Day 158: Up in Smoke
September 9; Mile 2550-2554 + 13
After 158 days the trail, my plans, my hopes all went up in smoke. Today was the end of my hike, but I did not realize it yet.
I woke up disoriented in full sunshine, almost two hours later than normal. I had spent all night breathing in the wretched air, and in the morning light I could see that instead of clearing, it had gotten worse. Having lost my N95 mask somewhere along the way, I pulled my buff up around my nose and tried to breathe through that.
My last hope was that the valley into Stehekin would be clear of smoke, but as I ascended to the high point for the day, my heart sank. The view along the Stehekin River – where I would need to hike another 20 miles before reaching my camp spot – was filled with thick gray. After so many hours of smoke exposure, I was starting to feel sick; my head ached, my nose and throat were raw, but I was most concerned about my lungs. My chest had a strange weight pressing down on it, and my lungs felt full of water. Hiking uphill had left me wracked with coughing fits, bent double in the middle of the trail. It was time to get help.
I sat upon a large, flat boulder and typed a message on my Garmin. “Dov, Sheila: Smoke all day Thur, looks worse where I’m headed. Is Stehekin best option or should I exit S over Spider gap? Would need ride”
Two years ago I had done my first multi-day solo backpacking trip to Spider Gap and Buck Creek Pass. It was one of the many steps of preparation I had taken to train for the PCT; at the time I had no idea how useful the knowledge of this area of Washington would become. As I sat waiting for a reply, I studied my maps of the area and devised an exit route: I could hike back to the Cloudy Pass junction that I had passed, then follow that past Lyman Lakes and over Spider Gap. It would be a long day: another 18 miles to reach the trailhead.
My Garmin chirped as a message arrived. “The air quality for the next two days looks quite hazardous. Please get inside in Stehekin. Will connect more later.” The timestamp was from the previous night. Another message arrived, sent just past midnight: “Started an email thread about exiting the trail in Stehekin, taking ferry to Fields Point as contingency plan.”
My stomach clenched. I still had 20 miles to reach the camp spot outside Stehekin, and even then I would be spending another night sleeping in hazardous air. Dimly, I remembered that there was another option, something I had seen on my backpacking trip two years ago: a sign pointing to Holden Village. I checked my map and was surprised to find that the remote mining-outpost-turned-outdoor-retreat was only 13 miles away. According to my trail notes, there was a hotel and a computer you could use to at least send email – much faster than communicating via satellite message on my Garmin.
With my mind made up, I sent my last message: “Lungs unhappy. Worried 20 miles too much. I exit shortest route: to Holden Village. Will have email there. Can you see if hotel has room and book plz?”
I left behind the smoke-filled valley and retreated back south along the PCT, passing several thru-hikers and sharing my plans. When I reached the junction toward Cloudy Pass, my eyes swam with tears. There was no fanfare, no celebration. After five long months and less than 100 miles from the Canadian border, I stepped off the Pacific Crest Trail.
Beyond Cloudy Pass the air cleared considerably, and I was incredibly glad I had made the decision to exit toward Holden Village. The trail led past beautiful Lyman Lake, its glacier-fed waters a bright, opaque blue. I stopped for lunch and calculated how long it would take to reach the village. I didn’t think I’d get there before 6 at the earliest, and according to my trail notes the buffet dinner ended at 5:45. Plus, I had no idea what the condition of the upcoming trail would be; I was about to leave behind the section that I had hiked before and head into a new area. The topo lines looked like it was mostly downhill, and I began to hope that I would make it in time for a hot meal.
Large sections of trail were overgrown with brush, and I sometimes felt I was swimming rather than hiking. I pushed the pace, grateful for the clear blue skies all around me and the smoke-free air. Looking back toward Spider Gap, I could see the edge of the smoke cloud swirling around the jagged peaks.
