Day 138-139: Mt Adams

August 20-21; Mile 2224-2258

Day 138

The forest was chilly in the morning as I hiked the few miles to the road into Trout Lake. Clouds drifted between the trees, and a hush hung over the mountains. As I sat eating my breakfast, a squirrel sent pinecones crashing down to the forest floor from a branch far above, and the racket shattered the pressing silence.

A line of hikers stood waiting for the “shuttle” into town, and I passed the time chatting with Oyster and Emperor. The latter had spent time working as a PT in Antarctica, and while on a boondoggle from the base she was surrounded by a flock of Emperor penguins. She entertained the two of us with stories about the expeditions for the south pole at the beginning of the 20th century, as she had visited many of the resupply sites while stationed down there.

After reaching town Emperor and I went to get huckleberry milkshakes, and there I met Adam, DD, Feathers and Mermaid! I hadn’t seen DD since the pool party in Tehachapi, and she had acquired a new trail name since then: Bubbles. She, Adam, and I made plans to hike out together that afternoon, and so I set about resupplying and charging my devices.

Back on trail we hiked through a beautiful burn area with views of Mt Adams, Mt St Helens, and Mt Hood. The ground was a carpet of asters, the trees were ghostly silver, and above us the sky was bright cerulean. After eighty miles of thick forest, I was able to appreciate the sparseness that the past fire had left behind.

A few hours later I reached our planned campspot for the night. Adam and I ate dinner as we waited for Bubbles to reach camp; it was so nice to be hiking with a group of fun people again. Mt Adams towered above us, and as the sun set the world was transformed into an impressionist painting. Mt Hood turned pink, Mt St Helens was mauve, and behind us Mt Adams glowed gold in the fading light. A band of deep orange hung just above the horizon, in contrast to the slumbering volcanoes, before fading away.

Day 139

In the dead of night I got up to go to the bathroom. The stars blazed above in a moonless sky, and the Milky Way stretched from the summit of Mt Adams south toward Mt Hood.

The day began with rolling hills past fields of asters and stunning view of the mountains. As I paused to take a picture of Mt Rainier, two enthusiastic ladies stopped and asked about my hike. They cheered me on and wished me luck with the rest of Washington. I hiked on past several glacial outflow creeks before reaching a tricky crossing. The area was strewn with rocks and other debris from when the water was at its full height; now in the morning the ribbon of glacial melt snaked past in a line of churning, cloudy water. Thankfully there was a pair of trees spanning the creek, and I carefully balanced across.

The views of Mt Adams were incredible throughout the day. The trail led along the western side of the mountain, leaving behind the familiar south climb route and showing off the rugged north face, with its heavily crevassed glaciers and sheer cliffs. Adam, Bubbles, and I ate lunch in a shaded spot with a waterfall cascading nearby, while flowers swayed in a gentle breeze.

The trail led back into the trees after lunch. I stopped to collect water from Lava Spring – a crystal clear pool fed directly from the depths of the mountain. It was hard to leave the shaded spot, and as I marched out into the afternoon sun, waves of exhaustion washed over me. But that wasn’t all – I began to feel nauseous and worried that I might throw up. The sun beat down relentlessly, and I found a flat spot in some shade to lie down and wait for the nausea to pass. Adam and Bubbles caught up to me and asked if I was feeling okay. Bubbles gave me one of her liquid IV packets to add to my water, and the two of them said they’d wait at the next road crossing in a mile to make sure I got there okay.

The electrolytes helped, and so did loosening my hip belt. I was able to walk the mile to the road, where the three of us took another long break. After that we reentered mosquito hell. It was a slog through thick forest dotted with breeding ponds, and I pulled on my bugnet pants, my headnet, and draped my jacket over my shoulders. It just meant the bloodsuckers attacked my poor hands.

As I reached camp I saw an unfamiliar tent and no sign of Bubbles or Adam. Guessing that they had pushed on ahead, I started up the hill fueled by the adrenaline of dodging mosquitos. It lasted about half a mile, and then the exhaustion set back in. Right at the Goat Rocks Wilderness sign I found a stealth spot just big enough to squeeze my tent into. It was late and getting dark, and I knew that if I hiked to the next big camping spot – likely where Bubbles and Adam had ended up – I’d be too tired to make dinner. And so I set up my tent and hid inside from the insect onslaught, unzipping the fly every now and then to light my stove and stir my dinner as it cooked.

I was alone again, but I’d catch them tomorrow.