Two Weeks Later . . .

(Zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero . . .  Sigh.)

I know some people are wondering how I am doing now that I am back in the regular world.  And, actually, I have been wondering the same thing.  Here's the quick-and-dirty update:

Today, I did not cry at Jazzercise.

That's right.  I did not cry at Jazzercise.  This may not sound like much, but it really sums up how I am doing.  I have been back in Oregon for two weeks.  This past Tuesday was the first time I went back to Jazzercise.  I was excited to go.  And I am glad that I did.  But I did cry.  No, no one there seemed to catch on.  It was a tear-up, bite-your-lip, and-give-yourself-a-stern-lecture-about-no-crying-at-Jazzercise kind of cry.  Why did I want to cry?  Well, I have been crying almost daily since my return, for one.  And I was incredibly humbled, for two.

Thanks, friends, for the welcome home party!
Things like this have helped me come to terms with my new life . . .

Daily crying sounds a little crazy.  It sounds crazy to me, and I am the one doing it.  But it is okay.  I am not moping around the house, and I am not a total wreck.  But at some point each day, I seem to break down.  I'd say about half of it is my feet.  My feet hurt.  I am resting and taking care of them, but I do need to walk sometimes, and when I do, it hurts.  Even with ibuprofen and tylenol, inserts and tape, ice and heat, massage and stretching, rest and nighttime braces, my feet hurt.  Going from 25 miles a day with a pack to zero miles a day with a hobble is both frustrating and humbling.  I am having a hard time accepting it.  When I went to Jazzercise, I found myself doing the "low impact" version of the routines.  It wasn't a conscious decision so much as simply what my body was going to allow me to do.  When I realized that I couldn't get my feet in the air even if I wanted to, I almost lost it.  Fortunately, it is hard to cry to bumping dance music.

I think the other half of the daily catharsis is just the return to this regular world.  It is a bit of a shock.  I have talked to a few friends about this, and, surprisingly, most people seem to understand it.  My Jazzer-bud, Jean, compared it to pregnancy.  Nine months of build-up for one day, and then, all of a sudden, everything is different.  Postpartum.  Post-trailum?  Post-PCTum?  My fellow-ranger, Matt, compared it to returning home after living overseas.  He spent the school year in Germany last year.  Culture shock?  And my fellow-EMS responder, Mike, compared it to returning home after war.  He fought in Vietnam and likened the intensity of the experience with a small group of people to the life of a thru-hiker.  Post-traumatic stress?  Post-Trail stress?  Do we need a support group for PCT thru-hikers?

Meet Dakota, the newest addition to the family.
He loves hot sauce, cheese, and coffee; killing fingers, toes, and bumps under the blankets.
Two pounds of pure joy.  Welcome, kitters!

Mostly, I think I am adjusting well.  I am happy to be home.  I did get my kitten, a little grey tiger boy named Dakota.  (He's passed out in my lap as I write, his little feet twitching with dreams of kitten-kills.)  I go back to work on Tuesday and am excited about it.  I've sorted and cleaned most of my gear.  I have returned to Jazzercise and the fire department.  I have called my friends and my family and started making plans for next month or two.  I am in the midst of putting my affairs back in order.  Everything is going relatively well.  So, what is it?  It is probably a combination of things.  A sense of loss for the Trail and my fellow thru-hikers.  A feeling of vulnerability from my feet.  The growing pains associated with any major life change.  The lack of closure on a five-month journey.  The realization that I can no longer buy a bottle of pop, a tub of Ben and Jerry's, a bag of Doritos, a candy bar, and a carton of Oreos at the grocery store anymore . . . and eat them all in one sitting.

Gumby and I paid a visit to Voodoo Doughnuts in Portland as our last hurrah.
I can't keep eating like this!

Today, I did not cry at Jazzercise.  And, I did not lay in bed for an extra ten minutes dreading those first few steps.  True, this is partly because I only had fifteen minutes to get myself up and out and to class (after getting up at 5:30 AM for five months, I have taken to the luxury of sleeping in!)  But it is also because my feet have felt slightly better the last three or four days.  Really, the return from the Trail seems to be like the beginning of the journey itself.  The first days and weeks are the hardest, full of pains and tears, an emotional rollercoaster.  After a month, your mind and body start settling in and confidence returns.  After a month and half, you reach the Kennedy Meadows of the journey (the entrance to the grand Sierras!), and you're ready to take on anything that comes your way.  Here's to life's journey and enjoying all of the places--light and dark--that it takes us.

Day 152 & 153: Saved by Pepperjack & Batteries Included!

(Monument 78, 2660.1 to Manning Provincial Park, 2668.1 = 8 miles)

Well, my dad never did show up the day we finished. And we did not travel far from the monument. We hiked less than a mile and found Dyno and Zoomie sitting on logs in front of a cold campfire ring in silence. I suppose it is how we all felt. And so we joined them! It was nice to spend the last night with a group. As if it were not all over.

In the morning, Gumby and I headed out. I kept a quick pace, eager to find out what had happened to my dad. Scenarios ran from a late train to a mugging in Vancouver. Fortunately, I found out before I reached Manning Park. Right around the 4-mile mark, I saw my dad! In a backpack! On the trail! And after a quick reunion with him, I found my friend, Elsa/Pepperjack! In a backpack! On the trail! With my dad!

