5 July 2009 - West of Northport, Washington

Dennis Dial was born in 1933 and grew up around Ogden, Utah with his parents and five siblings. After high school, Dennis got married and purchased a number of acres bordering the Columbia River outside of Northport, Washington. Dennis wasn't the first occupant of his land. For years, native Americans resided on the land. When they left, the Hudson Bay Company opened a post there. When they left, Chinese laborers--barred from living in Northport--established housing there. All these prior inhabitants left a mark on the land, but none as much as Dennis would.

Over the years, Dennis became the premiere seller and driver of snowmobiles in NE Washington. He became legendary for his daredevil hijinks such as snowmobiling across the open water of the Columbia. Dennis would introduce generations of Dials and Washingtonians to extreme adventures, many centered around his home on the Columbia.

On December 29, 2008, Dennis died. Shortly after his death, his granddaughter Marcie and her husband James moved into his house on the river. On the many acres Dennis owned, they found 58 broken down snowmobiles and scores of other artifacts left by Dennis, a number far superior to any of the previous inhabitants. Marcie and James quickly went to work cleaning up the property and converting it into an eventual poly-culture organic farm. Besides just growing produce and raising goats, they have begun to take advantage of the bounty that naturally sustains itself on the property: walnuts, morels, trout, geese, etc...

As summer came along, Dennis' family planned a party to celebrate his life. The party was set for July 4 at the city park in Northport. In preparation for the event, the family booked all the hotel space in Northport.

On the morning of July 4, three hikers entered Northport looking for a hotel room after nights in a tent. The travelers first attended a firefighter's pancake breakfast and then proceeded to find a nice place to stay. Unfortunately for the hikers, there was no room at the inn; the Dials had reserved everything.

Not and tired, the hikers retreated to the city park where they encountered the Dial family, preparing for Dennis' celebration. When Jame and Marcie saw that the travelers looked like hippies, they instantly invited the hikers to stay at their place, Dennis' former place. The hikers rejoiced and gladly accepted the offer.

For the rest of the morning and early afternoon, the hikers acclimated themselves with Dennis' land, walking the many acres, examining the goats, drinking beer, hearing stories of Dennis, and seeing the supporting photos. After a few hours, they felt they knew this man and his family. They showered and went to the life celebration.

The travelers spent five hours at the celebrations. They became well acquainted with most of the family. There was Dallas who married his second wife's daughter. There was Lorraine who got so hot in her black outfit that she had to hose herself down. There was Heather the flight attendant who married Dennis' brother's long lost Honduran son. There was the band "Free Whiskey" who were called "Whiskey Free" by their Mormon groupies. There was Maggie who worried for the travelers like they were her own kids.

After five hours the travelers had met the family, consumed sufficient alcohol, and decided to head back to Dennis' in the back of the suburban of some guy name Dave. Dave kindly shared numerous beers with the travelers, but they needed to rest up for 100 miles of hiking over the next four days.

The morning the travelers quietly exited Northport, continuing on their journey. Though there stay was brief, they will all remember Dennis and the celebration of his life on July 4, 2009.


James showing us his goats, Stardust and Moonbeam.

Larry showing off an old snowmobile.

3 July 2009 - East of Northport, Washington

We are in a groove. Twenty miles is coming much easier each day. We have scaled countless mountains and have walked numerous anonymous roads and trails. As I grow accustomed to the long days and the climbing, I feel more certain that this is a life I could live. Not even half way into this journey, and I am thinking of future potential routes to walk.

Nothing is more basic than hiking. You rest when you are tired, and you stop when you find a nice spot. There is no concern of property. I am losing any hesitancy to just camp anywhere. For example, tonight we are camped amongst the ruins of an old ranch. I imagine this is public land, but even if it isn't, I doubt anyone else will pass through this area for weeks. Who should care if someone puts up a tent and enjoys a view?

Today we hiked a rural road that despite being public was gated off. Near the end of the road was an apparent spring. Being another scorching day, I set off into some brush to find the spring. I heard some water flopping--which I assumed was the spring spurting out from the ground at an uneven tempo. There I saw the bush move. I stopped approaching the spring, and a moment later, a bull moose came running out of the bushes. He ran up a hill away from us, and then we all sat and stared at each other. He eventually grew bored of our staring contest and retreated into the woods.

