Eventually the cafe opened, and I stuffed myself with bad pancakes until I thought I would burst. How do you screw up pancakes? After breakfast I caught the first shuttle of the morning back to the trail. On the way we hit the famed bakery, the Stehekin Pastry Company. Some kind trail angel by the nickname of "True Grits" had paid in advance for a cookie for each PCT through hiker. I had a snickerdoodle and bought a couple of cinnamon rolls for the trail. Thus armed with enough food to last the rest of the trip, I started hiking.
The first half of the day was like a mirror image of my hike down to Stehekin. The trail took a leisurely course upstream along a river that, 20 miles and 3200 feet later, brought me to Rainy Pass. Early on in the hike I heard a crashing in the bushes ahead of me and assumed I was coming upon some hiker who was returning from a bathroom trip. I kept hiking, figuring I would say hello as I passed quickly by. About 20 yards ahead of me the crashing stopped as a black bear stepped out onto the trail and stopped to look at me. He must have known what I was, because he didn't seem all that concerned, or even interested really. He stood there for a moment, sniffing and staring, before finally moving off nonchalantly into the trees on the other side of the trail. The rest of the hike along the river, while pretty, was uneventful. Well, except for the bridge of doom that crossed a tributary at one point (pictured). I kept thinking "Kali-ma, Kali-ma-a-a, KALI-MA-A-A-A" as I crossed (Indiana Jones).
Rainy Pass was the last major road (highway 20) I would cross before reaching Canada, so I stopped there for lunch. It seems strange, but I like having lunch at these passes and watching people and cars go by. It makes me feel like a part of society, and it feels good to know that there is still a world out there just going about its daily business. From the pass the trail climbs 2000 feet to Cutthroat Pass, and some of the most spectacular views of the entire trip. I got a picture looking back toward Rainy Pass, though it was the Eastern side that was more spectacular. Here the Northern Cascades really show off. Because it is further east and thus more desert-like, there are more open views and craggy peaks (pictured). Plus the mountains here are crowned with a sort of orange-gold colored stone that turns to fire in the late evening.
Once I reached Cutthroat Pass it was mercifully easy hiking for a while. I was nearly jogging down the gentle grade that takes you down from the peaks and into Methow Meadow. I hiked late and arrived in the Methow Meadow valley after dark. There were just a few more miles to where I had planned to camp, and they were flying by when suddenly I heard a branch snap in the dark woods to my right. Now there are plenty of noises in the nighttime that can get you spooked if you let it, but this was different. The initial snap was followed by soft padded footsteps. This was not a deer, and was too big for something like a squirrel. Worse, it was paralleling my path, and it was clearly trying to be stealthy. I felt watched, the only time on the entire trail when I felt this way. I knew that there are mountain lions up here, lots of them. I wondered if I was being stalked, some big cat trying to figure out if I was food. It continued to follow me, soft steps, pauses, never too close nor too far away. After a mile I crossed a stream whose banks were fairly steep and choked with branches upstream to my right. Whatever was following me would have to come down to the trail to continue on. I kept on at the same pace and gradually felt the tension ease. I was no longer feeling like I was being watched. Whatever it was had gone.
I got into camp by the Methow River and had just enough time to set up my tent before I began to crash. It was a 35 mile day, and still not enough miles.
