Raspberries!
Coyote shows us how to operate tools in a fire lookout
Bonaparte Mountain Lookout
Hiking out of the canyon towards Oroville
Road walk past the Orchards
Blackberries!
A wonderful zero day in Oroville on the shore of the lake
If the apricots hang over the fence, it’s public property, right?
A herd of bighorns played in the street just 20 feet from me
After a week off trail for my interview, I hopped on a greyhound from Seattle to Kettle Falls and caught three hitches up to Metaline Falls, just in time to catch my friends as they hiked into town.
A trail angel in town invited us to participate in a local float down the river, so we spent two days canoeing on the Pend Orville (pronounced “Pond Oray”).
My first official day back on trail was a 25 mile day climbing over 4,000 feet over Abercrombie Mountain with very little water (kind of a rough welcome-back for me).
Taking a nap in the shade of a very hot day
Kettle Crest had beautiful views and lots of lupin!
We like each other and tend to camp pretty close (We’ve been reading Steven King’s Misery to each other at night). It was windy this night, but we saw a few shooting stars.
Veggie and Karma
Lots of bones … usually cows. I think this one was an elk though
I looked up from this photo and saw a bear in the other side of the berry patch – I slowly and respectfully left the area … after I ate all the berries
So much navigating
Detouring around burn areas
One of the things I appreciate most about my hiking group is their curiosity. Karma especially loves learning about all the wildlife and native plants. Veggie knows her trees pretty well, and taught us to tell spruce from pine from fir. “It’s not a pine all the time” is a favorite saying of hers.
Today I learned a more practical application of Veggie’s lessons. If you have to muscle your way through a stand of conifers, you don’t want them to be spruce. Spruce hurts.
I pushed through the stand of spiky spruce and back into the frustrating, but less painful thicket of whipping deciduous trees. I reflected on the fact that our “shortcut” was quickly becoming more time consuming than the trail would have been.
As I burst out into a rare flower-filled meadow, I saw veggie consulting her GPS.
“How long until we get to that forest service road” I asked
“According to this, we’ve been on it for the last 15 minutes” she replied.
We managed to find the funny side of the situation, and laughed, but deep inside my frustration was growing. This section of trail had been full of setbacks: first we’d been stalled by the siren call of a trail-adjacent tavern only 7 miles out of Eureka, then I’d made the call to backtrack several miles of trail so I could be sure to stay with my group as we hiked through Grizzly country, and now the shortcut we’d decided on was proving to be a terrible, terrible decision. Apparently the old logging roads in the area had been allowed to return to their natural state several decades previously. In principle, I’m all for it, but it would have been nice if someone had taken the roads off our USGS maps.
Recognizing the need to preserve moral, we stopped for a snack break. I munched on a handful of cashews and reflected on the real reason for my frustration – I had chosen to leave the trail, and my friends, and I didn’t want to go.
My hiking group taking shelter from a storm in a privy on a mountaintop. I’m wearing pants, I promise. (Photo credit: Veggie)
A week before, in Polebridge, I’d received a call-back interview for a job at Western Washington University. It takes a lot to pry me away from the trail, but the position I’m interviewing for promised to be a great step for me professionally and personally. Completing the PNT is a major life goal of mine, but this job promised to help me fulfill several, more long-term goals. I had to say yes to the opportunity, and I had to say goodbye to the PNT.
Karma, preparing to enter yet another stand of slap-you-in-the-face trees
The interview is not until the 20th of June, so I decided I still had time, if we hurried, to hike all the way through Montana and leave from Bonner’s Ferry, ID. From there I could reach family in Spokane and get back home. Hopefully I’d be able to return to the trail long enough to hike at least through the Cascades with my friends.
Now, sitting on what had once been a logging road, not far from where all the problem bears of Glacier are relocated, I realized that I wasn’t going to make it on time. The problem wasn’t the trail-adjacent bar, or the overgrown shortcut, or the miles I’d lost while backtracking, the problem was that I was trying to force a timeline on the trail, and the trail doesn’t work that way.
Time on trail passes the same way it does for a school kid on summer break. It doesn’t conform to a 9 to 5, and it wasn’t fair to expect it to. Hiking isn’t about how many miles I can do in a day, it’s about being present in the moment, finding joy in my surroundings and in the company of my friends.
