August 19, 2013
25 miles
Mile 2180
Conditioned to wake up at 5 AM by the howler monkeys of Costa Rica it has become my natural alarm. Back to the grind of toil, for it was Monday and the start of the work week. Rough days on the trail are often greeted with, “It beats working.” A concurrence.
Plugged away till 8:30 when the post office would consent to give up my packages. Fueled by leftover jalapeno breakfast pizza, I smiled at the postmaster and asked for my bounce box and food package sent by a friend. “Just the one.” “No, two.” “Just the one.” Investigation, UPS reported the package undeliverable. Why? Back to the postmaster, “Oh, I refuse any UPS or FedEx package sent general delivery because there is no money in it for the post office.” Charge a fee to pick it up. I replied, “That way everybody gets what they want and the post office makes money. Your way, nobody gets what they want and the post office makes nothing.” He smiled and said, “No.” I fumed homicidal as my jalapenos attempted backflips. Peter principle in action. I witnessed three incidents that morning of the postmaster explaining refused packages.
I let it go and went food shopping. But it kept coming back to poke at me. Packed up and hugged my bed goodbye. Our parting emotional with shared grief. Bench sat in front of the hotel in respect of checkout time while Orbit ran last errands. The poking continued. The lightbulb illuminated. My sister had sent my passport to the tiny Steheekin post office via general delivery. The black thought was she had sent it via UPS. A call to the Steheekin post office confirmed this much. Yeah, UPS delivers by boat. They just throw the packages on the dock. We have nothing to do with it. So my passport is just sitting on the dock? Yeah, hope it doesn’t rain. Now I know what an onsetting ulcer feels like.
Religious sign. Note PCT trail symbol on right
Playing bridge chicken
Crossed the Bridge of the Gods into Washington. The 50 Cent pedestrian fee waved for through hikers. The upbeat toll collector said “Make sure to walk against traffic.” There being no sidewalk. A large paddlewheel steamer passed underneath. I placed myself in another century until I saw two paddle borders riding wake. I chewed on donated cherries, dodged traffic and asked the gods of the bridge for help. Apparently the gods had also suffered package abuse for I had my answer by Washington. Called the Steheekin post office and privately contracted a postal worker for dock passport watch.
A better century
Surf where you can find it
Back to the simplicity of the forest. Altitude wise, the Columbia River flows at under 1000 feet. “C” stands for crest. The disparity engulfed my afternoon. Blackberries sweetened it. The radio softened it. A comedy sketch came on. The Black Angus restaurant has a nationwide team on high alert in case the G goes out with any of its signs. Or this from the DJ after playing U2 during a string of commercial free music. “I got no problem pulling out my Bono in the middle of a set.” It’s hard to laugh and climb at the same time.
Hood receding into PCT history
Ran into a number of new to us through hikers. An advantage of moving up the pack is meeting new people. Crossed paths with Dora and thanked her for the tall boys. A Southbounder Zeke La Freak warned me of a hornets nest down on the trail. Every passerby encountered a sting. I contemplated strategies. More climbing. Various ailments started seeping their way into my consciousness. Aging a detriment. Caught up with Orbit and swapped stories to distract.
A familiar pattern returned. Dark and no home. 9:30 again and my jalapenoes wanted company. Tired. A side trail. We rolled the dice. Came up lucky. A large flat spot with no checkout time. Stomach topped off and to the horizontal. Didn’t crack the book, didn’t count the stars, just closed my eyes to the end of the day. Ready for the repair of sleep.
Steve Halteman
On the Pacific Crest Trail
Hiking the PCT for the Kids of Escuela Verde
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