Pepperjack saves the day!  I love this woman!

It is a long story, but my dad's first bus broke down four times on its way from Ann Arbor, Michigan to Chicago, causing him to miss his train and setting him a day behind. I had put him and Pepperjack in contact just in case he needed any logistical help once he reached Washington (Pepperjack and her husband, Batteries Included--they met on the PCT in '03 and '05--live in Bellingham, WA.) Once she found out my dad was running a day behind, Pepperjack stepped in and saved the trip. She packed her pack, picked up my dad, helped him sort through his pack, took him to the trailhead at Manning, and hit the trail with him for a night hike on the PCT. They went a few miles that night and a few more the next morning until they ran into me. What a fantastic surprise!

Papa.  :)

After rescuing my dad, Pepperjack rescued us. She took us to Manning for lunch, drove us over the border (stopping at a dairy for ice cream treats), and took us to her home in Bellingham. There, we each had OUR OWN ROOM, and were treated to showers, laundry, loaner clothes, and a salmon dinner. Did I mention that she also treated Maddog to all of this magic?! After a good night's sleep and big breakfast, Batteries Included told us that he'd take us to Portland! He needed to deliver a washer and dryer to a friend, anyway. I couldn't believe it. And I wanted to say no. But we had no better plan, and we all said, "Yes, thank you." 

We found David and Brit at Stehekin and at Manning!
We hadn't seen them since the first week of May.  GREAT guys.

Although neither Pepperjack nor Batteries Included would accept any monetary thanks, I did manage to at least treat Batteries and his Portland friend to a paddle and a barbecue. Or, rather, my mate treated all of us, and I found myself saying, "Yes, thank you," yet again. It was all the perfect ending to an amazing trip. Hiking with my dad, being spoiled by Pepperjack and Batteries, and catching up with my mate and friends over a late summer cookout. It couldn't have been better if I had planned it myself.

Yes.  I locked Papa Bear's treats in the bear vault and made him break into it.

. . . . . . . .

I felt throughout all of this that I could not thank Pepperjack and Batteries enough. And then someone pointed out to me that they were just giving back. They had hiked the PCT as well and been given all kinds of trail magic. They probably loved the chance to give back. Perhaps. A few days later, my dad, Gumby, and I were driving down the Oregon coast. We came upon a guy with a backpack, thumb out. I pulled over without thinking twice. Where're you headed? Anywhere south. You can throw your pack in the back...

Welcome to the Pacific Ocean, Gumby!

Stay Tuned ...

Just a quick update:

I have made it home and am doing well, although the transition has been harder than expected.  I am also wildly busy!  My dad and Gumby/Melissa are still here, so I am trying to balance sightseeing and hostessing with putting my life back in order.  This is also harder than expected!

Stay tuned to hear about how Pepperjack and Batteries Included saved Day 152 and 153 and how adjusting back to life in the "real world" going.

(Pepperjack below...)

Day 151: Monumental

(Mile 2641 to 2660.3 = 19.3 miles)

We made it!



Our last long view.

We are 2/10 of a mile past the monument.  It was another perfect day.  Just the ending for this trip. 



Sigh... I love this place.

There was a small group at the monument when we arrived:  Busted, Dyno, Zoomie, Stryder, and Jack Flash.  Gumby and I were quickly followed by Maddog.  The group sort of prevented the major breakdown.  It'll happen at some point, just delayed for now.  I had a little time to hike alone this morning and some time to hike and talk with Maddog this afternoon.  Gumby and I finished together.  It was just the right combination.



Handstands for walking 2660.3
 miles.

Since we are on some sort of a trail tonight, I am in a bit of denial about actually finishing.  I don't know when reality will settle in.  It has not yet.  And Papa has not arrived for some reason, either.  Seeing him will help with reality.  Perhaps when we reach the lodge in the morning.  Certainly once I get back to Oregon. 



I made it, Scouters!

I don't have any great thoughts for you tonight.  Except that it really has been all about the journey for me.  Reaching the border, yes, it is exciting, but it is all of the days and experiences before it that I will remember.  2660.1 miles, 151 days, it is an accomplishment.  But I do not feel an overwhelming urge to celebrate.  Instead, I am both saddened to know that I will not have another day on the trail and excited to have days back home.  I miss my place, my town, my friends, my work, and my mate.  Just as I will miss the Trail, the towns, the PCT wilderness, the daily trail life, and my fellow thru-hikers.  It has been quite the journey.  Even I cannot believe it.



PCT = Check.

Our finish team.  Zoomie, Dyno, me, Jack Flash, Maddog, Gumby, Busted, and Stryder.
September 27, 2012.

Our last long view.

Day 149 & 150: F-U-N

(Mile 2594 to 2620 = 26 miles; Mile 2620 to 2641 = 21 miles)

Tomorrow, if all goes well, we officially finish the PCT.  151 days.  2669+ miles.  Meanwhile, the weather has been great and the scenery stellar while the trail is just a smidge easier than it was a few days ago.  Washington has not gotten soft, but it has been getting more and more fun.

