Day 23: Pine River Tributary

I woke up at first light and actually started getting ready. As a result, I reached the point of exiting my tent at sunrise and got to watch it.

Even though I stopped to collect water on the way out of camp, I left well ahead of Pilgrim. I kept looking back for him as I climbed up to Knife Edge, but he wasn’t on my tail. I also saw a weasel of some sort.

On the back side of Knife Edge, there were some steep snowbanks. The first didn’t need to be traversed–the route was to climb the crumbly rock pile beside it, walk across the flat top of it, then step out onto a rock ledge before reaching the undercut part that looked ready to cave in, then downclimb the crumbly rocks on the other side to get back to the trail. It wasn’t as scary as I was expecting, as the penalty for falling was never grave, but it was much more technical than expected.

There were several more conventional snowbanks after that. Some could be avoided mostly. The most dangerous was probably one that went down steeply a thousand feet, but it was firm and not very technical to cross. I could just kick my shoes firmly into the bank in places where many before had done the same.

After coming around to the pass and starting to climb up the next mountain, I started to feel that desperate hunger that called for a break. Finally, while I was sitting on a rock eating, I saw Pilgrim coming around the mountain and getting closer. But I was done and started climbing before he reached me. We’re both slow climbers, so he didn’t catch up yet.

This part of the morning was hot. A drift on the first ridge of this climb was one of the sources of ice I kept on my neck throughout the day. At the top of the long climb, I crawled into a rock nook overlooking a nice valley for a spot of shade and another snack break. Pilgrim passed me while I sat here.

After coming around and over this particular ridge, the trail took a sudden dive into a woodland. Hence, it came the time again for avoiding or clambering over deadfall. I felt my left middle toenail clip some edge in the toe of my shoe as the extra pressure from the descent allowed it to push a hole through my sock. Annoying.

At least I was in the shade. A large storm cloud came rolling in about noon. Loud thunder rolled. Some fat drops started falling when I reached the stream. They picked up slightly as the thickest part of the cloud went by. I got out my Packa in case it really was going to rain for real, but the cloud left as soon as I started packing up to go again. And as soon as the sun came out again, I was already hot enough to dip my Buff in the stream and get my shirt wet.

It turned out Pilgrim was stopped just a little downstream where the trail crossed, dealing with a new blister. We chatted shortly, and I told him he’d catch me when I stopped for lunch in an hour.

Down into the valley, across the marsh, up the other side, the sun now beating down furiously. At 1, I crawled in amongst the trunks of some pines to sit on a rock and eat lunch. With the shade and the breeze and a fresh patch of ice on my neck, it was really quite comfortable. Pilgrim did indeed pass me saying I’d catch him at his next break, but that didn’t happen. I was too comfortable to rush my lunch.

What followed at the end of the climb was a nice little rolling stretch next to some little lakes and streams, and then the beginning of a long climb. I took a break near the beginning of what looked to be the steepest part, but it was one of those climbs where you keep reaching a milestone, turning a corner, and seeing there is yet more climbing to do. And right in the middle, I came out into the wind. A strong steady wind that folded up my hat brim and kept my eyes watering behind my sunglasses. The kind of wind that needs to be leaned into to stay upright. In fact, I nearly toppled over when it stopped for a second without warning, flailing my poles and trying not to trip.

After a long climb down the other side, it was time for dinner. There was still the wind, if not as strong, and no place to hide from it. I sat on the ground behind a rock on the side of a hill that was slightly more leeward, and used my own body to keep the wind off the stove so it wouldn’t blow out. But first, I needed to darn my left sock to protect the two toes that were now protruding from and being chafed by it.

An hour later, I was packed up and starting the next climb. Like the beginning of the last, this one was overgrown with stiff, bristly bushes that wanted to tear at my legs and grab my shorts. This phenomenon continued for the next two miles with only a few brief breaks.

At the top of the plateau, I could clearly see Pilgrim just a half mile ahead of me on the other end, so now I was chasing him. But I didn’t seem to be gaining on him. Soon, he was lost in the ever-thickening bushes, and so was I.

The last mile of the day was a descent into and through another wooded area, this time with well-established paths around the deadfall that had been there for a while. By this time (or rather, well before this time), my neck was killing and I just wanted to be done. The stream I was looking for was not that far away.

And then I came out into open onto a hill. At the bottom of the hill, the trail crossed a stream and in the large open field beyond stood Pilgrim’s tent. He was already done with supper and tucked in for the night, but not too sleepy to complain about how hard the day had been. I was just impressed that in the last two hours, he had gained enough distance on me to beat me there with enough time to set up, cook, eat, and get in bed. This despite his claim to be taking it easy on a recent Achilles tendon injury. But I guess I was taking it real easy on my knees on all those rocky descents among the bushes. My right knee was already starting to twinge a bit.

Anyway, I set up next to him, hoping to have a big day the next day, but not looking forward to the five or six mile climb that would begin it.

Trail miles: 17.3

Distance to Silverton: 35 miles