Day 156: (26.08 miles)
mile 2375.92 – 2402
Woke up to pouring rain, and puddles outside where our packs were resting. Not only was it wet, it was cold. We were surprised…and relieved to see that it had not snowed. Decision time. Ration our food and wait out the rain, or suck it up, put on wet clothes and walk the equivalent of a marathon in muddy wet conditions to Snoqualmie Pass and the Summit Inn. Marathon it is! We pack up our gear. It seems that nothing escaped the deluge last night.
Onward we slogged, soaked inside and out. The wind howled, the cloud that sat upon us continued to spit rain. Water spurted from almost every rock crevice. Our feet squished as we walked. At least they’ll be clean we mused. Even though we were miserably wet and cold, we made good time. After most of the morning spent shuffling through the rain and mist, it started to “clear” up, and the sky no longer leaked “liquid sunshine”. This does not mean however, it was dry by any means. On a downhill traverse, deep in the forest, I took a hard fall when my feet came out from under me after I inadvertently and unintentionally stepped on a wide, slick, log. While I saw the log, and recognized it was slick, somewhere the message from my eyes to my brain to my feet of, ‘Don’t step on that log’, must have, by the time it reached my feet somehow lost the “don’t” part. I went down so fast and hard, Paul was sure I had broken something, most likely my hip.
As I lay on the ground, I took inventory. Seems like everything is good. Phew! I wriggle out of my pack and slowly get up, continuing to conduct inventory. Still good. My hip and forearm are sore, and I expect some good bruising, but nothing that will keep us from getting to Snoqualmie. I look down and see a deep dent in the mud where I had landed. Hmm, good thing I guess.
We continue on, still making good time. We reach the pass as night falls. Natural light dissipates and neon lights glow in the near distance.
Our push now is to make it to the Summit Inn before its attached Pancake house and restaurant closes. Our feet and legs are screaming, but our stomachs and the thought of a hot shower and warm, dry, bed overrode the pain and discomfort. With all the luck and effort we could muster, we make it with a few minutes to spare and dine at the Pancake house. We decide as we dine, that we will take a Zero tomorrow…pretty sure we’ve earned it.
Oh I so want to want to give you a hug. Carry On.