The Chafe Crisis

Part 3 of the PCT resumes at Lodge Lake outside of Snoqualmie Pass gathering resolve for a determined push to Oregon.

Leaving Lodge Lake started out great, with a cool crew coalescing around me. It was an optimistic start to a week that would bring me down low to a thru-hiking nadir!

That first day was a promise of forgetting the doldrums that had me down in Snoqualmie by putting my woes behind with big miles. I met a great group of fast hikers: the enigmatic Calves, fellow ATer Free Range & ICU nurse Sugarfoot. They were the first group of 30 somethings I had seen in days, and they were all eager to sustain a marathon pace. My trail legs felt ready.

Well, I almost kept a pace with them that day, but weighed under with a too-greedy amount of food, I fell behind, and then the chafing that appeared right as I was entering Snoqualmie angrily reemerged. The vaseline and ointment I got did not help, and I soon descended into a bleak chasm of misery.

I’m not super eager to talk with flourish about entering a dark state of mental health, but between the growing physical pain of my thighs grinding together, the anguish of losing a cool, competitively paced group and knowing that as I atrophied, I’d be in a pace again with people I didn’t want to talk to.

With no sane exit options, I went into pain-endurance mode, hiking sans-a-smile for 75 miles with worsening chafing and a growing rash on my thighs. I have gained an empathy for those with chronic pain after putting myself through this ordeal, as it is the worst I’ve ever felt hiking.

The hiking was still amidst inspiring conditions despite my personal agony. Seeing Mount Rainier grow in might every day was a treat, as was seeing the biome change with sudden new flora, increased aridity, no ice and few mosquitoes (until there were many) was a refresh for the senses.

Stumbling out into the White Pass Kracker Barrel was my glorious reward. It’s a rural gas station where I’d proceed to double zero, something I never did on the AT, as I tried to recover from the chafe. It wound up being, if not a perfect spot, then a more than adequate one for fostering a recovery. The staff here have been so helpful, friendly, and patient, one, Kelly, even hosting me for a night and helping me get a pharmacy resupply at Safeway. The hiker box and fellow wanderers also gave me a supply of powerful treatments. The guy who told me to put alcohol hand sanitizer on it though.. yeah, funny sensation  there.

Accepting the stopping of progress was tough. The Sierras grow more distant with each day stalled, but I knew I had to do at least one, if not two, in order to give a chance of healing and succeeding at this epic journey. Once I accepted it though, I was able to relax and gain a degree of zen.

I got a hitch to Packwood the next day off “Velma” who was road tripping with a friend in a separate car talking on walkie talkies. In Packwood, TransAm best bud, Tarryn got me a pizza after hearing of my laments and I went as big as possible, naturally. I stopped in at an old timey settler museum for some culture & antiques. Last, I shopped at a wacky thrift store that got me new underwear to control as many variables as possible and give me as good a chance to put this misery beyond me.

After two days hanging at the gas station, I think the people working here are expecting me to just stay forever. But alas, tomorrow I disappoint them as I’ll be out at daybreak, and not even stopping in for a coffee. Big miles await, and the chafing is down as its gonna get. 150 miles away is the Oregon border and a major milestone. Pray for the Scavenger, y’all!