Adjustments and Enchantments

I have to say—backpacking is tough. In many ways, it has been more difficult than I imagined. The inclines are often steeper, longer than I thought possible. Have you ever ascended for ten miles, calves burning, shoulders aching, lungs screaming only to reach the crest of a mountain and realize that another more jagged and impassable peak has materialized on the trail before you? Or have you ever come to crave those laborious miles uphill because the contrasting downward descends causes pain in your knees, your ankles, your hips? Pain has become a constant companion. Soreness, an intimate friend. Yet the pain and soreness are accompanied by an unbelievable euphoria as my muscles and mind adjust, beginning to find endorphins in the 10+ hours of the day I spend walking over the spines of hulking green and granite giants. I have delighted in observing the changes in my body—my breath growing stronger, my skin darker, a smattering a bruises and cuts reminding me of the countless stories I have already collected. Like when I laid in my sleeping bag, an uncomfortable sensation spreading throughout my toes, only to awaken and realize my feet are covered in spider bites. Or when I went to vault myself over an enormous downed tree that bisected the path only to have my pant leg gripped by an unruly branch and find myself a victim to gravity, breathless and splayed out in the red dirt. Or even the enduring musky mixture of dirt and sweat, the aroma that has penetrated nearly every object in my pack. These changes, outward and visible, reflect other changes taking place—the sort of changes that are more difficult to describe and less visible to the eyes of observers.

Thus far I have struggled in finding a balance between enjoying the camaraderie of hiking with a group and satiating my craving for solitude. I have learned so much from my fellow hikers and found my spirits lifted in even the darkest of times because of the thoughtful words and comforting presence of others. One of my favorite days on trail has been one of the coldest and wettest, the sort of day where you wake up and fall asleep wet with no moment of reprieve in between. But I spent this day with a friend, Redwood, and we made may the most of the abominable weather. We laughed at our own misfortune. As we hid under massive fir trees for coverage we shared soup, coffee, and Redwood taught me to roll my own cigarettes. The day before we’d been swimming in an icy alpine lake and sunburnt despite the ample amount of snow. But on this day my whole body quaked with shivers and I dreaded climbing back into a dirty, damp tent. Somehow Redwood’s soothing, easy disposition helped me past my own mental blocks and unease. I drew on his strength and made it my own. I bet he would say I did the same for him. It’s the most extraordinary thing, the way we as people are able to strengthen one another, particularly in moments of peril.

Mica Lake in Washington. Excellent swimming, especially if you enjoy hypothermia and asphyxiation.

This wondrous and unexpected connection—with Redwood and friends—is what led me to step off trail for a few days in order to experience the Enchantments. The Enchantment Lakes are a mythic alpine wonderland of sky-high lakes and daunting mountain passes. There are no words fitting of such a place, so I’ll share a copious number of photos instead.

So, I decided to take a break from thru-hiking in order to do…well, more hiking.

Despite the unparalleled beauty and incredible company, I felt an insistent hum of intuition urging me back to the PCT. I was reticent to separate myself from this second tramily (trail family) and their talent for meandering down the line with marked enjoyment and ease. From them I learned to slow my pace, to take side routes, and to maintain the posture of luxuriating in the journey rather than giving in to my own dogmatic idea of getting ahead at any cost to my body or my experience.

But ultimately, it was my time to go my own way. So I left this motley crew and started the next section alone, braving the rain and elevation gain all on my own. That was 70 miles ago and now, I set out on the next 100 miles wondering who and what I will encounter.

Mount Rainier! Weather permitting, this will be in my sights for the entirety of the next section.

Thank you to every person who wrote to me! Maria, Katie, Vanesa, Megan, Josh, and Lachlan. I have savored the words I’ve received and bemoaned the letters that were lost to the dark depths of the postal service. If you wrote me and I didn’t receive your letter, I sincerely apologize for us both. If you aren’t sure if I received it, shoot me a text. I’ll get back to you in five or so days. Some letters I have received but are awaiting in future resupply boxes! So fret not. Thank you especially to Uncle Jose and Aunt Lisa for a BOMB resupply package with all sorts of delicious and nutritious snacks. The letters are deeply appreciated and I cannot convey how grateful I am. Thank you so much.

Much Love,

Isabella