A Serendipitous Turn

As we take a forced rest day I’m struck by the serendipitous events that led to this point.

The trailhead bulletin board at Rainy Pass announced that three sections ahead were obstructed by blowdowns and washouts. There was a reroute around the section north of Harts Pass, but that was marked by blowdowns as well. Anticipating the worst, as is wise to do for Cindy’s affliction, we had to conclude that reaching the Canadian border might be impossible for us. We arranged for Charissa to meet us at Harts Pass for that contingency. I started thinking in terms of an incomplete thru-hike, not uncommon, as we met several thru-hikers that skipped sections that were rerouted on roads because of forest fire.

The first washout we encountered was on steep, rocky terrain. Cindy was nervous to the point of fearful that one missed step by her would end in a serious fall. This reaffirmed the idea of an incomplete thru-hike. After that washout we met a trail crew that announced all the blowdowns were cleared and the Forest Service was working on the washouts up ahead. Give ourselves an extra day and we could make the border. Cindy might be a little nervous but occasional hardship is a consequence of doing a thru-hike.

Then on our short mileage day into Harts Pass Cindy and I were on top of a ridge where we should have been enjoying the incredible view. Instead, Cindy was in tears. This had been building since Rainy Pass. Charissa was supposed to hike with us on this stretch to share our experience reaching the Canadian border. With her possibly catching a cold and the possibility of us not reaching the border we encouraged her to do support instead.

Mike hiked with us on this stretch, but was often on his own for two reasons. As an avid photographer he found abundant photo opportunities amidst the beauty of the North Cascades. Another factor was breaking in. While Mike is n extremely experienced, strong hiker, he still felt the aches and pains of starting a long-distance hike. As I’ve mentioned before one of the worst things for a hurting hiker is hiking slower than normal. Combined with his frequent stops for photography, Mike used that as an opportunity to hike normal for himself, rather than at our slower pace.

As a result Cindy plodded on with me alone. Over the three days I heard “where is everybody?”; “we should turn back (to where there is people)”; “everyone is doing what they want but me”; and, while up on that beautiful ridge, a tearful “hiking is not fun anymore.” I knew changes needed to be made; I put my arm around her and discussed what those changes would be.

Most pertinent of those changes is the serendipitous partitioning of this thru-hike. We are doing our “long hike” of the PCT this year. On the trail until Thanksgiving, we will get well over 2,000 miles done despite what other obstacles we might face. Next year we will come back for the “clean up hike” of the PCT, picking off whatever pieces we miss the first time around.

We trade one uncertainty for another. From the start there has been doubt as to whether we can face all obstacles with Cindy’s Alzheimer’s and complete the trail by Thanksgiving. The combined longevity plus the occasional hardship might be too much to handle. By partitioning we can easily handle the longevity this year and the short clean up stretches next summer … if Cindy still is healthy enough to do this. I realize that’s a big “if” for such a disease, but it does hold out something to hope and shoot for over the course of one more year. We can make the Mexican border the grand finish for our “long hike” and the Canadian border our grand finish for the “clean up hike.” Perhaps we can knock off another bucket list item with an Alaskan cruise afterwards!

Thus the serendipitous turn of events since Rainy Pass. The washouts predisposed me to this way of thinking, but the serendipity did not stop there. We all left Harts Pass together, down a treacherous Forest Service road, which meant we were all together when Charissa got a flat tire right before the most treacherous part of that road. Having never changed tire herself, she was greatly comforted by having us there.

She continued on down the road with her “donut.” Mike and I got out to walk the treacherous stretch, leaving less weight in the car. I was ahead when I heard a noise and turned back to see a rock fall starting to occur. A car was approaching behind Mike, both just around the bend from the rock fall. I signaled. To Mike and he to the car to halt. The beach ball size rock that landed in the road probably would have missed the car, but I at least had the opportunity to roll it off the road first. With little wind and no precipitation that day, I learned the sobering lesson that a rock fall can happen at anytime on these roads carved into weathered cliffs.

Now here we are in Winthrop, taking a forced rest day while waiting for the right tire to arrive, beneficiary of another piece of serendipity. I’ve caught a cold, but now have the means to minimize its effects, while also taking precautions on Cindy’s behalf. Meanwhile, the rest day matters not, as we have the “clean up hike” next year for the few miles left behind this year.

Other things were addressed as well to return this adventure to a fun pursuit. All that needs to happen is for Cindy to hold steady for another year.