2MoreMiles…

It’s hard to believe that a little over a year ago we began our first, of what we believe will be many, long trail adventures.  Hiking season is upon us and while this hiking season our jaunts will be relativley “short” compared to doing the 2660 mile PCT, we are still drawn to engaging in “walk-abouts”.  We’ve been reading and discussing lately about what is affectionately referred to as “post trail depression”, and how disconnected and “lost” many PCT, or any long trail, thru-hikers feel after completing their trek.  It’s almost a PTSD of sorts (of which I have had real and personal experience with outside trail life), but in reverse as you long to go back and embrace those experience(s) you had along the trail.  Many are now engaging in or preparing for another lengthy trek.  You yearn to go back to “trail life”.  Many are now engaging in or preparing for another long distance hike.  The “real world” is now foreign and stressful.  Restful sleep escapes you.  The sounds, sights and smells are overwhelming and suffocating.  You feel like you do not “belong” and want to escape back to the simplicity and “comfort” of the trail and the Great Outdoors.  “City” life and “Civilization” is sterile and unfulfilling.  Not to dimmish the feelings of those who truly find themselves in this state, but for us this issue or dilema has failed to materialize in us.  Yes there are times when we long for the absolute simplicity of trail life from time to time, especially after doing our taxes…and we’ll admit we have several long distance hikes planned and/or on our “bucket list”.  But, for the most part we are enjoying the “real world”, its immenities and chaos.  Maybe it’s because we are older, and many of our life experiences have taught us to cherish each moment of life “above ground” regardless of where that “above ground” experience is.  Maybe it’s because we were retired when we hiked the PCT.  Maybe it’s because of our strenuous athletic endevors while in our “younger” years, or because of our professional life and the experiences therin.  Maybe it’s because of how we are wired.  Whatever it may be, we find “trail life” and “real life” to be no different, save running water and toilets, oh ya and fossil fuel vehicles to transport us (and our stuff, cause stuff is sometimes important) to destinations we don’t want to take the time to walk to. The point being is that it is all about perspective.  How YOU look at life.  How YOU look at and perceive YOUR life situation to be.  If YOU think you are blessed, YOU are.  If YOU think your pain is debilitating, it is.

This is not to say that being stuffed into a subway train like sardines to “work” under the glow of florescent lights, or spending hours commuting to and from “work” in a vehicle whose speedometer can register up to 120mph and you are traveling at a mind numbing 10mph (if you are lucky), or spending the bulk of your day in a job you’d rather not be doing whose pay is or isn’t satisfactory, in any way trumps ACTUALLY being outside and the true simplicity of trail life, but it is how YOU frame these “off trail” portions of your life.  Consider the wonderment of technology (someone cooked up that idea) and the shear feat of engineering and physical labor it took to dig that subway.  Consider the innumeral life stories of the “strangers” that surround you.  I used to be embarrassed by my mother who ALWAYS talked to “strangers”.  Ironincally, I find myself “embarrassing” my kids as well, and frankly it wasn’t until I did the PCT that I understood and now fondly recall her behavior.  Is being “stuck” in traffic (when you know it will happen) really all that bad?  Imagine how much “learning” can occur, or books/stories (audio of course) that can be consumed in that time period.   What is it that you want out of a job?  What is it that you want out of life?  How are YOU going to go about reconcilling what you actually need (on so many levels, it’s not all about “stuff”) with what you want, what you have, AND your responsibilities.  

Hiking day in and day out, mostly void of ticky tack distractions allows one to ponder all these things.  I guess this is where the concept or “feeling” of Post Trail Depression becomes a reality for some.  But is it really accurate to call it depression?  Actual and real depression is some serious shit, and is more than not being able to pee where ever and when ever you want, or that your one and practically only job is to walk X amount of miles each day…or not.  Wouldn’t it be better to frame it as Post Trail Reconcilliation?  Isn’t that what you are trying to really do, reconcile your wants, needs and responsibilities as you travel down life’s road, after having been, for many, “awakened” during a thru-hike or “slowing down” for a sustained period of self-reflection.  Consider the words themselves.  Depression vs. Reconcilliation.  Which is more empowering?

Do you see what you see?  Perspective.  Living a thankful life, acknowledging the wonderment and resilience of nature and the human spirit regardless of the setting (top of a mountain or a skyscraper) comes from within and is, I believe a conscious decision, whose consistent practice and execution is often challenging and an internal battle. Some battle better than others.  Having attended the “Celebration of Life” for long time PCT avocate and founding member of the ADZPCTKO (Annual Day Zero Pacific Trail Kick Off), Greg Hummel (“Strider” – PCT class of 1977), who lost his battle with ALS, the setting of a positive agenda and perpective becomes clearer.  “Strider” was known to be “annoyingly happy”, ALL THE TIME.  ALL THE TIME.  Perspective.

