Pct day 137

October 25

2187 – 2207

I awoke to the pit pat on my rainfly at sunrise. My precip anxiety was on high. I carefully dressed in dry socks and made sure my rain gear was handy. Not buried at the bottom of the Burrito like usual. 

A piece of reflector graffiti reminded me to Think about today, not Canada. Easier said than done. With only one state left, a mere 500 miles, I was thinking about Canada. Ridiculous to think about Canada in October. Canada wasn’t worth 500 miles of rain and inevitable snow. Stop being stupid, Gretchen.

The all-day drizzle put a damper on that dream. I came to a small campground with a pit toilet. A roof is a roof, and those forest service toilets have a handy covered space. That’s where I pulled out my stove to cook a Mountain House meal. I’ve heard you’re not a real adventurer until you’ve slept in a bathroom. Do I get adventure bragging rights if I’ve camped in bathrooms on multiple continents? 

There was a paved road with occasional traffic. I probably could’ve caught a ride to Trout Lake from there. It was tempting. I walked back into the wet woods with a touch of foreboding.

The drizzle turned to rain. I marched on through the sog. Sitting on a rock, next to nothing in particular, I found random trail magic. A can of chili and two packets of oatmeal. The oatmeal packs were not yet water saturated, so they couldn’t  have been there long. Thanks for breakfast, I guess.

I came to an unprotected campsite next to a small pond. I hate setting up my tent in the rain. No matter how fast I get it up, it always gets wet inside before I can get the rainfly on. I jumped inside and tried to dry the wet walls with a damp handkerchief. That didn’t really work. Thanks to the waterproof socks, my feet were dry. My shoes were not. I had one more dry pair of toe socks. Besides that, most everything felt damp.