#stevens pass

[climbhighsleeplow]

Stevens Pass, Washington

[guerrerense]

Weird J train por Peyton Boyd

[eopederson2]

Autumn color at Stevens Pass, Washington, 1992.

[boymanmaletheshequel]

Took a Christmas trip to little Bavaria today with my wonderful dad. Felt chione, Brigid, Pan, and a few other gods presences while I was here today 🥨💚🎄

[pcttrailsidereader]

Going Solo

There have been many changes in the demographics of who is walking the PCT. There have been dramatic increases in the numbers of foreign hikers and women hikers (see https://pcttrailsidereader.com/post/739558381630750720/halfway-anywhere-a-pct-gem) and the number of solo hikers. The perceived risk of walking alone has been tempered by the number of hikers on the PCT and the possibility of communication from even the most remote section of the trail (Jessie references taking an InReach in her story). And there are advantages as Jessie points out.

By Jessie Robinson Moore

“Who are you going with?”

“Myself.”

“You’re going alone?”

This was a conversation I had many times with friends, family, and strangers leading up to my six night, seven day section hike from Snoqualmie to Stevens Pass on the PCT. To most people I knew, hiking that far seemed crazy. Hiking that far alone, by myself, seemed incomprehensible. But to me, it seemed completely normal. 

I was going on my first solo backpacking trip as a 31 year-old female. I had done other backpacking trips with my father, partner, and friends, but I had never been fully responsible for myself. Of course I was nervous. Nervous about the unknowns. What if I get hurt? What if someone makes me uncomfortable? What about wild animals? What if I get bored?

I helped fight back against these fears with preparation. I carried a first aid kit, ibuprofen, and Icy Hot to help with aches and pains I knew would show up. Although I had an itinerary of where I would camp each night, I told myself it was okay to stop early and take long breaks if I was too tired and was walking sloppy. I don’t like to lie, but I practiced what I would say if someone asked me where I was camping (“somewhere past this [well known] part of trail!”) or if I was alone (“my partner is 30 minutes behind me, they got a slower start this morning”). I reminded myself that animals are more scared of you than you are of them, which came in handy when I saw a bear 50 feet away in the woods, walking the other way. It did not want to come near my hiking poles being banged together and fortunately, did not seem to have any friends or family nearby. 

And I never did get bored. The views were incredible (I was lucky to have beautiful weather), the climbs were challenging, and there were plenty of people along this section of the trail. I spoke with thru hikers that had started at the Mexico/California border in May, section hikers that were going the same direction or reverse direction of me, day hikers, runners, single night backpackers. There were stretches of time that I didn’t see many people, but for the most part I never felt truly alone. And it was nice to have my Garmin InReach Mini to communicate with my family and partner. I even made some friends that I hiked with for portions of the day. 

If you are a hiker or a backpacker, I cannot recommend enough doing a solo backpacking trip in your lifetime. You may find that you hate it, and you can continue backpacking with partners. Or you may find that you absolutely love being on your own schedule, taking breaks when you want, and being fully responsible for yourself in the great outdoors.

[20th-century-railroading]

Snowshed construction on the Great Northern Railway line near Stevens Pass in King County, Washington. Shows freight trains, lumber piles, a traveling construction crane, timber cribbing and a snowshed. August 21, 1917

[bestseasonsoflife]

Fading Tumwater Canyon by Dan Mihai Via Flickr: Moody morning on the side of Wenatchee River, near Leavenworth, Washington State.

[embracetheillusion]