It continually befuddles Paul and I as to the melodramatic exclamation we get when people hear we hiked the PCT.  Not because we did it in its entirety over 2700 miles (one must NOT forget the “bonus miles”), but that we did it TOGETHER, and more importantly are STILL married. The response from seemingly happily married couples is generally, “Oh My GOD, we (I) could never do that…we’d kill each other!, one or both exclaim and in ironic unison nodding approvingly at one another…in an oh so loving way. They get the fact that we both embarked on this momentous journey together. They ask if we hiked with or in a group. Not necessarily, we reply. We did leapfrog with a few groups of hikers and would meet people along the way, but we mostly hiked alone, as in Just Paul and I. Their eyes widen and pupils begin to dilate. ‘You mean to tell me it was just you two…alone?’ Well ya. We went a lot of days hiking with never seeing, let alone talking to, another soul on the trail. ‘Wow, that must have been hard. I couldn’t imagine ever doing something like that’  we are told. Anybody can do it, if you take the time and have the drive, is our general reply. ‘No, I could do the hiking part, just not spend all that time alone with my (wife/husband)’. You take vacations together don’t you, we ask? ‘Ya, but it’s generally not more than a week or two and we’re not together really 24/7, there are places to “escape” to…if ya know what I mean. ‘What do you talk about?’ Hmm, what did we talk about? Everything under the sun, no matter how innoquous.  We debate issues, and ponder the origins of things.  Our favorite conversation was the origin of profanity and what a “catch phrase” taken literally would look like, which often left us stopped in our tracks laughing hysterically.  If you came upon us during one of those conversations one would think we had “lost our marbles” (one of the many phrases we discussed).  We of course had plenty of time to solve the world’s problems, and finally came to the conclusion that people just need to stop watching TV and go outside and play.  We all need to skip more for no apparent reason.  Have you ever watched a trail of kids walking and notice that without provication one will twirl, hop or begin skipping?  When did we stop doing that?  Okay, I digress, back to the marriage thing…Before we left on this journey, people would say, ‘You’ll either come back stronger or divorced’. Luckily, stronger was the end result, but then divorced partr was/is never really an option.  Our theory is that unless it’s one of the three “A’s” (Adultery, Addiction, or Abuse)…you gotta just work it out. This is not to say that our marriage has not been without tests, and 171 days of trail life were no exception. There were moments and maybe even days when we definitely did not like each other, but our love and commitment to each other and our shared goals never wavered and enabled us to overcome occasional bouts of, stupid emotional shit that does not get one anywhere…literally and figuratively. Most tiffs or upsets on the trail were brought on by FEAR (Fantastical Events Appearing Real) and/or supreme fatigue. For me, my fear of heights and Pauls lack thereof made for some interesting days. Paul’s idea was for me to just “get over it”.  Not that simple.  We grew to understand and help each other work through these “events/issues”, resulting in a more finely tuned partnership.  Since returning home from the PCT, we still walk everyday, and the conversations continue.  We are truly eachother’s best friend, which is probably the secret to a lasting relationship…and trail partner.  We will test our friendship this fall when we tackle the Camino de Santiago Compestella, an entirely different trail from the PCT, in every sense of the way.

If you are interested in following this journey, stay tuned, as I will continue it via http://www.2moremiles.com.  Look for me to begin posting our preparation for, and about, this adventure say mid June or early July.  Click on “follow”, and updates will miraculously appear via the email address you enter.  In the meantime, take the time to play outside, skip, twirl and be obnoxiuosly happy.  Life is too short to do otherwise.

It’s been a little over 3 months since we have completed our thru-hike of the PCT, and high time we give a review of what we carried and found useful, as well as if we had it to do all over again, the changes we’d make. So let’s talk big items first.

Tent: We went through three different sleeping arrangements. We started with the tent we used when we did the Tahoe Rim Trail (TRT) in the summer of 2013, the Six Moons Design Lunar Duo. It’s one of the roomiest, light-weight two person tents we’ve found. We loved the double doors and large vestibules. The interior was so roomy that if you wanted to bring your packs inside (because of rain/snow) you could with little discomfort. It’s downfall however, is that if you fail to find a perfectly flat spot to set up on, you’ll find yourself waking up on the “downhill” side door and trekking pole. You also need two people to set this up if there is any wind. We considered bringing a small level with us on this trek, but didn’t, therefore our tent site prep consisted of us surveying the area like Tiger Woods trying to sink a 20 foot put…it was laborious. On the good side, the tent held up remarkably well during our 2nd night on the trail of nearly gale force winds and heavy downpour that morphed the next night into snow. We later however, jettisoned the tent in favor of cowboy camping with an MSR E-Wing tarp (just in case), as there appeared to be no more weather events on the near horizon, and we were looking to reduce weight, and the time it took to bed down for the night.
long.

The MSR E-Wing worked well for us and we used it a handful of times namely for a wind block to allow for a warmer night’s sleep, and when we camped near water sources, to combat the “lake effect” and guard against morning dew. This worked splendidly, unless one fails to plan for a late night assault by industrial strength sprinklers (see our post regarding Lake Silverwood). When we got to Kennedy Meadows we traded in our tarp for a Big Agnes Angel Springs 2 (2lbs7 oz).


This is a light weight, free standing tent. Paul wanted to stay with the tarp and cowboy camping, however I sleep cold and remembering our dealings with mosquitos the year previous when we hiked the Tahoe Rim Trail, would rather have the option to retreat to the warmth and protection of an enclosed temporary structure…I won! This turned out to be a great tent especially with the snow storm that hit the Sierras just prior to our entrance, and the heavy rain we had along the way, to include our last night on the trail. We would, however, have liked double doors, but you can’t beat the inside roominess for two nearly 6ft adults with wide shoulders. With regard to the weight, the added 2 lbs, when you separate the tent poles and tent body it worked out to one pound for each of us, which was negligible considering the 8-12 lbs (each) of water weight we no longer had to carry, as water was now plentiful. There were nights when we still cowboy camped though.

Sleeping Bag: Western Moutaineering Alpinelite down fill 20 degree bags. These bags worked great. Had I had a zero degree bag in the Sierras, I may have been talked into staying with the tarp. We “water proofed” the exterior of our bags, and had one left and one right zip zipper which allowed us to zip our bags together during particularly cold nights (in the teens) and to create a “quilt” of sorts for warmer nights. If we had to do it over again, and used a tent the whole time, we would consider using a quilt as this was the most comfortable sleep system for us.

