*******

This hotel room was a good idea. It was Matt’s idea. He booked it the other night so we could be closer to the trailhead this morning, which saves us a couple hours of travel time.

It’s time to get up. We get our gear in order and hop in the car. En route to the trailhead, I am even more grateful now for the hotel room. It brings the drive from multiple hours to just under one.

The fog is terrifying on this winding road. I know there’s a precipice somewhere, but I can’t see it. I hope Matt has a good grip on that steering wheel. Ultimately, though, we arrive safe and sound, against the fog’s inanimate intentions.

This is our second attempt at running this loop. The first time, a massive wall of snow prevented us from seeing the trailhead. Any thought of traversing the trail was a nonstarter. But the trailhead is not hidden by nine feet of snow this time around.

We get started. It’s cold so we move fast enough to stay warm, but we’re not trying to break any records. The first several miles are almost entirely downhill. I try not to think about the ramifications of this, but it’s impossible for it not to at least cross the mind. The law of gravity is reversed on trail runs: what goes down must come up.

We cruise for several easy miles. They tick by with surprising speed, especially compared to prior excursions. Ah, the beauty of downhill running. We run along through alpine meadows, descending into forested valleys and ridgelines.

The mist hangs heavy and lends an ethereal, otherworldly aura to the trail. To add to this, we’re two hours in before we even see another person. Sound is similarly scarce. Even birdsong is absent.

As we finally find the bottom of the valley, we come to a fork. We are supposed to continue straight along, but we veer off course to view the grove of the patriarchs.

Crossing a wobbly suspension bridge finds us on a boardwalk through an ancient portion of the forest. Some of these trees are a thousand years old, and that is unfathomable to me. It’s hard to overstate the immensity of the grandeur these trees hold in my eyes. They predate entire civilizations, including ours.

But this detour is a dead end. We didn’t realize as much when we ventured this way, but it doesn’t take us long to figure out that we need to return to the fork, which we do. We rejoin our former course and resume forward progress once again. We begin to see more people now. I suppose others find the grove of the patriarchs as alluring as I do.

We pass by a restroom near the parking lot built—presumably—for folks who specifically came here to see the grove of the patriarchs. I take advantage of the toilet and make an attempt at losing a little weight. I am mostly unsuccessful, but it is what it is. We exit the area, pass by several more day hikers, and then begin a torturous climb out of the valley we’re in.

*******

The switchbacks tease us with multiple abruptly revoked promises of flatter terrain. Somehow, we fall for these promises every time. It doesn’t take long before our conversation dissipates, morphing instead into huffing and puffing and grunting up these inclines.

We encounter another stretch where we seem to be in no man’s land. On our way up to the PCT, humankind is forgotten and we only see one other runner. He flies down the hill in the opposite direction. If he’s running the same loop we are, we whisper a prayer that God has mercy on his soul. The latter ten miles are going to be rough for him.

What we don’t fully appreciate, though, is that our latter ten miles is not going to be a picnic either.

As we continue on, ever upward, no end to the infinite incline presents itself. Matt refills one of his water bottles at a fast moving little stream that intersects with the trail and we take a moment to breathe. I dip my hat in the icy cold water and, when I return it to my head, it is far colder than I expected, almost cold enough for a brain freeze.

Shortly after continuing, we spot a deer, which prompts the realization of how little wildlife we’ve seen on this excursion. Aside from a few birds, bugs, and chipmunks, this deer is the first nonhuman creature we’ve come across. And we have seen comparatively few humans as well, for that matter.

*******

Gradually, we find ourselves returning to alpine scenery once again as we draw nearer and nearer to the PCT. The fog lessened down below, but up here it is just as wispy as it was when we started.

As we merge onto the PCT, we start seeing more people. Each time we pass someone, I wonder about their journey thus far. Are they through hikers? Are they hiking only a portion of the trail at this point? When did they start? Where will they end? How long has it taken them? How much longer do they have to go?

We don’t stop to ask any of these questions. We’re getting really tired now and wrapping this up sounds like the best idea either of us can think of. Except maybe a pizza dinner once we’re back in civilization.

The further along the PCT we get, the more the sun tries to break through the overcast sky. It even manages to shine down on us at a few points here and there. It warms everything up enough that I’m actually somewhat grateful this is the first time we’re seeing beyond the clouds and fog. If it had been this warm the whole way, I would be considerably grumpier right now than I am.

The PCT weaves along some gorgeous scenes full of forested hills, alpine meadows, and rocky ridgelines. Throughout this entire loop, in fact, I’ve been amazed by the sheer diversity of scenery. Dynamic change has been the rule since we started more than six hours ago and it’s not letting up now.

*******

As we come to a lake, we start to see more and more day hikers. This is an encouraging sign. We take this to mean the car is not far off.

It’s a hell of a lot further than we want it to be. We’re in the last three miles now, but we feel like death. The myriad fresh-faced day hikers provide a stark visual contrast to our zombie-like state of being. And for those last few miles, we lift our buffs over our mouths and noses to protect others and ourselves as we pass by.

The miles wear on as we’re wearing out. We start to see families with small children and I have to believe that we’re close. There’s no way these tiny children could have hiked several miles. But every around every corner, we still see more trail with no sign that the road is any closer.

Until finally—and quite suddenly—we’re there! We finish our loop by crossing the highway over the pedestrian bridge at the trailhead. We look at our watches: 32.05 miles, more than a 50K. We breathe exhausted sighs of relief and satisfaction. It feels good to have this Chinook Pass under our belts.

It will feel even better to have pizza in our gullets.