Thank goodness for the simple comforts that we, in our modern, great United States of America, almost take for granted. Warmth when it’s cold, dryness when it’s wet, clean running water to bathe in and to drink, shelter from the elements, a quiet place to rest. Simple comforts that humanity has not always enjoyed, and many millions of humans on earth still do not have the opportunity to enjoy these comforts. I was reminded of how these simple comforts can bring so much pleasure by living on the PCT as the summer memories fade to the harsh reality of autumn and the approaching winter in the great northwest. Just a warm bed, a hot shower, hot food, and dry clothing brought me great joy this morning.
I awoke just after 8am. It was overcast, dark, and raining still as I peered out of almost completely drawn curtains. Tabasco was still sleeping soundly in his bunk bed. I quietly turned on my headlamp and wrote a journal entry and letter. 9:30am, Tabasco stirred and slowly awoke. We dressed and walked several yards in cold rain to the Kracker Barrel convenience store next to the Village Inn. There we retrieved our mail and boxes for resupply. I was chagrined when the box, which obviously was shaped for hiking poles, was opened and only Tabasco’s poles were in it. Why didn’t mine make it? Were they not in Dr. Paula’s friend’s car? Did I somehow leave them at the Dinsmores?
We bought food for our lunch at the motel. I bought a frozen pizza, milk, chocolate milk, Gatorade, beer. Tabasco bought Bisquick, eggs, syrup, and milk for pancakes, and beer. Our kitchenette was perfect for preparing cooked food, which we did while watching the rain turn to snow. Snow fell most of the afternoon, with a dusting at the Inn, while piling up a little more just a couple hundred feet higher. We watched another movie, “Man on the Moon” during the mid-afternoon hours, then walked back to the convenience store before it closed at 6pm for more food.
All day we debated what we should do about hiking on. Weather forecasts short term and long term was bleak. The perilous Goat Rocks are just ahead of us. Conditions surely were worse at higher elevations. We decided to wait until tomorrow to make any decisions. The gal at the convenience store, Allie, kindly brought over the store’s ghetto blaster after closing time, after I told her we miss music on the trail and asked if she would be willing to let us borrow it. As we listened to tunes we saw two, wet, haggard looking thru-hikers crossing the Inn’s lawn, around 6:30pm.
It was Bugaboo, who we last saw around Ashland before we flipped up to Canada, and Teal, a thru-hiker we hadn’t met. After they checked in and got showers, they came over to our room and hung out with us for a few hours. The news was not good. They had hiked in snow all day and Teal got up to the beginning of Goat Rocks. He was terrified with the dangerous weather conditions and knife edge trail, with heavy winds and blowing snow. He turned around and he and Bugaboo walked back a couple miles, then bailed on a side trail where some hunters with a fire took them in and got them warmed up. Then they hitched a long gravel road with hunters to Packwood, then to White Pass. That helped us understand there is a long, but viable road walk route to avoid Goat Rocks.
I called Greg, back in Charlotte, and we caught up on all the news, for over an hour. After Teal and Bugaboo left, Tabasco and I watched yet another movie, a late night one, “The Contender”. Happy to be in a warm dry room while snow showers persisted outside, we called it a night.
