The Northern Terminus
Mile 2624.7
Got up early after a night of poor sleep and got started right away on chores. I had laundry to do, a shower to take, a resupply package of food to sort through, and cleaning of some gear items. After a few hours of getting work done, we learned from some other hikers that OK had come into town! We ran from the laundry area back to the General Store to see if we could find him and it was true! It was such a wonderful reunion after so long. I hadn’t seen him since I got sick before Crater Lake, over a month ago.
We spent the next few hours with him and his trail family, and then boarded the ferry to Chelan. (The community of Stehekin lies on the northern end of Lake Chelan, a 50-mile long narrow lake that more so resembles a fjord. The small city of Chelan sits on the southern end of the lake, and is the only real way to exit the Stehekin area to outer civilization. We needed to go from Stehekin to Chelan, and then to the small town of Mazama, about an hour and a half drive north of Chelan. Here we’d be able to rejoin the trail at Harts Pass, just outside of Mazama. Doing all of this helped us to avoid a fire closure between Stehekin and Mazama.) It was a 2.5 hour ferry ride; quite long, but beautiful with the mountains jutting up out of the water. All in all I’m glad to have experienced it.
After that we took a few minutes at the dock in Chelan to call our partners, and then decided to try our hand at hitching to Mazama. It would be an hour and a half drive on multiple different highways to get there, so we weren’t sure where we would even end up that night. Hoping for some good luck, we started walking down the road and stuck our thumbs out. After about ten cars drove past, an RV pulled over. A young guy our age named Neil was the driver. He’d been road-tripping for the last month and was on his way back to Canada. He said he’d bring us 20 minutes up the highway where the next highway started. He’d be going right and we’d be going left. He was a great guy and it was an awesome ride.
When we got dropped off, it felt a little bit like we were in the middle of nowhere at the fork of these two highways. We decided to walk down the road a bit where there would be space for a car to pull over, and after only 5-10 cars, a truck with an RV trailer pulled over. It was a woman named LeeAnn who is crewing her husband and his trail family on the PCT this year. She was amazing, and originally was only going to drive us to Twisp (40 minutes away), but once we were about halfway to Twisp she decided she’d take us all the way to Winthrop (almost an hour away from where we’d been). We found out that all of this driving had been completely out of her way, and that she’d had some time so just decided to help us out and chat. It was so incredibly wonderful and kind, we were blown away.
Once in Winthrop (a cowboy-themed tourist town) we stopped at the local grocery to get some snacks and then walked outside to get one last hitch to Mazama, which at this point was only a 15 minute drive. We were already on cloud nine for how far we’d managed to hitch at that point, that if we’d had to spend the night in Winthrop it wouldn’t have been a big deal to us.
Luckily after maybe five cars, a guy named Jeff picked us up! He was on his way home to Mazama and picks up hikers whenever he can. It was another incredible hitch with an awesome guy, and we just felt so lucky. The stars truly seemed to have aligned for us. We had expected it to take maybe a day or even two to get up to Mazama. We’d expected the process to be complicated, maybe even expensive with nights in motels or paying for long public transport, but there we were, 5.5 hours after leaving Stehekin, already in Mazama, an hour before the local brewery was closing.
After celebrating our day with a drink at the brewery, we walked to the hiker hostel and were pleasantly surprised with how great the hostel was. There were fun Christmas lights all over and they had everything hikers could ever need. Charging station, showers, laundry, loaner clothes (always a big win), a comfy outdoor seating area with a gas fire pit, and so much more. It was truly the icing on the best cake we’d had in a long time.
Our final leaflet of luck was used when the owner of the hostel told Ziploc and I about a small, two-bed cabin behind the property that no one had claimed yet. Everyone else who was there had pitched their tents or claimed couches inside the main house. We grabbed our headlamps and set out to find the cabin, and were delighted to find a modern, newly built tiny cabin that was perfect for the two of us.
Some days, things just work out better than you’d ever have imagined them, and we are feeling beyond grateful for all of that we were gifted with today.