Sleeping Pad: We started with the 1.5 lbs ExPED UL7 (long), which was supremely comfortable. In hind sight we would not have gotten the long pads as they were not necessary. A 3/4 pad would have sufficed, but ExPED does not make one. We later switched to the REI Flash which was a half pound lighter than the UL 7 namely because Paul’s ExPED valve failed and flattened on him, and REI did not have one in stock when we were at the store when home for a resupply. We could have had one mailed to our next resupply, but then Paul would have had to use his Thermalite pad, that we use as sit pads, for another week. Even the doubling of mine and his was not as comfortable as the air pad, and a good night’s sleep is supremely important when thru hiking.

To reduce weight, I switched to the REI Flash as well (ounces do add up). As a modification to both sets of pads, we applied “dots” of silicone on both sides to keep the pads from slipping on the slick tent floor and to keep our bags in place as we slept.

Back Packs: One thing we learned is that light weight packs for the sake of going light weight is not necessarily the best way to go. Before our trek, I switched out from my Gregory 70L Diva, whose supsension system I LOVED and was Cadillac comfortable but weighed over 5 lbs…empty, in favor of a ULA Catalyst. For the most part it worked well for me, and was very user friendly with the hip belt pockets and side access to my water bottles. As I lost weight, so went my “padding” and the aluminum stays that keep the pack “ridgid” began to press on my sciatic nerves which only served to increase the discomfort that I was already in from walking 20+ miles a day, with all my crap on my back. This pack lays flush with your back and does not allow for airflow between your back and the pack. This led to a seriously painful case of “pack rash” whose pain was on par with childbirth. While I sweat profusely when I exert myself, the rash did not appear until we got out of the Sierras. I suspect it was the buildup of salty sweat on the padding of the pack, and the coarseness of my well worn shirt that caused the rash to come about, so I washed my pack and bought a new shirt, but the pressure on my sciatic nerves continued and the rash, while reduced, never really went away. It got so bad that for temporary relief, Paul and I switched packs. Paul declared my ULA a “pillowcase with straps” and decided that once we got into Ashland I needed to get a new pack. Paul kept with his Osprey Atmos 65. He found it comfortable and sturdy. In Ashland, I got fitted for a new pack, an Osprey Exos 58.(If I was smarter, I could have gotten away with a Exos 48 which would have made me get rid of some stuff I deemed “essential”, but in all reality was not). Turns out it was just not that much heavier than my ULA Catalyst, but the comfort and relief in the form of allowing my back to “air out” was a game changer.

Footwear: (Note: I generally wear Men’s shoes, with the exception of dressy shoes and/or heels, I find Men’s tennis shoes and hiking boots to be wider in the toe box and, frankly, sturdier in the long run) I started with Salomon GTX 4D (the ones I trained in ), only a 1/2 size bigger, and found by the time we limped into Mammoth that they were now a 1/2 size too small. In Mammoth, they did not have my size of the Salomons and I got talked into trying the Merrill Moab. I grew to hate these shoes, and switched back to Salomons once we got into Truckee, but a low cut, light weight pair of the XA Pro 3. Loved these shoes. It is something about the fit and cut of the Salomon line of footwear that works for me. From here I decided that I would stay exclusively with Salomon footwear products. Their warranty is unbeatable as well, which we didn’t realize until Seiad Valley, when Bomber upon admiring our similar footwear, told us about the warranty. Salomon’s warranty is for 2 years. Within a month and 600 miles later, holes had appeared on the sides of my shoes and the tread had torn. Salomon replaced them, mailing me a new pair. Due to spotty WiFi, this took a little bit to complete the correspondence and pick an appropriate location to have them shipped to. As a result, in Medford Oregon at the the REI, and seeing that most of Oregon was of “softer” tread, I tried out a pair of Salomon XT Wings 3. Love these shoes. In fact I just bought a new pair, and will most likely wear these for the Camino de Santiago, later this year (2015). Once I reached Steven’s Pass, my new Salomon XA Pro 3 arrived…just in time for the final push to Canada. Turns out I replaced my shoes about every 5-600 miles, and in total went through 5 pairs of shoes. Things I would change… (1) I would have read the fine print and been aware of the warranty policy for my Salomons and planned accordingly. (2) For the section up till Kennedy Meadows I would have worn the Wings 3, but still would have worn the GTX 4D for the Sierras. I liked the stability of the high cut, and the stiffer sole for the uneven and sharp terrain. The “water-proof” aspect of the boot kept my feet dry and warm which was especially important for the hundreds of miles of snow and ragging rivers we found ourselves walking through. (3) Minus the snow, I probably would have worn the XA Pro 3 through the Sierras and Washington. Paul started with Oboz Sawtooth. Unfortunately, he failed to size up from the beginning and paid for it dearly. By the time we got to Mammoth (actually before), he was considering walking in his Crocs or barefoot, his feet hurt so bad from too small of shoes. In Mammoth, he succumbed to trail “peer pressure”, and bought a pair of Brookes Cascadia…and they were orange mind you. He found these shoes to be considerably lighter than his Oboz, and very comfortable. The one thing he noticed was that the soles were not as stiff and rugged as his Oboz, and after a while, as their tread began to wear out, he felt every rock on the trail. In Medford, at the REI, I talked him into the Salomon XA Pro 3, and hes’s been a convert every since. He too went through 5 pairs of shoes. If he had it to do all over again, he would have chosen and stuck with the Saloman XA Pro 3 for the entire trip, with the exception of having to tromp through the snow in the Sierrra, he would still wear his Oboz, only a size bigger having thus learned his lesson. Bear in mind as we enter 2015, these specific shoes have morphed into “new” designs/colors, but the fit, wear and ruggedness of Salomon shoes, for us, continue to be our “go-to” footwear.

