Days 125-135, Miles 2,144-2,391: The Beginning of the End

It's getting real. We're halfway through Washington, 90 percent of the way through the PCT. The days are getting shorter, and plants along the trail are starting to turn auburn and gold. We're in the home stretch, and we're savoring every minute.

On Day 125, we zeroed in Portland. We took care of chores, doing our laundry and buying food resupplies to send ahead. More importantly, we hit a few of the city's famous establishments—Voodoo Doughnuts, Sizzle Pie and Powell's Books. Lots of calories and hours spent wandering a bookstore made for a pretty good zero day.

The next morning, we got an early ride back to the trail. A few hundred yards into our hike, we walked onto the Bridge of the Gods, a metal span that straddles the Columbia River and delivers hikers from Oregon into Washington. The bridge has no sidewalk, so we and the passing cars had to slowly maneuver around each other. Still, as the morning light hit the water below and we crossed into our final state, we couldn't help but be a little mesmerized, traffic or not.

Not far into Washington, we were pleased to find that the wild blackberries along the trail did not end at the state line. Most of the day, we hiked through dense woods with ferns covering the ground—a new floor-to-ceiling green. Our 7,000 feet of climbing on the day garnered us some nice ridge views for our trouble as well.

We climbed some more on Day 127, another 6,000 wearying feet. Once again, we stayed among dense, sunlight-suffocating forest, with the occasional ridge vista to remind us how high we'd climbed. We were rewarded at the end of the day when we made camp next to sprawling patches of blueberries and huckleberries. We snacked before dinner, ate more for dessert and picked still more to enjoy at breakfast the next morning.

The following day, we found our progress halted early when some trail angels beckoned us to their canopy tent for pork chops and watermelon. We didn't dare decline. A few miles later, we came by a cooler full of cold beverages and took another lengthy break to enjoy the magic. At these stops, we got a chance to get to know some of the hikers we'd been seeing in our vicinity the last few days.

Late in the afternoon, we hit the road and hitched to the nearby town of Trout Lake. Once there, we beelined it to the only restaurant in town to investigate the legendary huckleberry milkshakes we'd been hearing about (they delivered). At the restaurant, we met some PCT hikers from last year who shared stories and loaded our packs with free beer. After picking up the resupply packages we'd shipped, we camped out at a local park and enjoyed our spoils.

As we hitched back to the trail on Day 129, we got picked up by a local who had installed a couch in the back of his truck to shuttle hikers to and from town in comfort. Some other hikers had already claimed the furniture, but we piled in back and enjoyed our ride just the same.

Our path took us through slopes burned out by fires, leaving them exposed to the sun and hot. Mt. Adams towered above us, barely visible in the drifting haze from far-away forest fires. As the day went on, we rounded the mountain and got clearer views as visibility improved.

We got our fill of exposed ridges and views the following day, as we entered the Goat Rocks Wilderness. Climbing back to 7,000 feet, we wound along mountainsides, rocky precipices above us and deep valleys below. For the first time in hundreds of miles, we saw extensive snowpack nearby. Thankfully, most of it was above the trail, but it still sent down streams of pure, frigid snowmelt water that we'd found to be the best thirst-quencher on the PCT.

Rivulets worked their way down from high above, crossed the trail and continued on to water the lush green chasms that sloped even steeper down the mountain. The exposed trail offered stunning views of the towering bare peaks and verdant valleys they harbored.

At one point, the trail crossed in front of a gorgeous waterfall with a deep pool where I washed off and rinsed some filthy clothes. We finished our day with a climb up to an exposed ridge, where we camped with views of mountains in all directions.

On Day 131, wildfire smoke cleared to reveal Mount Rainier, which had been obscured from our perch the night before. We hiked a ridge along the spine of the mountains, offering some of the most stunning views of the trail so far. Below us, mountain goats grazed on a patch of grass. Off in the distance, we saw smoke rising from the mountainside, yet another fire up ahead.

We learned that another fire closure had just been issued a few miles ahead, closing 52 miles of the PCT. As we descended back into the woods, we decided to camp early and enjoy a lazy afternoon. We only had two more miles before the closure would force us off the trail again, and we wanted to savor our time on trail rather than rush ahead.

We took lunch by a small lake, and Tigre and I experimented with using an inflatable sleeping pad as a raft—moderately successful but extremely fun. We spent the rest of the afternoon napping, reading and generally being immobile.

Early the next day, we hit the road and hitchhiked into Packwood, where we had shipped resupply packages. Even better, I had a card from my Aunt Chris, and Matt and I picked up a care package from our friends Brian and Abby in D.C. It was complete with homemade brownies and whiskey, one of which we consumed in the parking lot (It was the brownies. We're not total vagrants yet).

