Stehekin’s other claim to trail-fame was its incredible bakery. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t have time to stop there, but was pleasantly surprised when Eats Thai gave me a huge cinnamon roll. Warm Boy and I split it at the trailhead where the shuttle had left us before setting out on the last section of trail. I felt the heaviness of the champagne in my backpack as we started off on the trail. The trailhead was plastered with notices and warnings of cougars and grizzlies in the area, so I was kind of freaked out on the first night. The next day started with very brushy trail that put me in a bad mood, broken by a classic trail move: random trail magic. A couple of day hikers named He-G and She-G asked if I wanted donuts or peaches. They were PCT hikers of 2015 and returned to do on-trail magic. We talked for a little while and I continued, through Rainy Pass, following bear tracks along the trail.

I had been stupid with water and ran out on a long climb up to a ridge walk on an uncharacteristically cloudless afternoon. I found Warm Boy at the next water source and she told me she’d had a realization. Since we had the same date on which we needed to finish, we’d talked before and figured our necessary mileage per day. However, we hadn’t been taking the last day itself into account and therefore had more time than we thought. In light of our discovery, we decided to end early and do a 25 mile day instead of 30. We stopped at the top of a pass to cowboy camp. The night was eventful. I woke a few times, watching the sky to catch shooting stars. In the middle of the night, we both awoke to the sound of a rockslide, far enough away to know we were safe, but close enough to make it hard to sleep soundly for the remaining hours of darkness. When the sun rose, it revealed tiny rodent tracks surrounding our sleeping bags and mouse turds in my shoe. We remained in our ice-covered sleeping bags until the sun rose enough to dry them for us.

The next couple of days, the trail seemed like it wanted to give me a last hurrah. A butterfly joined Warm Boy and I at one of our water filter breaks, landing on her hat and my butt! Magical. The mountains seemed to vary between the gray granite and reddish volcanic, capped with snow and shifting colors constantly with the passing shadows of clouds and sunlight. My last trail magic came in the form of Ron, who had fed Daisy, Tinkle, and I hot dogs for breakfast in the desert more than 2000 miles behind me. He first tried to convince me he was his twin brother in a deadpan voice. He made me a bologna sandwich, cut me a piece of watermelon, and made one last reminder of how much happiness a simple meal and gesture of kindness can bring. At Hart’s Pass, the trail provided a pit toilet at exactly the right moment. After ascending and descending one more pass, Warm Boy and I ended up at the same tentsite and shared a great conversation about ending the trail and mental health stigma. In another show of magic, it rained overnight, but by the morning, my tent had dried and without condensation!

The northern terminus grew closer and with it and I started passing people going in the opposite direction, having tagged the border and turned around to return to the next road (30 miles away) to hitchhike their way back to civilization. Not everyone had the permit to pass into Canada via the trail and exit at Manning Park, seven miles beyond the border. It was bittersweet to say goodbyes to Goat Man, Pooper, Sisyphus, Breezy, and other hikers I’d met recently. The scenery had changed to green pines with red underbrush, the signal that the summer was drawing to a close. At a lunch stop, Warm Boy and I needed motivation to get going, knowing that we had a long incline up to the last high point of the trail. I put on some disco and we danced the gumption back into our steps. The hill was the last bit of suck of the trail, brushy, rocky underfoot, and grassy patches to roll ankles on. At the top, the clouds formed a gray ceiling overhead, while fluffy clouds in the distance caught the sun. The ground was already frosted and I couldn’t take in the last high point’s view for long, freezing in my shorts. It was crazy to see the mountains just ahead and know that they were in Canada. My last night’s site lay beside a lake. I wore every piece of clothing I had and made my dinner wrapped in my sleeping bag. Warm Boy turned up as it was getting dark and we talked a long time again, trying and failing to process the feelings of the end. The clouds receded and the stars came out, shining bright and cold over two people surrounded by mountains and a vast wilderness.