Eventually I passed another glacier-fed lake – Hart Lake – and admired its green waters from afar. It was getting pretty late; with a little over 3 miles left until the village, I decided that I was going to make it for dinner. I cinched down the straps of my backpack as far as they could go and began to run.
At 5:15 I stumbled into the town of Holden Village, and felt like I’d come upon a ghost town. Thankfully I was able to find someone who worked there, and she helped me get checked-in and washed up for dinner. I emerged from days of lonely wilderness into a full cafeteria; I sat at a table in my filthy clothes and a mild state of shock until a kind woman joined. When she asked where I had come from, my mouth twitched up into a smile and I felt myself re-engaging. “Well, I walked here from Mexico.” It turned out she was one of the directors, and she called over other workers to hear about this shell-shocked hiker’s tale of running from the smoke.
After dinner I found the library building and tried to log onto my email. The town had no cell service, no wifi, and so I couldn’t access my regular email address – it required 2-factor authentication. Thankfully I had another email address for this blog, and so I sent off a note to a few folks to let them know I had arrived safely. I retreated to my room to read, and around 9:30pm there was a knock on the door. Someone had called for me via the town’s emergency satellite phone. The wheels in my head clicked into place, and I realized what had happened: since I had never used the secondary email address to send out mail, my note saying I was safe had gone straight to everyone’s spam folders.
I had a short call with Dov, and thanked him for taking care of the room and arranging a ride for me the next day while he was busy taking care of family stuff in Arizona. Truly, he was the Houston to my Apollo 11.
That evening I fell asleep alone, just as I had done on my first night on trail. After 158 days, I was headed home.
21 Comments
Sheila
awwww, you’re making me cry now š but I’m also so glad you’re back home again! xoxox
chasingalpenglow
Someone once told me itās not a real backpacking trip unless youāve cried sometime during it š
peggy
What an ordeal. It’s hard enough to walk around the block in that kind of smoke much less hike miles up and down wildnerness with a full pack. Such a tough way to end the trek. Very glad you had a support team to help with the exit, and that you are safe.
chasingalpenglow
Itās an ending I wonāt soon forget, thatās for sure
Karen Altergott
To our valiant Karen, we love you and grieve with you for what might have been, but we could not hold you in higher esteem for all that you are. We are grateful that you are wise as well as strong. Welcome home.
Aunt Karen and Uncle Rudy
Hope
Karen, I am a friend of your parents and have had the absolute joy of reading your blog all summer. I had to tell you this was one of the best reads, and I read ALOT! You are an amazing writer, painting pictures for us all to see. You are a great photographer posting pictures that could be postcards! I felt all summer as if I knew you. I trusted you in all your brave decisions. I enjoyed your cast of characters as well. But this ending was epically unexpected. It leaves me wanting more. Thank you for sharing with the world. I enjoyed being the armchair traveler. I hope someday to visit the trail even if just to day hike. Keep your hiking boots by the door, never stop exploring! Thank you!
chasingalpenglow
Thank you!!
Ray
Even after dining with you last week, this farewell post is a revelation. Hope our champagne gift helped quench any remnant smoky memory. All the best on your great adventure ahead.
chasingalpenglow
It was so sweet, and we were able to share with my parents and sister – who drove up for a short visit
Tom
Karen, even though I knew what these last entries would reveal, I am tearing up after reading them. Mom and I were honored to be part of your support group, both in person and remotely, for these past 158 days. We had never experienced anything like this before in our 66 years and counting, vicariously or in person, and probably (?) will not again. We are both relieved and disappointed by the unplanned ending to your quest, but frankly we are not the least bit sad to leave the daily scouring of the NYTimes and PCT fire maps behind us. As you posted, your heart does not seek the platitudes and condolences for an effort well done, but unfortunately we could not provide you a path to Canada so they will have to suffice. I am so glad that you made the tough decisions when it really mattered. I am so proud to call you my daughter. Love, Dad
chasingalpenglow
Hey I only said the other hikers werenāt seeking platitudesā¦ feel free to heap on the praise š
More seriously though, thanks for the messages about the smoke. It certainly helped me to make the right decision when I needed to
Ed
Whew. These last two were bittersweet to read; and gripping, too. Brava.