In town, we learned the fire closure had partially reopened—at the exact spot we'd left the trail. We turned around and hitchhiked our way back, excited to get an extra 28-mile stretch of trail before skipping ahead. After knocking out some miles, we took a late lunch, but Tigre pressed on. He had a buddy from home meeting him in Seattle, so he needed to hike fast to make his rendezvous. We'll meet back up not far down the trail. After lunch, we hiked past some lakes and meadows, making a late camp by a hillside creek.

Early on Day 133, we hiked into Mount Rainier National Park, its behemoth namesake towering above us as we rounded ridgelines. As we hiked on, we passed stunning Dewey Lake, with its perfect reflections of the surrounding slopes illuminated by the morning light.

Later in the morning, we hit Chinook Pass, where the trail remained closed due to the fire. Some other hikers had given us the number of a local who was shuttling hikers ahead, and we'd coordinated with her to meet at Chinook and take us to where the trail reopened. When she arrived, she told us she'd "forgotten" to mention it would cost $250 to take us to the next spot. This was an opportunist, not a trail angel. Refusing to be extorted, we told her she should have been up-front about the cost if she expected us to take the ride. Reluctantly, she told us she'd take us back to White Pass—where we'd been the day before—as long as we pitched in for gas. We accepted, having few options but to try our hitchhiking luck back at a main road.

After some time eating snacks and chatting with other stranded hikers at the gas station, we walked to the roadside and stuck our thumbs out. The next open PCT trailhead was off a hard-to-access dirt road, which we knew would be a near-impossible hitch. We decided to hitch all the way up to Snoqualmie Pass, which is off a main highway. From there, we'd hike southbound, hitting the dirt road on our way out and hopefully getting a ride from some fellow hikers at the trailhead. It was the first time Matt and I had hiked any trail out of order, but it was the only plausible decision.

Before too long, a pickup truck pulled over and we hopped in the back. The driver agreed to take us to Yakima, the first step in a long, multi-stage hitch.

Once we got to Yakima, Jeff and Michelle, our benefactors, had decided to take us all the way to Snoqualmie. It was an extensive drive, but they insisted, and we no longer had to worry about stringing together several more hitches. At the trailhead, we tried to offer them gas money for their hours of driving us around. Instead, they insisted on giving us $20 apiece to buy a meal in Seattle. We were overwhelmed by this generosity and unable to thank them profusely enough. After our experience with the extortionist earlier in the day, it was a refreshing reminder that there's still a lot of goodness out there.

(Jeff and Michelle later informed us they've adopted trail names of their own: Stagecoach and Shotgun Rider)

It didn't take long before our next reminder. We'd barely gotten back onto the trail when we ran into a family who was grilling hot dogs and forcing copious amounts of snacks onto passing hikers. We acquiesced willingly. Stomachs full, we hiked a few more miles and set up camp as darkness fell.

The next day was a roller coaster, with some of the steepest sustained climbs we'd faced. Instead of switchbacks, much of the trail ran straight up and down hillsides at angles we'd rarely seen.

Early on, we walked by Mirror Lake, aptly named and gorgeous. As we hit open ridges, we could see thick plumes of smoke rolling off distant mountainsides and stretching south as far as the horizon.

The day's rough climbing was eased by some surprise reunions. Since we were heading south, we started crossing paths with old friends and acquaintances heading north. Many had been just a day or two behind us for more than 1,000 miles. Late in the afternoon, we came across the group of international friends we'd hiked with for several memorable days in the Sierra. We had a blast catching up with cheerful, exuberant bunch we'd dubbed the U.N.—Jukebox, Lisa, Mark and Helene. After a long reunion, we said goodbye and continued south, knocking more miles and climbs before camp.

We hiked through the morning on Day 135, enjoying great views from the ridges and climbs that were more gentle than the previous day's. By mid-morning, we'd hit the northern edge of the fire closure.

We detoured off onto the dirt road, unsure how long it would take us to make our way out. Thankfully, we were able to quickly flag down a pickup truck. The driver supplied us with cold water and fresh apples and agreed to drive us the long haul all the way to the next town.

Once we got to Greenwater, we posted up at a cafe and waited for our next ride. Before long, he showed up—Piotr! Our old hiking buddy from the desert lives in Seattle, and we'd arranged to have a reunion and spend the next day touring his city. We ran over and gave him big hugs, excited to see a familiar face (well, less familiar without his bushy beard).

He drove us to Seattle, where we enjoyed much-needed showers and laundry at his apartment. I also picked up another care package from home, with letters from my mom and grandma and cookies shaped like Michigan.

For dinner, we all went out for Indian food, then walked around Piotr's neighborhood with our tour guide. He showed us some of his favorite places, and we spent some time sitting in the grass and catching up at Gas Works Park. After grabbing gelato on the way back, we returned to his apartment and hung out for the evening.