Section 23 - Cascade Locks to White Pass View Photos August 22 21 miles. I crossed the Columbia River on a perfect summer day. Washington at last! I had a relaxing break in Tigard--a Portland suburb. It was especially fun to see my niece and nephew since I hadn't seen them in about 9 months. They had grown as only kids can grow, which is to say too fast. Sarah and Pancho fed me, drove me around to run errands, and made me feel more a part of the Lopez family than 8 years of family ties already had. I'm forever grateful for their love and hospitality. I met my friend Sanjiv for lunch on Friday and he took me to a fabulous Portland restaurant called Higgins. Steak is not on the menu but Sanjiv knows Greg, the owner/chef, and had one special ordered for me. It arrived with rotisserie potatoes, baby carrots, and an outstanding mixed-greens salad. The appetizers were sliced salmon salad and glazed scallops in a sauce-extraordinaire. Desert was a Pavlov's dog blueberry pie ala mode, washed down with a latte. Food-of-the-gods. Gourmet with a capital G. Sarah drove me back to Cascade Locks this morning and waited while I bought some last minute items at the grocery store. Stocked up on cheese and crackers, I hugged her good-bye and headed for The Bridge of the Gods. She took pictures from below as I walked across the 2-lane steel bridge spanning the Columbia River. Sarah didn't get it on film but I almost cried when I saw the sign that said "Welcome to Washington." After crossing the bridge I climbed 3,000 feet out of the Columbia River Gorge to an open ridge. I could see the river, the towering cliffs in both states, and Mt. Hood (11,235) standing guard on the southern skyline. A little further up the trail I had great views of Mt. Adams (12,276), Mt. St. Helens(8,364), and Washington's highest peak, 14,410-foot Mt. Rainier. What a privilege to see all four peaks on such a glorious, sunny day. I'm camped on the trail tonight about a mile above Rock Creek. I bought some new candles in Portland and I'm writing by candlelight. August 23 27 miles. I did lots of climbing today in very warm and humid conditions. I climbed 1,600 feet this morning and then dropped nearly 2,000 feet to Trout Creek. There are paved roads from the Columbia River Gorge that come into the valley and I saw plenty of campers, day hikers, and even a trail crew. The trail is in great shape here and I told the guys to take the day off. They laughed. I stopped for lunch at Panther Creek before the long, 3,200-foot ascent of Huckleberry Mountain. A camper had neglected to douse his fire and the logs were smoking furiously when I got there. What do people think about when they just walk away from a burning campfire? Near the summit of Huckleberry Mountain the forest opened up to reveal Mt. Adams in all its glory. I'll cross its western slopes in two days. At the summit I sampled the ripe huckleberries. Delicious. I'm camped on the edge of Big Lava Bed, an ancient flow from nearby Huckleberry Mountain. There's just enough dirt covering the lava to sink the stakes and put up a tent. August 24 31 miles. A warm, sunny day with gentle trail and probably the first of many days on Washington snow. I climbed into Indian Heaven Wilderness this morning. I saw the first snowbank at 4,000 feet though, thankfully, it was just patchy higher up. The trail continued up Berry Mountain with excellent views of Mt. Adams, Hood, St. Helens, and Rainier. After Berry Mountain, I walked past small lakes hidden in the trees but the mosquitoes were bad and I walked quickly to avoid them. I stopped for lunch on the side of Sawtooth Mountain and slipped cheese and crackers under my headnet to keep from becoming lunch. On the way down Sawtooth Mountain I met a hiker who had been hiking since June 3rd from Dunsmuir, CA. I was in Dunsmuir on July 20th. We stopped and chatted for a few minutes but, needless to say, we hike at different speeds and I walked on. I crossed Highway 24 at the Sawtooth Huckleberry Field and took advantage of the opportunity to pick fresh, delicious berries. Later, I stopped at a field of wild strawberries and gorged on those as well. The word "sweet" would be an insult to those berries. I'm camped tonight on the side of a logging road, about 10 miles from the side of Mt. Adams. I picked more wild strawberries when I got here and then pitched my tent on the now bare patch. Tomorrow morning I head for Mt. Adams and will make a snowy traverse of its western slopes. August 25 27 miles. I put Mt. Adams in the rear view mirror today. It was a nice drive. The weather changed during the night and I woke to thick fog and drizzle. I packed my wet tent and headed for Mt. Adams Wilderness Area. The drizzle turned heavy and I wore my poncho for the ascent. I passed a couple of trail crew workers sawing a large, fallen tree by hand. By law, no motorized vehicles or tools are allowed in wilderness areas so the workers had to do it the old fashioned way. I thanked them for their efforts--grateful I didn't have to--and walked on. At 6,000 feet, I climbed above the fog. Mt. Adams exploded into view, sunlight dancing off every ice and snow crystal. Massive glaciers poured