Last night I finally arrived in my final town. I have less than 100 miles to go.
There was a fire detour of 30 miles which took me through this Christian retreat after 10 miles. Then you could choose to walk or catch a ferry to town. I decided to walk because we all know I don’t do enough of that. I did lase around in the morning and enjoy an incredible buffet breakfast at the retreat. Said what will most likely be my final goodbye to Benalie. They caught the boat and it’s unlikely I’ll catch up with them before the border.
In true PCT style there was lots of fear mongering around the detour and very little actual information. It’s a massive hill, super steep, bush bashing through blackberry bushes. In actual fact the trail was perfectly fine. True there was a big hill and it was quite steep, but beautiful and easy enough. Sadly the 17 miles from town was more like 21. Which meant I arrived at the road into town a couple hours later than expected.
The was a campsite at the road. I got there just after 7pm. Expecting to see the 15+ hikers who caught the boat and the couple of other detour hikers who left before me (I hadn’t seen anyone since breakfast).
It was completely empty.
Normally I would be thrilled to get a campsite all to myself, but this was creepy. Where was everyone?
So I walked a bit further. I figured everyone had gone to town for dinner. There’s no signal in this town and as I was at the end on a detour I had no maps either. I started walking into town, figuring it might be a mile or two. An hour later I walked past a trail map. I was still 3 miles from town and now 3 miles from the campground I could have stayed at. It was getting dark and this place was creepy. I went by two ‘schools’ that were just one room cabins – children less school are freaky. I had seen 3 cars in an hour and no other people. I was certain I was in the movie House of Wax and was going to die.
I don’t like to hitch at night and certainly not alone, but when a truck came along I flagged it down. It being dark I had no view of the driver and I was already quite scared. The truck sounded old and rickety, perfect murderers truck.
The nicest father son duo stopped and asked where I was heading. I used a lot of words very quickly to say I don’t even know. I explained I was a PCT hiker and I didn’t know where anyone was or where I was. I must have been a sorry sight. I had seen on the trail map there was a campsite near town, so they offered to take me there.
They explained the only way to get here was hiking or boat. The cabins where mostly weekend homes which is why everywhere looked empty.
They drove me a tad further than the camp to show me the small town, so I could get my bearings for tomorrow. I noticed a restaurant still open and I ran up to check if it contained hikers.
It did. So I got off there. As I left the Dad asked me why I decided to do this trip. A question I’m asked a lot, but usually on good days. I told him my standard I’m moving home and had the opportunity blurb, but also how in the woods I feel in control and safe. It’s the towns which are most confusing for me. His words were ‘well you certainly don’t seem to let anything phase you’ at that I wanted to laugh. He must have forgotten that 10 mins ago he picked me up on the edge of a breakdown.
There have been very few moments over the past 5 months I’ve felt scared and this was the first time I’d felt at a lost. I didn’t know what to do. I am incredibly grateful to those two for picking me up and even more grateful that they just weren’t murderers and wonderful people.
Now it’s daylight and I’m safe in my tent it’s easy to see I was never in any danger, but the feeling of vulnerability and lack of information was humbling for want of a better word.
Let’s hope the final 100 go without too many hiccups and I’ll see you in Canada!
Oh and the night ended with cheesecake and a beer with my mate Sundown.