distance
bike ride the next day, he offered to take me to the Greyhound station at 2am!
Awesome trail magic! As he dropped me off, he said, "I love helping people go
for big adventures!"
The 70 Miles, 48 Hour Challenge
The northern terminus of the 2,650 mile Pacific Crest Trail is at Manning Park
in Canada and the first major USA crossing is at Rainy Pass (Hwy 20) in
Washington State. The reason I had to do those 70 miles in 48 hours is that Maiu
Reismann, an Estonian who couldn't get a visa to Canada, could only meet me at
Rainy Pass. Venkat, my good friend, agreed to drive Maiu to Rainy Pass on
Sunday. Since he is General Manager at Microsoft, he couldn't drive her there
during the week. Meanwhile, because I had an REI presentation on Thursday, the
earliest I could start the hike was on Friday 2pm. Therefore, I was sandwiched
between those two dates: Friday and Sunday afternoons. Also, I just didn't want
to get bored hiking alone, so I figured this would keep me on my toes.
The snow pack this year was 200% of normal. The trail is hardly visible, as it's
buried under several feet of snow and ice.
How remote is this wilderness? I didn't see one footprint until I was a couple
of miles from a trailhead.
Unencumbered with lots of gear, I set off at 2pm on June 23.
First Night
My lightweight strategy depended on finding a fire ring at a relatively low
elevation so I could make a warming fire during the four darkest hours of the
night. I would only use a pre-existing fire ring to conform with
leave no trace principles. I would create a
new fire ring only if I was getting hypothermic.
Once I left Manning Park Lodge, I started gaining altitude. I reached the
USA/Canada border within 8 miles (by 6pm). The trail was surprisingly snow free
until I started tackling the first of a dozen passes. Castle Pass and Hopkins Pass
tested me, but the real challenge started when I came upon the Devil's
Staircase.
Paradoxically, the Devil's Staircase takes you into the heavens. It reaches the
highest point on the PCT in Washington: 7,100 feet. Although that's half the
height of Washington's tallest mountain, Mt. Rainier, it still holds plenty of
snow in late June.
I rode the crest as the sun set behind the craggy mountains, hoping to get down,
find a fire ring, make a fire to keep me warm during the chilly night. However,
I would have to stay on the crest for a while before
dipping down. With so much snow around, I doubt I would find a fire ring at that
elevation and the
night would be frigid. Although I started descending by 10pm, light was rapidly
fading and my tiny Photon flashlights are not designed to help you find the
trail when it's under several feet of snow.
I wasted about 30 minutes going in circles, looking for the trail down. Although
I could have just invented a way down, I wanted to stay close to the trail so I
didn't get too far off track. Therefore, I decided to camp high on the mountain that
night.
Even though snow was everywhere, there were dry
patches around the fir trees. I found some big shrubs that looked cozy
and crawled into one. I curled in a ball and fell asleep on my pad with
my shoes on. My feet were soaked from walking in snow all day long, but
they would freeze if I left them outside my boots during the night. I
feel asleep quickly, knowing that my body would wake me up once I got
cold. The most idiotic thing I did during this trip was that I forgot to
use my space blanket during this frigid night. Doh! I have no idea why I
forgot to use it.
Luckily, I slept fine. I woke up a couple of times,
shifted around, and then fell back asleep. Four hours later, at 2am, I
could see the horizon lighting up faintly. I was somewhat cold and I
knew I needed to do some mega miles that day, so I rose to find the
trail.
The warming fire
I found the signs of the trail within 10 minutes and
restarted my long traverses from mountain to mountain. By 8am I had
already hiked six hours nonstop when I found a fire ring. My shoes were
soaked and I wanted a nap. The wood was still waterlogged with snow, but
I eventually got it to burn. I curled up next to it, lay my socks near
the fire, and then took a nap.
When I woke 90 minutes later I noticed that one sock
was charred and the other was missing. Eventually I realized that the
other sock had completely burned to a crisp.
"Well, at least I've lightened my load!" I said to
myself. "And they stunk anyway."
I had two pairs of socks left.
Second Night
I spent all day Saturday navigating in and out of
snow. Route finding was hard, but I managed get well beyond Harts Pass
and to do over 40 miles that day.
As night descended, I found myself in a familiar and
challenging situation: I was on the summit of a mountain (around 6600
feet), with no sleeping bag, no shelter, and no clear trail down. I
searched for 30 minutes for a way down, but with snow covering most of
the mountain, it was hard to find the switchbacks that led down the
mountain.
It was 9pm. I had about one hour of light left. I
didn't feel like spending another night high on the mountain.
