Someday later, I'll be reading back on these blogs and I will read this one and I will still shake my head and say "FUCK that trail!" with a sense of righteous pride.
What happens when all the planning in the world cannot predict or control the elements? If life is like a video game, new levels and features are unlocked.
Hiking Level 51:
So long, dry anything!
Happy Day! You awaken to find that everything outside is soaked, and that it is pouring rain. The wind gusts of 30 mph pull up one of your tent fly anchors, and ocean spray is now part of your entourage. Wear it proudly as it chafes you into the next storm level!
Hiking Level 52:
Give up on your plans!
You didn't really want to walk back down to Point of Arches, anyway, right? You only planned and timed your hike exactly right for that. Waiting for the rain to subside seems a bit too risky. So, don't waste time thinking about what a lost opportunity this is: pack up that tent and get a move on!
Hiking Level 53:
Walking on the beach!
Congrats! Your beach has turned to sandy mud and your creeks have turned into rivers. Who doesn't like 2 miles of muddy ass sand and wide ass waterways?
Boss Level 1: Cliff of Insanity
Everything is slippery as shit!
Nice! Your two pairs of shoes are soaked in sandy mud, and you now have very little traction for that steep cliff side you need to scale! Make it to the top without dying and you will feel like a badass. (Or maybe you will cry, but just a little bit.)
Boss Level 2: The Swamp of Sadness
From the creator of yesterday's mud holes, now presenting swamp trail!
Fun times ahead! This under-water level is all uphill. Don't dawdle, or you will end up like Artax!
New Addons and Mods Available!
Select any or all of the following additional features to compliment your new hiking levels!
-Hands so cold you can't close your fists
-25 extra pounds of water weight in your bag
-Wind gusts, temperatures in the low 30s and freezing rain!
Ok, ok. Enough with the emphatic sarcasm. But, all of that is true and actually happened. If the hike in was horrendous, then the hike out was something else entirely.
Here are the stats (per my Fitbit, scales and the Makah weather reports):
-It took almost 5 hours
-I only covered 5.7 miles
-I scaled 200 feet of cliff with a waterlogged pack (67 pounds was the weight when I got back to Seattle, not including drinking water)
-I had >10 but <20 falls
-1 slid about 20 feet down said cliff before catching on the rope and a root. I have some nice rope burns on my hands from that.
-I sunk into mud up to my right hip and left thigh, and resorted to clawing and elbowing my way out. But! I did not lose a shoe! After that incident, I used a stick to test depth.
-I drank a lot of tea-colored creek water- almost a gallon. Knowing that the filter that attached to my camelback allowed me to drink pretty much any water from anywhere was not only useful but also one of the few things that made me feel safe.
Thankfully due to my preparation and sweet outdoors skills (possibly also a little good juju on that cliff-side), I kept myself safe when the weather tried to destroy me. I am (physically) OK. Some gnarly bruises, scrapes, a rash from some nettles (no idea when that happened?), rope burn (how could I forget gloves??) and obvious soreness don't really count as injury- in fact they feel more like badges of honor.
My mental health was a different story. Each part of the exit hike, I kept saying to myself 'This can't get much worse.' and each time, I was wrong. Regardless, I kept going. There were times I wanted to sit down in the mud and cry for hours, but I didn't. I got myself in and I could and would get myself out. When I got to the trail head I set down my pack and set off for the car. I'm sure that the sum of my exhaustion was tainting my experience by that point, but the last bit... it was a dark time. It only took about 25 minutes but it was the shit-icing on the shit-cake. After 5 minutes, the gusts picked up to about 40 mph. After 10, it started sleeting. At 15 minutes I was walking out in the open, the beach to the west and a field to the east, the gusts blowing freezing ocean spray and sleet into me, chapping my face and hands, sealing my eyes shut and stealing my breath a few times a minute. By minute 20, I was yelling obscenities and saying some pretty harsh things to the universe.
BTW, I'd like to apologize for the things I said during that time. Sorry, Universe. I didn't mean most of it.
And then- I had made it. 20 feet away from my car when it became visible, I cried. Full on ugly, weeping sobs. I did not feel good at this point. I didn't even feel OK. There was some slight relief, but mostly there was numbness, pain and shock at what I had just been through.
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| Roosevelt Elk in Olympic National Forest |
I also decided that I would risk a 10 minutes detour to get some much needed natural beauty (from the comforts of my car) to help prevent full on nature-rage, so I drove through the north part of Olympic National Forest. I am super glad I did this. It was like getting a big, snuggly, mossy hug from the forest and it was desperately needed. Also, I saw some Roosevelt Elk and they were really cute.
So, would I do it again? Do I regret anything? What have I learned?
I do not regret a single second of it and there's nothing I would have done it differently. BAM.
No, really. I prepared as best I could, and there weren't many times I felt in mortal danger (other than the cliff slide and irrational fear of being bear food). I am resourceful, think quickly on my feet and can get myself through almost any situation. And now, I will never doubt that ever again.
So I leave you with this: the only picture of me taken during the trip, taken right as sea spray and rain shot up under my glasses and stung my eyes. I look surprisingly at peace with my wet poncho on the beach. I promise that I wasn't, but I am now.
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I love you like Pocahontas loves Grandmother Willow.
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