PS my dental hygienist was talking backpack trips yesterday; I (intermittently) told her about you and your trip, she’s totally wowed by you.
chasingalpenglow
The (intermittently) aside elicited a hearty chuckle
Therese
At crucial times in my life people have told me to “trust your instincts.” I’m glad that you trusted yours this time, as difficult as it was for you. Stepping off the PCT and heading east toward Cloudy Pass and then on past Lyman and Hart Lakes to Holden Village was a gutsy move, one that almost certainly ensured that your lungs would be hike-worthy for many years to come. I’m sad that Mother Nature envisioned your final steps of this year’s trek in a way not at all similar to your own. I’m sorry you and your many new friends missed out on the trip to the Stehekin bakery, the photo op at the Canadian terminus, and the joyous celebratory feast at Manning Park. I’m glad that the hikers north of Harts Pass were evacuated safely; the gear they had to leave behind can be replaced. Understandably that final 100 miles was important to you, and it hurts to have it end this way. You have honed your ability to confront the unexpected head-on, to adapt and to forge ahead, and I’m sure these skills will serve you well no matter where life takes you. I’m so happy that you’re home safely and truly am a bit shell-shocked when I reflect on the magnitude of what you have accomplished this year. xoxo
Love,
Mom
chasingalpenglow
The irony is that not ten minutes before I found out about the border trail being closed, I was telling Fun Fact how glad I was that at least Iād be able to hike the entirety of one of the three states
Dianne Wilburn
Hugs, hugs, hugs. I have enjoyed your writings and hope to see you soon.
Mike
Nice work, Karen. Have been reading along with many others (you’ve got some unknown-to-you loyal readers here in southern Sweden š ) for the last few months. The conditions around us have a profound influence on the ability to reach our goals. Those conditions were WELL beyond your control; those that you could control (including your ma’s wise description of trusting your instincts) served you incredibly well. Give yourself time to feel sad, but trust that it should reasonably blow over. When you stop feeling sad, I hope you’ll be able to remember the beauty you saw, the resourcefullness of your mind and body, the people you met along the way, the freedom you felt being able to do this at this time in your life… and much more. Proud of you!
Mike
Kate
Thank you for sharing your incredible journey in words and photos. Throughout the spring and summer I checked daily (sometimes more than once per day) to see if there was anything new, either from you, or from your loyal and growing fan base.
I keep re-reading your entries, recapturing the sights, sounds, and smells that you experienced this summer. It doesn’t seem to make any difference to know that you are in your living room, your office, out on a short run, or wherever. The prose is still evocative, and I can picture you in the desert, on a snow-covered mountain, or cooling your feet in an icy creek. The only thing I am failing to experience vicariously is ticks and mosquitoes, but I am happy to give them a miss.
Although I am glad you are back, well-traveled yet safe, I shall miss these adventures. Where shall you go next?
Petra
Hey Stormy! I just found your blog and read it in one go. So beutifuly written!! š I had some moments of weakness while reading it, especially at the end. So many things happend since I saw you last time on Hwy 108/Sonora Pass Junction. But I was so lucky to meet you on the trail and share some memories from Sierra Mountains! And I am very glad that I could read about all your experiences and how your PCT journey continued.
chasingalpenglow
Petra!! Thank you for the note – I had such a good time hiking with you in the Sierras. I am glad you enjoyed the blog and hope the rest of your PCT journey after Sonora Pass was everything you hoped it would be.
Kate
I decided to re-read some of the entries, as you are preparing to do the parts that you missed. I had forgotten how well you write, and how much joy your photos and posts brought me in 2022. Good luck finishing up, and I look forward to seeing more posts.