I bought this as a back-up eating utensil. I used to carry a full-sized titanium spork as my back-up, but this one won me over because it’s ridiculously lightweight and small enough to tuck into a pocket.

I absolutely love this little thing! In addition to its role as a back-up to my Morsel spork, I use this spoon to scoop trail mix. (In 2023 there was a norovirus outbreak along the PCT in Washington that appeared to be centered around the Mike Urich cabin. This incident made me keenly aware of no matter how many times I wash my hands, as soon as I touch something they’re potentially re-contaminated.)

I’m not such a gram weenie that I’m going to use this as my primary eating utensil. It’s so short that it’d be difficult to adequately stir/mix meals, and I’d very likely end up getting food on my hands. But it’ll work as a back-up, and it’s great for scooping up snacks. It’s a winner!

I’ve had a Morsel spork for about five years now. I own two – the original and a back-up I bought that’s still pristine. One big change is that the majority of the body of the sporks they sell is aluminum instead of the polycarbonate mine are made from.

My Morsel spork weighs just about an ounce. I can’t find a weight for the new aluminum ones, but they’re very likely to be lighter weight.

I love this spork. The spoon end has silicone edges like a spatula; these really help scrape all the food residue on the inside of whatever you’re eating a meal out of. If you’re eating out a container you re-use, being able to scrape all the sauce & food bits out means easier clean-up using less water. I rarely use the spork end, but it works well – the tines are long enough that this actually functions like a fork. The new ones mention a “strong knife edge for cutting” but I can’t see what part of the spork they’re referring to. Mine has serrations on one end, and the ‘knife’ portion works on softer things like avocados, zucchini, softer cheeses (it might work on cheddar; I doubt it’ll work on parmesan). I’ve only used it few times and then I was just testing it — I carry a separate knife & I don’t need this feature in my spork.

The only negative thing I can say about my Morsel spork is that the rubbery spatula material has worn away in some spots. It’s still functional, and I’ll probably keep using it until the spatula edge wears away completely.

I headed out to hike a section of the PCT that’s widely reviled as being “ugly.” I like it – not for its soul-inspiring views or quiet solitude, but for what it represents.

This section is the 10 1/2 miles between Stampede Pass and Tacoma Pass. It has a decidedly ‘industrial’ feel to it. Just south of Stampede Pass, the trail crosses three clear-cut areas under high-voltage power lines. A hiker crosses about a dozen roads – some of which are abandoned, but still clearly roads – and there are remnants of logging operations lying about. (I’ve seen 1″ steel cables in several places. My favorite “artifact” was the mudflap from a Kenworth tractor that way lying by the trail for several years.) There’s one spot where there’s a broken electrical or telecommunications cable sticking out of the ground, near a partially-buried “Underground Cable” sign. The pristine High Sierras this ain’t.

So why do I like this section? One, I know it. I’ve hiked it several times. There’s a lake about a quarter-mile from the Stampede Pass trailhead, there’s a reliable spring about halfway to Tacoma Pass, and about a half-mile south of Tacoma Pass there’s a reliable stream. It’s comforting to know where the water is. (South of the stream near Tacoma Pass, it’s twelve miles to the next water source.) Because of all the abandoned forest roads, there are plenty of places to camp if you’re sleeping on the ground. It’s not great for hammocks as the majority of the trees are subalpine pines. (Their branches tend to closely set & closer to the ground, and their trunks are covered in pitch pockets that easily pop open – if you’ve not put a barrier between the tree and your hammock’s hang straps, you will find them to be a sticky mess by morning.)

This section of the trail is also a great workout. I think it’s the hardest 10 miles of the PCT in that I’ve hiked in Washington State. (I’ve done about half: from Stevens Pass south to Bridge of the Gods, minus the part between Walupt Lake and the southern end of the Mt. Adams Wilderness. The “easy” parts. 😉) According to the FarOut! app, this section’s total grade measured as ft/mile is 487. (The southern half is 505’/mile.) Goat Rocks Wilderness – the hike that kicked my butt last August – is 454’/mile. (It’s also a few thousand feet higher above sea level than Tacoma – Stampede, and that didn’t help this body that resides at 400′ above sea level.) Sections K & L – the wild lands north of Stevens pass – are 416’/mile. Those other areas have special challenges that make them hard, but the grade is easier.

It’s easy to get to — nearly the entire drive is on the interstate, and the gravel road to the trail head is in pretty good shape — and the snow tends to melt relatively early because this area’s elevation is moderate. It also has some very lovely spots, and I’ve taken two of my favorite trail pictures in this area (below).

I got a late start on this hike, and that seems to be a pattern I’m hoping to break with my next hike. The days are fairly long right now, so I figured I had plenty of time to hike. But the day was cool, and I decided I wanted to be camped well before sunset. I noticed the place where I camped a few years ago & put a note in the FarOut app that it’d be a good tent site, not so great for hammocks.