Mile 2635.7
We left the hostel earlier today and wow was it incredible. This is only their second year hosting hikers, and it’s sure to be a major hiker vortex in years to come.
It’s our second to last night on trail. I can’t believe it. There’s so much to look forward to once this experience is over, but it’s also incredibly hard to let go of. I’ve been feeling so good and strong, proud of myself, confident in myself, and at peace with what I get to see each day, I think it’ll be a tough transition back to “normal” life. But that’s ok, I always knew it would be, and that’s the price to pay for this type of experience. But I’m really keeping at the forefront of my mind that this journey will not define who I am, rather it will shape who I am and help mold me into a better person.
The PCT in Washington really brought me back to life. Thinking about my lowest point back in Cascade Locks at the beginning of the state and now, I’m so glad I didn’t quit. I wanted to so badly. It would have been such a relief and so much easier. But Washington has far surpassed my expectations and has shown me beauty I honestly didn’t think existed.
Me and Ziploc are together on this last stretch of trail together, and I think that’s how it always needed to be. We started this together, and we’re gonna finish it.
Tomorrow we’ll do about 16.5 miles to a campsite that is only 3.5 miles from Canada. Then the following morning we’ll pack up camp and hike down to the border. Crazy to think that tomorrow is our last full day on trail. The PCT was so excruciatingly long but it’s also gone by in the blink of an eye.
Fall is here, Christmas is soon, and new goals and plans can start to form. I’m hopeful for the future, and I’m at peace with what I’ve accomplished the last 5.5 months.
As I lay here in my tent for one of the last times, I want to write a letter to you, Future Anna. You are beautiful, strong, and powerful. You got through this thing day by day, and took one step after another to get you here. The trail wasn’t perfect and it sucked a LOT. Don’t look back with only rose-colored lenses. There’s so much pain and suffering that occurred. Of course, there was immense beauty and joy and elation, but don’t forget that didn’t come without sacrifice.
You’re brave, and don’t let your mind downplay that. Not only brave to actually prepare for and go for it, but then to actually have done the damn thing - ALONE. You embarked on this journey by yourself. You did this for YOU. To prove to yourself you could do it, among so many reasons, but wow have you proven how incredibly tough you are. Be proud.
Mile 2651.7
3.5 miles from the Canadian border. We did 16 miles today, and it was a lot of climbing for most of the day. I got emotional looking out over a few of the viewpoints, particularly while we were ridge walking. I just was appreciating how beautiful the PCT has been and how amazing this landscape is. Washington has been my favorite state by far. It’s overwhelming to think about it coming to an end tomorrow.
The sky was crystal clear and blue all day today, and so when we stopped for a late afternoon lunch at Hopkins Lake, it was a peaceful scene. We were there for maybe 45 minutes, but when Zip stood up to start packing her stuff, she turned and saw a large amount of wildfire smoke billowing over the top of the ridge on the far side of the lake. The smoke looked a deep orange color, making it seem as though the fire was right there.
We both were extremely alarmed, because it truly had come out of nowhere. We immediately messaged each of our partners on our Garmins (there was no cell service) to find out if it was just smoke carried on the wind from further away or if there was a new and active wildfire right on top of us. We’d dealt with a lot of wildfire smoke in Oregon and Washington, but since the sight of the smoke was so surprising while also being the color it was, we weren’t sure what to think. We grabbed all of our stuff and started speed-hiking toward our planned campsite for the night, only a few more miles north.
We started to notice white pieces of ash falling from the sky, which made us slightly more panicked. Where was the smoke coming from? If it was coming from the south, should we just push to the border tonight and hike all the way into Manning Park in the dark? If it’s coming from the north, do we need to turn around and hike back to Hart’s Pass? Is it an orange color because of active fire or because the sun is lower in the sky right now? So many questions swirled through my mind as we pushed to get away from where it seemed to be coming from. The closest civilization was Manning Park, about 4 more miles to the border plus 8 additional miles of hiking in Canada until making it to the actual lodge. Turning around and heading back to Harts Pass would be about 25-30 miles with an additional road walk and no service.
