PNT Section 4, Part 1: Bugs and Bovine
Heed my Warning
On a forest service road leaving Northport, a truck towing a trailer passed me, then returned five minutes later. A woman in a cowboy hat demanded I get in, as three young cow dogs jostled for space in the open window. I eagerly obeyed, and invited the friendly dogs onto my lap. But as she drove me up the road, what I’d thought would be a pleasant encounter turned into a lecture.
“I’m tired of picking up people who aren’t prepared out here.” She immediately spouted.
As I tried to reassure her that I was prepared, and dispel any misunderstanding that I’d been in need of a ride, she began interrogating me about my gear. She was mildly annoyed I was not carrying a firearm, but nearly slammed on the breaks when I told her I’d ditched my bear spray 50 miles ago.
“I see grizzly all the time in these woods,” She claimed, “But Washington fish and wildlife wants to keep it a secret that they’re here. And besides, you need it for cougars, wolves, badgers…”
She insisted I let her drive me back to a town I didn’t recognize to purchase bear spray. Not wanting to upset her further, but also not convinced of her opinion on wildlife precautions, I proposed she drop me off at a popular campground we were approaching, and I would try to buy a can off someone there. Thankfully, this seemed to satisfy her.
“But heed my warning,” She said as she pulled over, “I’ve lived here all my life, and these mountains are wilder than the Selkirks.”
I watched her truck disappear around a bend, then continued hiking without stopping at the campsite. In my travels, I’ve noticed locals like to claim that their wildlife is the most wild, and their wilderness is the most deadly, like some kind of grisly (forgive the pun) allegiance. But they can’t all be right.
The only wildlife I encountered the rest of the day was herds of cattle, and droves of biting flies. The cattle kept a cautious distance, but the flies, unfortunately, did not. I put up my hood and picked up the pace, but it did nothing to deter them. They circled me like buzzards, and found their way into my sun hoodie to bite the back of my ears and neck. Their bites stung as strong as a hornet’s sting, and drew tiny dots of blood.
My misery was interrupted in the hottest part of the afternoon when I stumbled upon a fruit cup that was somehow still chilled. It must have recently fallen out of an unsecured cooler on the wash-boarded dirt road. The cool treat lifted my spirits, even if I had to eat it while speed-walking. The trail provides!
In a sea of private property, I managed to find a small pull out on the side of the road just big enough for my tent. I hid from the mosquitoes while watching the sun set over a picturesque field.
Hiding from bugs
I set out early the next morning, hoping to finish the long road walk before the sun rose overhead.
I crossed the peaceful Kettle River on a bridge closed to traffic. The deep water looked almost black in the morning light.
I followed a set of prints on the soft road shoulder for about a mile. When I studied them closely, I could see they had no claw marks, which meant they were feline. But their size made it difficult to determine if they were from a mountain lion or lynx.
About two miles from the end of the road walk, a forest service vehicle slowed down and offered me a ride. The driver, Chris, was easy to talk with. We discussed his favorite career postings (Tetons, for the views, and Caguanes National Park in Cuba, for the lack of crowds), and I asked his opinions on the risk of local wildlife encounters. He assured me that it was not common practice to carry bear spray in the Kettle River range.
Upon rejoining the “trail”, I found it was just a disused single track through a burn area. So much for escaping into the shade of trees. In the heat of the afternoon, the flies continued to feast on me. By 2:00 p.m., I was so fed up with the bugs, I set up my tent under the shadow of a bush, just to rest in peace for a moment. The safety of my shelter was so calming, I ended up napping for three hours.
By evening, I was still within the burn area. With the help of some FarOut comments, I managed to find a small stand of living trees to camp safely under. The sunset was cast in a smoky haze, which intensified it’s colors. No mosquitoes bothered me as I made dinner- a first since Montana. I guessed the climate was too dry for them. It was starting to feel desert-y.
Kettle Crest Trail
I’d heard of the beauty of the Kettle Crest trail before starting the PNT, and it did not disappoint. Even though half of the landscape had suffered burns in the last decade, every mile was still enjoyable. Wildflowers were in full bloom, and buzzed with pollinators.
The climate seemed to get dryer, the soil redder, and I encountered plants and animals I hadn’t yet seen. I ran into Second Child and Krafty again at a water source, but combatting flies put a damper on our conversation.
I siesta-ed in my tent again to escape the bugs, and heard the “bubble” from Northport pass me on trail. I started hiking again after 5:00 p.m., enjoying the cool breeze that seemed to discourage the worst of the biting flies.
Republic, WA
On my way into town, I encountered a mountain biking couple who asked if I was also “doing the crazy trail”- they’d apparently run into the crew from Northport earlier in the parking area ahead. I picked up the pace, hoping to catch a ride along with them, but was too late. Republic is one of the few towns on this trail that requires a hitch in. As a single woman on a lesser-known trail, I’m always aware of safety when doing this.
Thankfully, another forest service truck stopped for me. A ranger named Jared had just clocked out for the weekend, and was on his way to a nearby lake to fish and kayak. He dropped me off right in front of the motel in town. I spent the day doing my usual town chores. I was surprised to not run into any other hikers, as I now counted at least eight who were within a day of me.
I had a fantastic burger at 18 North, then went to bed early.
Surprise brunch
The next morning, I got a quick meal from the grocery store, but then ran into Toast and Lentil just as I was about to try hitching back to trail. They invited me to join them for brunch, along with Thrift Shop. I ignored my full stomach and plans to hike early for the promise of some much-needed company. The food at 18 North was again fresh and tasty. Toast informed me that despite being an extrovert herself, she preferred the company of introverts- looking around the quiet table, I couldn’t help but think she must be pleased.
After eating, I joined Toast and Lentil to hitch back to trail. Thrift Shop headed in another direction, as she’d come into town from the southern route. We held out our thumbs in the hot sun for almost an hour without any luck. Finally, a nice woman named Vivian saw us suffering, and offered to drive us where we needed to go. On the drive, she told us about a series of recent misfortunes fitting a Lemony Snicket book, but with the positive cadence of a Dr. Suess. We all shoved a generous amount of “gas money” into her cup holders when she dropped us off.
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