Hello!!'Tis been a long time since posting last- towns are few and far between in these parts, and those few that are far between have very- very- limited computer access time- our mighty apologies...
The last weeks have been quite splendid- often adventurous, mostly beautiful- and always breeding both relaxation and exhilaration.
So for a short summary of up till now:
Yosemite was tremendous- golden and heavenly like the entire High Sierra - although shuttling down to the Park's renowned valley proved more exhausting than anything else, when abundant beauty was overshadowed by abundant crowds, and we learned that for us, 
Yosemite's grandeur is best experienced in solitude.Once out of Yosemite, storing our food in bear cannisters was no longer required. Without missing a beat, we sent ours home. We've yet to discuss the whole packweight thing. In short- every bit of ounce counts- we've cut tags out of clothing, ripped unnecessary straps from our backpacks, and cut our shared toothbrush in half. Losing six pounds of bear cans was a gift we couldn't resist granting our knees.
We now had to hang our food- quite an experience, but a skill well-worth re-learning. Some hangings were more successful than others, and a few times we just gave up and slept with our food (a brilliant thing to do, especially the time we saw a bear peering at our camp before bed time. Ahhh, the stupidity of an exhausted mind...) We've been more careful since then, and have yet to lose our food to any form of four-legged bandit. But that might be habituated critters telling us that the wilderness and/or other campers offer much better goodies than the dehydrated delicacies present in our food stores. One morning, we discovered that despite our very accessible food bags, a small animal had chosen to munch on a dug out piece of used tissue, instead.
Continuing north, we descended towards Lake Tahoe where we bid California our bittersweet goodbyes. We tucked that which it had given us deep within our camera, journals and memories, and headed up to the wet, green Cascades of Southern Washington.
From the beginning, we were dropped below treeline. After weeks and weeks of open, shining sun, the 
forest's initial gift was claustrophobia. Ultimately we adapted to the darkness, thoroughly enjoyed the thick, sweet smell of pine, and were inspired by the nobility of the towering trees.
forest's initial gift was claustrophobia. Ultimately we adapted to the darkness, thoroughly enjoyed the thick, sweet smell of pine, and were inspired by the nobility of the towering trees.
After a short bout with food poisoning, turned in our favor by a forest-service man who drove us to town, we continued our walk through a pleasant section--wildflower-rich Mt. Adams Wilderness.
Guiding us through the Southern Cascades were the giant volcanoes- Mts. Adams rising in the East, St. Helens to our west, the godly Rainier up north and Hood in the south- each one divinely hovering on our trail's horizon.
Next came the Goat Rocks Wilderness. Everyone who has been through the Goat Rocks
Wilderness seems to have a story. Our experience was no different. In almost zero visibility, we baby-stepped across narrow ridges, glaciers and snowfields- a multi-hour march balancing wonder, terror, and the nagging desire to be able to see just a few more feet in front of us.After Goat Rocks came the infamous "worst miles of the PCT"; 40 miles through logging 
territory --clearcut after clearcut, each former-forest in its own stage of regrowth. All in all it turned out to be kind of a drag-made-fun by the huckle and blueberry bushes that offered their 
fruits as consolation for the missing trees.
territory --clearcut after clearcut, each former-forest in its own stage of regrowth. All in all it turned out to be kind of a drag-made-fun by the huckle and blueberry bushes that offered their 
fruits as consolation for the missing trees.
Four days and 75 miles later, Adinah and Elli Kranzler- Yannai's parents- came to visit us on the trail, bringing hugs, a few days of relaxation and really, really, really good food. We got to sit, rest, feast, and enjoy being taken care of. They picked us up from the cold, fog, rain and hail at Steven's Pass Ski Area, and drove us to the peaceful Lake Chelan. A word about Steven's Pass and the top half of our trail in Washington: It lies in what is referred to as a "rain shadow," i.e. the leeward and drier side of a mountain range. In addition to the rain shadow, locals told us of the area's perennial hot, dry summers. Well, climatology and local wisdom can be decieving: many days and more clouds behind us and we've come to the wet realization that in a state that boasts a rain forest, terms like "rain shadow," "hot" and "dry" are quite relative. One hiker eloquently explained the ins and outs of Washington weather to Chana: "Lady - it RAINS!".
As we headed north, Glacier Peak Wilderness greeted us with perhaps the most stunning views
of all. First we had a few more days of mist and rain. But one miraculous morning, we awoke to a pink and red sunrise that shooed away all grayness and brought about clear skies. With Glacier Peak and endless ridges of craggy, snowy pinnacles as our background, we treaded up and over the most lush alpine meadows we've seen.
As we headed north, Glacier Peak Wilderness greeted us with perhaps the most stunning views
of all. First we had a few more days of mist and rain. But one miraculous morning, we awoke to a pink and red sunrise that shooed away all grayness and brought about clear skies. With Glacier Peak and endless ridges of craggy, snowy pinnacles as our background, we treaded up and over the most lush alpine meadows we've seen. 
Always whistling us a hello from the rocks below and above were burly marmots, passing their day in the most tumbly, bumbly and ungracefully adorable of fashions.
A day, an emergency run down 10 miles of mountain (a medical scare that is, thank God, okay), and lots of logistical adventures later and we've now a few days of treat- hiking the trail with Derech Hateva director, Yael Ukeles!
When Yael leaves, we'll be 'a trekkin' the last fifty miles or so to the Canadian border- and B'ezrat Hashem, bring our walk to a peaceful and safe ending. What a journey it's been! Blessed
we certainly have been, and we'll joyfully let you know when all is good and done...Till then...
Much Love,
Chana and Yannai
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