We started to hear back from Erich and Zip’s girlfriend who were both looking up the wildfires in our area. They had each found an article about a fire right near the border. When we heard about that, Zip and I were both shocked but trying to remain calm. We stood in one place for a few minutes waiting to hear from our partners about what route we should take, but shortly after they both texted back that it was an outdated article from last year, and a massive wave of relief came over us. By looking at air quality maps, they confirmed it was smoke blowing in from likely the Blue Lake Fire further south (the fire we had just skipped around) and we were massively relieved. We still felt a little uneasy for the next hour or so, but by the time we’d set up camp and were cooking some food, we were calm and feeling safer. The sky had mostly cleared of the smoke, and while it wasn’t how we expected to spend our final afternoon on trail, we were grateful our adventure wasn’t ending in literal flames.
Sitting in my tent now and not entirely sure how to feel. It’s surreal to think I’ll have made it to the border tomorrow and that this journey will have come to an end. There were so many times where it felt as though Canada was too far away, and now I’m sleeping only 3 miles away from the northern terminus. Even with the crazy year it’s been for the PCT with all of the snow in California and flipping all around the trail, I’m still so proud of how much I’ve been able to accomplish, and I’m at peace about how my thru-hike has ended up. Nothing ever really goes the way you imagine it, and while there’s definitely things I wish I could change (like getting sick in Oregon) I have to believe it’s what was meant to happen.
It meant that I was able to rejoin the trail alongside Ziploc and spend 6 magical weeks in some of the most beautiful terrain I’ve ever seen. I’ve been able to see Washington in the fall, with all of the changing colors, minimal bugs to deal with, still plenty of water, and so much wildlife to see. Getting sick also meant meeting some incredible people around the Crater Lake area (like Ariel and Artemis, and getting to hike with Ariel again in Glacier Peak Wilderness was so special), spending more time with my cousin John and his family, and getting to go to Minnesota earlier than planned to visit my family. I also think that because I had that extra time off trail, I was able to experience Washington with fresh legs and a rested mind. A lot of the people in our hiker bubble seem to be very mentally done with trail, which I completely understand, but I seem to be one of the only ones who doesn’t feel that way. While I think I could physically and mentally keep going if I wanted to fill in some of my missed miles, it’s definitely time to go home, and I feel blessed to end on a high mental note, rather than ending because I’m so sick of being out here. I’m not sick of it at all, and I’m so grateful that’s the case.
I’m grateful to have had this opportunity, and to have actually made the choice to make it happen. I’m grateful that I’ve had a friend and partner in Zip for so much of this journey. I’m grateful that we’ve generally had incredible weather in Washington, a state known for rain and cold, and just overall I’m grateful for this narrow trail that goes from Mexico all the way to Canada. It’s carried me through some rough, sketchy, perfectly beautiful terrain, and it’s led me to people who I’ll call lifelong friends. What a beautiful thing to wake up and walk.
On September 16th, 2023, Ziploc and I packed up our camp, tied our shoes, put our backpacks on, and hiked north for the last time. We had around 3.5 miles to get us to what would be the end of our road, and we spent the morning mostly in quietude. It was a weird feeling to approach the end. I didn’t feel ready for it to be over, even though I was very ready to go home. I kept thinking to myself “both are true at the same time”.
There weren’t any views that morning as we descended in elevation toward the Canadian border. We walked through pine forest blanketed in low vegetation with sweaters on and freezing hands. It was a particularly chilly morning. The miles came easily for us now, a massive difference to our first day on trail, having each struggled to go 11 miles in total. We were different now, changed. We’d strengthened our bodies, our hair had grown long, my glasses were scratched, my skin was tan. I had swapped out gear, switched outfits, and gone through 5 pairs of shoes. I was more sure of myself and I wasn’t so scared of the world anymore. I’d seen some of the most incredible places I’ve ever laid eyes on, and walked though some of the toughest terrain, weather, and trail conditions I may ever encounter. I wasn’t a new person, but I was new again. Refreshed. Alight.