I saw spotted a ridge without snow going down a couple
thousand feet to a creek where I expected the trail to be. Although
the trail wasn't on this ridge, it wasn't ridiculously steep. After an
hour of descending (grabbing trees the whole way down), I crossed a snow
covered pass. I knew I would be cutting the trail.
A cut log! Ha! A clear sign that the trail was near. I
celebrated as the darkness enveloped me.
Unfortunately, I couldn't find another sign of the
trail. Therefore, I walked toward the creek, hoping that I would cross
the trail again and that I would find a fire ring to sleep next to. But
after 30 minutes with my Photon light, dense vegetation surrounded me.
Instead of panicking, I was happy that this thick
vegetation would provide natural insulation during the night. I found a
nook within the tall plants, lay down my pad, and this time remembered
my space blanket! I removed my wet shoes and socks, put on dry socks,
and quickly fell asleep with the sound of the roaring creek nearby.
The space blanket was amazing. It kept me so warm that
I would consider doing a thru-hike with just that. I slept in: instead
of waking up at 2am, I woke up at 3am. Five hours of sleep was plenty.
With a fresh and alert mind, I found the trail within
10 minutes and followed it next to the creek for several miles. I had
cover the final 20 miles by 2pm to meet up with Maiu and Venkat at Rainy
Pass.
Rainy Pass
The PCT didn't let me off easy. I had to overcome a
series of tricky snow-filled passes before arriving to my final one:
Cutthroat Pass.
I smiled as I saw Highway 20 from the top of Cutthroat
Pass. Ironically, I got lost on my way down and ended up bushwhacking
like crazy to arrive at the highway. Unfortunately, I ended up at least
a thousand feet and a couple of miles below Rainy Pass. I had expended
extra effort to go lower than I needed to go.
"Oh well, I needed to burn some more calories," I told
myself.
I hitchhiked my way back up to Rainy Pass and thawed
out while I waited for my friends to arrive. My 48 hour, 70 miles
adventure was over. I sat back and watched the cars drive by with a
happy smile on my face.
This video shows the first 100 miles of my 2006
southbound PCT hike. Due to complicated logistics, I
had to cover the first 70 snow-filled miles in 48
hours and meet Maiu, who was from Estonia and
couldn't get a visa to Canada, at Rainy Pass. She
would then hike the rest of the PCT with me, all
2,600 miles.
To cover 70 miles in snow in less than 48 hours, I
did not carry a sleeping bag or a shelter (not even
a tarp). I also took only ready to eat food (no
cooked food) and few clothes. I would move from 2am
to 10pm, sleeping only 4 hrs a night. It was rough,
but fun. The video also shows a bit of the hiking
with Maiu, which was pleasant for about 30 miles and
then we encountered snow (which is when the video
ends). Enjoy!
The southbound PCT thru-hike begins at Monument 78, the Canadian/US
border. Note the lack of border guards and the jackass on the monument.
I think this is Hopkins Lake. I saw so many lakes between Canada and
Rainy Pass that I don't remember!
The Devil's Staircase climbing up to the heavens. It's the highest point
in the Washington State section of the PCT. Elevation: 7,100 feet. Not
much, but on June 24, it was still buried in snow.
I had little company during my 70 miles journey. This marmot checked me
out and yelled, "Hey, aren't you a bit early in the season, you dumb ass?!"
Wearing all my clothes didn't amount to much. That's what I slept in,
without a sleeping bag or shelter. Fun! On the 2nd morning I
eventually lost the trail near a creek. When the trail is snow covered
like this, it's hard to tell where the path really is. It's easy to miss
a turn. They don't mark the trees in Washington like they do in the
Sierra. So when it's relatively flat and the trees are evenly spaced out
like this, you conclude that the trail could go anywhere. After an hour
I wandering, I finally found the trail. But don't you think the sunscreen on my face
makes me look sexy? It's funny that we backpackers can go on for days
without look at ourselves in the mirror. No wonder few people pick us up
when we try to hitchhike into town.
This is the oddest tree I have ever seen! It caught my eye as I was
looking for the trail which was buried in the snow. Notice how the tree
takes a 90 degree turn to the right, to go horizontal, and then another
90 degree turn to go back into the ground! Weird!
Near Harts Pass, grateful for a patch with no snow.
I wore GoLite's Dri Socks which helped keep my feet warm. My Suunto
watch helped me navigate. As I neared Harts Pass, I was happy to have
covered 40 miles in just over 24 hours. The final 30 miles were within
reach. Just a few snowy mountains in the way.
At last! Cutthroat Pass! It was the last of a dozen passes in over 70
miles. I admired the mountain and then headed down to Rainy Pass. Thanks
to the snow coverage, I got lost on the way down. But I made it to
Highway 20 on time. My 70 mile, 48-hour adventure was over, but the PCT was just
beginning. 2,580 miles to go.