1 July 2009 - Metaline Falls Washington

Backpacking helps remind you what is truly important. When out on the trail for an extended period of time, you completely forget about the stresses that typically keep you up at night. None of those matter, and they never should. Instead, everything boils down to what truly matters.

A few days ago we lost the trail while hiking up a mountain. Originally I was frustrated that we weren't going to make good time up the mountain side. When it became evident that the climb would take all day instead of just 2 hours, my priorities completely changed. All that really mattered was that I had some water. It didn't matter how long it took to climb or where I would potentially have to sleep. Those issues would work themselves out. I just needed to find water.

We had planned on hiking 150 miles in 7 days, and for this reason we each carried about 7 days worth of food. When the trail became nearly impassible, causing us to greatly slow our pace despite many long hours on the trail, food became the only concern. I did not care about anything else. We have since revised our route, allowing us to pass through another town to resupply (Metaline Falls). I just needed food.

The other night it was getting dark, and we were still out on the trail. I was exhausted and needed to rest. I was more than happy to lay in a swampy field. It didn't matter that I got wet and dirty. What really mattered was rest.

I love spending time in the wilderness, and I love exploring by myself. Despite this desire for solitude, I realize that the best part of all my travels has been the people that I have encountered. The people have a bigger impact on my life than any beautiful vista. Companionship is a requirement.

It's too easy to worry about things that really don't matter. When it comes down to it and your life is on the line, all you really need is food, drink, a place to rest, and some friends.

Besides the clothes that I am wearing, I have been caring a sleeping bag, water filter, water bladder, some food, lighter, stove, tooth paste, a rain fly, some extra socks, and compass. In the last 18 days of hiking, I have not thought of a single other thing that I would need. Instead, I've been trying to think about what I can jettison on the trail...I don't need all this stuff to be happy.


Gun club or golf clubs?

Chili burger in Metaline.

30 June 2009

Today we crossed into the state of Washington, our third and final state of the hike. For the last day of June, we encountered a fair amount of snow occupanied by snow melt rivers. For awhile I was bothered by the frigid water, too cold for any leisure activity. Even drinking too much is a shock to the system. Now I'm trying to accustom myself to it.

When fording or wading in a glacial river (temp roughly 1 or 2 degrees above freezing), the body sends out millions of nerve impulses telling me that the water is unsafe. My limbs completely go numb, and I don't even realize all the cuts and bruises that I am receiving from the sharp rocks of the river. After leaving the water, my body still aches, but my feet are in sever pain. I don't understand why my feet would be so much more painful than any other body part exposed to the water.

With running, I was able to teach myself to ignore certain pain. Pain exists to tell us something is wrong. If we know that the pian will be short-lived or that it isn't damaging, we should be able to ignore it. I was successful in doing this for running. Now I need to do so for cold water.

29 June 2009 - Idaho/Washington Border

Tonight is a perfect evening. These are five words I never thought I'd say tonight. I'm currently sitting next to a fire with a small stream flowing about two yards behind me. To my right is a long snow bank which rings the perimeter of our wilderness campsite. Inside the ring of snow is a field of wild flowers and our tent. Times have been light hearted for the last hour. Dave and I even stripped down and made some snow angels in the snowbank. I then tried to clean my body, but the river was intolerably cold, probably with in a degree of freezing based on its proximity to the snow.

I am surprised that I have said the above statements. Our day faced many trials. We were hoping to leave Idaho today, but we should have known it wouldn't be so easy. This morning we woke early on the base of a mountain. The mountain, Little Snowy Top, is very steep--perhaps the steepest on the whole PNT--requiring a windy 4.5 mile trail to ascend to bit over 1 mile. Our guidebook raved about the trail, calling it a "masterpiece" and "well maintained." Perhaps that was the case in the 70s. We are now veteran trail hikers, and we quickly lost the trails. Words can't describe our day, but we ultimately reached the top of the mountain--all one mile--after 11 hours of steep uphill bushwhacking. We were all covered head to toe in cuts and abrasions, and all our skin is black from rolling through so much charred forest.

Idaho is beautiful but I am happy to be just a few minutes walk from the border.\


Taking a break from bushwhacking. I already have a fair about of blood and ash on me with most the day still ahead of me.