In my mind, I had already left the trail, and delaying the inevitable wasn’t helping. It was time to go. We would hike past Yaak, MT tomorrow (assuming we ever found our way back to the trail) and I would find a way home from there.
I consistently find that “the trail provides”, and so it was on this occasion. As soon as I began to make my peace with my situation, things started turning up. Veggie guided us back to the main PNT route, and we wandered through a level, well-maintained trail past waterfalls and beautiful old-growth cedar.
The next day, sitting on the porch of Yaak, I watched my friends resupply for the coming stretch of trail and said my goodbyes. Coyote busily worked with her sharpie and a few scraps of cardboard, making signs to help me hitchhike my way to Bonner’s ferry. I was counting on the hitch to take me the most of the next day and a half since there was so little traffic in this town and such a long way to go.
“Hey PNT hikers” a voice said. We looked up to see a smiling red-headed man with a week of beard-stubble walking towards us. “I’m on the board of the PNTA and I saw you all with your packs, just wanted to say ‘hello” he continued, “Where are you all from?”
“Longview, WA” I said
“No, really? Me too!”
Aaron (we later learned his name) was working on a trail guide for western Montana and was out researching and photographing hikes in the region. Not only was he from my hometown, but we knew several of the same people. He offered to give me a ride to Libby, MT – the first leg in my 2-part hitch to Bonner’s Ferry.
“What’s your plan for Bonner’s Ferry, though?” he asked as we climbed in his car.
“Well, my ultimate goal is Spokane” I admitted
“I live in Spokane,” he said “I’m heading back there tomorrow after I meet a buddy for a hike through the Cabinet mountains. The Cabinets look a lot like Glacier in parts, especially where I’m going, but very few people go there… It looks like you have everything you need for a night out. If you wanted to join me, we could hike the cabinets tonight and I could drive you back to Spokane tomorrow. Interested?”
The trail provides – and in ways I’d never have been able to guess.
“Yes” I said “That sounds great to me.”
Abandoned mining equipment
A particularly nice campfire
My tent looks happy here
Halfway up my off-trail climb to Libby lakes
Aaron and Jason, my new hiking friends
See the lines in the snow? We glacaded down at least 300ft. It was fun, but also terrifying without an ice-axe to arrest my momentum.
Looking down on lower Libby lakes. Not the place you might expect to see hummingbirds, but there were several zipping around my head up here.
The bushwhack getting down from Libby lakes was actually much worse than my 6 mile bushwhack on the PNT the day before, but worth it for the views.
On our way out of Polebridge we started putting in bigger miles, mostly down old dirt roads, winding through thick forest.
Always mindful of Grizzlies (a bear killed a man just outside Glacier last week) we practiced quick-draws with our bear spray by periodically shouting “Bear Drill!!!” and cooked our food far away from where we camped.
Two days out from Polebridge, we met a family on a day hike. They greeted us cordially, taught us to identify some local edible plants, and stopped with us to take a snack break along the trail.
“So how did all of you meet” they asked us
“Four of us met while hiking the Continental Divide Trail last year, and we met Coyote on the way – she hiked the CDT back in ‘12”
“Really?” said the father, “I hiked the CDT in ’93!”
We were all dumbfounded. The CDT is quickly gaining popularity and recognition, but it is still a very rugged and under-recognized trail. When I hiked it in 2015, I was one of about 180 people attempting a thru-hike that season. The year before, that number had been closer to 50. In previous years, even fewer. We were meeting one of the pioneers of long-distance hiking.
“Was there even a trail back then?”
“Not really. I navigated mostly using USGS maps from 1917. I estimated that I was around the 30th person to hike the entire trail”
He was happy to share stories about his trip, and we were excited to hear about it. I hope his 12-year-old-son realizes how cool his dad is. His mom was pretty cool too, and taught us all about loons before we had to part ways.
The whitefish range is not on the scale of Glacier (few things are), but we summited many beautiful peaks, tramped through a bit of snow, and enjoyed some incredible views just the same. My favorite night of camping in this section was on the shores of bluebird lake with patches of snow, glacial lilies everywhere, and a stunning cliff-face reflected in the still, blue water. We lit a fire and enjoyed the peace of a less-traveled trail – miles from any road or other hikers.
