July 6.
Got a ride to the post office so the others could mail their resupplies and so I could mail home the duffel bag I used to carry my stuff on the plane. Felt incredibly lucky to live so close to the trail and to have an easy place to mail things to. The others had to be more deliberate in their choices while I’m lucky enough to have people I can mail things to or who can mail me things.
While the others finished their last minute errands, I met up with my old coworker who happened to be in a nearby town. We caught up a bit and it made me simultaneously happy and sad to see her and to think of the life I was leaving.
Met up with the others and we got on the road to Harts Pass, splitting into two cars, me and Canada, Germany and China.
To beat the traffic, we took another ferry across the sound. In distance we could see the mountains and felt such awe and joy that we were soon going to be in them.
On the way we picked up three more hikers, including another vegan. (learned she was vegan when the topic of protein in my food came up and I mentioned textured vegetable protein and she immediately knew what it was ha).
On the drive up we watched the dark clouds in the distance get closer and closer until it started to pour on us. The long and windy highway 20 was drenched but it only added to the scene outside. We drove in the Cascades, the stunning verdant trees, the snow covered mountain, icy blue lakes. Waterfalls on the side of the road. Immediately I fell for the Cascades.
We passed the appropriately named Rainy Pass, a point we would cross again in a few days, and cheered when we saw the Pacific Crest Trailhead sign.
We made it to Mazama and up the narrow and somewhat terrifying road to Harts Pass where we would start our journey proper. On the way we saw a family of mountain goats, which I took to be a good omen.
At Harts Pass another trail angel named Broken Toe let us stay in his campsite, made us a spectacular fire, and let us partake in some of his hiker box treasure. Broken Toe was the consummate dirtbag, a retired two something who lived in a decked out van full time. He’d previously hiked the PCT twice, once NOBO, once SOBO, and had come to the pass to help out a friend weeks ago. He had stayed there since, aspiring to provide trail magic for every SOBO that passed through.
Already I am astounded by the generosity and kindness of the people on this trail.
It started to rain but we set up large tarp and watched the fire and ate bits of hiker box food and talked about what the next days would bring.
Plants Outside 