Resupply: Shipping boxes to ourselves worked great, and even better was having a friend who could pull out stuff you were tired of, and put in surprise goodies. Things we would NOT ship again. Candy (the bars were too small the closer to Canada we got), toilet paper (baby wipes ended up being the ONLY way to go), toothpaste, toothbrushes, shampoo/conditioner, OATMEAL and most breakfast meals. We found that Candy and breakfasty food items were easier to get in town as our tastes changed along the way. In hindsight we would have purchased and shipped (via REI as shipping for purchases over $50 is free) every dinner, rather than trying to be “creative” during our in-town resupplies. This left us hating Idaho mashed potatoes no matter the flavor. As far as lunches, we are just beginning to eat tuna again, but we have not been able to choke down jerky as of yet. Considering my bout with Giardia, cheese and most dairy products are no longer friends of mine. Having packages shipped to us gave us more “down-time” in town, allowed for Neros, and frankly it’s just fun to open a package addressed to you.

Cooking: Our JetBoil worked wonderfully. The ignition system failed on us after awhile, for which REI switched us out for a new one, but a lighter worked fine in the interim to get the stove flamed up. With the JetBoil we did not have to carry a pot or cooking utensils. We found a 4oz fuel canister worked for 16 uses, and a little less (10) at high altitude in the cold of the Sierras. Granted we could have gone “cook less” to reduce the weight, but there is something about a hot cup O’ Joe (Starbucks Via is the only way to go),or a hot meal that helps with morale.

Paul, has found a Boilerwerks Backcountry stove (a Chimney kettle) that he is looking into for our next trip, whose weight is negligible (8oz empty, carries 23 oz of water), and that does not require one to carry fuel per se. We also used a titanium cup with a homemade neoprene sleeve and long plastic spoons. Don’t forget the lip-saver attachment or you will burn your lips, and duct tape only works for so long…on the cup, not your lips.

Clothing:
Pants: We liked and used the option of zip-off pant legs.
Shirts: Our ExOfficio long sleeve bug shirts worked wonderfully. They were lightweight and cool with the sleeves up and provided protection from the sun and bugs with the sleeves down.
Sleep wear: We carried a light wool shirt and I had a pair of light nylon shorts for sleepwear. I also carried and used my Western Mountaineering “puffy pants” for warmth enhancement the entire way. Paul was fine is his underwear. For me they were worth the “extra” weight, for our numerous cold nights, and when I didn’t need them to keep me warmer, they worked great as a down pillow. We initially carried “sleep socks”, but found them unnecessary
Jacket(s): We wore REI Primaloft puffy jackets. If we had it to do all over again, we would chose hooded puffy jackets for added head warmth in our freezing wind conditions and nights we slept with our jackets on. Our rain shells had hoods(Marmot & Acteryx), and were a little heavier than we would had liked but performed perfectly in adverse conditions.
Rain gear: Our outer jackets were our rain jackets and we carried Marmot Precip rain pants. For all the “good” our rain pants did, we would have carried lighter rain pants, like Frog Togs. While our Marmot Precip pants worked well, I think the Frog Togs would have kept us “dry” and funneled the rain into our shoes all the same.
Underwear: ExOfficio all the way. Boxers or Brief…personal choice. Smartwool lightweight hiking socks worked well for us. I used the PhD women’s socks. No liners or cotton socks were used. I carried an additional sports bra, so as to have a dry one to put on in the morning, as mine would often fail to dry completely by morning, and putting on a cold wet bra to start the morning is just NOT fun or a morale builder.

Misc gear: Other gear such as headlamps and knives are a personal preference, but you do not need a mondo light or knife for that matter. A small sharp strong blade, and a light that will allow you to see what you think you need to see will do just fine. Unless you are adept at opening beer bottles with a lighter, we suggest a bottle opener. We absconded with our daughter’s bottle opener ring.

Electronics: We started with a camera, but then dumped it in favor of just using my Motorola Razr Maxx. It has an 8 pixel lens, takes awesome pictures and video, and the pictures posted easily to our blog, which I did from my phone. To charge our phone, we originally had a Goal Zero, and a small 2000mAh power pack, but ditched the Goal Zero in favor of a 7000mAh mobile power pack to charge our phone and Delorme InReach. We found we needed 9000mAh worth of power to keep everything charged sufficiently, so if you can find one around 10000, that would be better. Keeping our phone on airplane mode and putting our tracking to every two hours on our InReach helped with battery life. We have since purchased a PowerGen 12000mAh (246.4g), and will probably take this one with us on the Camino. The downside of not carrying an actual SLR type camera is the fact you can not take good night or time lapse shots. Selfies were only as good as your arms were long.

Maps/Guide Books: We ordered and read Yogi’s PCT guide, and used Halfmile’s Maps, both in paper and electronic forms. We found examining the topography allowed us to better prepare both mentally and physically for each day’s mileage. We had heard so much about the Gutthook app, that we downloaded the app for Oregon and Washington. We found we liked and almost exclusively used the Halfmile’s maps, again both paper and electronic. We found the SIM mode on Halfmile’s app to particularly helpful as well. The mapping link through our Delorme InReach and my phone allowed for a full area overview when looking for “escape routes” with the threat of fire.

One more thing…we started with 3 liter CamelBak bladder and once we reached Mojave ditched them in favor of carrying 2liter Smart Water water bottles. This way you know how much water you actually have, and can refill them without having to dump out the contents of your pack each time you need to “add water”. We, admit, we should have listened to Why Not and switched sooner to the water bottles. We also carried a half liter bottle that we carried in front and used for flavored (G2) drinks. When water was more plentiful, and to save some time, we labeled one bottle as an “X” bottle, which means we did not drink directly from it, and filtered the water later, or used it to cook with for the evening.

