After a night of heavy rain and fog, once again we had some wet gear. I did a great job keeping all my gear dry, except for the damp sleeping bag and the wet fly to my tent. Tabasco, on the other hand, had a very wet tent, wet sleeping bag, and wet Thermarest from major condensation inside his single wall tent. I felt sorry for him and it was painfully obvious that he was upset about his condition, and angry that the expensive tent was performing miserably in rain. Fortunately, rain stopped by the time we got up at 7am and the only wetness outside was caused by sporadic dripping from branches of evergreens overhead.
Just before 8am we left camp, ascending gradually over Sawtooth Mountain, then remaining on forested, generally level terrain the balance of the morning. The skies seemed to lighten and we got a minute of sun through the clouds, but in deep forest there didn’t appear to be any chance we would be able to dry out our gear. Toward late morning we passed several lakes, including Deer Lake, Bear Lake, Elk Lake, Lemei Lake, Blue Lake, and Lake Sebago. Our only friends anywhere to be seen were an occasional squirrel and four elk bounding away through the woods to get away from us.
Around 1pm we stopped for water and to eat lunch at Green Lake, a small pond, actually, with very shallow water and tons of elk prints around and in the edges. The sun broke through for a few seconds and we thought we could cook our lunch. Both of us dug down deep in our packs to retrieve our stoves and fired them up. As we were cooking, a few sprinkles of rain began and we concurrently cursed the fact that we weren’t going to have a chance to dry out. About the time my pot reached a boil and I stirred in some instant mashed potatoes, Tabasco exclaimed “NOBO’s”.
Two hunters appeared a few yards away, heading toward us on the trail. We exchanged hellos as they approached and one of them commented that they were just in time for lunch. They watched us cook and asked questions about our journey with curiosity. The rain became more intense and soon I was scrambling to get not wet gear, that was previously dry, back into my pack. Our hunter acquaintances decided to turn around and head for their car, but not before tempting us with the prospect of some homebrew if we could get down the three miles of trail to the parking lot in time.
I waited and watched as Tabasco ate his meal in the rain and I lamented the timing of the rain. Once Tabasco packed up, we discussed the beer at the parking lot and the joking hunter who said he had a tavern waiting for us at Bear Creek, his home street. Tabasco took off like a rocket down the trail, and I didn’t even bother trying to stay with him, knowing I would hike those three miles alone, while he was sprinting ahead, to hopefully catch up with the two hunters, now twenty minutes ahead of us, before they could pull away from the parking lot. Our evening could depend on the outcome. When I neared the gravel parking lot/road crossing 45 minutes later, I could see one vehicle, then I saw Tabasco standing next to the vehicle with a bottled beer in his hand.
Success! I caught a little chiding from the hunters as I approached, that if I had been five minutes later, my hiking partner would have been into the second and final beer, and I would be out of luck. Mike and Ken introduced themselves and Mike opened one of his wife’s homebrews for me. As we stood gratefully enjoying our trail magic in the parking lot (now not raining), I talked about homebrewing and beer judging, which I know a good deal about. Mike commented that there was more beer at the house, and if we wanted to, he’d take us down for the evening, then bring us back to the trail tomorrow morning on his way to work. That was the sound of beautiful music to our ears and we gratefully accepted his offer of hospitality.
Minutes later we were in the backseat of the cab of the truck, talking with Mike and Ken, and our packs rode in the back. The 15 minute ride on back country, forest service roads to Carson, WA, and the rural neighborhood of Bear Creek, flew by. Ken, Mike’s next door neighbor, dropped off the three of us at the shop adjacent to the back of Mike’s gorgeous split log home on 5 acres of fescued lawn. Mike’s wife, Kim, came outside to greet him and Ken, and then she saw us, the two skinny as hell, bearded, scruffy guys, all wet and looking hungry. Mike told her we were going to be company for the night, and, thankfully, Kim accepted us with a smile and made us feel welcome.
Mike’s shop was huge, where he and Kim and her two kids actually lived for four years while they built the split log house. With Mike and Kim’s help we spread out all our gear to dry and Kim lit a fire in a huge iron stove. Soon we were toasty and enjoying homebrews, which were fantastic. Kim and I toured her brewing and bottling kitchen in the shop, while Mike kept opening new brews. He and Tabasco and I sat on the table next to the fire and consumed beer, while Kim left for town, then returned with two huge, fully loaded pizzas. Though Mike helped a little, Tabasco and I devoured almost 8 pounds of pizza and soon it was gone.
Kim left for the house and returned 20 minutes later with a platter of pigs in a blanket and hot mustard. Soon that food was gone, too. Ken and his wife, Robin, came over and we spent several hours in the shop, drinking and listening to great music from Mike and Kim’s albums on a turntable. I gave Kim a lesson on using her hydrometer to measure original and terminal specific gravity of her wort and beer, so she would know the alcohol content. Next I taught her the dry hopping technique for adding aromatic appeal to her already amazingly well crafted ales.
Kim got out picture albums and old photos of her and Mike and we, by now, were just like family. Mike and I discussed his 40l(k) and I spent about an hour and a half with him and Kim reviewing their financial status, making some suggestions about changes to consider with his 40l(k). We reviewed and discussed all of their risk management issues, and by the time I was done they had a list of to do’s and follow ups with their insurance agent, as well as some changes to coverages at Mike’s employer. Mike was ecstatic and tickled with the help I gave them, and yes, Abby, back in Charlotte, you would be proud of me! Too bad I’m not licensed in Washington, or I would have had my first clients for financial and estate planning.
Around midnight the four of us headed to the house, where we were invited to help ourselves to food in the fridge. STILL hungry, both Tabasco and I cleaned up all their Chinese takeout leftovers and I ate a huge bowl of bean/beef chowder over rice. Completely stuffed, I retired to the basement bedroom with a beautiful, warm queen bed waiting just for me. It was the perfect end to beautiful trail magic from amazing strangers turned trail angels and I went to sleep full, with a nice little beer buzz, and with happiness in my heart that humanity once again has put on its best face. It’s so about the trail, and one of the compelling reasons I cherish long distance hiking. I will be visiting Mike and Kim again when I get settled in Portland. Great folks, salt of the earth, great new friends. I forgot to mention that Mike captains a tugboat that moves large barges of product from Portland up the Columbia River to Idaho. He and neighbor/friend, Ken, have worked together umpteen years and work a week/on and week/off, so they get 26 weeks off during the year. Mike offered me a job as a deckhand, actually great money with lots of time off, but tough work in the cold and snowy winter months on a boat with 12 hour shifts. I’ll stick to something where I have choice about escaping the elements when cold and wet are the norm….like our hike through Washington has been lately. Today’s weather: cloudy, rain. Low, 37; high 48. Today’s miles: 15.5. Cumulative miles: 1771.4.
