PNT Section 5: Halfway There
Okanogan Highlands
The trail out of Republic began with a steep climb through wooded pastures. Thankfully, the sun was hidden behind a layer of clouds. Distant mooing and passing through gates informed me I was still in cattle country. I got turned around several times, accidentally mistaking cow paths for the PNT.
The clouds cleared to offer a view at the top of Maple Mountain. Behind me, the Kettle River range was almost out of site. Ahead of me, rolling brown hills stretched as far as I could see.
After descending the mountain, the rest of the day was spent on forest service roads. I could tell my body was finally getting used to the firm surface- my feet and hips barely registered the transition from dirt tread. For about one mile, abandoned vehicles and trash lined the roadside. Dogs chained at nearby houses barked as I passed, and their owners, when visible, did not return my friendly wave. It felt like passing through a rural version of a “bad” neighborhood.
As the sun began to set, I enjoyed strolling through endless charming farmland. The area was quiet. Almost no traffic passed me, even when I joined a paved road.
I eventually arrived at a farm owned by trail angels Matt and Berchelle. In a stretch of trail comprised mostly of private property and creeks tainted by pesticides, they offered hikers as place to fill water and camp. As I knelt to pet a friendly cat, Matt emerged from the house and greeted me.
I could tell he was a quiet soul and a kindred spirit. He gave me a tour of their historic barn and property, introducing each cow, horse, dog, and pig by name. The cold well water thick with minerals was the tastiest I’d had since drinking from the glaciers at the start of my trip.
They also had a crude pit toilet near the hiker camping area. I appreciated the attempt at providing some privacy in the flat, open land.
I pitched my tent near Willow the horse, who seemed happy to have the company. I slept peacefully, awoke to the sound of roosters, and hopped back on trail before sunrise.
A day full of magic
I had about five miles of dirt road walking before I would reach Bonaparte Lake, where I hoped to get a late breakfast at the resort. After less than a mile, a truck pulled over, and a familiar face beckoned me to hop in. It was Mark and his grandson Ben, again! They were also heading to the resort for breakfast. When we arrived, they invited me to join them at a table with a group of other regulars. We chatted about the trail and nature for nearly two hours while enjoying a delicious breakfast. Ben and I bonded over our shared love of hot cocoa. Mark secretly paid for my food, and I thanked them profusely before heading out.
The trail climbed steeply above Bonaparte Lake, but I made good time with my stomach full of food and my heart full of gratitude.
The top of the mountain was covered in burn, but already filled with pink fireweed. Thanks to Mark and Ben, I was ahead of schedule, and had time to take the side trail up to Bonaparte lookout tower.
I was quickly invited up by the tower’s care-taker Winter. Bonaparte lookout is one of the few remaining manned (or, more accurately, womanned) in the country.
Winter and her dog Lupine had been stationed here since spring. She told me the week before, she had been too busy with fire activity to invite hikers up, but things had finally calmed down yesterday. She seemed excited to have company, and we talked for hours about our shared fascinations in each other’s endeavors. I admired the art she had displayed around her quaintly decorate space. I was surprised to learn she had a solar powered fridge and oven.
Winter pulled some sourdough buns out of the oven as I was about to leave, and offered me one. When she saw how excited I was to eat it, she packed me half the tray in a plastic bag. I practically floated down the trail that afternoon.
When I rejoined the paved road at the bottom of the mountain, a sign advertising the nearby church open to hikers invited me into the tiny town of Havillah. Again surrounded by private property, it seemed like the only option for spending the night.
The door was unlocked, but the building was quiet. I was pleasantly surprised to find a carpeted floor to lay out on, and a bathroom sink to rinse off in.
The kitchen was full of treats marked specifically for hikers. I excitedly preheated the oven for a frozen pot pie, and reflected in amazement that I hadn’t eating a single item from my food bag all day. I was not expecting such generosity and magic on this day.
Whistler Canyon
I woke early after a sound sleep in the church, and watched the sun rise over rolling pastures. I made good time and needed few breaks throughout the morning, which I attributed to the abundance of calories I’d been able to consume, thanks to all the unexpected magic from yesterday.
In the afternoon, I passed through Whistler Canyon. The orange rocks and vertical geology was a surprising contrast to the farmland around it. The temperature rose to above 100 degrees, and I spent the hottest part of the day resting in the shadow of the canyon wall.
At the top of my last climb before the town of Oroville, I got a view of the valley below. It marked the end of the Okanogan Highlands, and the beginning of the Pasayten Wilderness. But more significantly, it was the halfway point of the trail.
After another hot walk along the highway, I arrived in town. Toast greeted me from the steps of the library, and informed me that a slew of other hikers were also staying in town that night. After settling in my hotel room, I joined her, Lentil, and two new hikers for dinner at a pizza place. Pika and Laundromat were a couple filling in portions of the trail they’d had to skip two years prior, due to fires and personal reasons. Conversation was mostly focused around the Calcite fire that was burning near the trail ahead, and the recommended reroute around it. The reroute would add a day to already long stretch, and was on untested livestock trails. However, official sources did not imply that the PNT was actually closed, yet. We mused about whether we might slip through on the main trail until the restaurant closed.
Zero day
While other hikers headed out, I decided to stay in Oroville an extra day to relax and plan for the next very long stretch of trail. I traded out my stinky shoes for a fresh pair. The new insoles felt like they were messaging my feet.
I also took my time exploring a small train museum on the edge of town. I normally don’t have much interest in museums, but something about the slow pace of trail makes them more appealing.
I also managed to find a salon open to walk-ins, and got my long unruly hair cropped short. The weight of it had become almost unbearable in the heat. The fresh shoes and hairstyle felt like a fitting treat to mark the halfway point.
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