The trail continued in green forest before opening up into a burn area, followed by fields. I was able to see Mount Adams the whole way as I hiked around it. Although it was a bit smoky, it was really neat to see the progress I was making, walking around a mountain. I met a woman day hiking and I talked to her a bit about trail. She was also a nurse and shared her chocolate covered raisins with me. Soon after, I hit a water crossing that seemed a little sketchy. I sat and waited a little while, hoping for another hiker to catch up with me to do the crossing together. I ate lunch then, as no one showed up, made my way across the thin logs. As I hit the other side, I saw a hiker coming up and I waited to make sure he was okay crossing. He splashed his way across just fine. Go figure. His name was Shy Bear and we hiked together for a while until we caught up with Brownstreak again. We all talked and filtered water together. I wanted to hike later, so I ate dinner on a break instead of at my campsite. When I got to a site and set up in the dark, there were already a bunch of hikers there. One guy watched videos on his phone, giggling late into the night, which was extremely irritating.

I hit some of the most beautiful parts of trail the next day. Despite some intestinal issues and a mosquito bite incurred while taking care of those issues, I loved the trail. Most of the day, it was wide open and sunny, with the snowy tops of Mount Adams behind and Mount Rainier ahead. Goat Rock Wilderness is a highlight of the trail for its beauty. I remember thinking it’d be easier to walk this part if I was a goat. The hiking was tough, with steep climbs, narrow footpaths, loose scree underfoot, exposed windy ridges, and a view you needed to stop to see and appreciate. The day seemed to encompass the best of the trail; it showcased a person’s ability to walk over mountains and see what the world had to offer.

On an open ridge, I could see a wildfire clearly, white smoke rising, with a couple of helicopters circling, dumping water on the flames. I watched for a while with Sundial, a guy from Alaska. We crossed over a snow field together and parted ways. Because of the fire, there was a trail reroute along a less used alternate path. I hiked down into a valley, climbing over huge blown down trees. From a couple hikers, I’d heard that Packwood Lake, and many campsites, were about six miles away. That had been my goal, but climbing over the trees really slowed me down. Near the bottom of the descent, I heard it was definitely more than six miles to Packwood Lake. I went as far as I could, until it began to get dark. I set up camp and ate. To round out the day, I sat on my sleeping pad the wrong way and heard a pop. Insert expletive here. I patched up the hole and hoped it would hold (it did).

When I arrived at Packwood Lake the next morning, I loved the peacefulness of the lake. The water looked blue up close, but looking over the lake, it was gray and misty. It was strange to navigate without Guthooks, the app I had been using as a map. It could tell me if I was on trail, or if not, how far I was from it and in which direction to go. It made hiking really easy, but it was easy to become reliant on it. I did have paper maps for safety’s sake and knew how to use them, but on this alternate, I had neither. I reached a parking lot and I sat myself at the entrance to try to hitch to town. A couple on their way there, Casey and Amber, stopped and drove me to a coffee shop and bought me a cup! Trail magic is an interesting thing. It felt uncomfortable at times to rely on the generosity of others, but often, people want to help and feel good about doing something tangible for another person. Every ride, I offered money in return, but it was very rarely accepted. I offered to buy their coffee, but they didn’t accept. I thanked them and found Shy Bear to sit with. We talked for a bit before I left to find a hitch to the next open part of trail, at White Pass. I walked up the road and was picked up by a guy and his dog. At the White Pass Kracker Barrel (not affiliated with Cracker Barrel), he also refused any compensation for the ride. At the store, many hikers had conglomerated and I joined them, plugging my electronics in to charge, buying a shower, and doing laundry. I had a package there from home, filled with messages from my family. I definitely teared up, reading them among the other hikers. This was also where I’d sent myself a resupply, so I repacked my food bag as well. Heading back out to trail, I called my siblings. It felt really good, connecting with home. The trail was pretty chill and I talked to home until the mountains cut off my signal to the outside world again.