I woke up at 6am, feeling slightly better, but still quite awful. At the time, I was still of a mind to go all 21 miles to Steven’s Pass that day and forego the shortcut that cut 8 miles off that number.
The first climb made me reconsider. I can’t do this, I simply can’t do this, I thought. It’s curious how a body can be so strong one day and be completely wrecked the next. Wished I didn’t have to experience that in practice. On and Off and Flatspot, a Swiss couple, gave me charcoal pills for my stomach and electrolytes to keep hydrated. Such angels.
Arriving at the crossing to the shortcut, I had hiked 8 miles in 6 hours. At this pace, I would never make it on the regular route. Even dayhikers were starting to pass me by, the indignity!
‘Make wise decisions’, I heard Scout echo in my mind and I went down the shortcut, slightly wobbling.
At the end of the long downhill shortcut trail, I got picked up by a nice dayhiker who was passing by Leavenworth, where my group had an Airbnb and I could find some shelter and rest. Once there, I took a (negative) covid test and went to lie down. Out of precaution the others wanted me to wipe and spray everything I touched, which made sense. If it was noro, it was contagious and I didn’t wish this on anyone. I didn’t care either way, I had made it. Fuck, that was hard.