I’d brought along my Gatewood Cape & the inner net tent that goes with it. I have another tent I prefer when I have to sleep on the ground, but I want to try using the Gatewood cape to see how comfortable I am with it as a shelter. I love the idea of the cape for rain protection if it’s ever really pouring down rain, and if I can use my rain protection as a shelter, that saves a bit of weight from the pack – bonus!

It’s a good thing I stopped early because I had to futz with the cape several times, and I still didn’t get set up right. I brought along a tent pole to try with this set-up, and it set the peak of the cape too high. (I believe I should have tried angling it; next time I’ll do that.) I ended up using my trekking pole instead. I adjusted the stakes repeatedly and it still never seemed “right.”

I slept poorly. My watch thinks I slept about four hours that night. I thought I got more sleep than that, but it wasn’t great. My feet were cold all night. I was wearing wool foot sweaters (socks knit by my Mom), and they usually keep my feet very happy. In the morning, I discovered why my feet suffered all night: the footbox of my quilt was wet. Because of the steep slope at the head & foot ends of the cape my feet brushed up against the tarp. It rained during the night, and there was a lot of condensation on the underside of the cape. Another example of why I need to figure out how to set this thing up properly, and I need to do it so many times that I don’t have to futz with it for an hour.

As I ate breakfast in the morning’s chill, I pondered my day ahead. I thought about heading back north and hiking north of Stampede Pass instead of heading south to Tacoma Pass. I decided against that because I feared the temptation to stop as soon as I saw the truck would be too strong. I decided I’d head toward Tacoma Pass, drop my pack at the road & hike unencumbered to the stream, then head back to Stampede Pass. I figured that it was possible I could get back to Stampede Pass late Saturday, and if necessary I’d camp in the truck instead of trying to drive home that late. (I have the truck’s bed set up so that I can sleep in it, and I have a tent that attaches to the back of the truck bed.)

But because the morning was so cold, I hadn’t crawled out of the tent until after 8, and I didn’t get out of camp until around 10 a.m. Given that I was averaging less than 2 mph while hiking, that the total grade of the round-trip to Tacoma Pass & my campsite is 505’/mile, and that I would need to tack on a mile round trip to get water, this was looking like a very long day indeed. I was doing all this pondering while I was hiking south. I decided to take break and spend a few minutes deciding what I wanted to do.

I headed back north toward Stampede Pass. Given that my quilt’s footbox was wet, spending another night on the trail would have meant another night of cold feet unless I was able to find a warm, sunny spot to try to dry out my quilt. (Given that it would require a long break (an hour or more), it didn’t seem likely that I’d find time to do this.) It felt like a defeat, and I started wondering if attempting to hike through Oregon next month is a good idea. I briefly pondering deferring this trip to next year, but I quickly rejected that idea. While the trail will always be there, there’re no guarantees. Something catastrophic may happen. Even without that, there’s no guarantee I’d be in top physical condition next year.

Then I realized that with a month to go, I still have time to improve my cardiovascular & muscular endurance. I’ve started going to the gym a few nights a week and walking on the treadmill with an 18-pound pack & the grade set at 5%. I’ve also been doing backpacker-specific recommended strength training. Every little bit helps!

I’m heading out again this next weekend. I’ll likely take the hammock. I don’t plan to use the Gatewood cape when I hike Oregon, so getting practice using it isn’t time-critical. There are likely places in Oregon that I may not be able to find a place to hang, but I’d rather be comfortable 90% of the nights even if means risking having be very uncomfortable sleeping on the ground a handful of nights. (I’m going to be very slow compared to the thru-hikers that go speeding by me, and I don’t want to have to ‘race’ to find a spot to set up a tent. I also don’t want to find the last campsite for miles is already full.)

I’ve been hankering for the past few weeks to spend the night outside. I’ve had opportunities, but I begged off because the overnight lows are still in the mid-30s. I’d be okay sleeping in that; the idea of getting out from under a warm down quilt at 7 a.m. when it’s 36°F? Ugh.

I had Friday off, and I planned to head out to the Juniper Dunes Wilderness to possibly spend the night – despite the cold nighttime temperatures. I dawdled. I hemmed & hawed. I put it off, yet again. I was at risk of doing the same thing Saturday but I managed to get my pack loaded & head out the door at the crack of 1 p.m.

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I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete¹

I grew up hiking, mostly in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. I’ve hiked all around Washington State — we are certainly blessed with so many hikes on public land. With so much on offer, why do I keep going back to the Pacific Crest Trail?

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I was hunting around for a day hike to get me away from the Lower Columbia Basin’s triple-digit heat. I noted that the last trip report at the Washington Trail Association’s web page was five years ago, and I decided that I’d check this hike out. Several years ago, I hiked from Chinook Pass to Tacoma Pass along the Pacific Crest Trail; this trail’s junction with the PCT is in along that section. That always piques my curiosity.

In addition to the age of the most up-to-date information I had access to, planning was complicated by the fact that AllTrails & the WTA only describe the trail as existing to the junction with the Cougar Valley Trail – 1.7 miles. I have the USGS 7&1/2 map for this area, so I could get a vague idea of the elevation gain and loss, but it really was a vague estimate. In other words, this day hike was an adventure.

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