Bluebird Lake (photo credit: Veggie)
In Eureka the next night we enjoyed the hospitality of some local trail angels and lightened our packs by sending home our snow-gear. Inspired by Karma’s ultra-light packweight, I pushed myself to send home all unnessesary gear and asked my friends for help with a shakedown of my pack. They immediately honed in on my first-aid kit:
“What are all these pills?”
“The red ones are ibuprofen and the green ones are Imodium”
“Do you really need this much Imodium?”
“I had some issues on the CDT”
“Have you needed them on this hike?”
“Not yet, but I want to be ready”
“Listen. Even if you run into trouble, you really only need enough pills to get you to the next town. Get rid of the Imodium, Crosby”
With their prompting, I found several small items I’d been carrying, but not using, that together weighed at least 5 lbs. I’d be starting the next section feeling all the stronger for their help.
Veggie and I beating Karma And ED at Checkers (photo credit: Veggie)
We found a trashy romance novel on our way out of Polebridge. I’ve been entertaining the group by reading to them during breaks. Lone Stallion’s Lady: Will willful Trent Remington ever curb his philandering ways? Tune in next time! (Photo credit: Veggie)
On June 28th – after road tripping across the state in Veggie’s new Van – Karma, Veggie, Easily Distracted and I (Crosby) started on the Trail from Chief Mountain Trailhead at the Canadian border. All of us hiked the CDT the previous year, and were excited to be back in Glacier.
For three days we took our time in Glacier, one of my favorite places on earth. We took long breaks, jumped into beautiful glacial blue lakes, paused at Waterfalls, and took side trips up to nearby viewpoints. We sang loudly and kept bear spray at the ready, but the only bear we disturbed was a small black bear.
After glacier, we spent a night in the off-the-grid town of Polebridge were we met some extraordinarily kind people, enjoyed pizza and live music, and took some much-needed showers. We were even lucky enough to meet some former AT hikers, one of whom slyly picked up the bill for our dinner without our noticing. Thank you Mosey!
The few days after Polebridge were quieter (along less traveled, but still grizzly-infested, trails and roads. Some snow, but mostly just wildflowers, and more Mosquitos than I’ve seen in many years.
Our group has now grown by one. We picked up a solo PNT hiker, Coyote, and we’re grateful to have her quick wits, singing voice, and great stories along for the hike. As much as I love the wilderness, I’ve found that it’s really the people who make the trail, and I feel very connected to, and grateful for, my trail family.
I’m going hiking again!
My friend Veggie has been planning a hike along the Pacific Northwest Trail, and I decided I couldn’t stand to sit around and let her go without me. A few other friends from the CDT had the same thought, so the 4 of us are going to hit the trail on June 28th.
This year I am, again using my hike as an opportunity to raise money for cancer research. Feel free to sponsor my hike at a rate of one cent per mile ($12.00). Continue reading
The night before the end of the trail, as we were preparing for bed, a bright blue light appeared high in the sky. It looked like a signal flare at first, but then it never faded away – It just grew brighter. Soon a patch of the sky several times the size of the moon was lit with a hazy glow.
“Aliens?”
“Probably not … but I honestly can’t think of a better explanation”
“What should we do? Should we run?”
“Run? Run where? Towards or away from Mexico?”
In the end we decided to huddle a little closer together and tried not to think about what the light might be (We later learned that the Navy claimed responsibility for a “test missile ” visible across Arizona and Southern California that night – if you believe them)
We woke up early the final morning, and packed in the dark, setting off down the trail towards the border. The signs marking the way were even more difficult to see in the dark, and we soon found ourselves in a thicket of burrs the size of pinecones. My pants kept me more or less protected, but the girls in their leggings were soon covered. ED let loose with a stream of obscenities that rivaled the father from A Christmas Story. With my headlight useless, I pushed through the dark, following the sound of her screams.
I arrived at the terminus just as dawn was breaking and set down my pack by the monument, an obelisk marked the end (or the start) of the trail. A few feet away, three or four strands of barbed wire separated Mexico from the US.
I slumped down with my back against the obelisk and for a few hours we celebrated our accomplishment. My first big trail was complete – I’d hiked about 2700-2800 miles – and all of my friends had just completed their triple-crown: at least 7600 miles.
Veggie reached into her pack and pulled out 4 foam 3-pointed crowns (a gift from Veggie’s mom for each of the triple crowners – with their trail names in puffy paint) and one crown for me, with a single point at the front.
