September 9th—Nickel Creek to Summerland

Well, today's a pretty big day. At least I think it is, based on the fact that more than one other hiker has warned us (even laughed at us!) about what we've said we're going to attempt. Matt wants to get back on schedule, however, and I agree that that's a good idea. Moreover, given the fact that yesterday was a little bit shorter hike, I don't really have much of an excuse. It's over eleven miles, several of which are steps (up!). So, basically, it's going to be like doing leg presses for a couple hours. This will definitely be tough. Wherever you've got steps, the terrain is steep. That's their raison d'être. Steps equate to tough hiking, up or down.

The first thing we notice this morning as we get out of bed and start our usual routine around camp (boiling water for breakfast, eating Pop-Tarts, packing up our gear, taking down our tent) is that it's a blustery day. I figure that this valley and river bed (Nickel Creek) must funnel existing breezes and create a venturi effect. Still, it seems like a sudden change, somewhat out of place (I'm a slow learner). Over the next 24 hours, we'll find out what it's all about.

We've got our routine down pat and we head out of camp around 7:45 after deciding that we ought to get a less leisurely start than usual. We use the toilet, have a few parting words with John, then head out, sore knees, blistered feet, and all.

The first stretch out of camp is a pretty tough series of switch backs. Today, I take breaks as much to rest my achilles tendons as for my cardiovascular wimpiness. They're sore and I certainly don't want to injure them. Climbing steep trails for miles on end over the past week with a 50-pound pack has been tough on my body.

And hour-and-a-half later, we arrive at the trailhead to Olallie Creek Camp. This seems like a good place to rest. We take our packs off here which gives a more substantial rest than merely stopping and standing. We've been working hard as we climb up towards the ridgeline of the Cowlitz Divide, the ridgeline that will we will follow until we begin dropping down into Indian Bar. This would have been a very difficult extra bit of hiking last night, had we stuck to our original plan of staying at Olallie Creek Camp.

Tip:

Get a Duck's Back or a good parka that is big enough to fit over your pack with everything you have attached to the outside of it.

As we rest at the trailhead, we start to get pretty chilly. This is where layered clothing comes in. I add my expedition weight fleece, which I will keep on the rest of the day. Matt's got about 1-percent body fat, so he's always cold. He's already got his fleece and shell on. He was comfortable in all that while climbing the switchbacks and is now getting chilly. We begin to wonder if the wind back down at Nickel Creek may not have been merely localized weather. Maybe it's a part of something bigger. There's no sun, but, as usual, there are what appear to be shadows of blue mixed in with varying shades of gray clouds. Sometimes, it's hard to tell if there's blue overhead or simply a shade of gray that gives the illusion of blue. It doesn't really matter. Even if you do see blue, it will probably be gone in seconds. It's a never ending tease.

During our break, we hear thuds around us. We discover huge fir cones falling from the trees and impacting the ground with skull-cracking force. These fir cones weight in the neighborhood of one pound, are six inches in length, and are very dense. Getting hit in the head with one of these puppies could ruin your day.

We press on. As though I can forget about the physical struggle, another part of my body begins to show signs of wear. With each step forward of my left foot, my right leg stretches out behind me, the thigh drawing tight, like a runner stretching out before a race. As it stretches every second or so, there is a mild but sharp pain in it. It's definitely a point of interest. I'll keep an eye on it.

Within a few minutes of leaving the Olallie Creek Camp trailhead, there is a sudden drop in temperature. Sure, we're heading uphill, but trust me, we're not going up that fast. It feels like it could snow. Interesting.

We finally pop out of the trees. There are lots of clouds, so we can't really see too much. We pass a mom, dad, and daughter hiking from Sunrise to Box Canyon. Hopefully they'll have more to remember than the clouds. By now, it's freezing. The wind is certainly adding to that feeling. A bit farther along, we meet Gretchen, Amy, and Matt. They were three of the crowd that we stayed with at Golden Lakes. We have a great chat with them. They tell us that the forecast is for hail. They also say they saw a bear and goat at Indian Bar last night. Of course, there will be no such creatures there when we arrive. Before we're entirely frozen solid, we say goodbye and move on.

A little ways farther down the trail, we decide to nip the weather in the bud and we stop to throw our Duck's Backs over our packs. At this point I pack my camera away, just in case anything nasty starts coming down. Wouldn't you know it...not too long after that, we see a fox not 50 yards ahead of us, right in the middle of the trail. He comes out of the fog, stops, looks around, then heads back off down the trail. We don't see him again. Would've like a picture of that.

Over the course of the next hour, we encounter rain, snow, and hail. Of course the plants skirting the trail are collecting all of this precipitation and depositing it on my shoes, which unhesitatingly soak all of it right up.

This is definitely a good workout, but we eventually start heading downhill. I'm relieved, as I know that within a short period of time, we'll be resting at Indian Bar. I'm intending on taking a lengthy break here (as some have recommended) to warm up and rest before making the difficult push up toward the highest point on the entire Wonderland Trail, Panhandle Gap.

We arrive at Indian Bar at 12:40.

There's a great little rock shelter here with several bunk beds and a wooden floor. There are already a couple other hikers inside with their things spread out. They're fiddling with their MSR WhisperLite stove. They ask us if we know anything about the WhisperLite. We don't. It's not working and they figure this is a good place to attempt some repairs.