Okay, two more things…our first aid kit was fairly big when we started out, but we reduced it to blister bandaids, mole skin, a small but sharp pair of scissors, needle and thread, prescription strength antibiotic cream, a few alcohol pads, industrial strength Naproxen, Ibuprofen and antibiotics which should have included flagyl (as opposed to Cipro) to combat Giardia. A muscle relaxant and some vicodin proved useful a time or two as well. Because of my knee issues, I wore KT Pro tape (black worked the best) for additional support, and carried at least 10 spare strips from each resupply stop.

I’m thinking this should just about cover it. Now to finish putting together our photo montage of our trip and begin the planning of our next adventure…The Camino de Santiago. We will blog for this adventure as well, and will be setting up a separate page, with the same blog address. Stay tuned for 2Moremiles in Spain…this fall. Anyone know a quick way to learn Spanish?

So its been two months since we’ve gotten home, and been off trail. We’ve since received our completion medals from the PCTA (Pacific Coast Trail Association) which are pretty cool…and heavy. The back of the medals are engraved with our year and trail names. In some ways it seems like a lifetime ago, and in other ways it was just like yesterday. After slouching around for a week or two, we are back to walking and swimming. My toes are still a bit tingly, but nearly all the aches and pains are gone. People ask if we find ourselves changed from this experience. The answer…yes and no. Granted, we lost a significant amount of weight, and most people at home have had to take a double take at our transformation. We walk a lot more to things we would previously drive to, but that’s mainly because we are retired and have the time. We figure the weather is still wonderful (summer like) and therefor, why not? The main thing, if you can call it a change, is how we see the world and namely humanity. Walking to/through incredible landscapes, water that miraculously seeps from the earth…continuously, gale force winds that threaten to turn you into a kite, the eerie silence of dead calm, roaring waterfalls and deafening thunder, dark starry nights and full moon shadows, trees that creek and mimic voices whispering in the near distance, the mist of a low hanging cloud and rain that works its way into “non-porous” materials, 206 bones and just as many muscles working together, whether they like it or not, are more wondrous to us than ever. We’ve always been curious people, and are generally not afraid to try something new and challenge ourselves, with the exception of sky diving (a perfectly good plane is a perfectly good plane until it isn’t, thus why jump out if you don’t have to). If anything, our experience on the trail has enhanced our lives and helped us get back to living. For some reason, and I’ve said it before, life gets in the way of living. Most things we fret over and stress about are distractions that keep one from truly living. Trail life was structured, simple and strangely, fulfilling. No doubt it was hard and painful at times, but all the same, we miss the simplicity. This is not to say that we don’t enjoy the amenities of home, and our connections with family and friends. When we first started the trail, we thought we “needed” everything we had packed. In no time we learned that a good portion of what we thought we needed and couldn’t live without, was useful but not necessary. We found those items unnecessarily weighed us down and were therefor burdensome, so we removed them from our pack. When we reflected on that, we realized home life is the same. There are things and habits that we think we need and can’t live without, but in reality they are not necessary and often weigh us down. If we jettisoned items on the trail, why couldn’t we do the same at home? Don’t worry we aren’t going to sell all our crap and live in a tent, and become tree hugging hermits, or shave our heads, wear a robe and bang a gong, but we are going to “downsize”, and do what we can to remove the clutter from our lives, literally and figuratively. The world is a wondrous place, why have the fog of clutter obstruct our view and ability to embrace its wonderment. Without exception we believe and have been reawakened to the fact that people are innately good…everywhere regardless of race or creed. The kindness of complete strangers reminds us that we should not be strangers. Everyone has value and purpose. A simple smile to acknowledge ones existence, triumph or even hardship, an unsolicited kind word or deed, the gift of ones time and/or belongings to another in need without regard for oneself renewed our faith in humanity, and we found this unexpectantly and without exception along our travels on the trail. Of all our experiences on the trail , these things are our biggest takeaways, and will savor the most. More importantly, we hope to emulate this in our everyday lives surrounded by “strangers”.

…and yes, we are in the planning stages for another adventure this next summer.

Today we will take a gander at Stanley Park, but first is mass at the local church (it’s been 5 months), followed by a haircut and color for me (I may feel old, but nothing says I have to look the part).  Before we walked to church, we stopped at Starbucks for a coffee we didn’t have to brew ourselves.  While there, we noticed the signage for the cue line.  “Please line up here”.  We chuckled because the sign started with Please. By having the “please” begin the sentence, it made the request more like a direction…a polite way to say, “no really we insist”.  At home, if there were to be a “please” in the sign it would be at the end, off to the side, in smaller print and in cutsie script, more like pleading for you to follow directions thus assuming you probably won’t.  Of course we stood in line, as directed and got our “go juice”.  We then strolled through the neighborhood en route to the church.  It was small and nondescript, built in similar fashion, design and adornment as the Our Lady of Fatima at home.  Those in attendance were mostly elderly as we were practically the youngest there. It appears to literally be a dying parish.  Following church and my hair appointment, we then brunched at the Central Bistro (a recommendation from the stylist)…banana bread French toast…to “die” for, yum!   Although we don’t need to, we feel the need to maximize our time here and fill our day and last evening away from home with activities and sights.  We return to our hotel and change into our well traveled hiking duds for a lap around Stanley Park.  By the time we began what turned out to be a 5+ mile stroll, the multi-use trail was packed.  Pedestrians traveling clockwise and cyclist and skaters going counterclockwise on a separate but parallel asphalt paved path.

As we wandered along the edges of Stanley park where the Pacific Ocean laps up against the rip rap sea walls protecting the raised foot and cyclist paths, a plethora of activities and events were happening in the interior of the park, reminiscent of Balboa Park in San Diego.  As we continued along the path we couldn’t help but notice how smoothly everything flowed.  The cars would slow and stop for pedestrians crossing into the interior before they even stepped on the edge of the crosswalk. And they did this without any look of hostility or annoyance. Slower walkers stayed to the right as joggers and swifter walkers passed on the left.  For the numbers of cyclist in close proximity and varying speed, we were pleasantly surprised to have not witnessed one collision let alone a “close call”. 