We took pictures, we flew a kite, we shared champagne (yes, we carried champagne out of Lordsburg – a gift from fellow thru-hiker Karma) and finished off the last of our Little Toad Creek schnapps. It was enough to feel just a little buzzed for about a half hour … and then it was time to go.
We packed up again, and set off back up the trail. Before leaving Lordsburg we’d set a date and time for the CDTC to send a driver to pick us up from the Terminus, but the terminus sits at the end of little-used poorly-maintained dirt roads, washed out in recent rains. Our ride would be waiting back at the last water cache box, 14 miles back. We were done with the trail, but the trail wasn’t done with us.
We were overjoyed, therefore, when a high-clearance SUV came barreling down the road after only 7 miles.
“I headed out a little early, and decided to see for myself how bad the roads were” our driver said, “My name’s Juan – Juan More Time. It used to be Jon, but there were too many Jon’s back at my old commune, so I changed it.”
Juan chatted amiably as the SUV lurched down dirt roads, and pulled onto a highway. A border patrol car soon fell in behind us, underscoring the sense of unease we’d had for several days. We were allowed to be hiking in the no-man’s-land so close to the border, but we weren’t really supposed to be there. Our maps, for the last few hundred miles, had been warning us against areas with known drug activity, and a group of Northbound hikers, that April, had found a few burlap bails of marijuana sitting just off the trail. Between the cartels and border patrol, we knew we were being watched with suspicion.
Border patrol pulled us over, checked Wonderer’s Japanese passport, and sent us on our way, apparently satisfied that we weren’t trying to smuggle anyone into the country.
Juan dropped us off in Lordsburg several hours later.
“You guys probably want to shower, right? Should I take you to a hotel?”
“No. Food first. And Margaritas.”
I’d always assumed that, the closer I got to Mexico, the better the Mexican food would become. Lordsburg proved me wrong. We were served tortilla chips with butter and hot sauce and sipped watery Margaritas while we made our plans. ED had been mourning the end of the trail for nearly a month, and was now barely holding it together. We tried to talk about happy things, not the fact that we’d all be heading different directions.
“It feels like just another town day” I said, “We’re just gonna take a couple zero days, right?.”
“Yeah,” said Veggie “It feels that way at first, but then that joke gets old pretty fast”.
We stopped by a store on the walk back to the hotel and loaded up on soap and shampoo. I made nurse The Darkness help me find some ointment for my feet.
“This should start working right away” she said, “If your feet aren’t looking better in a day or two, go to a doctor.”
We said our goodbyes to Wonderer the next day, and stopped to take one last group photo before stepping onto a Greyhound. The Darkness said goodbye in Tucson, Veggie and ED left me in Pheonix, and I continued on alone through the night for the 12 hours to LA, feinting interest while my seat partner told me about the screenplay he intended to write someday.
My mind wandered back to my friends and the experiences of my last five months. I had hiked the CDT, touched the monument, but it didn’t feel like I was finished. I kept waiting for some cumulative moment to let me know it was over, but in the end all those memories just quietly slipped away to some irreconcilable corner of myself.
“There are two types of hikers” I was once told “Some people get to the end and decide that one trail is enough.” He paused, “The rest of us are ruined for life. No matter where we go in life, or what job we have, all we can think about is The Trail, and when we’ll be back. You can’t know what type you are. You can’t be sure until the end of your first trail … I wonder what type you’ll be.”
After a disappointing meal in Lordsburg, ED and I continued out of town ahead of the rest of our group, stopping at each new CDT sign to scan the horizon for the next one.
“I don’t see it, do you?”
“Maybe it fell over, like the last one”
“Should we just keep hiking the same direction and hope to see it?”
“Yes” Continue reading
We left Silver City mid-morning, and stopped at the outskirts of town outside a gas station for lunch. A local, standing in line beside ED, paid for her food. Another, walking past us sitting outside, gave us money. People in Silver City, unlike people almost every else, seemed to know about the CDT, and were really excited to see us hikers coming through. Continue reading
The end of the trail has been hard for me. I normally think ahead only as far as the next town, but now that the End is in sight, I find myself thinking ahead to Mexico, to all the miles I have yet to hike. Continue reading
andrew frei 
