Always Hungry by Danny Seidman

Always Hungry by Danny Seidman

Let’s do one of the most beautiful hikes in the entire Northwest, you say? Nah, I’ll put that off a bit longer. Every week for more than two months, Vinny and I have musingly discussed hiking up to Cascade Pass and Sahale Arm since neither of us had ever been. And somehow every weekend we ended up making other plans. I have some weird habit of putting off the places I want to see most. Maybe it’s the fear of having nothing left to discover once I finally get to my most sought after locations. Or maybe it’s just my trained ability to procrastinate. Yeah, it’s probably that. The autumn reds were coming along nicely at this spot, according to online trip reports. Finally, at the end of September, we just got in the car and drove north. Our friend, Zhou was kind enough to pick up a permit at the Marblemount ranger station for us and we planned to meet him at the nearest back country camp sometime before sunset. At the trail head, we quickly got our things together expecting to only stay for a single night since prior obligations would prevent us from staying two. We packed light on food since we wouldn’t be staying long and also because we were trying to get in shape for our upcoming Enchantments trip. Beach bodies for October was the goal! Losing a few pounds via starvation and excessive hiking sounded like a brilliant plan at the time. We awoke at 4:30 the following morning at the Pelton Basin Backcountry Camp and began began making our way up Sahale Arm in the dark. Enough calories were burned for us to desperately dig in to the few snacks we carried. This was breakfast. I went for a Clif Bar and some almonds. Vinny was with just a Clif Bar. Since the sunrise was mediocre, we decided that instead of immediately heading for home, we’d wait around for sunset to give the place another shot and hike to the car in the dark afterwards. Recalling that we had already eaten half our food in the damp, rainy, and dark camp the previous night, we realized we’d be running low on food. We would each have to wait until after our late-morning nap to indulge in the last pack of ramen. To help stave off the hunger, we got in our tents and would spend the rest of the day napping. Waking up in a haze to a park ranger’s voice demanding to see a permit, while the sun beamed down from directly overhead, I didn’t know where I was or how long I had been out. Vinny and Zhou handled the situation before I could even get my bearings and crawl out of the tent. It was a little after two in the afternoon, and we would need to eat the rest of our hot food before starting the hike back up Sahale Arm so we could have the energy to catch sunset. The ramen, of course, tasted amazing given our state of hunger. Vinny was now questioning why he didn’t just bring the little pack of cashews with him that he had left in the car. A serious craving for them was beginning to develop. Huffing and puffing our way back up to some of the best scenery we had ever encountered, there was about a half-hour lull before the light was good. I devoured my final Clif bar and Vinny nibbled at the last piece of a rice crispy treat he had been saving. That’s the diet chiseled abs are made from, right? The sunset was amazing and worth staying until nightfall on the second day, as this photo hopefully demonstrates. The colors of sunset quickly faded to darkness, and only an orange glow was left spanning the western horizon. Vinny, Zhou, and I began hiking back down to the junction at Cascade Pass with the dimming blues of twilight taking over. Within only minutes of our long journey down, I pointed out to Vinny that the condition of his right boot had deteriorated even more since morning when it was clear that the back half of the sole had become unglued from the rest of the boot and was flapping with each step. At this point, he wasn’t looking forward to the remainder of the trail. After making it back down to Cascade Pass, we parted ways with Zhou, who was to stay for one more night. At this point, the sole of Vinny’s right boot had become nearly 3/4 separated. It had been dark for over an hour, we were both hungry, and now Vinny’s inadequate boot was causing him to walk as if one leg was shorter than the other. Only two more hours to the car, we reminded each other. We put on 18.5 miles in a little over 24 hours. Not being conditioned to such distances, our legs were killing us and Vinny was having an especially tough time since he had to change his gait in accordance with the flapping sole of his right boot. Flop, step, flop, step, flop, step, and so it went for hours. Several times he brought up how badly he wanted to just sit down and eat the cashews he had left in the car. Nothing would be better. Finally in the dead of night, we made it all the way down to his car, limping and defeated. However, we were overjoyed by the luxurious accommodations that awaited us. Fabric seats, blowing air, and calories abound. Vinny didn’t even take his pack off. He went straight to the left passenger’s side door where he knew he had left his cashew treasure. As I unloaded my backpack in the trunk, a shout of disgust pierced the quiet night. “What happened to my cashews?! Where, where did they go?” Vinny stuttered while holding up an empty cashew wrapper, completely baffled. Sure, we were both tired and I couldn’t help but question whether he had just forgotten that he ate them the day before. “Maybe you already ate them?” “No, you don’t understand. Something or someone got in this car and took from me my most prized possession. Where are my cashews?!” Still thinking Vinny was forgetting that he could have just eaten them the previous day, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and check my little stash of food that had been left behind in the back of his SUV. I thought it would be funny if I was actually the one who had eaten the cashews and just didn’t remember. Digging through the trunk, I found a Clif Bar that I had left. A quarter of it was gone and the missing bit of wrapper was shredded and sitting neatly beside the rest of the bar. My stomach sank. Vinny was right, the missing food wasn’t just a symptom of poor memory. A rodent must have somehow gotten into his car. While the rest of the Clif Bar was tempting, I unfortunately had to weigh the benefit of fifteen pleasure-filled seconds of finishing it off, versus Hantavirus. What else had I left in the car? Oh yes, some Top Ramen! A quarter of the pack was gone as well as half the wrapper. This must have been some sort of super rodent, not just eating food, but plastic, too. While standing next to his car with our headlamps still on, Vinny spotted a mouse running away into the bushes. Having not seen it jump out of the car, we were uncertain as to whether it was the culprit or just a passerby. Whatever it was, clearly a 3-course meal, complete with cashews, ramen, and even part of a Clif Bar was had at the expense of us not just packing the little bit of extra food. Nervously we got in the car, not knowing whether there was a mouse in there with us. “Well, I guess it’ll have to be Jack in the Box at 1:30am once again,” I disapointingly muttered to Vinny. It was the most uncomfortable of rides, constantly looking over our shoulder for the creature that ruined our evening. In our famished state, enough fast food was consumed to entirely offset the progress we made with exercise and minimal calories.

Danny Seidman: Photos