At one point along the trail, I was not lost, but rather very confused as I recognized nothing from past hikes.  Suddenly, for me, drinking out of aluminum cans became a real concern.  I stopped and looked around bemused, scratching my head.

I slowly realized where I was and how much the landscape had changed.  Clear-cuts were throughout several local areas, changing what my mind was used to seeing, placing me in a dour mood.  The cut trees were not very large, but used to provide a rather dark, eerie corridor along this section of the PCT.

Following a logging road, I picked up the trail again dashing through the dismal area as fast as possible.  I hit the flags at the edge of the massacre and sighed.

As I approached Greenleaf Overlook, I slowed my pace before having a sit at the viewpoint.  It was just as I remembered and it did a lot to improve my mood.  With the shades of green, the lakes below in shades of teal, and the snow laced peaks beyond, mentally, I was back.

I was even happy to thump my way into the boggy sections of the trail. I remembered , in summer, how thick these sections are with foliage far less pleasant.

As I climbed out of the bog, I saw a glimpse of Sacagawea and Papoose Rocks and stopped.  It was beautiful here in the winter as these sights, like many others, were hidden behind a wall of green for most of the three other seasons.

I made my way up the PCT running into scattered mounds of crusty snow.  While passing a PCT marker, I pondered how long it would be before it was my turn to thru-hike.

I thought about this for quite a while and had a hard time coping with the amount of time to wait.  The life changes, insight, and self discovery that the PCT offers, I wanted now.  I could afford it now.  I needed it now.  But others in my life could not afford it, at least, not from a responsible parent's view.

Thoughts of what-if took my mind off my remaining distance, when I quickly came upon the Heartbreak Ridge kiosk.  In my hiking years, I have never seen this section of trail open as it has always been closed due to erosion and conservation.  I was giddy at the thought of finally being able to climb something with such a title.

My giddiness turned into deep panting as the trail was incredibly steep, hitting 45 degrees in places.  To make matters worse, the snow was simply too solid for me to kick steps with my trail runners.  I was reduced to chopping steps, while feeling not so foolish for bringing my ice axe.

Slowly making my way up, I realized that time was not slowing with me and really started to wonder if I could make the summit in time.  I went up as fast as I could, until my calves persuaded me to slow my pace.

I hit the freezing level as everything was covered in a thick, icy coating.  It offered something pretty to take my mind off of my screaming calves.

I had a break in the canopy and took a look around.  I saw nothing.  The mist was as thick and heavy as it was cold.  The break did offer someone's footsteps probably made yesterday.  At least I would not have to chop any more steps, or so I thought.

The trail, although not very steep at this point, turned into a 25 percent side hill.  Normally this is not a problem, but the recent snow melt had re-frozen and was pure ice, forcing me to chop steps once more. 

Views came and went with the swirling mist, startling me at times with glimpses of my fate in case of a slip.  I took off my pack and took a break.  The footsteps I was following had faded out and left me bushwhacking.  Gulping down my now icy cold water was very refreshing just before the wind picked up forcing me to don my rain jacket.  I was getting cold fast.

Just as silly as it was being snowed on when hiking to the kiosk, the sun came out, but only for a few seconds.  A tease.  It did offer a possible route to the summit, but one requiring substantial bushwhacking.  Now I am not against bushwhacking, but this was becoming a pain.  The incline, including slipping two feet for every four I advanced, and icy frost floating down the back of my jacket on each step was making it quite unpleasant.

I took a picture of the beauty that was my nemesis, although the wind and condensation would not let me get very many sharp images.

I made it to a point where I found footsteps again.  I looked at the route as it seemed I hit a dead end.  They stepped on a precarious cornice over ground that looked like it would break loose at any moment.  I was hearing rock fall constantly at this point as I hit my confidence limit.  Glancing at my watch gave me the perfect excuse for a retreat.

I made it down without breaking anything and picked up the old roadbed heading towards the hot springs.  After passing Carpenters Lake, I spotted a yellow balloon that Amber and I had seen on our trip to Aldrich Butte.  I laughed out loud as the picture would remind us both of our repartee at the time.

I had about two hours to make the truck and hoped the gas line road met the PCT somewhere east of where I was.  I did not like the thought of hiking on Highway 14, but soon came to the end of the gas line road and had no choice.  I soon reached the resort and hiked down to Hot Springs Road.

I came to a junction with Kidney Lake Road and wasted no time.  It started to drizzle and I quickly donned my rain jacket, pulling the hood over my head.  While cruising up the road towards the lake, a rather clean-looking Jeep very slowly rolled up towards me.  The window slowly rolled down revealing a large man in a cowboy hat with a lap dog trying desperately to escape out the open window.

Large man with lap dog: "Heya!?  You know wherr this here road goes?"
Me: "I have never been on this road, but it starts at Hot Springs Road, just back a half mile."
Large man with lap dog: "Well, I know where way that goes.  I mean, do ya know wherr this way goes? (pointing upwards)"
Me: "I believe it goes to Kidney Lake."
Large man with lap dog: "Yaaa..  I know that too.  I just thought you may know wherr the road goes."

All I could think is why not drive around and find out for yourself, especially if I already said I had never been here.  Snap shots of my daily life at work illuminated in my head as I thought this was no way to end a hike.  I left the man to his confusion and hiked on.
 

I took a logging road, hoping to shortcut to the PCT.  It soon petered out to yet another pile of burnt wood in the middle of the cul-de-sac.  I looked around for a use trail, but did not find one.  I had to hike back to the main road.  Right on schedule a Explorer drove up the logging road and soon stopped.  Loaded up with four teenage kids, wreaking of pot, the driver asked me where I had hiked.  I told them before a boisterous "Holy shit!" shot from the back seat.  I laughed along with the driver before we all said our later dudes. 

I made my way around the lake and up the back side of it towards Gillette Lake.  I had to get my feet wet as Gillette's outlet was a couple feet deep and wide enough there was no getting around it. I climbed up the road, to finally reach the PCT.  At this point, I was dog tired.  I had twenty minutes to get back to the truck and three miles to cover.  Luck was on my side as I ran back the whole way, making it to Devin's right on time.

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