Christmas Eve
Howard Shapiro
I ventured out recently to one of my favorite sections of the Pacific Crest Trail. This is where the trail takes off from Harts Pass in northwest Washington and leads to the Canadian border and the northern terminus of the PCT. This being a very unusual year, I initially didn’t expect to see many people much less thru hikers because in these COVID times the trail has been essentially ‘closed’.
Prior to my hike I spoke with a ranger in Twisp (Washington) about what my plan was and casually mentioned that I didn’t expect to see many thru hikers or many other hikers for that matter. "Oh no!”, she said. “We are seeing more people than ever on the trails.” I was somewhat surprised. Given these odd times of staying close to home being outside is a logical refuge from the shackles of COVID-19. As I thought about it her information made so much sense.
With my friend Dick Simpson we made our way north from Harts Pass only to discover just how many thru hikers really were out there. This being a very unusual year when the border is closed people can touch the border but not cross it. Meaning a yo-yo back to Harts Pass and exiting the trail after many long months.
2020 has been an odd year in more ways than one. From a PCT perspective the southern sections in the San Bernadino and San Rafael mountains filled with late season snows making the way north unusually cold and challenging. The Sierras, on the other hand were much less challenging to navigate compared to the previous several years.
Finding so many thru hikers on the trail in 2020 is a topic for some future post as that fact alone is intriguing if not controversial. Nevertheless, seeing these men and women realizing their dream, I couldn’t help but think about my own experience just over a year ago. For me there was such a mix of feelings as I went to sleep knowing that the next day would be the culmination of many days, nights, and miles. The question of what it meant to be at this place and time. In the words of a Talking Heads song, “...how did I get here?” came to mind. I wondered, felt a rush of feelings, and felt exceedingly grateful to have gotten to this place, walking the ‘last’ mile.
As Dick and I were passed by a string of hikers making the final push to the border or finding their way back to Harts Pass we offered our congratulations. One fellow who walked near our camp below Rock Pass on his way to the border the very next day had the noticeable strength of trail legs and trail enthusiasm as he rushed past us. We quickly blurted out our congratulations, wishes for his safe travels north and asked how he felt. His quick reply was, “It’s Christmas Eve!” He was so right.