For all practical purposes it was a blissful afternoon for all.  We concluded that there could only be one reason for so many people all engaging in different and even competing interests to get along so well together without any need for authoritative figures (the po-po)…there must be Prozac in the drinking water, or periodic misters dispensing the Prozac.  Brilliant! 

As we had time before the sun began to lower, we dried our still sopping wet tent on the lawn across from our hotel and chuckled with several other people at a young couple’s inappropriate display of affection for each other while seemingly oblivious to the “audience” they had drawn…more Prozac please. Once again the day drifted toward evening and like moths drawn toward light, throngs of people filtered onto the west facing beaches and manicured public lawns of English Bay. Better prepared than the night before, we found ourselves bar side with drink a plenty as the setting sun created yet another tapestry of color. 

Some in the outdoor bar and dining area watched as we did, while most failed to recognize the wondrous gift on display before them and continued in conversation or stared as if in a hypnotic state at lights and images emanating from their phones.  On our stroll back to our hotel we were treated to musicians and dancers drawn together in a “jam session” of sorts on the lawn adjacent our hotel.  We watched and listened as one musician played a metal orb while another, a percussionist, sat atop a “box” and banged away, while a dancer “interpreted” the sounds and rhythms…with fire.  We marveled at their seamless transitions from one rhythm or melody to another.  One thing we learned for a certainty on this adventure, is that we are seriously musically challenged.  We found ourselves at a loss to remember any song’s lyrics, let alone the full choruses, or worse yet how the tune actually went.  This inability at times provided a good distraction from monotonous portions of the trail as we would discuss, analyze and sometimes argue over a song’s melody and/or supposed lyrics, and then laugh at how we can “sing” along when a song is playing, but absent the song we were hard pressed to remember the lyrics and usually woefully out of tune.  Ah, yes…good times.  Once back at the hotel it was time to pack our packs one last time… at least for this adventure.  To be sure we didn’t make some form of a “watch list” we left our fuel canister for our jetboil in the hotel room, stuffed our small knives, nail clippers, lighters, small tubes of toothpaste, and travel size shampoo and conditioner deep into our packs.  All electronics and some snacky foods we will carry on.  We drift off to sleep excited to be finally “going home”, but also a little apprehensive as to exactly what “being home” will be like. 

Packed and ready to go, We are excited to finaly be heading home. A stop at Starbucks for some “go juice” and onto the bus with our packs along with all the other monday morning riders. Funny how we have gone from several days without seeeing anyone to now being constantly surrounded by droves of people in close proximity. Things seem to be moving way too quickly and we’re not sure we like it. We take the downtown bus where we will transfer to the SKYtrain, which will take us to the airport. The mass transit is easy to use and for the most part stress free. Did I mention how polite they are here? Even their buses that are out of service scroll an apology for not being in service as they pass by…”Out of Servce…Sorry” We get to the airport and complete our check-in, drop off our packs and head through customs. I sail through without an issue. Paul however, is held up for a bit as it appears that the customs agent can’t believe we actually “walked” here and now wants to examine our papers. I almost get pulled back into customs as I stand and wait for him to clear before going through the one-way door. An agent sternly barks at me, “Ma’am, you need to keep moving,”. I tell him I am waiting for my husband, to which he replies tersely, “Ma’am, you need to keep moving”, accomplanied by the “don’t make me get out of this chair” look. Sooo, I keep moving ever so slowly. This man is obviously NOT Canadian. Paul finally clears customs and we head to our gate, Our gate is located next to the airport’s sticky children get your wiggles and screaming out of your system before you board the plane, play area. We remark how ironic it would be to be seated next to the only crying and/or teething baby on the flight. And waala, one screaming teething baby row 6 seat F. Awesome! This is where I wished I had ny noise cancelling Bose headphones. Looks like we will be consuming our little bottles of alcohol earlier on the flight than we thought. Our flight home is to be 2.5 hours. Fascinating that it took us nearly 5.5 months to get here and now will only take less than 3 hours to get home. So I think the formula goes a little something like this. What you can walk in a week, you can drive in a day. What you can drive in a day you can fly in an hour. We certainly did not pick the most time efficient route to Canada, but we certainly picked the most scenic. As we soar high above terra firma, we wonder in what condition we will find out home as our college age children have been living there unsupervised for the summer. Luckily we have good kids, who have appropriate fear of their parents.

When we land in Orange County, we switch to our recently purchased Canada t-shirts and wait on the curb, as planned, for the arrival of our kids, to include the dog. In no time it is a joyous reunion. They deliver us home with everything intact. I find that I am surprised at how small our back yard feels now, as the “backyard” we have spent our time in over these past few months was enormous. In so many ways we feel as though we never left. The neighborhood is essentially the same. Some of our neighbors acknowledge our return, and graciously give us some time to “acclimate”, while others wondered why they hadn’t seen us in awhile, and probably based on our change in appearance, suspected we went to a “fat camp”. In any event we are glad to be home. Our feet still have some residual soreness, and we look forward to NOT sleeping on the ground, running water, flushing toilets and fresh fruits and veggies. We are not sure how the next few days, weeks and months will progress for us, as the days we have not been walking feel more like “zeros”. I can tell you one thing, we will not be taking any long walks for awhile as the beach and pool are calling.

Just checked and these pictures did not load properly, so here they are.

Treats at Granville Island

One of many sunset pictures we took that Saturday night.

So here we are in beautiful Vancouver, the cleanest city I ever recall having visited. Today, as was yesterday, and the last 171 days will not be without walking with our packs, at least somewhere. We have some exploring and tourista type “stuff” to do.