off the summit, frozen in visible time but moving relentlessly down the mountain. It was a beautiful sight and Mt. Adams is surely one of the prettiest mountains in all the Cascades. I spent the afternoon traversing the mostly snow-covered slopes. Like the rest of the Washington Cascades, the mountain is only now shedding the last of its winter coat. It was quite a winter. I came down the mountain's gentle northern slope to a wooden bridge crossing of glacier-fed Muddy Creek. The massive winter snowpack had snapped the bridge like a toothpick. The bridge was V-shaped and hung just above the rushing water. A big sign on a stand said "Bridge Closed." The creek was about 20 feet wide, of unknown depth, and hemmed in by thickets of alder trees for as far as I could see. What to do? I stepped around the sign, walked down the timbers to the break and walked back up the other side. Simple. I smiled at the absurdity of the situation. Did they really expect people to obey the sign? I stopped for dinner at beautiful Lava Spring, bubbling out of the edge of the adjoining lava field. The water was cold, clear, and delicious. After dinner I walked on for another hour in the evening light. Through breaks in the trees I could see Mt. Adams behind me and Mt. Rainier ahead of me. I picked huckleberries and strawberries from plants lining the trail and popped the succulent berries into my mouth. A little ice cream and it would have been perfection. It's Yakima Indian Reservation land here and I saw several unsigned trails disappearing into the forest. I imagined they led to secret villages where elders gathered to discuss tribal matters and eat berries ala mode. I passed Jeff, another PCT hiker, late this afternoon. I met him near Mt. Lassen in Northern California and hadn't seen him since Seiad Valley. I thought he was many days ahead of me but, like me, he took time off in several places along the way. I don't expect we'll hike together but it's nice to know there's another PCTer out here. I hadn't seen one for 200 miles. Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a large animal walk down the road very near my tent. It was likely a deer but I yelled out "Hey, I know you're there, go away!" It quickened its pace and then there was silence. After 4 months on the trail I still haven't got used to things that go bump in the night. I'm camped tonight about 3 miles north of Lava Spring, just past Potato Hill. It's the 5th full moon of the trip. Tomorrow I head into Goat Rocks Wilderness. August 26 23 miles. It was a spectacular day. No clouds, no humidity, and views to the edge of the Earth. If Washington were always like this I might want to move back. I left camp this morning and entered Goat Rocks Wilderness. I climbed steadily past shaded forest lakes to an overlook above large Walupt Lake. A sweeping ridge surrounded the lake and I followed it counter-clockwise up into the heart of Goat Rocks. To the south, Mt. Adams' glaciers looked like fresh cream spilling off a generous mound of cookie dough. I climbed higher and soon the trees gave way to meadows and then the meadows to rock and snow. Timberline. I quit early today. It's only 19 miles to White Pass tomorrow and the views from here were too good to pass up. I'm perched on a shelf at 7,000 feet with Mt. Adams to my left and Mt. Rainier to my right. Frozen Goat Lake lies in a deep, sheltered basin directly across the valley. Water rushes everywhere from snowfields too steep and sheltered to melt completely during the brief summer thaw. A few yards down the hill lies Yelverton Shelter--one of the few shelters on the entire PCT. I had intended to stay there but, unfortunately, it sits in partial ruin. With no roof and a rocky dirt floor, it was less than an appealing accommodation. The sun has set and the full moon is rising over the eastern ridge. There are a few high clouds over Mt. Rainier and they glow pink with light from Puget Sound. There was very little snow on the trail today. I'm hopeful that it's a good omen for the trail ahead. August 27 19 miles. I made it White Pass on another warm and glorious Washington day. The pass is anything but white and, for that matter, so is the trail. Reports of man-eating Washington snow have been greatly exaggerated. Long may it continue. I had a stupendous walk down the spine of the Goat Rocks Wilderness on trails that would make goats jittery. Mt. Rainier hung like a portrait on the northern sky. Purple, red, and yellow wildflowers carpeted the alpine meadows and rocky outcroppings. Waterfalls sprouted from summer snowfields and ancient glaciers. I would come back here to hike in a nanosecond. I'm sitting at the White Pass store, eating a large bag of Doritos and enjoying the sun. Cowboys and city slickers drive through here to buy beer, snacks, and cigarettes before descending to their respective sides of the state. The ski lifts lie silent, waiting for better weather and the start of another season. My friend Scott is driving down from Seattle to take me to the town of Packwood for the night. I can't wait to jump in the pool and then retire to the restaurant for a large everything-on-the-menu. 360 miles to go.