They met on Saturday near Cle Elum and hiked 8 miles into the base camp. As I had been on a girls and Dad trip, I couldn't join until later. Sunday evening I drove up to Snoqualmie Pass and started up the PCT as fast as my tired legs could go (recall, I had already hiked out from Cutthroat Lakes with Pam and Cyndi). Before daylight waned, I had made it 7 miles and 2000' vertical to Ridge Lake, where Kevin and I had camped a few years ago. It was foggy and cold, but I hastily threw down the tent and crawled in my sleeping bag and slept like a log.
The next morning I planned to hike 10 remaining miles to the WTA crew. Or so I thought. I hadn't quite added up the mileage correctly. Naively, I started at a furious pace, which lasted 10 minutes. It was foggy and cool, but I was sweating profusely. Instead of getting to the crew at 9am, I'd try for 10 or 11am. Only 10 miles after all. Well, the miles were rocky and uphill, as I climbed to 6000' near Chickamen Mtn.
My feetsies were starting to feel the effects of the mileage, and I slowed down even further. Perhaps I can make it by noon, and help out for half a day, I figured. At least I can eat lunch with 'em! But as I passed over the ridge from Western Washington to Eastern I saw a group of lakes far below. Perusing my map, I found that Park Lakes were a long ways from my goal for the day, and it was 4 hours after I started hiking. Hmmm... wonder why it's taking SO long to hike 10 miles? Wonder if I didn't quite add it up right?
Downhill I went, now in sunshine. Glorious sun, not too hot and no bugs in sight. It was fantastic. I decided I'd just relax and get there later, as I had told them I wouldn't be there until the next day anyway. So much for being a hero... and I passed the first two people I'd seen all day. The trail dropped further, until I saw a **** (four-star, not a four-letter word) lake below. Must be Spectacle Lake. How apropos, as I had made a spectacle of myself for trying to get to the crew by 9am. Course, they didn't know that. It was just my own goal...
I got to the junction for the lake, and met two more folks. They said they'd camped with the WTA folks, which was 2 hours further! Groooooooaaaaannnnn.... well, I decided to take the detour to Spectacle Lake and enjoy myself instead of grinding myself into the ground. So I hiked the extra 1/2 mile to the lake and soaked my feet in the water... briefly, as it was glacier melt and made my toesies numb.
I took an alternate route from the lake (called the "primitive" route), which was very brushy and hard to follow if you didn't have hiking experience. No problem for this acknowledged "expert", I only got lost 14 times! Seriously, it wasn't hard to follow, but very steep and full of rocks and roots. Back on the PCT, I slogged out the remaining mostly flat miles to a big bridge.
I crossed the bridge, where I found two women with 6 horses/mules carrying bridge decking. Aha! Finally the end of the long slog was in sight, as they said the camp was only another... mile! Ugh, shouldering the pack I trudged onwards another 3/4 mile to a second bridge. Here were some WTA folks working on it. I introduced myself and they said "you are almost there, just set up camp and we'll have dinner about 6pm". Ahhhhhhh.....
I met a few others on the way up, and then set up my tent. I decided to wash up in a nearby lake (Pete Lake), and so I headed down that trail. On the way, I met another guy who was starting the work party the same day as me. He said Pete Lake was 1.5 miles down the trail. Forget it! I'll just sponge bathe.
At the WTA camp were about 10 people. Adam and Gregg were WTA employees, and the rest volunteers like myself. They included 4 retired men, another Boeing engineer on a week's vacation, and two young San Diego college students. All were pretty friendly folks, which was good since I was to spend the next week with these complete strangers. Out in the middle of the wilderness they had packed in a lot of food, tools, tarps, and a big eating "tent" in case of bugs. But... no bugs! It was fantastic. And LOTS of food (my favorite hobby).
