If I could point to my lowest moment on trail, it would be the breakfast buffet at Timberline Lodge. Any thru-hikers reading this would think I was crazy because the buffet is legendary on trail. People would walk through the night or put in a 40-mile day just to eat at this buffet. My issue wasn’t with the food, but with events leading up to the whole experience. To fully explain, I’d have to set up the scene.

The day before, I met Warm Boy in the morning. She was in the same boat I was; she had to speed up through Oregon in order to make time for Washington, so she could finish before a wedding: for her, her brother, for me, my friend. It was really cool to talk to her, but I went ahead along the relatively flat trail that wound its way around Timothy Lake, where I rested for lunch. After lunch, I planned thirteen more miles before camp. The first miles went easy, but I struggled on the last two, finding my comfort level maxed out at 30 miles. I got into camp and met Catnap, Thaifood, Rick, and David. We all talked for a while before going to bed. I found that I had service and used it to text late into the night. That was mistake number one.

In the morning, I woke up late and made up for it by eating just a Poptart for breakfast, then climbed a mountain. That was mistake number two. On the way, I called a couple friends to catch up. Mistake number three. The last part of the climb was sandy, which is my least favorite terrain, so I think I was a bit frustrated in the back of my head when I made it to Timberline Lodge at last. I found the breakfast buffet and made the biggest mistake there. I told the host that I was a one person table, but that if I found hikers with an empty spot, I’d join them. I looked around the restaurant and saw a lot of hikers in groups, but didn’t see any open seats, so I went back towards the host’s stand to wait. I sat and watched as the host seated two families ahead of me. That made sense, because if there were only big tables available, he wouldn’t want to give them to one person. I stayed there and waited and watched while he sat three couples ahead of me. I justified this with the thought that he was waiting for a small table. By the third couple though, I was getting really hangry, and felt like a loser for eating by myself in the first place. I decided to ask if he was waiting for a specific table for me. I hate any confrontation of any kind, so walking up, I was nervous. When I asked, he looked shocked and I could tell he felt really bad for overlooking me. That’s when I started crying. He was obviously horrified and sat me at a table and said the buffet was on him, which didn’t help the crying situation. I waited for a bit at the table and calmed down, HIGHLY embarrassed. I got up to get food, knowing that I clearly had red, puffy eyes, and ran into the guys I’d met the night before. I ate the breakfast, which was incredible and worth all the hype. Afterwards, I went back to the host and told him I didn’t mind paying. He said no and that he was grateful I didn’t freak out at him for the whole thing. Having worked at restaurants myself, I know how mean people can be in situations like mine, so I understood where he was coming from. I apologized for making him feel bad and thanked him for breakfast. On trail, I was a little lonely, but easily distracted by the nature of my days. In civilization, it compounded that loneliness and made me miss having my own Tramily with me.

After that little piece of public humiliation, I had to get down to resupplying for the short section to the next town, the last in Oregon! It was a mere 49 miles away. I bought food, mostly from a vending machine, and supplemented it by some finds in the hiker box. Before I left, I ran into Warm Boy again and told her about my meltdown. It felt good to talk about it, even a little bit. The rest of the day, I felt like taking it a little slower and stopped for a couple breaks. There were a lot of people hiking the trails and it took a bit to wind around them. There were a few hills with a lot of switchbacks, which took a bit of extra time. I was also slowed by more pleasant things, like trail magic! Some angels had brought soda, muffins, watermelon, and candy. All this led to my getting to camp late.

Morning brought incredible views of four mountains: Hood, Rainier, St. Helens, and Adams. Their snowy tops were looming out of the mist as I came closer to Washington. Cascade Locks lies at the end of a long descent of 4000 feet down to the Columbia River. Descents are never my favorite and this was no exception. By the end, I was looking for the nearest restaurant and found a buffet at the Bridgeside restaurant, under the Bridge of the Gods. It was a happy coincidence that I was in Cascade Locks during PCT Days, a yearly festival that hikers tend to congregate into a big party. I wandered through the festival and found Helen/Deadzone! I hadn’t seen her since somewhere in the Sierra and was so excited to be with a friendly face. On our way to find a spot for my tent, I stopped at the Six Moon Designs station and one of their designers replaced the zipper pull on my tent that I’d been struggling with for a month. We got to the camping area and were chatting when I heard my name being called. It was Addison/Squirtle! I had no idea he was going to be there and it was incredible to see him. It had been since mile 363 in Wrightwood that I’d seen him last. With him was Chocolate Chip, and together, we all went to meet Brown Sugar, and two guys I’d heard about, but never met, Townie and McDreamy. We all went to a brewery and got beers and food. It was so nice to be around friends again. When we all got back to the festival, it seemed the party was in full swing. I caught up with Addison a bit more before turning in. The neighbors kept up the music until about five in the morning. Apparently they didn’t participate in hiker midnight.

Seeing my friends was exactly the boost I needed, just at the right time. It energized me for the last section. The next day, I would begin the last state on the PCT, with “only” 506 miles between me and Canada.