As we are used to walking 20+ miles a day, we decide to strap on our packs and explore, at least until we can check into our next hotel, the Sylvia. We are told that Granville Island which is a man made island across a bridge not far from where we stayed the night is a “must-see” sight and experience.

After a coffee and a couple donuts (yes, we still like them) we take the pedestrian pathway to Granville Island. This place houses a “farmers market” of sorts, complete with an eclectic food court, artisan butchers, bakers, and (no joke) candlestick makers. This place is thick with people, and we figure while our packs are the lightest and most comfortable they’ve been in a long time it may be a better idea to see if we can store them at our hotel and come back to the village, so as to blend in more and not get the “homeless” sad looks from the city folk. We are in luck, as there is a water taxi that runs across the bay to the vicinity of where our hotel is located. Excellent, a “short-cut” that reduces our time on our feet. Of course there is a fee, 11 dollars for the both of us for a round-trip. Good. We will drop our packs and come back. We board the taxi with several other people. It is a short ride across the bay. There is a popular multi-use trail that skirts around English Bay and the perimeter of Stanley Park. We access the foot path. It reminds us of the multi-use trail that runs through Huntington and Newport Beach, except this one has parallel but separate paths for those on foot or wheeled conveyances.

On the left is the ocean framed by pockets and then swaths of sandy beach. On our right is groomed lawn area that rises to the roadway that encircles the bulging metropolis. It’s a relatively short walk, as in 30 minutes, to our hotel.

It was originally an apartment complex built in 1912 as a tribute to the owners daughter, Sylvia. It was later converted to a hotel in 1936, and is designated as a “Heritage Building”, which is our equivalence to a historical, and thereby protected, building. For the longest time it was the tallest building in Vancouver. It is no longer the case. We were pleasantly surprised when they told us, upon our arrival, that they had a room ready and we could check in. It was 11 am. We dumped our packs and headed back out toward Granville Island. Once back on the island, and seriously hungry, we were overwhelmed with the choices before us inside the market area. We settled on Mexican food, because it had been so long. We were somewhat disappointed, but then that only makes us appreciate our collection of Mexican Cantinas and markets at home so much more. The fresh fruit and desert/bakery area of the market, however did NOT disappoint.

If we had another 100 miles to walk I think I would have had one of each item on display, but as it was, I chose a small Key Lime pie. I make it a point when we travel to seek out the best Key Lime and/or Pecan pie. Paul chooses cinnamon rolls. We buy some fruit to take back with us to our hotel, but as with the sweets, they never make it off the island. As the morning progresses into afternoon, musicians and street performers begin to setup and share their craft. The diversity of talent is remarkable. We wander through small art galleries and specialty stores. One thing we’ve learned on this hike, is we don’t need to buy anything. We already have too much stuff. Stuff we can do without. A house is like a pack. The bigger it is the more compelled you are to fill every inch of it with stuff you think you need. We now realize that one actually need very little, it’s the wants that create the clutter and unnecessary stressors in our lives. Food and water, shelter in inclimate weather, a place to pee and poop and human interaction are ones only absolute needs, and of course a means (ie. paying job or trust fund) in which to ensure those needs are met. Unfortunately life (in the fast lane) often gets in the way of living. When you are in the fast lane you can’t help but miss so much of the simple wonderment around you and the sheer essence of living in the moment. We have been out of the “fast lane” for over 5 months now, and I can honestly say we are happier for it. Unless you are being chased by a bear, a tree is about to fall on your head or you are seeking cover from a lightning storm, there is really nothing to be in a hurry about. We hope we will be able to retain this sense of calm and wonderment of all that is around us. We elect to take the water taxi back across the bay, and walk back to our hotel for a nap before we set out to check out what happens after dark in these parts. What was once a sparsely populated beach is now filled with people playing volleyball and lounging in the sand next to the hundreds of logs lined up in rows across the beach. Before we nap, we make sure to set a watch so as not to miss what should be an amazing sunset. Before long, the obnoxious beep of the alarm sounds. Rise and shine, it’s sunset time. We alight across the street from our hotel and find the beach and lawn areas to be blanketed with people from all walks of life. They too had “set their watch” and are here to catch a once in a lifetime sunset, as no two are alike. We had hoped to catch the sunset while sitting at one of the bars or restaurants that line the area, but it appears we are a little too late as we were not the only ones with a similar idea. We can’t get over how crowded it is, and then realize that this IS the last weekend of Summer…literally. After Sunday, it will be Fall. Everyone is here for their last taste of Summer. We are too. The air is warm, the wind is calm and quiet chatter echoes around us, but as the sun begins its final descent into the edges of the horizon, a hushed calm settles over the hordes drawn to the beach.

Nudges and pointing starts as the sky transforms into a colorful and living tapestry. Phones are set to camera or video mode in an effort to capture the moment, at least visually. Soon all foot and bicycle traffic has come to a halt. The sun sinks below the horizon, and the curtain of darkness begins to fall. Reluctantly the masses disperse. We follow their lead and are now in search of a place to dine with the locals. We decide tonite’s quest will be a sushi bar. We find one that appears to be frequented by locals, and take a seat. We eat our fill, so much so that we will need to “walk it off”. We wander the streets of the West End. The evening is warm and being a Saturday night is teaming with people out for the evening as well.

Eventually we return to our hotel and retire for the evening. Tomorrow we will seek out the local church and wander through Stanley Park.

