In my last post, I mentioned my trepidation of what I would find in the Olympic mountains. I’m now writing with hindsight and can tell you that some of that trepidation was well placed. Yet I have succeeded and I’m writing this 10 days later after making it out the other side.

After leaving the State Park and entering the woods, I discovered a rustic cabin Greg keeps available for PNT hikers. He runs a B&B close by and when I texted him and told him I was at the cabin he came up. We had a lovely chat about the antique hiking gear decorating the walls of his cabin. Much of it was gear I used when I first hiked the Appalachian and Pacific Crest Trails. It reminded me that I, too, have become an ancient relic of sorts.

I spent a restful night on a comfy bed in the cabin before heading out into a hellish bushwhack. Supposedly the trail followed an old road, and while I definitely was on the old road, I didn’t find anything that remotely resembled a road for a couple of miles. Surrounded by thick vegetation well over my head, I had to keep reminding myself to stay calm and just keep moving in the direction I knew I had to go. I continually checked my gps because it was easy to turn in circles and get lost. Despite wanting to give up and cry, I made it out the other side of the bushwhack where there really was a walkable dirt road.

The arch of the foot I had broken in Florida had been feeling really tight and caused some posterior tendinitis in that ankle. I had been wishing I had a little ball to roll my foot on because in Florida that had helped the tightness in the arch. I had to laugh when, after I emerged from the thick woods onto the walkable road, I discovered a small blue ball by the side of the road. All the while I was in the bushwhack on the verge of wanting to give up, I reminded myself if I kept persisting I would get what I needed. And now, here was a lightweight ball just right for my needs. I really laughed that evening when I found yet another small lightweight ball at the campsite I chose to stay at. It was a lovely campsite by a river and I was able to soak my foot before stretching both arches out on the balls and calling it a night.

After some scary moments the following day, when a person began shooting a gun off multiple times after I passed by him, I had the pleasure of meeting four day-hikers who shared food and camaraderie with me when we took a break from hiking the steep trail up towards Hurricane Ridge in Olympic National Park. I was sorry when we parted ways and they went back down the mountain. But I shouldered my pack and continued on for a night at Deer Park Campground, where Kelley met me with my next food supply.

The next day I had a lovely walk along Hurricane Ridge, although I kept myself on alert because of the many signs warning of cougars frequenting the area. Recently in that area a father had to fight a cougar to get it off his child.

After a steep descent, I enjoyed camping at Moose Lake, though I had difficulty sleeping. I was concerned about the following day. Even though it was only going to be a 9.8 mile day it had over 4000 feet of gain and over4000 feet of descent. It was described as a primitive trail, and I wasn’t sure what I was in for. I reminded myself that worry wasn’t going to help and eventually I was able to get a few hours of decent sleep.

In the morning I accomplished the climb up to the first pass. Even though the climb had some exposed places, nothing was too frightening. After enjoying the view, I set off down the other side of Grand Pass feeling a bit more confident. it didn’t take long for that confidence to erode into sheer terror, but I’ll talk about that in my next blog.

#thruhike #thruhiker #thruhiking #nationalscenictrails #nationalscenictrail #kindness #pnt #pacificnorthwesttrail #pct #pacificcresttrail # floridatrail #AT #appalachiantrail