28 June 2009 - Extreme NW Idaho

The last two days have brought some extreme physical tests, including much time on our feet. Two days ago we hiked 26 miles, including a power hike the last 8 miles when we ascended over 3,000 feet. Despite our speed at the end, we still didn't stop until after the sun went down.

Yesterday was another exhausting day, but its content was quite unique from the day before> We began hiking a bit after 7 am, and a series of adventures kept us on our feet until nearly 10 pm. The day startd with a beautiful hike to a picturesque mountain lake. We then continued up a trail to a mountain ridge, following a trail that was completely ice and snow covered. The switchback on the snow would have been impossible without trekking poles.

Upon reaching the ridge, we began our day of bushwhacking. The PNT is a network of trails. Sometimes there are no trails, so you have to bushwhack between trails. Most people never have to do so, juist the few of us who are doing the whole route (a handful a year). We began by finding our way along the contour of 1 mountain. After laboriously climbing over a boulder field wh ich looked all too ready to re-adjust, we reached the top of another mountain. This summit offerred spectacular vistas with mountains all around, allowing us to see 100s of miles in all directions thanks to clear skies.

The top was all snow, and we slid our way on the snow from peak to peak. Eventually we needed to descend from the mountains into a small river valley and then fight our way through the valley to an eventual road. We needed to find a good spot to make our drop into the valley; unfortunately we chose poorly. Trees blocked our view of a good potential route, so we all started down together, and at our first cliff we fanned out, looking for a good way down. I found myself on a rock face which had a pretty steep decline which led to a straight drop off onto a small plateau rougly 7-10 feet down followed by anotehr drop-off of unknown heights. I decided that I'd lower my bag down to the plateau and then carefully follow. Despite my plany, gravity took over first. Before I knew it, my bag was sliding down the ledge, dropping off the cliff. My bag took a few bounces and then stopped partially hanging over the next cliff. My water bottle and filter flew out of the bag, and I watched as it bounced 100s of feet down the mountain out of sight (it reminded me of the Jack Handy quote: If you drop your keys into molten lava, forget it man because they are gone). Before I had much time to react, I began sliding off the ledge. I desperately tried to grab onto anything but it was inevitable, I was falling off the cliff.

I don't know how far I fell, but a lot of thoughts flashed through my mind. I was very lucky to have landed right on my butt in a small patch of moss. No other place on the entire mountain face could have offered a softer landing. What a relief.

After my fall, there was no way I was going back up. We cautiously made our way down the mountain face, sliding in the snow, using rope on the steep parts, and very carefully scouting a route. We were so relieved to get down, that we didn't care about the bushwhack ahead of us. After hours of trudging through a dense forest, our thoughts had changed.

It took us over 8 exhausting hours to bushwhack 8 miles. We then walked 7 miles in 2 hours via road. With our pre-bushwhack miles, we had a very tough 20 mile day. Today we needed to sleep in and were lucky to find ourselves on a well worn trail which was soft and simple to follow. Twice we had to ford icy waters, but I didn't mind if it meant no bushwhacking.

Tonigth we are camped on a point on a bend in a river. The cool water temperature greatly lowers the surrounding air temp, another opportunity to test the warmth of my sleeping bag.

Today's walk also brought a complete change in the forest. Yesterday's bushwhack had dense young pine trees and think fields of thickets. Today we had old, mammoth trees (I'd estimate well over 100 years) with a forest floor blanketed in ferns.


Looking for food in our bag while on top of some mountain in Idaho. This was the mountain that we bushwhacked down the side.

26 June 2009 - NW of Bonners Ferry

Yesterday we resupplied in Bonners Ferry, and today we are back heading NW. We will have roughly 150 miles to cover in the next seven days before we get to our next town to stock up. Our bags are wegihted down with a weeks worth of food. In this next week, I don't anticipate that we will encounter many people. We have yet to meet anyone hiking yet.

We are all getting so acclimated with living out in the wilderness with the fresh air that last night in a hotel was difficult. The air felt so stale and the artificial lights felt articifical. It is nice to be out in the fresh air again. It's also nice to see some wildlife. Today we passed through a National Wildlife Resrve and a Nature Conservacy Reserve and entered into a new National Forest. In the process we saw a mosse and many deer, primarily from afar.