Day 162: (22.27 miles)
mile 2480.01 – 2502.28

Even though we did not take a zero, our legs, the condition of our feet and the newly added weight to our packs in the form of a five day resupply was of little consequence to us this morning. We are on our next to last leg of this long and wonderful journey and we’re eager to get moving. We had heard that this would be one of the “toughest” legs since the Sierras, and had decided to treat this like a “Hell Week” scenario from our college sports days. There will be no getting around it, we will just have to work through it. We may be miserably tired and worked over, but it’s only a 100 miles and it will be over in a week. The reward, at the end of the week, will be a bakery with delicious treats, and better yet, we will be that much closer the completion of our quest. Twenty miles a day was our goal. Any more than 20 would be considered “bonus” miles. Our friend, Arizona, had told us that he had planned for 25 mile days through this section, but had barely made 20 each day. We figured we were in for a challenging week.

One thing we noted as we walked, was that the scenery was striking, and as we climbed it became more dramatic, even in the grey of the morning overcast. Wildlife was more abundant than we had ever recalled before on the trail. Deer,

grouse (which still continue to allude us in our quest for an on trail “fresh chicken” dinner), chipmunks with bulging cheeks, and birds that would alight in front of us creating a cascading wake of flittering feathers, and best of all BEARS!!! We spied 9 in total. Three sows and six cubs.

They were in a meadow below us filled with blue berry bushes. The sows were feeding as the cubs galavanted around, tackling each other and wrestling. We had plenty of distance between us, so I was fairly confident were not going to be the subject of a FarSide comic.

We climbed all morning and were mostly in a fog of sorts that kept the temperature on the cooler side, so much so that I wore my goofy wool hat and gloves a good portion of the day. Fields of ripe and tasty blue berries covered the meadows, hillsides and lined the edges of the trail. It smelled of blueberry muffins most of the day. Early on, a SOBO section hiker who was “finally going to finish Washington” stopped to talk to us and gave us a “heads up” about the water situation. She told us that we should get water just before Lake Janus, as there would be no “good” water for about 14 miles.

We thanked her for the info, and watered up as she suggested. After coming upon about ten “good” water sources, as in we would hear and see streams and waterfalls within a minute of the trail, we began to think the hiker was either deaf, blind, and/or was messing with us thru-hikers in an attempt to see if we would bite on the scarce water situation. We would come upon a water source and say to each other,’Nope, no water here. Nothing to see. Better get a move on,’ and laugh. This kept us entertained for some time, as the miles fell off. At one point we were doing the math for the week, and discovered that we had essentially “out-smarted” ourselves in not taking a day off, and getting a jump on the week’s miles. It seems that if we stick to our 20 mile a day, over five days, plan that we would arrive in Stehekin Saturday evening. The problem was that our resupply package was sitting at the Stehekin post office, and they were closed by 1 pm. The bus from the trail to town (provided we made the noon one) wouldn’t arrive at the Landing (where the post office is located) till 1:15. After that, the post office wouldn’t be open till 10 am Monday morning. Oh Oh. Houston we have a problem. So much for leisurely 20 mile days, and a mid-day nap. We were going to have to grind out some serious bonus miles, or take a few days off in Stehekin. We entertained the thought of two days off for about a minute, but we were like horses within sight of their barn and nixed that option. Maybe we could call the post office and have it forwarded to the Ranch where we had booked a night for Saturday night. Great, no cell service. Strike that plan. The next idea was to hike hard and grind out enough miles so that Paul could get get up early Saturday morning to make it to High Bridge and the 9am bus into Stehekin. Better, yet. We will text our friend Jody via Delorme and have her call the post office and see if there is any chance they will stay open on Saturday till just after the bus arrives at 1:15pm, so we (and other hikers) can get their packages Saturday. This would buy Paul some more time to get to the bus at noon. It was a foregone conclusion that I was not going to be able to knock down 15 miles before noon on Saturday, and certainly not before 9am. Luckily there is a 3pm and 6pm bus into town. As we were walking and mulling over our predicament, Seeds came up behind us. What the heck? He was supposed to be waay ahead of us by now. We greet each other and stop and talk for a bit. Seeds explains that he got a late start, as he had decided to spend another day with his girlfriend Brittany. As Seeds is young, strong and fast, he plans on doing two 30 mile days, maybe three, and a 10 miler into Stehekin so he can arrive Friday. Brittany will be meeting him in Stehekin, and he plans to take two days off there with her. We tell him about our mileage and resupply predicament. He offers to pick up our package for us. Problem solved…sort of. Seeds (whose proper name is Thomas) will need a note from us to be able to pick it up and even then, there is no guarantee that the post office will even allow him to receive the package. In any event, it is worth a try. I quickly pen a note, tearing a page from my waterproof notebook’s paper journal. Both ours and his, full and proper names are exposed. It feels awkward to address each other by proper names on the trail. Seeds examines the note, folds it and places in a side pocket. I hope this works. We text Jody again, and add a request to see if Seeds (aka. Thomas) can pick up our package for us instead. We step aside so Seeds can get to knocking out his enormous miles, thank him for helping us out, and tell him we will see him on Saturday. We amble on, and then it hits us. What if we can’t find Seeds once we get to Stehekin? There is no cell service now, or even in Stehekin, to be able to coordinate where to meet. How big is this place? Why do you need a bus to get everywhere? This should be interesting. Tune in at the end of the week. The rest of the day, with the exception of the last 2 miles (of course) follow a contour line and are fairly uneventful and easy. We decide that we should try and knock out 2 more miles for “insurance” purposes. We water up for a series switchbacks that climb for 1500ft over 2 miles. At this point we must commit to the additional miles, as, based on the topo map, there will be no place to camp along the way if we “change” our minds. In fact, there are no places identified as “campsites” on Halfmile’s or Guthook’s apps where we intend to get to. Our plan is to get to the Cady Creek Trail Junction as it looks like there might be a flat place or two to set up camp. It is not until nightfall that we reach an acceptable place to throw down. So much for an “easy” 20, but not bad for day one of “hell week”.