We had veggie-burgers that night along with salad and other goodies. Cold stuff was placed in a bucket in the nearby stream, all other foodstuffs stored in plastic buckets. There were no bears or evidence around, but lots of pesky mice. The mice can climb down string and attack your food. They'll eat through tents, packs, and other expensive gear to get at the food. The only protection is hard plastic, or perhaps a Sherman tank, sealed carefully. (We were camping at 3300' elevation, low enough for mice to thrive).
I finally got the map out and added up my mileage. I had hiked 18 miles with a fully loaded pack. No wonder it took so long! No wonder my feet hurt! My neck was starting to hurt too. Adventure is a grand experience when arithmetic is lacking! No matter, the experience let me sleep like a cat on a warm, sunny day. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
We got up and I stuffed myself on French toast. Oui, it was oh, so perfect. I signed up to pump water through the filter as my chore, and then we headed out to work on the trail just a few hundred yards south. There I cut brush invading on the trail, and smoothed out the tread so it would not wash away or get trampled by horses. This area is quite popular with stock travelers.
After lunch, I joined some of the crew replacing the decking on a 50' bridge. The old decking was rotting and we ripped it out with crowbars and laboriously pounded humongous, not to mention large, did I say big?, nails. For a guy of my diminutive size it ain't easy. I can barely pick up a sledge hammer, let alone swing it. But what the hey, this is fun, and I swung mightily. Sometimes I even hit the nail! I hope nobody looks too closely at the brigge, because you'll know which decking boards I worked on! It was strenuous work but most satisfying. I look back on it and realize I didn't think of my day job back at home one single time. Forgetting all but muscles, food, food, and muscles, gives you a chance to behave like an 19th century worker. They do not allow power tools in designated "wilderness" areas, so all work was done by hand.
More huge lunches and dinners, and the day was filled with hard work, dust, hammering, carrying, digging, and fetching. And so it went for the next several days. Each evening, I felt (to use the parlance of my youth) "grodie to the max, man" and stripped nekkid as a jaybird and washed my dusty bones with a washcloth. The water in the stream is icy cold, but by soaking the cloth and sqeezing it, the water was nearly bearable. Sleep was easier with the sweat and grime rearranged in this manner, though.
Wednesday was an off day, so we went hiking to Spectacle Lake. I'd been there a few days ago, but it's such a beautiful spot that I went back. One of the college kids, Melanie, took off ahead of everybody. She had her headphones on and was booking up the trail. She didn't seem to have much trail sense, and we were a bit concerned. But the trail is signed, and it's hard to get lost. Nonetheless, when we all regrouped at the lake, Melanie was not there. We waited an hour. Gregg and Adam shouted for her, but to no avail. We never did just sit and enjoy the scene, being worried about her. So Adam set up a search and rescue plan.
Adam would hike down the trail, back to Pete lake, and then to camp. Two others would go further south, up to the top of the ridge, where some hikers we met said they had seen a woman fitting her description. I was to hike the primitive trail that I'd done a few days earlier. The others were to hike down the regular way. Off we went, but luckily she was found soon after hiking down the trail. She'd gone way too far, until she reached Park Lakes and saw a sign pointing back to Spectacle lake! Meanwhile, I got to hike all the way down the primitive trail and back up, which added several miles. I lounged at the lake and watches some teenagers throw a frisbee back and forth across a narrow finger of the lake.
We spent several more days, finishing up two bridge decks and rails, and constructing a smaller bridge from scratch. This included finding a suitable tree, felling it, peeling the bark, cutting it to 16' lengths (the length of the bridge), lugging it to the trail with ropes, 6 carriers, and a lot of cursing, digging out the old foundation, placing the new stringer logs, nailing the decking to the stringers, and nailing in end plates. Then filling in the trail next to the new bridge. A very satisfying day! The guy who sorta took charge of that bridge was a retired forester who also went to Oregon State U. and stayed in the same dorm building as I did. He had the most amazing stories.
Saturday, we packed up everything, and the horsemen from the Backcountry Horsemen Assoc. of Washington rode up to take out all the gear. We walked out with our personal gear the 8 miles on nearly level trail to the cars. One of the guys drove me to my car at Snoq. Pass where I drove home.