Days 6 and 7, July 8-9: Turning Away in the Whitefish Divide

It was a promising, reasonably crisp morning on July 8 when I departed a Forest Service campground near the edge of Red Meadow Lake. The previous day I briskly walked on a road that gently ascended 18 miles to the lake. No problem. But after the lake I knew it would require 16 strenuous miles and 4,500 foot of total ascent to the next potential campsite that had water.

After four miles, the PNT began a series of steep ascents that resembled a roller coaster up and over sun-exposed mountains or high traverses just below the summits. It was on that hot roller coaster where my pace abruptly slowed to just over one mile per hour despite deep and deliberate breathing. Realizing that my heart was well into a horrible episode of atrial fibrillation (afib) I could not summon any more from my cardio capabilities to hike faster up the seriously steep pitches. At noon I had nine miles to that next campsite with a source of water, and three miles of that was across a burn area with many downed trees that would slow me even more. Moreover, I was not having fun. Concern for my health was a dark cloud over a very warm, sunny day.

With all of this on my mind, the trail reached a switchback where I looked up to see a long snowfield covering the uphill trail. Fatigued after just 6.4 miles and 2,300 feet of climbing, and 10 & 2,000 remaining for the day, I put my pack down and thought carefully. My brain wants to keep pushing, but my body says “get treated for this afib NOW.” Three years ago I chose to hike the Appalachian Trail after deciding against treatment. That worked on the AT, but the PNT is a different place. It is drier, hotter, and steeper.

Maybe I can come back after aggressive treatment. Or rejoin the PNT in western Washington if I must wait long for treatment.
I cooked a meal, laid down, hydrated, even napped briefly. While going down and retracing my footsteps to Red Meadow Lake, I sadly examined the same footprints I left in the snow while going up. I also saw again the prints recently left by a mountain lion. The next day, while hiking the road toward Whitefish, I saw two Grizzly cubs (oh, that’s dangerous because their mother was probably nearby, but I never saw her). I turned full circles with my finger on the bear spray trigger without incident. One hour later I heard the magical call of a Loon echoing from Upper Whitefish Lake.

It was the kindness of a woman supporting a group of bike packers who gave me a lift to Whitefish. Even in retreat, there was wildness and magic!

Despite the disappointment, I had very good experiences on the PNT and with the people I met. I will be back!