Mike and Carol are on day 5 of 11, having started at Mowich Lake. It's interesting to watch this couple work together. I wonder if they're going to lose it and start yelling at each other, in the frustration of the moment, as they carefully read the instructions on the large, unfolded piece of paper, and disassemble the stove down to the last screw. They blow into the various orifices and pour fuel through the passageways, all according to the troubleshooting section on the paper. They eventually decide to give up for now, hoping that they'll run into someone farther down the trail who is a WhisperLite expert. They never did yell at each other. You definitely don't want to go on this hike with someone you don't get along with.

I take my shoes and socks off to let them dry out, which they steadfastly refuse to do, given the fact that the humidity is probably at one-hundred percent. The only good way I can think of to warm up is to have a full-blown hot lunch. For the first time on the trip, I whip out one of our dinners and have it for lunch. All of me needs warming and this helps. I offer some hot water to Mike and Carol, since they can't boil their own, but they decline.

After a restful but cold break, we grudgingly decide to head out. Unfortunately, the clouds are still releasing a bit of precipitation. It doesn't rain hard at all today, just enough to make you wet.

This is the part of today's hike that has us concerned. We see the ridgeline that leads up out of Indian Bar in the direction of The Mountain. This is one of the reasons we're hiking this direction. So we can see The Mountain right before us in all its glory during this tough section of the hike. Of course it's entirely obscured in clouds.

Almost immediately, we're climbing steps. I rest more frequently than during almost any other part of the Wonderland Trail. Before long, however, it becomes almost mechanical. Take a hundred steps, then rest for a couple minutes. Take a hundred steps, then rest for a couple minutes. I repeat this time and again. Matt patiently follows the same pattern. I don't think he would exactly jog up the steps if left to his own, but he wouldn't rest as much as I am, either.

It snows as we climb. We hear marmots calling. I guess they don't mind the weather. They've got their thick coats and their insulated dens underground.

We were warned by a couple hikers not long before arriving at Indian Bar that there were several sections of ridgelines that we'd be ascending. When Matt and I got to the top of one substantial initial climb, we were looking for the next set of steps, but they never came. I think the worst of it is over. We're both surprised, as we were expecting more steps following the initial ascent.

It stops snowing. This is a bad thing, as the snow is replaced by rain.

We meet a group from Ireland and Britain coming down. They tell us we have about 20 minutes to the top. We can't believe it. Within 5 minutes, we get to an area with a very rocky landscape. We'd heard how cool this place was. Very desolate. I'd rather be enjoying it in 70 degree sunshine, however. We can't really see to far. The low flying clouds keep visibility quite low.

I can feel the moleskin sliding around on my feet. That's what happens when your feet get wet (either from rain or sweat) and you're hiking rigorously. If this happens, the moleskin looses its effectiveness.

Although it's longer than 20 minutes, we feel very encouraged. This hasn't been as bad as we expected. I guess if you expect the worst, then it might not be quite that bad. The last half mile to Panhandle Gap is quite a rigorous climb. Of course, we're not exactly fresh. After getting to the Gap, we stop so I can snap a few pictures down toward Summerland. It's borderline bitter cold. I've been juggling my fleece cap on and off my head during the day. It definitely goes on now. Wind chill makes a big difference. There's nothing to block the wind up here.

The descent down into Summerland from Panhandle Gap is extremely rocky. We take our time. We've made good time and don't particularly want to blow out a knee or twist an ankle. The weather is finally decent enough for me to snap some photos. I stop a number of times on the way down, but eventually make myself quit, as we both just want to get to the camp. We're wet and we're tired. More than anything, I'm dying to get my soaking wet shoes and socks off and put on my sandals or maybe even snag a pair of wool socks from Matt (all my socks are wet). Of course, there's also climbing into the tent, sitting on my down sleeping bag, and eating a hot dinner. I can hardly wait.

We arrive at Summerland Camp at 5:40.

The most important thing, as always, is to get our tent set up, so we can attend to other things, like changing into dry clothes, cooking dinner, and going to bed.

We see Rachel as we come into camp and she comes over and chats with us as we get set up around camp. We had met Rachel over on the West side at Klapatche Park and were expecting to see her here. We were looking forward to seeing a familiar face. She had hiked for a couple more days with Stu from Klapatche Park and they had seen a couple bears.

You know, I think I know what's going on here. Everyone who sees a bear warns it that I'm coming and tells it that I'm going to shoot it. Well, yeah, with my camera! Next time, I'm not going to tell anyone that I'm looking for bears. Maybe I'll see one then.

It feels so good to get my wet shoes and socks off. After getting that done, I'm pretty happy, but still cold. I've got every piece of clothing that I brought on. As I sit in the tent boiling water under the tent vestibule, I hear the hail coming down onto the tent. It's a soothing sound, like rain on the roof of your car or rain hitting the skylight in your house. I love the sound of rain while I sleep. Of course, I'm not in the comfort of my house, so it's not quite the same thing. I'm not really hoping for rain, but the hail is okay for now. As the water boils, hail starts to pile up outside the tent. Interesting.

As I sit in the tent fixing dinner, I hear a total of four loud rumbles rolling along The Mountain over a period of several minutes...loud and long and deep. At first I think they're avalanches, but then decide it must be thunder.

It feels good to be here, not unlike most other days. We feel a real sense of accomplishment. It was a pretty tough day, but we did well. Now we're safe and cozy in our tent. I'm betting we'll sleep well. We go to bed early as there's nothing else to do (remember, it's hailing outside) and we're tired. Tomorrow will come soon enough.

Goodnight, Johnboy.

Photos of the Hike