 

2600 miles, baby!



A happy fall morning.  I still love it out here.



Yesterday, we did 26 without too much struggle and were in camp before 7:30 PM.  Today, we only did 21, but that was because we had some of our best, most relaxing trail magic yet and opted to stop a little early and stay with a group.  Stryder and Jack Flash are camped with Maddog, Gumby, and me.  We chatted over dinner and have all just settled down for the night.  Complete silence over camp by 8:30 PM.  We are WILD.

Trail magic today was brought to us by Chuck, Gondo's dad, and Chris and Gauge.  Yes, Chris and Gauge appeared one last time on trail!  Chris decided to come up and hike the Harts Pass area--which is absolutely gorgeous--and it worked out that Gumby and I were in the area.  Lucky us!  And, if she decides to take it--and it sounds like she has--Chris got a trail name from Maddog.  "Where's Chris" since she appears all over the place on the Trail, and you never know where she'll be next.  It's a perfect fit.  I was trying to come up with something along that line, but didn't have anything with a ring.  These two both happened to be at the same campground and teamed up for some spectacular and relaxing trail magic.  It was just the thing. 



"Where's Chris?"  And Gauge.



And so it has gone the last couple of days.  Everything has fallen right into place.  Perfect weather, perfect trail, perfect views, perfect company.  The trip is ending on the best of notes.



If you look hard, you can see our trail on the left . . .



AND, as advised by Wired (Thank you!), I spent the first part of today in my head, reflecting on my trip.  It was the perfect morning for it, and it happened without my thinking about it.  I watched the sunrise as I climbed a mountain and breathed the crisp fall air as I marveled at the yellow larches, my mind a million miles away yet present at the same time.  It was just I needed and wanted.  I could not have planned it any better.



THE Cascadia track.  We all follow these.  The most popular shoe on Trail!



Tomorrow...I cannot actually believe that it is coming.  I am excited, though I know that tomorrow I will be incredibly sad as well.  A part of you does not want this to end, does not want to say goodbye to the people, the lifestyle, or the Trail.  We have identified as PCT Thru-Hikers for months.  For months, this has been our entire life, and for months before that it was our obsession.  We love this.  We love the PCT.  We love each other.  This is going to be harder than I thought, isn't it?  Well, we'll find out.

  

The moon as we hike on.



A perfect way to wrap up our trip.

Day 147 & 148: Time Warp 1985: Paradise

(Mile 2564 to 2580, Stehekin = 16; Mile 2580 to 2594, Fireweed Campground = 14 miles)

Well, we are on trail, cowboy camped at a site with a group of at least 30.  They seem to be students ... students on a get-to-know-you trip?  They just finished a flashlight tag game.  Maddog managed to get himself in on the game.  Of course!  I was a little astonished.  "He's a boy," Gumby reminded me.  He can't turn down a competitive game, even with perfect strangers.

Lake Chelan is gorgeous, even through the smoke.

We left our last town stop of the trail today.  Stehekin.  If you ever, ever get the chance, go.  The population is about 80 permanent residents.  From what I gathered, there is no road into the town.  The Trail, float planes, and boats.  It is on the gorgeous Lake Chelan, walled in by tall mountains.  The town is in its own grid.  A post office, a lodge, a restaurant, a ranch, an organic farm, and a stellar bakery.  And the North Cascades National Park ranger statio.  (Yes, I struck up a conversation with a ranger I found at the bakery.  R. Something.  Carl, he knows Dana; so, give her a ho ller, and tell her I met on e of her co-workers!) 

1985.

We saw more people on bicycles in Stehekin than in vehicles.  And the vehicles are all from about 1985.
Many say that Stehekin is their favorite trail town.  It is obvious why.  It does not feel like 2012 in Stehekin.  I'd put it in the 1980s.  The pace, the feel, and even the looks.  Quaint, quiet, and full of good vibes.  What a perfect way to wrap up our trip.


It was a big reunion for everyone at the bus stop.  We saw Patch and Lampshade one last time!

Speaking of which, we are aiming to hit the border on September 27.  It sounds like my dad is going to make it to Canada to meet us.  I am THRILLED.  I don't know if he'll be at Manning or the monument, itself.  We have no service!  And I was only able to get a call into my aunt this morning.  So, three to four more days.  My body is failing--a lower leg muscle is now in spasm due to my funny hiker hobble and my feet hurt like heck by the last part of the day (braces and tape keep the first half relatively good.)  But my mind is doing pretty well.  I am ready to finish, but I am still soaking up the scenery and marveling at this trip that not even I can fathom completing.

P.S.  In the five minutes of Wi-Fi I had at the ranch, I received numerous well wishes and cheering ons from you all.  Thank you.  As Washington continues to kick our behinds and our bodies continue to tell us no, your encouragement and faith helps keep me going.  And keep Gumby going--I always read her the motivational comments!  Night!


Dinner with friends! 
(Counter-clockwise)  Nino, High Life, me, Magic Bag, Brit, David, Gumby, Face Plant, and Stryder.



Cedar love.