At 9:05am, we rounded the corner of a switchback and I saw the northern terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail. A twin to its southern counterpart, 5 pillars of dark stained wood rose out of the ground, straddling the United States-Canadian border. A tree cut marked the border, and there we were, standing in the middle of it. It felt surreal as we approached the monument together, and I wasn’t sure if I should be crying or cheering. 1,700 miles now brought to an end by a monument in the middle of the woods. We gave ourselves time to take in what we’d each just accomplished. We took pictures and hugged, having done so much of the trail together, and having watched each other complete so much of it apart. We signed the trail register, and I wrote:
9/16: Made possible by pushing myself further than I ever have, beautiful trail friends and generous angels, too many dehydrated potatoes, and not enough hot cider. Thank you to the trail for bringing me through the most beautiful terrain I’ve ever experienced, and teaching me how strong and capable I truly am. Erich, we did it. Thank you for always believing in me and encouraging me to keep going. I’m here, Canada.
-Baby Spice♡ ATL
-Anna Lohrmann
When I look at the pictures below, I don’t see the terminus, but rather the faces of the hikers who are now family. I see the flowers of the desert, the lizards dashing across the 18-inch wide trail, the sun rising to my right and setting on my left. I see the snow-capped California mountains, the volcanic dust and ash of Oregon and the painful magnificence of Washington. I see my battered feet, my scratched legs, my sunburnt cheeks, my greasy hair, my black fingernails, and the beads of sweat on my brow and back. I see the tears of pain, frustration, loneliness, and fear in between tears of joy, laughter, beauty, and awe. Nothing could have prepared me to discover all that this journey would be, and nothing has prepared me to leave it behind.
6 National Parks: Kings Canyon, Sequoia, Lassen Volcanic, Crater Lake, Mt. Rainier, North Cascades
14 National Forests: Cleveland, San Bernardino, Angeles, Sequoia, Lassen, Shasta-Trinity, Klamath, Rogue River-Siskiyou, Umpqua, Fremont-Winema, Mt. Hood, Gifford-Pinchot, Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie, Okanogan-Wenatchee
28 Wilderness Areas: San Jacinto, San Gorgonio, Sheep Mountain, Pleasant View Ridge, Kiavah, Owens Peak, Chimney Peak, Domeland, Lassen Volcanic, Castle Crags, Trinity Alps, Russian, Marble Mountain, Red Buttes, Sky Lakes, Mt. Thielsen, Mt. Hood, Mark O. Hatfield, Indian Heaven, Mt. Adams, Goat Rocks, William O. Douglas, Norse Peak, Alpine Lakes, Henry M. Jackson, Glacier Peak, Stephen Mather, Pasayten
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Thank you to all of the wonderful hikers I met along the way. This community truly made the PCT for me. Special thank you to Ziploc, Super Noodz, Mountain Man, OK, Stakes, Bubbles, Girl Scout, Hot Pink, Workshop, Shortcut/Beetlejuice, The Umbrella People, Artemis, Ariel, Texas, Eagle, and Huck.
Thank you to all of the Trail Angels who fed us, gave rides, gave advice, housed us, or just helped us out in any small way. You truly make the world a better place.
Thank you to Erich, my husband, for being the first person to encourage me to believe that this was a possible dream. You are the best thing in my life, and the only thing better than having had this experience was getting to come home to you. You applauded me on my best days and were my sanctuary on the toughest. You pushed me on my worst, and are the reason I didn’t quit that day. This particular journey is over now, but we have so much life left to explore. I’m grateful I get the privilege to do it with you.
Thank you to my family, friends, and beyond who have been so supportive of me throughout this journey and who have followed along. It has meant more than I could ever express.
I hope this blog can inspire you, even in the smallest of ways, to do something that ignites your soul. It’s never too late, and it is possible.
